Don't call it a Comeback, but I still plan on watching...

"Road racing imitates life the way it would be without the corruptive influence of civilization. When you see an enemy lying on the ground, what's your first reaction, to help him to his feet? In road racing, you kick him to death." Tim Krabbe, from his novel, The Rider

I didn't want to be happy about this. As a point of fact, I was down right angry when I first heard about it. I think you all know what I am talking about - the return of Lance Armstrong. Now, I am sure many of you are thinking, "Guy, with all the stuff that's going on in your life, why would you write about Lance's return to cycling? More importantly, we all know you love Lance, so why the love loss.?" All points are true and worthy. However, I have sat back, refusing to get involved in conversations with friends, associates, training buddies, strangers, dogs, anyone that wanted my opinion on it. Why? Because as a true fan of Lance, I was dissapointed in his return at first.

See, I was looking at his return from 2 different perspectives - First, as a fan of Lance, but more importantly, a fan of watching champions go out on top. Many of us saw what became of Michael Jordan, Mike Tyson, (actually, a number of boxers), Roger Clemens, Bobby Hull, Brett Favre, and others who just couldn't let go. Couldn't check thier respective egos at the door and just realize - the time had come to step down. With Lance, it was perfect - he literally walked away in 2005 as the 7 time Tour Champ. Top of the world. As an athlete, you couldn't dream it any better. I know when I decide to walk away as a pro duathlete, I'd love to leave with the title. I know winning the Mideast Du Series title again this year made turning pro easier, and stepping it up a notch mentally and physically. And I wasn't buying the whole, "Spread the word about Cancer", not that I doubt that will happen, because of his return, but, it was a weak argument at best. Don't get me wrong, I still wear my Livestrong bracelet, not for Lance, but b/c cancer still kills millions, and touches the lives of many in my family. So, I want to see cancer get the attention it needs to find a cure. I don't want to lose anyone else close to me b/c of it. In fact, I still have on my wall, the framed Sports Illustrated issue. with Lance on the cover, signed by the Man, right before the 2004 Tour. It was given to me by a dear friend, and cancer survivor of 20 years. She is a fan too, and living proof that cancer survivors are true fighters. But, I wasn't buying that reason to return to ride in the sport's most grueling race.

Second, as a team director, my thoughts immediately were - if I was running a Pro Tour team, would I be able to take this risk? I mean, Lance is not a guy to play second fiddle to anyone, so, what do I tell my top guys? "Hey, I know we were planning on making you the man for the Tour, but, see, Lance is here now, so, we need you to scratch your dreams of winning, and work for him." What? I mean, yeah its Lance, but, could you imagine, being, oh, say ALBERTO CONTADOR, and being told to work for him in the race that you are poised to win again? And we all knew he was going to Astana, b/c it was Johan, and Lance was not going to work with anyone else. So, yeah, I was upset. I didn't want him to tarnish the image, I didn't want him to come back and get crushed. I didn't want him to become another statistic, another aging athlete with too big an ego. And the whole, "Cycling needs Lance back to help the sport", was bunk too. Cycling was suffering because of drugs, not a lack of great riders. So, I tried to ignore it, just like all the other things that were Lance during his time off the bike; the Matthew M. bromance, dating one of the Olsen's, leaving Cheryl Crow. I wouldn't listen.

But then, something happened. And it revolves around a conversation, albeit a short one, I had with my grandmother.

My grandmother became a fan of Lance because of me. I would bring over Tour DVD's and she was fascinated with him, his ability to climb, in particular, and his work ethic. She would watch it with such excitement, and just knew, no one could do that on talent alone. So, while sitting around a week after Thanksgiving, she leaned in at a kitchen chair, and asked me, "Do you think he can do it again? I'll tell you, if nothing else, he'll sure as hell make it exciting. He's one in a million. They don't grow those kinds of athletes on trees. He just works so darn hard, I don't think they can beat him with his work ethic." She sat back in her chair and began to discuss other things, but I was stunned. It was like a slap across the face. Here I was, I huge fan of Lance, and all he has accomplished on and off the bike, and I was trying to dismiss it. My grandmother had touched on the one thing that had always drawn me to Lance - his work ethic. I know no one works harder. So, I started noticing things; magazines with him on the cover, him working out and being photographed while doing so, looking ridiculously fit for this time of the year, all making me realize what I always knew - he will never half-ass anything. That same big ego that won't let go, is the same thing that is making damn sure he's coming back, full gas.

Now, I am not an cycling expert, I am not a coach, or someone fully immersed in the physiology of the human body and its ability to perform in extreme conditions. But, I have faith that hard work pays off. Does it mean he will win? I don't know, and the thing is, neither does he. He might have a better feeling of it than a fan or lay person, but, there are no gaurantees. He is just eliminating the intangibles. See, you might not like the return, but I dare you to bet against it. I don't know about the Tour, but, I think he will win the Giro, (a race I consider harder than the Tour - I mean snow covered mountains, 35 degrees and sleet while climbing? Come on.) And with the Tour, here's one thing I have learned watching it the last 9 years, and its the one reason I think he could win if Contador fails - experience. This is a 3 week race, where in a matter of hours, the entire race can change. The flats can change from day to day, the weather, the climbs, the way the body reacts, everything. Nothing is certain in the Tour except pain and exhaustion. That's his edge. Not convinced? Ask all of the "heir apparents" that were supposed to be the next "Lance". The best example - Alejandro Vlaverde. The man thought to be the one to win at least 5 tours, can't finish higher than 6th or 7th. Why? Because the Tour does not forgive. If you are on a bad day, the Tour will eat you. Ask Cadel Evans from this year's edition. Without Astana, it was his turn, and BOOM, he hits the floor, never recovers and good bye Tour.

Lance has seen it all though. The rain, the heat, the climbs, the way the road can change in a matter of minutes, depending on the crowd the weather, the other riders, everything. And that, is his one edge over his rivals. It might be small, but that's the edge. I'm not saying he will win, nor am I saying he should go for the win, if Contador is on, but, if Contador falters, well....

So, I am excited again about seeing Lance race. I would have watched cycling either way, b/c I am a fan of the sport, not just him. But don't call it a comeback, he did that once. This is just a return, hopefully to glory.

A time for many thanks, and things to be thankful for

"The only pace, is suicide pace, and today seems like a good day to die" -Steve Prefontaine

I know the above phrase, seems, a bit out of place for this holiday season, but I hope what follows sheds some light on why I chose it. Yesterday, was Thanksgiving, and as I sat in my place, I reflected, for the first time in months, how much I did have to thankful for. I finished my season, with another Mideast DU Series title; the first athlete to ever win the title twice, let alone, back to back, and in the process broke the points record. And I finished it all in one piece, and for that I was extremely thankful.

Although we compete in an individual sport, where it appears as though it is just one person, fighting time, the elements, and other individual athletes, very, very few of us get to that start line alone. And for so many of us, we couldn't even imagine the finish line, if not for the ones who love and support us along our journey, no matter if its one race, or a season full of races. Parents, kids, husbands, wives, girlfirends, boyfriends, friends, coaches, all of them help us, in thier own way to get us to be the best, to get to the finish line with a smile, no matter how much we struggle during the race, or how much it hurts. Because at that moment, just before you cross the line, you see thier faces, the ones you love, smiling, big proud smiles, and instantly, that pain goes away. Its replaced with relief and accomplishment, and pride.

That's why, I want to say thanks, to those who got me to the finish line, and let them know I am thankful for them. To my coach, Jen, who, with her crazy workouts and absolute faith, gave me courage to dig deeper, to face the pain, and to embrace it, and know, truly know, that there is more inside of me than I realize. I expect 2009 to be even greater with your guidance.

To my family, who, although not completely understanding what I do, or why I do what I do, still, is there for me, backing me up, and making sure I stay safe. Two people in particular, my niece and my grandmother, who both can make me smile no matter my mood, and who never cease to amaze me with thier energy and absolute and unconditional love. I am thankful for that strength they provide, it carries me daily.

To my friends, Greg, Sheila, Robyn, Whitney, Batman, Rich D., Sweet Cheeks, Trixie, Boy Wonder, all of you, everyone on Mideast Team Elite - all you guys, you inspire me daily, on top of making me laugh. You have no idea how great that feels, and I can't thank you enough for it.

Amidst all this, I have to thank someone who recently came into my life, Dr. Paul Jones. With the help of cousin, Dr. Guy Petruzzelli, he helped save my life, and my racing career. The chronic sinus infection that plaqued me for 5 years, had set so deeply into my sinus cavity, that it had eaten away at the walls of my sinuses. The infection spread to my right ear canal, and was approaching my brain. In 6 months, I would have suffered irreversible brain damage, and hearing loss. Finally, after years of suffering, of alway going too hard, and getting the "quick fix" antibiotics, I stopped, and had surgery to remove the infection, and to save my life. I am eternally grateful for my cousin, and Dr. Jones, for ensuring the surgery was a success, and ensured that my breathing, and my health would be extremly solid, forever.

So, today, I am thankful, for, my life. For the good days, the bad days, and everything in between. Realizing what could have happened when we don't slow down, just for a second, well, its scary. I have always been known as having 2 speeds - full on, and sleeping. I don't know any other way. The opening quote, sits on my fridge as a daily reminder, to live life to the fullest, but maybe, just maybe, stop, along the way, to give a lift and a kiss to those who live that same life with us, even if its for brief periods. I won't ever slow down, especially now with a clean bill of health, but, I realized, that if not for the love of others around me, I never would have found out what was really wrong with me. I hope that all of you realize that in your own lives, and that you stop, and savor the moments and the people around you. Don't stop, but, don't leave them behind. Because they are ones who truly have your back, trust me.

To my niece/manager on her 5th birthday - Reflections on the last week of the season

"You know what Uncle Guy, I'm one crazy kid" - Isabella "Boombah" Fairclough, my niece and manager

So, last week, from October 5 through the 11th, I raced twice, and ended a successful season, even though I am always looking to do better. The last week of the season was an emotional one for me, for a couple of reasons. First, my manager/niece turned 5, and I wasn't able to be at her dinner b/c I was training. But please don't fear, I will be at her party this weekend with 115 other family members. Yes, 115 family members for a 5 year old's birthday. We're Italian, so enough said.
It was also my sister's wedding anniversary, and I don't know anyone in my life who has done more for me than her. When I was at my lowest, she took me in, and let me live with her and her husband for almost a year till I was back on my feet. She was the push I needed to start racing again, 5 years ago.

Her, and her daughter, my niece, my God daughter, my manager, Isabella. The day before she was born, I was lying in a hospital bed, with a heart rate of 175. I was 30 years old and thought I was going to die. I was 40 lbs overweight, trying to make a comeback in the sport, and failing miserably, constantly getting sick. An antibiotic I was on caused me to have horrible anxiety attacks. When I was released, I went straight to the hospital where my sister was giving birth. I was still very shaky, but, when I saw my niece, I knew if I wanted to see her grow up, I needed to get healthy, now. So, she and I share a special bond, as I always tell her, she gave Uncle Guy his second chance. For those who know me, know my family is very important to me, and know that I treasure my relationships with them more than anything, and without them, I wouldn't be here.

I guess another reason we share a special bond, is, that, here is someone, who knew nothing of my past, and just loves me, unconditionally. She is always happy to see me, and we talk like adults to each other. Well, I think its how adults talk, since she is smarter than me, and she holds her own very well. I harbor hopes of her becoming the next big thing in multi-sport, even had a shirt made with "La Bella Triathlete" on the front, and 2020 Olympics on the back. However, watching her soccer games, I don't know if athletics will be her thing. She came to the sidelines to show me her mosquito bite, and I in turn responded, "Look, you have to play past that". She gave me a look, similar to my Mother's, that said, you're an idiot, and an uncaring one at that. I don't know if my sister will want me to attend many more of her games.... Needless to say, she spends way too much time with my Mother and sister, b/c she talks with her hands, that makes you laugh and cringe at the same time, knowing she becoming quite the Italian woman, and has started with the "20 questions" like my mother, becoming just as nosy.

But Isabella, or Boombah, as I affectionately refer to her, embodies the essence and character of the strongest women in my family - my grandmother, my Mother, and my sister. And even though she is no longer with us, she has glimpses of my Nonno in her. I can see it when she smiles and laughs hard, its a laughter that is pure and simple, one of true joy. As adults, I think sometimes we lose the ability to laugh purely; we have become too jaded by everything in the world, things that have skewed our point of view. But, my faith is always restored when I hear her laugh.

The last 5 years have seen me progress not only as an athlete, but as a person, as well, in large part, because of the time I get to spend with her. And I don't think I am alone. I watch her with my grandmother, who, at times, seems tired and weak, but, when she sees Isabella, she lights up, and takes 30 years off her life. She is the spark, the light that comes along every so often, in a family, that you are simply drawn to, and become infected with her happiness. You can't help but leave being with her feeling better about life, about yourself. And this last week, I had her in my thoughts all the time, constantly reminding me, that I don't have to miserable all the time, that I don't always need to be in a bad mood, and when I heard her on the phone wish me Good luck, I couldn't help but crack a wide smile, knowing she would be happy no matter how I did. I dedicated these last 2 races to her and her mother, my sister Laura; two women who are always looking out for me, always supporting me, and always reminding me, not to take myself so seriously.

As for the races, I tried to pull a Boy Wonder and race twice in 6 days. 1 shorter du, and then 1 long du. I raced in Kentucky on Oct. 5 where I witnessed Dub C set the tri course record as I cruised to a comfortable top 4 finish in the du, not pushing, knowing I had a long race 6 days later. I was happy with my running, 10:50 open 2 mile run, and a 25 and change closing 4 miles, I was feeling good about the last race. At the same time, I had another, larger goal, being the first athlete to repeat as Mideast Du Series Champ, and breaking the points total. As I toed the line on Saturday, the 11th, with the mercury rising, I just wanted to finish strong. As the first run was finishing - completely cross-country and I was already dehydrated, bad.

I had nasty chills, so, got on my bike and started to get fluids down, and Endurolytes. It wasn't enough, and I watched my lead shrink on the 40 mile bike. By the time I got off to start the second run, I had nothing, and was completely out of it. I shuffled thru the run, unable to keep water or Gatorade down, and basically running unconscious the last 2 miles. It was 90 degrees, and I finished 3rd and completely shot. Sliver lining - I won the Mideast Du Series for the second straight year - broke the points record, and had the most wins in the series. That thought alone revived me enough to stay awake for the rest of Saturday.

They say the mark of a true champion is one who defends, and I did just that, and let me say it was worth every trip to a med tent. Even though that decision is under appeal, I am still happy with my result, and hope that I do indeed get to keep the title.

So Boombah, and Laura, these were for the 2 of you. I still keep wondering though, how, are you going to fit 115 people in your yard for her birthday? Does she really know 115 people? I think its probably all family, but, it sets a pretty high mark for this kid. She's going to expect a football stadium full of people when she turns 16. As her uncle, I think its best that I constantly remind her of that idea. Its what uncles do best. To Boombah, with love.

Guy

Michigan DU Champs - Getting the Run around

Well, after a bit of a nasty week for me, I had to gear up to head to Michigan for the Tri/Du Champs, to score more points for that Mideast Du Series Title. I got stung by a wasp a week ago, and I am allergic, so, I got to log some fun hospital time, complete with an oxygen mask, shots of adrenaline, Benedryl and IV bags. Loved it. Just how I wanted to spend my Labor Day weekend. So, all that junk left me out of it all week, and I wasn't sure how the race would go. Fortunately, I slept a ton Friday night and on Saturday, so I was rested. The course on Saturday was much nicer than Sunday, when it rained all morning. It was cold, and a steady rain fell during the whole race. We started out with an opening 5K, that was later determined to be at least a half mile too long. So, I was happy to see my bike when I hit T1. Having crashed in the rain earlier this year, I wasn't about to take too many risks on a mike course with a lot of turns, lots of traffic, and very wet pavement. We did these crazy turns into other parks to make up distance, but I rode steady, kept myself in second place, and figured I could catch the leader on the second run. Got to T2, about 2 minutes down on the first place guy, but my legs felt good, so, I took off, although I couldn't get one of my flats on completely, so, I ran with my heel coming out of my left shoe. The run was rollling and on, well, mud, and rocks, but I was crusing, and then, I ran into a volunteer who told me to turn around. She was insistent, even though I knew better. It wasn't until the guy who was in third came up to tell me, to keep going straight, that I got it right. So, I went about 400 meters out of my way, and ran super pissed off from there. I tore through miles 2-4, then, they had us go through some weird subdivision, and I knew I was making up time. I could see the leader, and he was hurting, so I put it down again. And again, another volunteer had me take a wrong turn, until she realized what she did, and shouted at me to come back. By then, the eventual winner, went past me, and I ran after him, hoping he would come back to me. I never did catch the guy who finished 2nd, so, I ended up 3rd, about 45 seconds off of 2nd, and visibly upset. It didn't help when we discovered that the second run was also about 3 quarters of a mile too long to boot. But, my hats off to Kenny and Annemarie at 3D. They admitted the error in the distances, and apologized, and apologized for the confusion on the run course. I kept my cool, b/c, I like Kenny and Annemarie, and I know the issue with the volunteers wasn't thier fault. Just an FYI for those doing 3D races. It was my first, and it was a little dissapointing. But, I did get much needed points, and ran into the Sprint Tri Winner - our own "Batman" Matt West, who gave me a nice high 5 on the run, and watched Tom Link put on another amazing performance in the Oly. Tri. We had some fun afterwards in the post race party. Of course, that was after I crossed the line and puked all over the place. Yes Greg, I puked again. But I waited to finish to do it.

Happy Birthday Mom, from your Alien Son

The month of August, for our family is extremely busy. Aside from the usual weddings, enagagement parties, and other vaious reasons we get together, most of which are made up holidays, we have several birthdays. The month kicks off with my Grandmother, then keeps on rolling with cousins, and then comes to a full stop for one person - my mother, Angela "Lina" Petruzzelli. Its odd that so many people want to celebrate her birthday, considering, she herself, won't tell you her age, or the exact date of her birthday. For example, I am not allowed to tell you how old she is, or what year she was born. At 35 years of age, I still have to fear a 5'1" Italian mother kicking my ass.



But, last week, my Mom had her birthday, and with her birthday on the 19th of August, and my race on the 17th of of August, I thought it would be nice to bring her home a win. I spent a lot of time thinking about the last time I raced around her birthday, and realized it had been 14 years since I had done so. As luck would have it, that race, in 1994, was the then "Mrs. T's" Triathlon in Chicago, still the World's biggest, and I was able to bring home the biggest prize, winning the amatuer division. It was a bitter sweet day, my Mom, wasn't able to come to the race, as she was bringing my Nonno home from the hospital, after being diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer. At the time, I thought the race result would lift her spirits a bit, but, it was tough to do so. However, at Christmas that year, she presented me with a gift that I still have, although, I don't show it to many people - a framed picture of the cover of Inside Triathlon, with me, running down to the finish at Stetson and Wacker, in a flowered speedo, and purple half top. (Hey, in the early to mid 90's, all guys wore that). It let me know, it was a special day for her too.



So, 14 years later, I am in Indianapolis, warming up, and laughing, thinking of that day, and that picture, and my Mom, and how even as much as things change, they still stay the same. I did have a good race for her, I won my AG, and had a top 5 overall finish, unfortunately, due to a bogus "blocking penalty" that seems more fitting in soccer, I dropped a few places in the overall picture. But I was able to pad my lead in the Mideast Du Series, and it got me one step closer to repeating as Series Champ.



When I talked to my Mom, though, the pre-race pep talk still hasn't changed. My Mom has always been a big fan, especially when I started racing, but, as the family grew, and as I got older, my return to racing 4 years ago after a long lay off, wasn't a huge priority anymore. Unless the race is close, like 10 minutes from where my folks live, and there is coffee. Her talk though, still makes me laugh. Let me give you every Saturday night coversation before a race:



Me "Yeah, so I feel pretty good, looking forward to racing, its going to be hot, but I'm excited"



Mom -"Really? Its going to be warm, huh? Yeah, you don't like the heat. Don't you get sick in the heat? Guy, if you start to feel sick, or if it starts to hurt too much, just stop. Its not worth getting sick over all this. If you go to the hospital, how are we going to get there? You are miles away, better you just quit then land yourself in the emergency room."



Me - "Ok, Mom, well, I think I'll be ok, I mean, I am being careful."



Mom - "Yeah? That's what you said about the last race, and what happened? You threw up. You can't put your body through that, its no good. Listen to your mother, I know."



Me - "Ok, Mom, well, I better get to sleep. Talk to you after the race."



Mom - "Ok, well your father and I will probably be out at Caputo's and then we are going to Oakbrook, so call my cell, but if I don't pick up, we're probably busy."



This is pretty much, verbatim, every pre-race conversation, including Worlds in Hungary last year. Now, don't get me wrong, I know she means well, but, this isn't your typical, Knute Rockne, Vince Lombardi type speech, that makes you want to get out there and tear legs off. But, its my Mom, and I know, in her own way, she is telling me to go out and do my best. I know this, b/c I know how she got to this country. She came here as a little girl, from Italy through Canada, through, discrimination, language barriers, loss of family, to be here, and to be the one who everyone can't help but love, even when she's telling you something you don't want to hear. ANd why? Because in your heart you know its the truth. So, with her big brown eyes, glasses sliding down her nose, she gives you the look, the knowing look, that she's on to you, so don't get cute.

I know I give her a hard time, but, she has been there for me, good times or bad. She was there when I started "triathaloning" as she called it, and when she can, still comes out. But, its not the typical, "Go get 'em", "you can do it" support. Case in point - This winter, I did the Mideast Indoor Duathlon. Thankfully, it was in Orland Park, so it was close to home for my folks. My mom arrived, leather coat, fur collar, designer dress pants, and shoes, you know, your typical "I'm here to support my son/athlete" clothes. As I was warming up, she was saying how I didn't look well, and that was true, I was just coming off the flu and a sinus infection, and that maybe, I should sit this one out. Until she spotted the photographer from the local paper taking pictures of me warming up on the track. She casually walked over, and said,"You know, that's my son. He's very good. Let me see the pictures. Oh no, don't shoot him from that angle, it makes him look bad; or maybe you should do it THIS way, it looks better." Suddenly, the race was on, and my Mom was barking orders to a paid photographer who she doesn't know. But the photographer, was somehow drawn to my Mom, as most people are, and listened to her, and amazingly, stayed with her throughout the race.

As I finished the first run and bike, in the lead, I headed back to the track for my last run. I started, and amid the cheers of strangers, there was my Mom, making the "hurry up" motion with her arm, swinging it about. Basically, what she was trying to say was "Look, hurry up and get this over with. Your father and I need to get some breakfast, and I have things to do." Here I am, basically, breaking my ankles running around a track that takes 12 times around to make a mile, and according to her, I'm lolly-gagging. I'm at 5:20 pace, and I couldn't finish fast enough. I actually found myself speeding up, to the point of dizziness, b/c she kept doing that. People around her looked in amazement, as if to say, "What the hell else do you want him to do? He's going break-neck pace, running basically circles around a lamp post, and he's going too slow?" Shockingly, my Mom was not fazed.

When I finished, I leaned against the track wall, and slowly sat down, my Mom, giving me the "what's wrong with you" look, as I was trying to get my bearings. See, she was done and ready to go, as long as I had won, so she could tell the newspaper people, which she did right after I finished.

Most people in the sport see this as, well, a little "off", but, when you meet her, you find yourself, doing as all of my friends do, find her to be extremely funny, and charming, and very loving. Ask my coach, Jenny Garrison, or my friend Greg. Yeah, she isn't going to show up in the middle of no where Ohio to watch her son race, and yes, racing would be more convenient if it was on her schedule, but, when I get back to Chicago, I know she'll cook for me, and will be happy I am ok. But, unlike my Grandmother, a bib number for a present wasn't going to cut it. Trust me, she was happy with it, but, it looked a lot better with the new digital camera I bought her for her present. Suddenly, the bib number was great.

And why "Alien son?" Well, I am the only family member who does anything athletic, at least to the level I do, so, she doesn't know where it comes from. So, most days, she will refer to me, in public as her Alien Son. I've actually been introduced by her to strangers as that. Thing is, she may be on to something. She usually is. Love you Mom.

To My Grandmother, on her 96th Birthday

"Persistence is what has gotten us this far. That, and heaps upon heaps of determination. We had nothing handed to us, actually, we felt unwanted at times; looked at with disdain, and called several names. But not a one of us, your Grandfather in particular, who had to learn a new language, kept his head down and pushed forward. And that's what's in all of his grandchildren. Determination - persistent determination." Excerpt from "Her Kitchen Table - my conversations with Laura Petruzzelli"

On August 3, 2008, I raced the Mideast Regional Du Championships, against a pretty rock solid field. I was not peaking, I was not on fresh legs, having raced 2 weeks prior, and snagging a big win in Michigan at Clark's Lake, where heat and 90% humidity ruled the day, (neither of which are my friend), and got the AG win I have been trying to get for the last 4 years. It was made even sweeter with my 3rd place OA, and the fact that I won my AG, 35-39, on my first try.

However, on this same day, my grandmother Laura, turned 96. That's right, she's 96. Completely mentally clear, gets around just fine. She has been a guest at my place for UFC Fight Night Parties, and is never one to miss a good time. So, after accepting my award on this past Sunday, I jumped in my truck to get to her birthday party, and to give her a gift that I knew she would like - my race number, with a note written on it from me.

Some might think, " you gave your grandmother a race bib? A sweaty, dirty race bib? You couldn't pony up for something better?" Actually, I could, but, as she has told all of us, at 96, she doesn't need much. And to be honest, she doesn't. She has her home, her family, her health, and lots of love. Material things were never a big deal to her - its what comes from the heart that she treasures most.

On Sunday, really the whole weekend, I thought much about her, and my grandfather, whom I am named after, and everything they went through, and what she continued to go through, every day, to keep our family together. For a lot of us, doubt can creep in pretty easily before a race; you may not think the course suits you, the weather isn't what you like, the field is tough, etc. I know a let some of these thoughts enter my mind, and I know, its wrong. But it happens, and at a race I have had a huge issue with for the last 4 years, the negative thoughts were swirling all week. But, I remembered my grandmother, not just who she is today, but what she stands for, for our whole family. She is the rock, the stalwart, and living proof age is only a number.

When the race started it was hot, and humid, and racing on roads covered with 6 feet of corn on either side, I knew it wasn't going to change. But, I kept thinking about her words of encouragement in my life, her letters to me at college, and after, encouraging me, when times were at the darkest for me. Her words rang even louder, when I threw up, twice, on the bike course. I didn't stop riding, I barely even slowed down, knowing she wouldn't stop either. And when I got to the second run, feeling dizzy and dehydrated, with 10K to go, I did as my grandfather did - put my head down and pushed forward. I know at those moments he was with me, watching from above, and back home, my grandmother knew in her heart, that I had it within me to suffer, greater than the others, and that would carry the day. And, she was, as she usually is, right. I crossed the line, and touched my heart twice, once for grandpa, and once for her. My grandfather's spirit, and my grandmother's words raced with me Sunday, and I couldn't have done it without them.

I know I talk about my family, and we laugh, at length, how we have some really funny times, superstitions, and quirks, all stemming from "The Old Country", but, I wouldn't be who I am without them. So, dedicating the race to my grandmother was not only the least I could do, but it was the most memorable gift I could give her - its one we can share.

Thanks again to all my sponsors, friends, and especially to my coach, Jen, who continues to have faith that I will do the right thing at races, even if I can't figure out my hydration. But, hey, it doesn't hurt to hope, right Jen?

Rudy Project - Click To Win Contest

Rudy Project - Click To Win Contest

Ohio - its always been good to me

Its that time of the year where those of us who are duathletes, living in the Mideast Region, must make the pilgramage east to Ohio, to get in quality racing. So, for the last 3 weeks I have been to my "home away from home", both Northern and Southern Ohio, racing, and hoping to find good form. Thankfully, the trips proved to be worth it. I raced the Maumee "Battle of the Bay" Olympic Distance Duathlon on June 22, and with strong head and cross winds, was able to get away and stay away on the bike, netting the overall win for the amatuer open, and 3rd overall among the elites. I did still have problems on my second run, as there was no shade and the heat and sun, had me start to dehydrate bad. Fortunately, I was able to hold it together long enough to get a great finish. Plus, I added to my points with the AG win, in the Mideast Du Series, which I am hoping to win again.
From there, I decided to race, for the first time, over the 4th of July weekend. So, I headed back to Ohio, this time to the very popular and well attended Ceasar Creek Duathlon, where over 800 athletes, for the tri and du, came to race on a great course. Although marketed as an Olympic Distance race, both runs were long - the opening 5K turned out to be 3.6, and the bike, was actually 28 miles, not a 40K. And the humidity, always present in southern Ohio in the summer was in full swing. But, I battled again, and used a smart first run and solid bike to get me enough time to win the open Olympic Distance Du, and 2nd among the elites. Another great race for points, but, my body still did not respond well to the heat. According to my friend who was watching, by time I started the second loop of the second run, I turned a different color. He didn't recognize me at first, that's how much sun I got in less than 20 minutes. I was dizzy, dehydrated and exhausted when I crossed the line, but when the RD told me where I finished, I revived enough to raise my arms, and give a shout, so thankful that I was starting to put it together. Now, all I need to do is figure out my hydration, and maybe I can beat the elites. The one thing that has definitely helped - Roctane. That stuff is my "go to" nutrition on the bike, and has been critical for me in these last 2 races. It really works.

As always, I need to thank my persistent and determined coach, who, started racing again, after giving birth some 10 weeks ago, and is doing quite well. Also, I want to thank my sponsors, who, are always a huge help. In particular, I want to thank the one guy who was determined to get me aero on my bike, no matter how many fits we did - Rich Ducar of the Bike Shop in Glen Ellyn. He shook his head in frustration at me, more often than either of us would care to remember, but, he hung in there, and the fit has made all the difference.

Also, a big thanks to my friend Greg, and his Mom for coming to watch the race this past weekend. It was a huge boost, and I was really happy to see them.

The Bog I should have written weeks ago

"Honey, this family is one of survivors. At the core, we are a blue collar family, with strong morals, and ethics, but its our love for one another that we use to help each other. We are a family of immigrants, born of strength, and honor, and love. You'll be surprised at how strong your family truly is" - From "Her Kitchen Table - my Sunday afternoons with Laura Petruzzelli" , February 2004

I know that the reason I started this blog was to write about racing, training and multi-sport in general. And to that end, I have done so, and to keep that up, I will comment that I races this past weekend, and won the Overall open title for the Olympic Distance Du at Maumee Bay in Ohio, - the Battle of Ohio. It was a great feeling and a great win, one I definitely needed, and hope to build on for the rest of the season. And I need to thank my ever-patient coach, Jenny Garrison, for her faith, and her drive, to make sure I didn't get down on myself from prior races, and held it together, even in the roughest times on Sunday

But, what I really wanted to write about, and haven't for a few weeks, was something I witnessed over the weekend of May 31-June 1. It was the 2 day, Avon Breast Cancer Walk, and my sister, girlfriend and cousin, a breast cancer survivor, participated. For those who don't know what its about, its a 2 day walk, where the participants walk 26.2 miles the first day, and 13.1 on the second, finishing at Soldiers Field. This was my sister's second time at this, she had done it last year as well, and I was there with her, her husband and my niece to watch her finish. This year, it hit even closer to home when my girlfriend decided she too wanted to do it, and when my family discovered that another of my cousins had just been diagnosed with breast cancer.

So, over that weekend, I watched a sea of pink, band together, close to 5000 people strong, walking for to stomp out this disease. And there were all walks of life, from mothers, daughters, sisters, wives, grandmothers, all, walking together, laughing, and crying to complete this journey, and show thier support, to prove that they will not go gentle into that good night. As an athlete, it was inspiring, beautiful actually, knowing these women, weren't out there to compete with one another, but to help each other. Strangers, stopped to give some water or Gatorade to a walker in need. These women, with a complete out-pouring of love and determination, the likes of which you rarely see anymore. Over those 2 days, those women dwarfed what I do as an athlete, b/c they did it for someone else, the entire process was selfless. There was no medal or trophy at the finish, just food, and family, and respect, and a well deserved thank you, for doing something for others.

As an athlete, that can be a very foriegn concept. When we race, we are usually doing it for ourselves. Even if the proceeds of entry fees go to charity, we are still out there to win, for ourselves, not others. We can easily pay lip service to saying how important it is that we do races for a cause, but, at the end of the day, we hope it is our name that is called to come to the podium to get our award. I fully admit, I do that, and I venture to guess others do as well. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with it. Which is why what these women did, is that much more amazing to me. You can't get a multi-sport athlete to walk around the block for coffee, let alone 39 miles. It just doesn't happen. I know this, b/c everyone I talked to about it, said the same thing - "No way I'm walking that far. I'll run 20 miles, but walk? Are you nuts?" Or some variation thereof.

So how does that quote from my grandmother fit in? Well, watching my sister do that walk, I realized, she is living proof of my grandmother's words. I think a lot of us in this family embody those sentiments, but, on that weekend, she shone brightest, and it was made even clearer by the words she wrote on her bib number - "I am walking for those who can't". My sister, who carries my grandmother's name, without realizing it, carries her heart and soul as well. My sister is not an athlete, but, she would be damned if she didn't finish that walk, and do it in a pretty good clip to boot.

Unfortunately, in my family, cancer is all around us. Uncles, aunts, fathers, mothers, daughters, brothers, lots of people in my family suffer different variations of it. I lost my Nonno to it, and I lost a piece of myself as well when she died. But, I know, as a family, we will fight, and fight, and fight, till the bitter end, to survive, and more importantly, become stronger as we battle through. And I know too, that my roots, lie within my grandmother's words as well, and it is that, my fellow readers, that I used this past weekend, to remind myself why, I cannot ever quit, why I cannot and will never give up; its not in my genes. No matter how white the pain, it is nothing compared to what she, and others in my family survived.

So this is for both Lauras in my life - at 33 and 96 I have learned more from both of you than any class, book, lecture, etc. And most importantly, I learned what I am made of.

2/3's of a good race still won't get you the podium

Hey all,

Well, I want to keep this brief, b/c if I don't, I'll get more frustrated, and for those who know me, that's not good. Before I start, let me reiterate, I hate, hate the weather in Chicago, as we again were treated to really special stuff this past weekend. A little over a week ago, I was riding in winter cycling gear, in 45 degree weather. This past Sunday, 90 degrees and 90 percent humidity. Plenty of time to acclimate.

Now, I sweat more than your typical athlete, I mean a lot more. Like, crazy amounts more. I'm the guy wringing his shirt out in 70 degree weather, so, days like yesterday, not my friend. But, I was positive I had hydrated properly, and took all the steps to be ready for the heat. And for the most part, I was. But only for the most part.

The Battle of Batavia, looked to be competitive yesterday, with some of the fast guys I raced against in Galena showing up to duke it out on a flatter course. A course, which suited me just fine. I had broke the first run record last year, and was hoping to stay with the fast guys on the first run so I wouldn't lose time on the bike. Once I got to the race, I was dealt a bit of bad news, the race director decided to split the Du into 2 waves, by Bib number. So, numbers 1-75 went first, 76 and over went off 4 minutes later. Mind you, this is being run in conjunction with a tri, so there are a lot of people all over the place, and a lot of them were first timers. My number was 82, I was second wave. The guys I wanted to race with, were in the first wave. When I looked at my wave, I knew I had no one to pace with, so, I politely, yes politely, asked to be in the first wave. I was told no, and accepted the answer, it wasn't going to change how I was going to race anyway. So, we went off, and I went hunting, looking to pick off people from the first wave, and use them as a carrot to help me keep pace. I entered T1 with a comfortable 11:58 opening 2.4 mile run, and felt good getting on the bike. I knew I was on a good day, checking my watts and speed, I was motoring. And I felt good. I mean, not just physically, but mentally, and not to get to existenntial, but spiritually as well. I was making up time, and I knew it. I wasn't passed once on the bike, and just kept tracking down that first wave. Got off the bike, took my initial few strides, and felt loose, so I started to go. The heat was bad, but, it wasn't until about 1.5 miles into the second run that I really felt it. My body started to shake with the chills, and I was getting dizzy.

I backed off my pace a bit, and was determined to keep running, and not stop. I knew I was giving back time, but, I was not going to give in. The last mile was torture, I was really dizzy, started to get tunnel vision, and thought I was going to black out. I crossed the line, and by the time they got my chip off, I leapt into a bush and started to vomit for a good 5-7 minutes. Fortunately, my girlfriend was there, and grabbed a medic, who took me in the ambulance. After a few minutes my vitals came down to acceptable levels, and I started to feel a bit better. Until I realized, I gave back all the time I made up on the lead group.

When the dust settled, I was less than 2 minutes out of the top 3, and less than 20 seconds out of 2nd in my AG to boot. The moral of the story - the race is not just about the 2 or 3 legs we race, its about the nutrition, hydration, rest, everything that goes with it. I thought I did everything right, but in talking with my sister, a nurse, and my team director, there were about 3 things I could have done differently that would have saved my race. The silver lining - it wasn't my legs. My legs were there, and the power and strength was there too. So, back to the drawing board with my coach, and figure out ways to beat you guys who beat me this weekend.

Family - Blood's thicker than water, but, what do you do when that Blood is crazy?

This is less of a blog about training and racing, and more of an insight into my support system, my family. Its funny I say support system, because the traditional thought is, a support system would be considered, particularly in multi-sport, as a group of people who are there to help you, encourage you, and basically be the moral support you need to race. This past Memorial Day, my family gathered at one of my Aunt's house, and reminded me of our twisted form of "support". Ours is not, what one would consider, traditional. When we support, we mean, taunting, razzing, and constantly asking the question, "So, when do you think you'll stop doing all this non-sense?" Real feel good moments. But, I know, in thier own way, they are there for me, even if its to laugh at me after I crash.



But this gathering of about 20 of us, proved once again, why I don't think its a great idea to invite them out to a race. First off, 20 of us, sounds like 220 people, all working in the options Pit at the Chicago Merc during a huge trading frenzy. And we wonder why, at the age of 40, most of us are hard of hearing. I have always considered myself fortunate to be Italian, and in particular, 100% Italian, from parents who are immigrants, where Italian is still spoken as often as English. Most of my family has kept that same tack - marrying 100% Italian husbands or wives, so, its basically family, on top of family, but, we all understand each other. And I have always laughed at the stereotypes of Italians portrayed in the media, b/c, I know better. But, the one thing Hollywood got right, we are loud, I mean louder than necessary. For an outsider, it would seem as though there is a huge fight breaking out, when in reality, its just us talking. That's why it always seems like there are more of us, we are basically shouting at each other just to talk about the weather. Still, every male in my family tells me the same thing, don't marry an Italian girl, they are crazy and this family can't take any more crazy. On Memorial Day, truer words could not have been spoken.



So, on this great holiday, with many of my cousins around, and my 95 year old grandmother in the house, my generation decided it was time to remind our parents and granparents, at the bang up job they did at raising us. We started trading war stories as to emotional scars we got as kids, that have stayed with us well into our adult life. Not to mention the ridiculous superstitions we grew up with, only to discover, how goofy we looked, making the sign of the cross every time someone sneezed or dropped a fork.



But, back to the stereotypes. The common theme in American culture is that the Italian male is the head of the family. Nothing could be further from the truth. Every Italian family I know has a matriarch, and let me tell you, even from her deathbed, she still rules with an iron fist. There is no one who will get the attention of a room full of family like the eldest female. She calls the shots, trust me. And by all means, don't make her mad. The same is true for us. My grandmother, God bless her, is completely mentally clear, and gets around fine. Heck, she still remembers the names of her grammar school teachers. However, she has been a bit ill as of late, so, we are always concerned when that happens. So, to see her at my Aunt's talking and laughing was great. Until it was story time. She was all smiles until one of my older cousins decided to explain his fear of elevators, and why, it was her fault.

Now, my Gram has always been a tough lady, but, she still has a huge heart, and is extremely sweet and nice. But you get her going, and watch out. Apparently, at the tender age of 4, my Gram and her sister, took my cousin in question to Bonds Department store, while babysittiing. So, they got in an elevator to get to the floor they wanted, and low and behold the elevator, did not go up, but rather rapidly, descended, and opened to a Fallout Bomb Shelter, designed for a nuclear attack. Understandably, this was a bit traumatic to my cousin, at the age of 4, and made all the more so, by my Gram and her sister laughing. However, my cousin, wasn't laughing quite as hard, and as he aged, developed a true fear of elevators.

Now, as he relayed this story, my Gram's ears perked up, and for everthing she remembers about her grandchildren, and she remembers quite a bit, that little piece of history escaped her. However, what she did remember was baby sitting my cousin on later occassions and having to walk up flights of stairs b/c he wouldn't get on an elevator. And she made it quite clear, she was none too thrilled about that, either. Of course, this was all wrapped around the phrase, "If you weren't such a cry baby, I wouldn't have had to damn near kill myself to get your grandfather a pair of socks!" As another cousin mentioned, its phrases like that, which are usually the start of a horrible fight.

As most of us ran for cover to laugh, my cousin, sat there in shock, at the fact that my grandmother had been holding a grudge having to walk stairs all this time. Not to mention, she didn't remember why he was afraid of elevators, until the age of 18, even though she may have had something to do with it. But she wasn't done there. She was just getting warmed up. One by one, she was tearing apart all of our life-scarring stories, and we couldn't help but laugh at each other, when our stories were told through the words of this woman we all looked at as our sweet grandmother. But at 95, why hold back? I fully supported her rant, realizing, why not tell everyone how you feel? I mean, I think if you reach the age of 80, the gloves can come off. Sure, some of us have nervous twitches, some of us have physical scars that will never go away, others have debilitating fears of spoons, but, we are all family, so, its ok. Ok, so, maybe some grown men in my family still can't climb a ladder without the fear of getting pitched off, that's ok, we're FAMILY - these things happen.

The funniest part is, when I talk to friends about my childhood, or even my adult life with my family, I realize, its not just any family, its our FAMILY that is insane. Now, anyone who knows me, knows, I am far from normal, but, at one point, between laughing fits on Monday, I was at the kitchen counter with my sister, and we both watched these people, our blood, telling each other horrible things about one another, and stories of our youth, that we don't even remember, and realizing, that, we are 2 things, really looney, and really lucky. See my Gram's point was dead on. Yeah, we are all goofy, but, its us, its our blood, its our family, they are our stories. They are our history. They are our tears and sounds of laughter. They are our highs and lows.

When I started this blog, my family was at the front my thoughts, b/c no one provides greater fodder for something like this than the people closest to you. So, I suppose the Italian stereotype of having a big, close family is true. But, that's only a small part of the story. Its what that closeness brings, both good and bad. But you go through it all together. I have 3 cousins, all female, all sisters, who live on the same block. Now, I love my sister, but, if I had to see her everyday, one of us would be in the morgue. And, honestly, we all had odds if the 3 girls would make it without a hate crime. Its not to say they don't fight, but, by and large, they get along, and have grown even closer. They realized that no matter how many friends they make, no one will be closer to them, than each other. No one will support them more. And that's what a true familial support system means.

So, do I mind that my family thinks that racing is crazy? Well, when you consider the source, no. My main point of this blog is, no matter how wacky your support system is, as we get into the heart of the season, remember to thank them, and love them back, even if they are nuts. Me, I'm still trying to get over my whole fear of spoons.

Galena - Don't Let the Race Get Away from You

Posted: Mon May 19, 2008 10:06 am Post subject: Galena Triathlon/Duathlon

Well, it was time for me to forget about a horrible Nationals, and there is no better way then to go do the hilliest short race in the Region - Galena. Went out there Thursday night, and realized once I got there what a great place it is to train. Hills are everywhere, and its a perfect place for a team camp. Stayed at Eagle Ridge, which is the best place to ride and run, and not be bothered by traffic. Got to the race on Saturday, and in typic fashion, the duathlon started well after the tri - actually 50 minutes after the tri's first wave. So, we hung out at the duathlon start line around 8:45, with over an hour to kill before we went off. The tri looked like it was heating up, lots of guys coming up the steep climb out of transition, and hitting the bike course hard. Finally, it was time for the Du to start, and the 34 and under took off first. The first run, which was advertised as a 2 mile run, turned out to be a 2.6 mile run, but, don't get me started on the treatment of duathletes. Anyway, 3 minutes later, and the 35-39 men took off. The first run is mainly straight down hill, and then a short, 300 meter climb at 8% to the turn around. I was leading the run for my wave, and catching half of the the first wave by mile 1. I hit the 1 mile mark at 5:25, and felt really comfortable, not, pushing hard, turned around to head up, and got to the 2 mile mark, with about a 30 second lead. I noticed there were only 3 guys from that 34 and under wave still ahead of me, but, there was lots of real estate left, so, I wasn't too worried, plus, they had a 3 minute head start. Got to transition, and basically had to wait in line to get out, mobs of swimmers coming out of transition as well, and the duathletes were put at the farthest rack from Bike Out. Anyway, got on my bike and felt pretty solid. Then the head wind picked up, and the hills started to bite into my legs. I went into conservation mode, and tried to just relax as much as possible on the early climbs. By mile 6 I had lost a couple of spots, but, I tried to stay calm and get around the slower triathletes as I rode. The ride was hillier than I thought, tons of sharp, steep climbs, and with the head wind, I was losing time, and I could feel it. I dug in about mile 9, and tried to hammer as much as possible, trying to stay consistent. The road was packed with triathletes, most of whom were having a hard time climbing, and were swerving all over the road. With no race marshalls, people were riding 3 across, and it was a bit dangerous. Got into T2 and knew I had to make up some time. I hit the first mile, which is a pleasant 6.3% climb for 400 meters, then, you turn and climb at 8% for another 400 meters, and slowly climb to the first mile mark. But, I was making up time, and I knew it. I was cramping bad by mile 1.5, but I ignored my stomach and just kept going. The run basically is a climb all the way to the turn around, but after the first mile, its not really bad. I passed 2 duathletes and kept hunting for more. At the turn around I saw the 3 guys from the first wave, and I was on them. By mile 3, my stomach was on fire, but, I knew I was almost home. The last mile takes you down hill the same way you came up, so, I tried to run it as best I could, thinking I was in good shape. When the results came out, I was a bit dissapointed, 8th OA, and 4th in my AG. The silver lining, the only place I gave up time was on the bike. Admittedly, I'm not the best climber, but, I was hoping to ride at least 5 minutes faster than I did. But, definitely a confidence boost for my running, with an opening 2.6 at 14:56, including a one mile climb, that averaged 7% and a second run that ended up being the 4th fastest overall. The biggest thing I learned - DON'T GET COMPLACENT. When I was riding, and in the second run, I was passing a lot of people and thought, man, I am doing well, I am making up time. What I stopped doing was - pushing. We all have moments like this - we are doing well, things seem like we are in the lead - so, we stop pushing. That's a bad move. And that's exactly what I did. I was passing everyone, but, not realizing I wasn't passing the right people, b/c unconsciously, I wasn't going to redline pace, and that's what I should have done. So, when you are out there - stay focused, no matter where you are in the race, don't start to to let the race get away from you. Especially if you are feeling good, and want a good finish - you need to keep the pace up. Saw teammate Simon Trude and his girlfriend, looked like they had a great race as well.

April Showers bring Road Rash....

So, its been a while since my last post, as I was preparing for the Duathlon Short Course National Champs, this past weekend. Everything was going pretty well, I was staying healthy and out of trouble, which, is pretty amazing for me. I even had my lactate threshold tested on the bike the weekend before the race, and felt a good sense of confidence heading out to Richmond, VA.

I had heard all the usual things you hear from other athletes about the course - it varied from being pretty easy, to flat out impossible, with a little in between. Our sport is great when it comes to exaggeration, we're worse than fisherman. Some guy I talked to, couldn't believe I would leave the comforts of the Midwest to race in the Hills of Virginia; as if one of the climbs was the next Alpe D'Huez. But, I felt my fitness would carry the day, no matter the conditions.

So, I headed out to Richmond, and arrived in sunshine and 80 degree weather. It was unreal. There were college girls in bikinis, the race course was 2 blocks from my hotel, there were college girls in bikinis, the run was mostly off-road, which I love, and did I mention, there were college girls in bikinis, laying out, getting sun, all over the run course?

Friday and Saturday, I followed my tradition, of sleeping a ton, only going out to train, and generally avoiding a lot of people and aggrevation. I did manage to get some sun from training, and it felt great. The warm air, the warm breeze, my legs took to it all and I felt great. Right up to Saturday night, when the first crash of thunder came. I figured, the rain would pass by morning, and even if it didn't, I have always raced well in the rain, so, what's the big deal?

Everyone is huddled in transition, which is now like cold soup, setting up, trying not to get thier racing flats soaked, while trying to warm up. The 80 degrees was replaced with 55 and 95% humidity, and it only got worse. I still felt good though, so, I shrugged it off, and went to the start line.

It was mile 3 of the first run that I felt them, and they did not arrive gently. I sensed something wasn't right, I was pouring sweat, and suddenly, wasn't sweating nearly as much. The chills crept up my back, my arms and my legs. The first thing I thought, "I'm blowing up, I'm dehydrating 17 minutes into the National Championship." There were no mile makers, but, the run was 2 loops to make up the opening 10K. So, on the second loop, I slowed down considerably, and hit both water stops. I went into damage control, and started thinking, let them go, you'll get fluid on the bike, and will catch up. But once I got to my bike, things got ugly.

The bike course started on steep, short incline, on a blacktop road, with several quick switchbacks. I got on my ride, started up the climb, and got out of the saddle for the second switchback. Next thing I knew, I was kissing pavement, and blood was coming out of my right elbow, and forearm. Then, I did something I have never done in a race: I looked up at the sky, lied there for a couple of minutes and debated quitting. The race wasn't 45 minutes old, and I was on the ground and dehydrated. As I write this, I don't know what made me get up, but I did,, checked my bike and took off for the 4 looped course.

The rain came and went in spurts, and on this ridiculous course, we had to manuever through a parking lot, that lead to a forest preserve. It also required us to make a 180 degree turn, on wet pavement, with tree seeds lying everywhere. As I safely rounded the turn on my second loop, I again got out of the saddle and accelerated. Same result, me on the ground, now with more blood, and a red stain starting to come through my race suit, on my right hip. At this point, I knew, my day was done. Everytime I tried to get out of my saddle to accelerate, I could feel my back wheel, start to give, so, for all the power I had in my legs, it was rendered useless.

The second run was a formality to get to the med tent. It was my worst race as a duathlete, and I picked one of the biggest stages to do it on.

Now, most of you are probably wondering, what's the point though? I mean, ok, yeah, you had a bad race, but what do we learn from this. Well, let me tell you. My immediate reaction on the ride home was - " I need another race immediately to prove that I am fast and belong with the top guys out there." And, for the last 4 days, that's all I have bugged my coach about. But, she has stayed firm, and pointed out that, gut reactions like that, are not always the best choice. And she's right. As type A's, we hate failure, and let me tell you, I can't stand it. It stays with me, and haunts me until I am able to right the ship. We need that immediate correction, otherwise, we go nuts. But, that's not the way to go. Yeah, I'm angry and frustrated, but, is sneaking in another race going to make things better, especially if that other race jeopordizes the plan I have for the season? No way. And, although it took my coach, my team director, and a fellow athlete to see this, I have concluded, we are all going to have bad days, and some stuff, like crashing on a wet course, is out of our control. The things we can control, like hydration, we fix, and move forward. The key phrase there is - MOVE FORWARD. Listen, ask my Mom, my sister, my Dad, anyone close to me, I will be miserable for days after a bad race, but, its not helping. The thing I have learned, is that, each race, has its place, and sometimes, they will provide more dissapointment than joy.

I'm not going to sit here and try to tell you I'm not angry, and that I am going to forget what happened, rather, I am channeling that energy to get me ready for my next race. I will take out my frustrations on that course, on that field. But wasting energy every day until then, re-thinking this past race in my head, its exhausting and pointless. The race is done, and I can't re-do it. None of us can. When this happens to any of us, use the one muscle we don't use enough - your head. Take a couple of days, and mellow out. Train, for sure, but, don't use every training session to try and re-do the race. Don't even think about your next race, at least not for a couple of days, and just train, clear your head space. Stop over-thinking. I think I say this more for me, than for everyone else, but think about it. And remember this, the only race you can't recover from is the one you can't let go of. Its like pining over lost love, which I have also done. And you know what that got me? A huge phone bill, some big credit card bills sending gifts that were never used, and more emptiness. Its the same with your racing. Learn what you can from it, and move on - move ahead.

Did I mention that there were girls in bikinis in Richmond? Sorry, its been a long winter.

So, You can't win a DU in the first mile of the first run, but you can definitely lose it...

I know its been a while since I last posted, and with good reason. One, I was suffering from that absolutely horrid flu that was running around the city like flies at a picnic, and two, I was focusing on training for some upcoming races. So, I finally got to race outside this past weekend, in the great state of Tennessee. Ah, the South. where else can you find an adult book store, about 40 feet from a 4 story illuminated cross? You can't even make stuff like that up.

The best part about being a duathlete is that, you can almost be guaranteed you will be leaving bad weather, only to race in worse. And, true to form, that's exactly what happened. I drove through rain all of Friday, trained in rain and cold on Saturday on the course, and race in 48 degrees and damp. Of course, back home, here in Chicago, it was the nicest weekend in months. Another reason you triathletes don't realize how good you have it.

Anyway, on to the race. I was a bit nervous about the course, considering we were near the foothills of the Smokey Mountains, and, I have logged more computrainer time than I would like to remember, but, after riding it, I felt good. Yeah, it was hilly, but, my winter work had paid off. Actually, as I ran the course, I felt good. Really good. I went to bed feeling confiident and excited.

The next day, I got to the race site, set up and warmed up. I talked thru my game plan with my coach at least twice, to make sure we had it down. I kept quietly repeating my splits to myself as I warmed up. I knew I could do it. So, we lined up for the start, and the gun went off. I don't know if it was 10 or 20 seocnds into the first run, but, I took that beautiful game plan I had laid out, and framed in my head, ripped it up and tossed it in the trash. For whatever reason, and I really think it was b/c I was finally racing outside and felt good, I decided today would be a good day to open with a 4:30 opening mile, as if I hit the mile marker in that time, the race would end and I would be declared the winner. Like the other 3o miles of racing would be declared a nullity. Needless to say, I have had brighter moments in my life, but this day was not to be one of them. By the half way point of the opening run, I felt like I had cinder blocks for quads. And then my idiocy sank in, as guys who I had marked to stick with, including last year's winner, went past me.

So, I hung on, running 2 minutes slower than I had planned, and then proceeded to hit that hilly bike course which seemed a lot hillier with fried legs. I finished the race off with a mediocre second run, that saw me do no more than pass a few athletes for an AG win, but, not the Overall place I hoped for. When I saw the splits, I realized, had I stuck to my plan, I would have been fighting for the win, or a top 3 finish at worst. Instead, I barely rounded out the top 10.

So, as I try to with this blog, is impart some knowledge of my errors on to others - when feeling good, DON'T DITCH YOUR PLAN - STAY CONTROLLED. For triathletes its the equivalent of having the fastest 400 meters in the swim in the mile swim, with the rest of the race to go. It gets you nothing, except tired and burnt out. Whatever you planned on proving, you didn't, but you did prove you are an idiot. I was talking with the top 3 guys after the race, and they all couldn't help but ask, "what the hell were you doing?" You looked like you were in a sprint." Indeed, a sprint apparently only I was the only one racing that sprint. The other athletes realized there was more racing to be done. Yes, I learned a very valuable lesson.

But more importantly, I had hoped to learn more from this race exactly where my fitness is. And because I raced like a moron, I didn't get that info. Early season races, need to be treated with as much care as your A races, b/c they are your gauge - they will help you determine where you are either lacking or excelling, and help you build from there. But, you need to race smart to get that info. My coach can still use my results to make changes, but, the biggest change has to be to my head, the one muscle athletes sometimes neglect until its too late. I have always been a big believer of racing from the gut, but, if you aren't careful, you too will be giving gifts like the one I did this weekend. And for those who read this and know me, I hate giving gifts, particularly at races.

So, be smart out there. Use your head, not just your gut when you race. It can definitely save you the same aggrevating experience I had. And to that guy from Indy who pimped me in the last 400 meters of the run, I'll see you again at Short Course Nationals, and trust me, I won't be giving gifts that day. To the rest of you, pay close attention to my dumb move. It could save your next race.

Why Esquire Magazine needs to re-think its "Ten Things Men Don't Know About Women" Segment

So, as a commuter, I can only play Brickbraker on my phone so often before I start to go nuts, so, I do my best to get a good book, or a good magazine to keep me occupied for my train ride. I usually head for ProCycling, or Bicycling, or Velonews, as a fan of cycling. I know I am a multi-sport athlete, but, honestly, I can't take the tri mags we have. The emphasis on "Tri" We duathletes get it, your sport is bigger, draws bigger numbers, gets more pub, blah, blah, blah. But, aren't you guys even sick of the repetition of the articles? I mean, unless you are a straight IM athlete, what do you read those for? Please don't tell me product reviews, b/c you and I both know you are way better off reading a single sport magazine to get a more thorough review. And please don't tell me you race to get the newest issue b/c of Scott Tinley's column. I would like to think that we, as a multi-sport community, are smarter than this.

Anyway, I was purusing the magazines and noticed Esquire magazine. Now, I try to stay up on current events, including men's fashion. Since I am stuck wearing a suit most days, it never hurts to see what's out there. Plus, Rachel Hunter is turning 39 and looks as hot as ever in this month's issue, so, you see my point. But, for some reason, this rather tasteful magazine, has added a new section, apparently to remind us males, how little we know about women. First off, ladies, trust me on this, we are well aware as to how little we know about women. As a point of fact, when we do talk about women, the general consensus is, we don't understand you, never will, and are tired of trying. I know guys who wake up every morning and apologize to their wife just in case something happens later in the day.

So, I started to read this month's "10 Things" which is always written by some celebrity, who, sorry guys, none of us have a chance in hell of ever dating, let alone getting within 50 feet for fear of a restraining order. Now I have read former "10" columns in the past, but, this time I realized, there is some bs going on here. It seemed more like "10 things you don't know about THIS woman" not womankind in general. So, I started to ask some female friends if there was any merit to her statements. Turns out, not really. So, now, we have a problem, b/c schmucks like me are reading this column every month, and thinking "Wow, look at everything I am learning about the female species! I am so hip! I am so with the times! I'll get a date in no time!", when in reality, we are better off reading Bazooka Joe comics. So, I say, shame on Esquire, b/c we males, have been duped again, which, honestly is not super hard to do, in believing these women were speaking for their entire gender, when in reality, they were simply talking about themselves. And like I said, unless you are a celebrity, and I am talking A-list here, you aren't getting close to these women.

What I realized though, is that women are desperate to teach us stuff about them, in the hopes that somehow, our eyes will open, and we will run to pick up "Martha Stewart' Living", "The Secret" and get tickets to see the "Vagina Monologues". Ladies, let me tell you, you are trying way too hard. Now, I don't profess to be an expert at relationships, as a point of fact, I am horrible at them. My most lasting relationship is with my niece, and that's only b/c she is 4 and doesn't know any better yet. But if you are so desperate to teach the males of this planet how to understand you better, let me tell you a few things about your target audience. And guys, you really can't get mad at me here, b/c 1. I am not sharing the big secrets, and 2. In the long run, this info should help you. Always looking out for my boys.

First, women, the most important thing you need to know about us - we are not that smart. Period. Example - male multi-sport athlete knows for months his mate's sister is getting married, and that his gal is the maid of honor. Knows, maybe even penciled the date on the fridge. But, on that same Saturday, he is slated for a 5 hour ride in Wisconsin with some other athletes, and is fully intent on going. See, in his mind, he can, do the ride, come home, take a nap and make it to the reception on time - perfect! Of course, this is absolutely contrary to the female's notion as to how the day should go. So, ladies, what you do is TELL US WHAT YOU WANT. Trust me, we are not mind readers. If we are left alone for too long, the idea of changing clothes becomes an issue. So, don't assume we will know what the standard course of action for a specific event is, b/c we don't. See we aren't dumb in the get up, go to work, go to school, make money, train right, keep tabs on your fantasy teams, sense. We are just clueless on stuff for relationships. We aren't doing stuff out of spite or to make your life more difficult, we honestly don't know any better.

Second, and this falls in line with the first thing, give us direction as to what you really want. If you want us to go and see your parents with you, say " I would like you to come and see my parents with me." Or, and even more important, tell us, EXACTLY how you feel. If you say, "I'm fine" and you aren't, we will ponder it for about 5 seconds and then move on to the ball game. Then, when you come flying around the corner of the living room 5 days later telling us why you are upset about something that happened 3 weeks ago at the mall, we are not only caught off guard, its going to take a monumental amount of effort for us to even remember 3 days ago, let alone 3 weeks. So, when in doubt, let it out, right then and there. Otherwise, its like it didn't happen, at least to us.

Lastly, and this goes for all of us, we all look at other women. Just like you ladies look at other guys, you are just more subtle about it. Now, I am not advocating that a guy should walk around with his girl, like his head is on a swivel, but, we are going to look. Especially in our sport, where, let's face it, its all pretty much on display. How do you not notice the tiny girl with the circus breasts in transition? Here's the crucial part - guys - you're lady knows you are looking, but doesn't need you doing any of the following: drooling, staring so bad you start to go cross-eyed, or pointing at her to your girl and say "Check that out! I bet she floats just fine!" That, would be in poor taste. Trust me, tried it, got left at the race site. Not pretty. But ladies, we are going to look. Here's the important part - WE ARE JUST LOOKING - WE AREN'T TRYING TO GET WITH THEM. Have some confidence that your man is happy with you, he's just, well, a guy. Its what we do. Its like my locker room blog, you don't even want to know the nonsense we do in private or even in public when we think no one is looking. I have seen more businessmen pick thier ass in public than I like to think about it. It doesn't matter eductation, social status, etc., guys have these common denominators, and you ladies need to realize them, so that your life will be easier.

I know this won't make it into Esquire, but maybe, just maybe, some ladies will go home, look at thier man, and just give him a knowing hug and kiss. Or, maybe, I am about to get a lot more hate mail than I normally do. Either way, I think I made a pretty decent point. Now, go back to your Inside Tri Magazine to read about the right gear ratio for IM Placid. Especially all of you who never plan on racing it.

Sometimes, staying inside isn't such a bad thing....

I don't usually like to talk about my racing results in general, because, well, I always get the impression that non-athletes get bored hearing it, and athletes are ready to start comparing times. But, on this occassion, I wanted to get something out there.

As some of you know, I was in Phoenix last month, getting ready to race the Desert Classic Du, and unfortunately, got hit by a horrible ear infection that knocked me out of competing. I found brooding over the subject for a few days to be comforting, but, thanks to the advice of my coach, I found another race right away, an Indoor Duathlon, in Orland Park. Perfect. Nice and close to home. Low key, and I could even convince some of the family to come out. So, I set my mind to training, and getting in a race.

The mind plays tricks with you when you miss a race, but, what I learned is, you can outsmart yourself. The key is, think slow. For me, this isn't too hard, b/c well, I'm not too bright. But, when you think slow, you learn to deal with things easier, and stop your mind from reeling. And that's what I did. I just focused on training and getting a race in my legs.

I got to the event early Saturday morning, and a wave had already gone off. In it, contained last year's winner, and local health club bad ass, so, I figured it would be good to see his numbers before I took off. I went thru my warm up, and as usual, felt lousy, but was glad to have that feeling back. Then I pulled up my compression socks, all white of course, and in my black one-piece tri suit, took off. Now, as a few of you know, my sense of pacing is, well, poor. This day was no exception. It was a small track - 10 times around for a mile, but for whatever reason, I thought I was running on a nice 200 meter indoor track. Later in the day my ankles told me otherwise, but, I lit out, and really didn't think at all, only focused on going as fast as possible for the opening mile and a half run. When I hit the line for the last lap, the clock read 7:07. I thought it was wrong, but, then the pain was coming on full throtle, so, if nothing else, it felt like a 7:07.

Then on to the spin bikes, with no tension, pedaling away at 120 rpms. You know, just like a normal race. 10 miles of this nonsense, and then back to the track. I had a lead on everyone, but I wasn't going to let off the gas. I hit the second run, another 1.5 miler, and ended the show with an 8:20. I beat the leader and last year's winner by 3 miuntes. I would like to thank Pantera, as in the final laps, all I heard in my brain was "Cowboys from Hell" pushing me to finish. I didn't notice but a crowd had gathered, and I was shocked it was to see me and congratulate me on a great, and winning time. I was elated, and more importantly, felt like my fitness was where I wanted it to be.

The biggest point I want to make is, I know, as a lot of elite amatuer athletes do, we avoid indoor races, as they don't really mimic a true race. Well, maybe they don't but, I will tell you this, they do help provide people in a cold weather climate figure out where your fitness is. Am I going to go out and run my next race at 4:53 pace? Probably not, but, if I can make more turns than a clown car and still run sub 5's, well, that says something. So, instead of looking down your nose at the indoor races, use them to your advantage. If nothing else, it keeps you motivated training in the cold. Yeah, I was running around the track and noticed the cold and snow outside, but, I was RACING, and that felt great. Its true, if you are a hero in January, you probably will wilt before June, but, if you go out to a local indoor and have some fun, you may be suprised at what happens. I know I was.

I need to thank a few people, mainly, my coach, Jen, who kept me motivated, and definitely got me racing right. And to my folks, who, didn't think I was going quite fast enough, and needed to tell me to pick it up, everytime I went past. Nothing like watching your Mom making the hand motion to go faster as you are already at redline pace.

And to Jane, well, thanks for being there. You didn't have to be, but, as a true friend, you were a great source of inspiration.

To those reading this, thanks for reading. I will have funnier stuff coming up soon, but, for this race, the Black Sheep needed to get a good one in.

When in Doubt, put on a Towel

So, there has been something that has been bugging me for a while, (I know, "one thing?") but, I realized again this week why it needs to be addressed and fixed asap. I am talking about locker room etiquette, at your local health clubs. Now, I am going to speak primarily from a male's perspective, but, I have the good fortune of having some inside info on you ladies as well, so, you will not be spared.

As a multi-sport athlete, who doesn't swim, and really doesn't lift, most of my workouts are done outside, or at home, on my trainer. I love the convience of that, b/c having a computrainer and a pretty thick skin for the cold, has provided me great opportunities to get more fit, while avoiding the club. But, there are times, when you just can't. For me, I have my dreaded treadmill speed workouts, which my coach finds amusing, knowing I am miserable on it, smacking my hands on the console, getting funny looks for my outfits, and generally hating everyone staring at me.

So, I was at the club again last night, and sure enough, it hit me. Now, I don't mean that literally, but I have to tell you some guys come damn close, when parading around the locker room. Let's start with the walking around naked. My whole thing is, why? I mean, I know its all guys, but, you aren't at home, believe it or not. And then, what in the sweet name of Jesus, are you doing sitting your bare ass down on a bench, that other guys use to put thier feet on to tie thier shoes? Its a shock there aren't more cases of cholera reported every year from this activity. Are you insane? You are putting your ass where Joe just tossed his dirty work boots on top of, to dry your feet. Think about that. No really, think about it. Think about what Joe walks thru every day before hitting the club. Now, envision that on your rear end. You can go vomit now.

I know its mainly the older fellows who practice this, but it doesn't make it any more right. A lot of clubs have TV's in the locker rooms, where you can catch up on sports, business, etc. And some clubs have couches, that seem inviting. Now, if you want to stop and watch a bit, great. But do you need to watch TV without any clothes on, after you just got out of the sauna? Basically, you have now thrown your sweaty ass down on the couch, where others have probably done the same, and again, exposed yourself to God knows what, while watching the O'Reilly Factor. Now, I know some guys don't want to go home, but, the club is still NOT your HOME. If you want to go work up a sweat, take off all your clothes and sit on your own couch, to watch the ballgame, great, just let me know that's what you do before I get invited over.

If this was the biggest infraction, it would be bad, but, unfortunately, I have seen worse. At some clubs, they have several amenities, combs, shaving cream and hair dryers, you know, for your man-perm. They key thing is that the hair dryer is reserved for the head. Never in my life have I looked at a hair dryer and thought, "Screw this towel thing, I am blow-drying myself!" So, what, could possibly possess you guys from using the blow dryer, that again, is a communal blow dryer, to clean, a. your genitals, or b. the crack of your ass? I mean, do you not realize you are not alone in the room? When I saw a guy drying his ass crack, I was mortified and thankful I don't have enough hair to even consider blow drying it.

See the key thing is, guys need to wake up and remember, you aren't at home, and you are not in private. Plus, others are going to use stuff, or sit where you are. And last thing guys, if you get a phone call in the locker room, please, please don't put one leg up on the bench, with your polo shirt on, sans pants or underwear. I don't need to see Johhny Businessman and all this glory as if he was doing deep knee bends without pants.

Now ladies, I have heard, from a very reliable source, you aren't much better. The difference is, men, really don't care about how we look in the locker room, we are just oblivous as to what we are doing. My understanding is that some of you ladies like to be on display. Like the ones who put on thier make-up with no clothes on. Or those who prance about the locker room, with nothing on, hoping to get some attention. What kind, I don't know, but, from what I understand, there are some proud ladies out there, who need to re-think that whole thing.

Here's the deal, anyone who knows me, knows I am not a prude, but, please, put something on. I don't care if you look like an Adonis, that's great. But save it for your lady, not for the boys. We get it, your buff, and fake-tanned. Congrats. Me, I am thinking of getting a treadmill for my place. With baseball season approaching, I don't know if I can handle trying to catch the Sox score with a bunch of sweaty naked guys hudled around the TV.

Why you shouldn't get sick in Phoenix, or learn to deal with dissapointment

So, its been another week, and for all of those waiting for some great race report, I don't have one. The race didn't happen, well, at least not for me. Long story short, I was fighting a sinus infection before I left, contracted an ear infection when I got to Pheonix, and landed in the ER the night before the race in extreme pain, and extremely dizzy.

Now, the reason for the title of today's blog, is what happened at the ER. On top of waiting for 3 plus hours to get seen by a doctor, I was surrounded by, "snow birds". I am sure most of you know who I am talking about here, and let me tell you, there is nothing quite like being in an ER, in another state, surrounded by other people from out of state, who, all seem to have an extremely contagious, and deadly disease. Coughing up large amounts of something was going on everywhere, and I suddenly forgot my throbbing ear, and was looking for a HAZ-MAT suit. So, I went to another side of the ER, which was open and allowed me to actually take deep breaths without fear of catching Yellow Fever or Polio. But, as was my luck this entire trip, another "bird" wheeled herself to my area, and began to hack up what could only be described as tar. I kid you not, she could have tarred my family's old driveway from the south side of Chicago.

So, I basically balled myself in a corner, in the fetal position, with a Michael Jackson mask on, waiting for my name to be called. As the room began clearing out, I settled in, and started noticing I was the only person left in the waiting room. And 3 hours just blew by, as I was watching Sponge Bob Square Pants. Apparently, according to the nurse I asked, I required a bed for my condition, and there were none free. I don't know how she figured out my condition without examining me, but, some people just can sense things I guess. Anyway, I get into a bed with the curtain thing, and all my friends from the waiting room are in there, except now, they are hooked up to machines and leaking fluids, and moaning in pain. I was a bit concerned, to say the least. So, I get in, and I get a doctor, who was, to put it politely, less than interested. He threw that flashlight thing in my ear, and in my throat for all of 3 seconds, and told me I had the flu. I found that to be amazing, since none of the symptoms I stated were associated with the flu. But, as long as you have a stethescope and rectal thermometer, you can call it whatever you want. I asked him to look in my ear again, and then, he stated, "Well, it looks blocked, and red. You seem to be in pain, but I think, since you are going home in 2 days, you should see your physician for furthre care. I can give you Vicodin for the pain, if you want."

Ok, even reading what I just wrote, makes me want to fly back there and choke this guy. Basically, he told me what I already knew, except I walked out 75 dollars lighter, and without any meds, and still in pain. I got the feeling those other folks weren't going to be leaving any time soon with this guy on duty. Either that, or, he would see the guy bleeding from his eye, and tell him to run it under cold water to make it stop.

So, I did the only thing I could think of, I called my Mom. Now, I love my Mom, to death, and she is best, but, when it comes to my racing, let's just say, there is a lot more "I told you so" than you need to hear. So, when I called, I got the Italian guilt, for getting sick, and for getting sick out of town, and for not knowing better. With that upbeat conversation in hand, I called my coach, and proceeded to have a rational conversation about the race. As usual, Jen, made sense, and supported the idea of bagging the race. But, at the same time, she helped me see the benefits of getting home and healthy, to protect the rest of the season. Since I woke up at 3 am on Sunday feeling worse, it was the right thing to do.

So, on Monday, back to the airport, and the security, and the bike box question came back. And, remember, its early, and I have no filter. So, yeah, I said it was a rocket launcher, that I got on the Black Market from the Russians, and needed to get to Chicago asap. The agent didn't laugh nearly as hard as the other people behind me. Again, these people lack a sense of humor. They make the employees at the Daley Center look like the Red Cross. So, with a wax earplug in, I got on the plane, with some Motrin and thankfully got home before the storm hit. I raced to my doctor who said that she could see my ear infection from the door, and b/c super Doc in Phoenix didn't start me on antibiotics, it spread back into my sinuses. I was elated at this news. In all seriousness, it was a minor consolation, as I hate to miss races. Last April, I crashed at the race site the day before the race and opened up my right calf, and both palms, and my left hip. I needed stiches, but refused to go to the hospital, knowing they would come open during the race. So, on race day, I got out there, and in 30 degrees and sleet, I raced, in shorts, with blood streaming down my legs and hands. I'll race with pain. But, when I can't focus, see straight, or my ear feels like its getting hit with a hammer and a railroad tie, I had to call it.

This was the first time this happened to me, and it was, well, pretty dissappointing. But, the thing is, at some point, we all have to deal with dissapointment in the sport. I think of Norman Stadler in Hawaii last year, as well as others in other big events. And look, I am not saying I am not upset about it, I am. But, better to put that energy into the next race, into your training. We all need to be honest with ourselves, and our bodies and sometimes, that means, we need to call it a day, before we do irreparable damage to ourselves. Ask Chris Leigh. No, it doesn't feel good, yes, you will be depressed for a bit, but, in the long run, you will get past the moment, and find other opportunites to shine. Our sport is replete with success stories, as well as stories of those who did not avoid the pitfalls of illness and racing, and you have to decide which side you want to fall on. Some people brag about never having DNF'd, and gutting out the worst races. But, ask them what the long term damage was. For me, I could have easily busted my ear drum open, or, b/c my equilibrium was off, landed in some cactus on the run and I would still be in Phoenix, where Doctor Hatchet would be looking to fix my toe, to cure my ear. The biggest thing is, DON'T GIVE UP ON YOURSELF. These are minor setbacks, and when you get healthy, or past a personal issue keeping you from racing, you come back, renewed and refreshed. I am already thinking about my next race in a week and a half and I can't wait. I don't need to fly to get there, so, half the battle is already won. But I don't care what level you race at, be smart. Trust me, I have spent years, and still do, spend time, not being smart with the sport. And it always bites me in the rear. This time, I am using my brain, not my guts, and I am glad.

As for Phoenix, don't ask me if it was pretty or not. I didn't look and I should have. But, I will tell you the hospital water was delicious.

A Funny thing happened on the way to Pheonix...

First let me say to my fellow loyal readers, all 3 of you, I apologize for being a bit behind as of late with my postings. I have been busy with work and with preparing for my first race of the season, the Desert Classic in Phoenix. Coincidentally, I am writing this from Arizona, after spending the better part of the day, getting here and figuring out how to put my bike back together.

So, its this trip, at least the start of it, which has prompted me to write today's blog. Now, let me say, I am not the best flier in the world. I don't particularly enjoy flying, and to point it out, last year, at this time, I did 2 races way out of town, Austin, TX and Lake Charles, LA. I drove to both. But, when I qualified for Du Short Course Worlds last year, I was out of excuses. I did look at Google maps to discover the only alternative to flying to Europe was to drive to New York, run into the Atlantic, and then swim to France. All 3400 miles. So, I opted to fly. And, I discovered, that international travel was not all that bad. My bike was on the plane, with no extra charge, I got a meal, a couple of meals, choices of films, and this is all in coach. So, I figured a 3 hour flight to Phoenix would be a breeze, right? Well...

Let me say, to those who are not athletes reading this, we multi-sporters tend to be type A's and I am no exception. My patience level, is normally, zero, and I am miserable most of the time, so, at 5 am, in the frigid cold at O'Hare airport, I have no filter. Upon arriving at the check in, I was greated by Miss Congeniality, who was definitely not happy with her current station in life, and was prepared to let us all know about it. And, with cutbacks in the airline industry, check in, involves, touch screens, not real people. Now, I am not adverse to technology, but, this is a joke. It was like getting my boarding pass from an ATM.

When I figured everything out, and got the pass, it was like a receipt you get from a store. Now, I am already loaded down with bags, trying to deal with Ms. Happy-pants who wants to charge me a small fortune to put my bike on the plane, and I am holding a filmsy piece of paper, which is all I have to get me to Phoenix. So, I folded this "pass" in my pocket and proceeded to deal with Medusa. First, she looked at my bike box as if dear Aunt Bessy was in it, and was being transported to her final resting place. Then, in a completely sarcastic tone, she asks, "Is that a bike box?" With no filter at 5am, I, an not a ray of sunshine. So, I responded in typical Petruzzelli fashion, "No, actually its a land to air missle launcher. I am doing some testing on it in the desert." Let's just say the conversation went down hill rapidly from there. I was lucky I got off with just paying the 80 bucks to throw my bike on the plane - one way of course.

So, I hit the Starbucks, and grab a muffin, b/c, like most of us, my metabolism is running on high, so, I need to eat. I grab an over-priced muffin, and put on my IPod and wait to board. Now, I am not going to mention the airline, but its not a big one. So, I am boarding, its been 2 hours, and I am still hungry. But, I am figuring, I'll get something lousy to eat on this flight, so, I can make it to Phoenix. Then, as I sat down, I was greeted by the over-head voice, stating, if you want to eat the "snack pack" of a bad bagel, and old fruit, its going to cost you 5 bucks. At this point, all I could think was, "Are you F'ing kidding me?" On top of the lack of food, the one flight attendant didn't even give in-flight, delusion of safety, instructions, which according to one of my readers, is an FAA regulation. Now, I could go on about that bs, safety talk, but we all know that in case of a fire or a water landinf, the best thing to do, is put your head between your legs and kiss your rear end good bye.

So, we take off, and I realize that this flight is full of 2 types of people I don't like -. Cubs fans headed to Mesa for Spring Training, and Golfers. I don't know which one is worse, but I hate them equally. The Cubs fans were already talking about the World Series, and how this is the year, and blah, blah, and that, was truly annoying. As a die-hard Sox fan, and a Chicago native, a few things are certain, death, taxes, a Daley in office, and the Cubs inevitable choke at the crucial moment.

On the other side, are the mopes talking about all the golfing they can't wait to play when they hit the tarmac. These guys were blowing so much smoke up each other's rears about how great they all are, and the new clubs, and thier improved swing, and, "Wait till you see my new putter, if you know what I mean" jokes, that I thought my ears were bleeding. If these goofs are so great, why aren't they on the PGA Tour? Oh, yeah, I know, b/c they are LYING. I have never met a bigger bunch of over-exaggerators than golfers. I don't know what it is, but they put on those goofy pants, and automatically, they act is if they are one step away from getting on Tour. Its pathetic and sad, and I don't think I was playing my movie nearly loud enough to drown them out.

Thankfully, we landed, and getting a rental car, while, a bit of an ordeal, wasn't the worst. But its now 9:15 Mountain time and I'm still hungry and in a bad mood. I'm not sure this is the way I hoped to start this trip. But, if any of you were ever considering traveling with me, perhaps now is the time to re-evaluate.

The 26 hour drive here, still sounds better to me.