"The reports of my demise were greatly exaggerated" - Mark Twain
I've been away a while, and with good reason - much has changed in my life lately, and although at first glance it seemed like things were headed south, nothing could be further from the truth.
At the beginning of November, I was, officially, burnt out. I had no desire to train, race, anything. And much of my stress stemmed from being in a job that I simply didn't love, that I had no passion for. So without going into detail, I was out of the field of law and had no prospects. For about 24 hours. Then I made one phone call, a call that would definitely change my life for the better. I'd been looking to become an ambassador for Lululemon in Oak Brook for a while, and called to talk to the manager, Jacqui Locke, wondering if they were looking for help. The response I received was a resounding yes, and ever since, I have been a proud educator at the store.
What I didn't realize at that time was how amazing of an environment I had been brought into. The positive energy of all my co-workers, the excitement of guests, the opportunity to grow with the company, and truly follow my passion. For the first time, I was somewhere where my passion for health, fitness, competition, and inspiring others to live healthier lifestyles could blossom and continue to expand, all with the support of my employer. Suddenly I was meeting people of like mind, looking to help, truly help me reach my goals as an athlete, an employee, and as a person. I could finally see my dreams coming true. And with each passing day I realized I discovered a career, not a job. My passion had become my work, and with it, a renewed sense of drive, desire and focus to regain strength as an athlete. Now, I don't see roadblocks to success as an athlete, I see opportunity, exploring new ways to get stronger, faster and injury free. Yoga, pilates, kick-boxing, muay thai, all became options for me to expand my fitness.
So now, when people see me, they seem surprised to see a more relaxed look on my face. They don't see that scowl. Not that I stopped being a smart ass, or lost my sense of humor. I'm still me, just happier. And it actually makes it easier to be around me. Especially for me. So, if you're looking for me, I'm at Oak Brook, educating guests on absolutely unbelieveable comfortable clothing for any activity, and building my desire to help others. Oh, and by the way, I'm more excited than ever to start racing again. I'm excited to toe the line next season with the top pros and discover how much I have improved, inside and out.
Stay strong,
Guy
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Late season racing - Spooky Du brings back the spark
There was no question after my last race I needed to do something to get the DNF monkey off the back, and to regain some confidence from Zofingen. So a couple weeks ago, I headed out to the Spooky Du, a shorter du with 2 majot perks - close to home and a late start for elites. By late I mean 2 pm. For someone who does his workouts at lunch and after work, the timing of the race was perfect.
Although I still was feeling the physical effects of Zofingen in my legs, I had enough confidence that I could muscle through the 2 mile/20.8 mile/4 mile race in Central Illinois. Even though this is technically "off season" duathletes are a hard bunch, and usually strive in cooler tempsand less than perfect weather. With howling winds, and no where to hide in the decaying corn fields, it was shaping up to be a good race.
The race started with a little sun and high winds. The run took us around a state park, and was a rolling course, which gave me an opportunity to use all the hill work from Zofingen training. I settled in, almost forgetting the pain that comes with short course racing. I got into T1 10 seconds behind the leader, feeling pretty good. Got on the bike, and took off, feeling the bite of the wind in my legs, and the chipped asphalt rattling my bones. So, I dropped into a bigger gear and just held on for those long stretches of bad road, until we turned away from the wind, and had some help at our backs. I had lost 2 spots to a couple of cycling hammers, but I felt good about my run, and got into T2 down about a couple minutes from the lead, but no less motivated to chase.
And chase I did. I used my strength to muscle through the hillier portions of the run and found myself back into third, closing on second. He must have heard me though, b/c he turned it on just enough to keep me away. Wishing I had another mile or so to run, I crossed 3rd and felt good. It was tough, I was spent, but I hung tough, never quit and most importantly, had fun. Knowing that my legs were still fresh, that mentally I was still focused, it all was a huge boost for my confidence heading into Powerman Florida.
As always, big thanks to my coach Jen Garrison, my sponsors and the crew at the Bike Shop in Glen Ellyn who always keep my bike riding perfect. Thanks to them, I can never use the excuse of a "mechanical" as a reason I don't perform well. Also thanks to my close friends who are always there for support.
The Monday after the race I was also informed my pro card was renewed for 2010, so, although I've had an up and down season so far, I still have the goods to race at the highest level. Without the people mentioned above, it wouldn't be the case.
Stay strong,
Guy
Although I still was feeling the physical effects of Zofingen in my legs, I had enough confidence that I could muscle through the 2 mile/20.8 mile/4 mile race in Central Illinois. Even though this is technically "off season" duathletes are a hard bunch, and usually strive in cooler tempsand less than perfect weather. With howling winds, and no where to hide in the decaying corn fields, it was shaping up to be a good race.
The race started with a little sun and high winds. The run took us around a state park, and was a rolling course, which gave me an opportunity to use all the hill work from Zofingen training. I settled in, almost forgetting the pain that comes with short course racing. I got into T1 10 seconds behind the leader, feeling pretty good. Got on the bike, and took off, feeling the bite of the wind in my legs, and the chipped asphalt rattling my bones. So, I dropped into a bigger gear and just held on for those long stretches of bad road, until we turned away from the wind, and had some help at our backs. I had lost 2 spots to a couple of cycling hammers, but I felt good about my run, and got into T2 down about a couple minutes from the lead, but no less motivated to chase.
And chase I did. I used my strength to muscle through the hillier portions of the run and found myself back into third, closing on second. He must have heard me though, b/c he turned it on just enough to keep me away. Wishing I had another mile or so to run, I crossed 3rd and felt good. It was tough, I was spent, but I hung tough, never quit and most importantly, had fun. Knowing that my legs were still fresh, that mentally I was still focused, it all was a huge boost for my confidence heading into Powerman Florida.
As always, big thanks to my coach Jen Garrison, my sponsors and the crew at the Bike Shop in Glen Ellyn who always keep my bike riding perfect. Thanks to them, I can never use the excuse of a "mechanical" as a reason I don't perform well. Also thanks to my close friends who are always there for support.
The Monday after the race I was also informed my pro card was renewed for 2010, so, although I've had an up and down season so far, I still have the goods to race at the highest level. Without the people mentioned above, it wouldn't be the case.
Stay strong,
Guy
Monday, October 12, 2009
american zofingen-picking up the pieces
"If you are going through hell, keep going" - winston churchill
Hey all,
Well its been a while since I posted last and that was due to my desire to lay low, and train hard to get ready for what I knew would be my toughest test as an athlete-american zofingen. I guess I didn't realize how tough that test would be.
so let's get the specifics out of the way first. I got to new york friday afternoon and felt good. I couldn't help but notice the catskill mountains we'd be racing in but I didn't let it get to me. I just dug in and got ready to race. Sunday arrived, cold and sunny, great race conditions. The race is tougher than the course map shows. The first run is on a true single track, with rocks, fallen branches, mud, and oh yeah, the climbs pitch up to 18 percent for 300 meter stretches. I remained calm though, figuring it was going to be a long day.
Got to the bike a couple minutes off the lead group of 18, and rode off. The bike started with a 2 mile climb, with stretches of 10-18 percent rises. It was cruel. Followed by nasty, twisting descents. But nothing was like the second major climb, an 8 mile monster that never seemed to end. The difference with this climb, no trees covered your right side and opened up to show you how high up you were. On the second descent, I started to feel dizzy, and had a hard time controllin my bike. I thought it was nutrition, but as I started the second loop of the same climbs, I felt like I was falling, and started to lean over my bars. As I completed the second loop, I had ridden into 10th, less than a minute off the lead group. But I was done. The vertigo was getting worse and the tension in my shoulders from the death grip on my bars,knotted my arms and back so badly that getting out of the saddle was almost impossible. When I got to the start area to hand in my chip, I realized I was not the only day's casualty as others twisted ankles and dislocated toes.
I was checked out by the medic, given some water and refused to lie down. I was despondent and completely shell shocked. Even though I was still a bit dizzy, all I wanted to do was go home, put this out of my memory. But as we drove away I realized something. I was within a minute of true elite level athletes who train in that terrain daily. I was there. And to walk away with that knowledge gives me confidence about going back next year. It wasn't my legs, or my lungs, my fitness was spot on, thanks to my coach jen. So I will be back in may to tackle that beast again.
What did I learn? As I sit here in the car on the road home just west of south bend, in. I learned that to be a truly complete elite endurance duathlete, who can take on any course, I need to know my enemy better. I knew that the course was tough, but simply "climbing lots" didn't cover it. I needed long, open descents, more specific climbing, better understanding of the course,etc. That's not on your coach, that's on the athlete. Jenny got my body ready but its more than that. And that's on me. I know better now and will continue to train smarter. I'm not sulking over this race, I'm taking what I learned and coming back stronger.
To my competition, I'll see u in december at powerman florida. I'm not done yet. It takes more than a good old fashioned ass kicking to stop me.
Stay strong
Guy
Hey all,
Well its been a while since I posted last and that was due to my desire to lay low, and train hard to get ready for what I knew would be my toughest test as an athlete-american zofingen. I guess I didn't realize how tough that test would be.
so let's get the specifics out of the way first. I got to new york friday afternoon and felt good. I couldn't help but notice the catskill mountains we'd be racing in but I didn't let it get to me. I just dug in and got ready to race. Sunday arrived, cold and sunny, great race conditions. The race is tougher than the course map shows. The first run is on a true single track, with rocks, fallen branches, mud, and oh yeah, the climbs pitch up to 18 percent for 300 meter stretches. I remained calm though, figuring it was going to be a long day.
Got to the bike a couple minutes off the lead group of 18, and rode off. The bike started with a 2 mile climb, with stretches of 10-18 percent rises. It was cruel. Followed by nasty, twisting descents. But nothing was like the second major climb, an 8 mile monster that never seemed to end. The difference with this climb, no trees covered your right side and opened up to show you how high up you were. On the second descent, I started to feel dizzy, and had a hard time controllin my bike. I thought it was nutrition, but as I started the second loop of the same climbs, I felt like I was falling, and started to lean over my bars. As I completed the second loop, I had ridden into 10th, less than a minute off the lead group. But I was done. The vertigo was getting worse and the tension in my shoulders from the death grip on my bars,knotted my arms and back so badly that getting out of the saddle was almost impossible. When I got to the start area to hand in my chip, I realized I was not the only day's casualty as others twisted ankles and dislocated toes.
I was checked out by the medic, given some water and refused to lie down. I was despondent and completely shell shocked. Even though I was still a bit dizzy, all I wanted to do was go home, put this out of my memory. But as we drove away I realized something. I was within a minute of true elite level athletes who train in that terrain daily. I was there. And to walk away with that knowledge gives me confidence about going back next year. It wasn't my legs, or my lungs, my fitness was spot on, thanks to my coach jen. So I will be back in may to tackle that beast again.
What did I learn? As I sit here in the car on the road home just west of south bend, in. I learned that to be a truly complete elite endurance duathlete, who can take on any course, I need to know my enemy better. I knew that the course was tough, but simply "climbing lots" didn't cover it. I needed long, open descents, more specific climbing, better understanding of the course,etc. That's not on your coach, that's on the athlete. Jenny got my body ready but its more than that. And that's on me. I know better now and will continue to train smarter. I'm not sulking over this race, I'm taking what I learned and coming back stronger.
To my competition, I'll see u in december at powerman florida. I'm not done yet. It takes more than a good old fashioned ass kicking to stop me.
Stay strong
Guy
Monday, August 24, 2009
Great Buckeye Long Course Du - Adventures in Distance Racing
"The biggest lesson I learned from cancer was this, pain is temporary, but quitting lasts forever."
Lance Armstrong - Its Not About the Bike
Before I get into this past weekend's race, I think its important to make a few statements just so things are clear. This has not been, at least from an emotional and mental standpoint, a very good year. I'm not going to bore my 5 readers with what exactly that all entails, but the lessons I learned over the last 8 months away from training and racing, far out-weigh what I learned in riding and running. The most important lesson - if you truly respect and care for those closest to you, be most honest with them about everything. Thier love and understanding is deeper than I gave them credit for, and they are the last people I want to lose in my life.
With that lesson in hand, I travelled out to Ohio to tackle my first ever true long distance race. Yes, I have run a couple marathons, and I did the old Springfield Ironhorse race, but I've never done a long distance DU and this was going to be tough. I knew that back in February when I circled this race as one of my big goals, but with things being rocky in my personal life, I didn't realize how hard it would be. Leading up to the race, I knew I had done everything physically correct - long rides, long runs, worked on climbs, worked on pacing, (yes Greg, I did work on pacing) everything I thought would be critical for a good performance. But I never worked on the mental, and as the race got closer, I started to fall apart. Mentally, my confidence was shot, (due to my own failings) and my health had deteriorated. I got another ear infection a week and a half ago, and my hearing in my right ear was sketchy at best. This furthered my belief that I was not suited to race, and that thought crept into every thought I had about racing.
By last Friday, I was debating whether or not to even go. I still felt less than healthy, and I was still on antibiotics, another excuse to not race. But then I would think of guys who raced the Tour with colds, sinus infections, sore throats, everything and they went on to do extremely well. I've raced and trained with antibiotics in my body, so this was nothing new. So, I got home early from work Friday, and was ready to go. Then the sinus pressure kicked in and I freaked. Had I been more confident, I probably wouldn't have even noticed. But I ran to the health clinic again, and had the doctor check me out. She admitted I still had the ear infection, and fluid in the ear, but with a CT scan, my sinuses only showed a slight infection there. I asked her for a no-bs answer, can I race or not? She looked at me, and asked me to step into a room for privacy. Now, this isn't my GP, this isn't even my ENT doctor, this is someone I don't even know, and once the door closed, she told me the following:
"I see no reason why you can't race. There is no denying you are fighting an infection, but it won't hamper you much at all, if you stay hydrated and get rest. But your biggest problem is mental. Your head hurts, and your health isn't improving faster b/c you aren't wanting to get better. You are looking to stay sick so you can avoid something. I don't know what it is, but from a strict health standpoint, you can race. Maybe you should go and see for yourself."
With that, I went home, packed my truck and headed out. Saturday was much of the same, more anxious, wavering confidence, talking myself into and out of the race. But Sunday morning came, and there I was, warming up before the event. The "event" was a 5K run/56 mile bike/13.1 mile run. As I towed the line, my legs felt heavy. When the gun went off, I felt sluggish, and slow, almost in a daze. Coming to the bike, I thought, "I can drop out now, I'm sweating really bad and its not even hot out. It'll be cool, I can just go home and get sleep." But when I got to my bike, I grabbed my helmet and saddled up. I thought, maybe I'll feel better with some wind in my face on the ride.
The bike was a two loop course, which helped, b/c I could gauge my splits easier. The first 15 miles were agony. I felt like I was going no where, struggling constantly to get up to speed. Climbs started to come thick and fast, and every one of them hurt. I was pouring sweat, and my HR was above where I wanted to be. But as I got to mile 20, a good friend and excellent athlete, Brian Barker, doing the Olympic distance Tri, came up on me, and patted me on the back and told me "looking strong! Keep hustling!" I jumped out of the saddle and proceeded to re-focus. I stopped thinking about what hurt, and started thinking about getting in more fluids, getting in more fuel. I was starting to get hungry, really hungry, but I was determined to negative split that bike.
As I came in for my first loop, I felt better, my HR dropped and my legs started to feel fluid. My pedaling cadence wasn't labored anymore, neither was my breathing. I hit the second loop, and started to go. The climbs I was jumping out of the saddle on in the first loop, I was seated and going strong. I wasn't thinking about anything but keeping the gas on. I was still hungry, and I kept taking in gels, but I dropped a bar I had, and I knew that would be an issue. Still, I thought with my body relaxing into the ride, I should be ok. As I prepared to enter T2, my body wasn't happy, and it let me know. I turned my head and vomited still maintaining my speed. This run was not going to be pretty.
I got into T2, my stomach a bit of a mess, and I thought again, "look you can quit now. You did the bike, you rode well, let's just go home. You got in a good workout." But once I got off the bike, I went off of instinct. I put on my shoes and headed out, half wondering what the hell I was doing. The first loop of the run wasn't pleasant. I was trying to take in fluid every aid station, only to throw it right back up a few minutes later. I couldn't increase my speed, b/c my stomach would revolt, so, I just kept my head down and started to grind. As I started my second loop, I heard myself say out loud to spectators "I'm hurting". It was both humbling and freeing at the same time. Yeah, I was in a bad way, but I was no longer ashamed to admit it. And again, the idea of quitting, with the finish line so close, sounded great. But I pressed on, as I heard the words, "Don't quit, you can do this." Again, head down, grinding out miles.
The second loop was a blur of pain and vomit. I threw up 2 more times, but as I neared the finish I stopped caring about my time, and just wanted to finish. I couldn't even pick it up to cross the line. But an odd thing was happening - I was alone. My competition wasn't around. As I crossed, I could barely stand, or move, as the volunteer took off my chip, I was relieved and thankful I didn't quit. I had finished, and I was still standing.
As I stumbled to the lake, I tried to walk around in the water to cool off my legs. That would have worked, if the water wasn't warmer than the air, but still it felt good. I had signed up for a massage, and as I laid on the table, waiting for results, I figured I would get this massage and get on the road. Then I heard something that I couldn't understand at first. A woman's voice saying, "Overall Male Elite Winner for the Half Iron Du - Guy Petruzzelli". The massuesse stopped working on my back and tapped me on the shoulder asking, "Isn't that your name?" I honestly had no clue what she was talking about. Next thing I knew I looked up and there was my award, I had won the Overall Elite title. As I type this right now, I'm still stunned. I knew I was hurting, but I discovered so was everyone else, and I guess I just gutted it out a little better. I started laughing, thinking it was a joke, but everyone kept assuring me it wasn't. I was the champ for 2009.
A lot of people I have talked to about distance racing say that many thoughts go through their head when going long. Disassociation. I tried that but all I could think about was pain and finishing. But now, another thought has entered my head, and has me energized - I want to do it again. Talking with my coach, Jen, she pinpointed pretty quickly the nutritional mistakes I made, and nothing seemed to difficult to fix. The great thing is, there are a few more long course DU's, like American Zofingen in October, where I can try this again. But I think the lead up this time will be different. I did more than shed water on Sunday, I shed a ton of emotional baggage and doubt. I'm not going to say I'm totally confident now, and think everything is roses. Actually I believe I have a lot to learn and even more healing to do. But, yes, I want to do it again.
This race, I can't take credit for much. I owe so much to Jenny Garrison, my coach and friend who stood by my when others told her to bolt, and she had every right to, Greg, who also stood by me and reminded me of what a true friend is, Sheila, who, without her, I wouldn't have even made it to the race, and to my 5 year old niece who always sees the best in me, every time I see her. And a big thanks to Rich and the boys from the Bike Shop, they provided a lot more than just equipment. They had my back, and reminded me of it everyday.
Thanks also to my sponsors who sent me good vibes and had faith.
I know this is a long blog, but I want to say one more thing - the minute you give up on yourself, its easy for everyone else to do the same. The people who I mentioned above reminded me of that and b/c they never gave up on me, even when they should have, I made it. I don't know what the future holds, but I know its going to be better b/c of the people in my life.
Guy
Lance Armstrong - Its Not About the Bike
Before I get into this past weekend's race, I think its important to make a few statements just so things are clear. This has not been, at least from an emotional and mental standpoint, a very good year. I'm not going to bore my 5 readers with what exactly that all entails, but the lessons I learned over the last 8 months away from training and racing, far out-weigh what I learned in riding and running. The most important lesson - if you truly respect and care for those closest to you, be most honest with them about everything. Thier love and understanding is deeper than I gave them credit for, and they are the last people I want to lose in my life.
With that lesson in hand, I travelled out to Ohio to tackle my first ever true long distance race. Yes, I have run a couple marathons, and I did the old Springfield Ironhorse race, but I've never done a long distance DU and this was going to be tough. I knew that back in February when I circled this race as one of my big goals, but with things being rocky in my personal life, I didn't realize how hard it would be. Leading up to the race, I knew I had done everything physically correct - long rides, long runs, worked on climbs, worked on pacing, (yes Greg, I did work on pacing) everything I thought would be critical for a good performance. But I never worked on the mental, and as the race got closer, I started to fall apart. Mentally, my confidence was shot, (due to my own failings) and my health had deteriorated. I got another ear infection a week and a half ago, and my hearing in my right ear was sketchy at best. This furthered my belief that I was not suited to race, and that thought crept into every thought I had about racing.
By last Friday, I was debating whether or not to even go. I still felt less than healthy, and I was still on antibiotics, another excuse to not race. But then I would think of guys who raced the Tour with colds, sinus infections, sore throats, everything and they went on to do extremely well. I've raced and trained with antibiotics in my body, so this was nothing new. So, I got home early from work Friday, and was ready to go. Then the sinus pressure kicked in and I freaked. Had I been more confident, I probably wouldn't have even noticed. But I ran to the health clinic again, and had the doctor check me out. She admitted I still had the ear infection, and fluid in the ear, but with a CT scan, my sinuses only showed a slight infection there. I asked her for a no-bs answer, can I race or not? She looked at me, and asked me to step into a room for privacy. Now, this isn't my GP, this isn't even my ENT doctor, this is someone I don't even know, and once the door closed, she told me the following:
"I see no reason why you can't race. There is no denying you are fighting an infection, but it won't hamper you much at all, if you stay hydrated and get rest. But your biggest problem is mental. Your head hurts, and your health isn't improving faster b/c you aren't wanting to get better. You are looking to stay sick so you can avoid something. I don't know what it is, but from a strict health standpoint, you can race. Maybe you should go and see for yourself."
With that, I went home, packed my truck and headed out. Saturday was much of the same, more anxious, wavering confidence, talking myself into and out of the race. But Sunday morning came, and there I was, warming up before the event. The "event" was a 5K run/56 mile bike/13.1 mile run. As I towed the line, my legs felt heavy. When the gun went off, I felt sluggish, and slow, almost in a daze. Coming to the bike, I thought, "I can drop out now, I'm sweating really bad and its not even hot out. It'll be cool, I can just go home and get sleep." But when I got to my bike, I grabbed my helmet and saddled up. I thought, maybe I'll feel better with some wind in my face on the ride.
The bike was a two loop course, which helped, b/c I could gauge my splits easier. The first 15 miles were agony. I felt like I was going no where, struggling constantly to get up to speed. Climbs started to come thick and fast, and every one of them hurt. I was pouring sweat, and my HR was above where I wanted to be. But as I got to mile 20, a good friend and excellent athlete, Brian Barker, doing the Olympic distance Tri, came up on me, and patted me on the back and told me "looking strong! Keep hustling!" I jumped out of the saddle and proceeded to re-focus. I stopped thinking about what hurt, and started thinking about getting in more fluids, getting in more fuel. I was starting to get hungry, really hungry, but I was determined to negative split that bike.
As I came in for my first loop, I felt better, my HR dropped and my legs started to feel fluid. My pedaling cadence wasn't labored anymore, neither was my breathing. I hit the second loop, and started to go. The climbs I was jumping out of the saddle on in the first loop, I was seated and going strong. I wasn't thinking about anything but keeping the gas on. I was still hungry, and I kept taking in gels, but I dropped a bar I had, and I knew that would be an issue. Still, I thought with my body relaxing into the ride, I should be ok. As I prepared to enter T2, my body wasn't happy, and it let me know. I turned my head and vomited still maintaining my speed. This run was not going to be pretty.
I got into T2, my stomach a bit of a mess, and I thought again, "look you can quit now. You did the bike, you rode well, let's just go home. You got in a good workout." But once I got off the bike, I went off of instinct. I put on my shoes and headed out, half wondering what the hell I was doing. The first loop of the run wasn't pleasant. I was trying to take in fluid every aid station, only to throw it right back up a few minutes later. I couldn't increase my speed, b/c my stomach would revolt, so, I just kept my head down and started to grind. As I started my second loop, I heard myself say out loud to spectators "I'm hurting". It was both humbling and freeing at the same time. Yeah, I was in a bad way, but I was no longer ashamed to admit it. And again, the idea of quitting, with the finish line so close, sounded great. But I pressed on, as I heard the words, "Don't quit, you can do this." Again, head down, grinding out miles.
The second loop was a blur of pain and vomit. I threw up 2 more times, but as I neared the finish I stopped caring about my time, and just wanted to finish. I couldn't even pick it up to cross the line. But an odd thing was happening - I was alone. My competition wasn't around. As I crossed, I could barely stand, or move, as the volunteer took off my chip, I was relieved and thankful I didn't quit. I had finished, and I was still standing.
As I stumbled to the lake, I tried to walk around in the water to cool off my legs. That would have worked, if the water wasn't warmer than the air, but still it felt good. I had signed up for a massage, and as I laid on the table, waiting for results, I figured I would get this massage and get on the road. Then I heard something that I couldn't understand at first. A woman's voice saying, "Overall Male Elite Winner for the Half Iron Du - Guy Petruzzelli". The massuesse stopped working on my back and tapped me on the shoulder asking, "Isn't that your name?" I honestly had no clue what she was talking about. Next thing I knew I looked up and there was my award, I had won the Overall Elite title. As I type this right now, I'm still stunned. I knew I was hurting, but I discovered so was everyone else, and I guess I just gutted it out a little better. I started laughing, thinking it was a joke, but everyone kept assuring me it wasn't. I was the champ for 2009.
A lot of people I have talked to about distance racing say that many thoughts go through their head when going long. Disassociation. I tried that but all I could think about was pain and finishing. But now, another thought has entered my head, and has me energized - I want to do it again. Talking with my coach, Jen, she pinpointed pretty quickly the nutritional mistakes I made, and nothing seemed to difficult to fix. The great thing is, there are a few more long course DU's, like American Zofingen in October, where I can try this again. But I think the lead up this time will be different. I did more than shed water on Sunday, I shed a ton of emotional baggage and doubt. I'm not going to say I'm totally confident now, and think everything is roses. Actually I believe I have a lot to learn and even more healing to do. But, yes, I want to do it again.
This race, I can't take credit for much. I owe so much to Jenny Garrison, my coach and friend who stood by my when others told her to bolt, and she had every right to, Greg, who also stood by me and reminded me of what a true friend is, Sheila, who, without her, I wouldn't have even made it to the race, and to my 5 year old niece who always sees the best in me, every time I see her. And a big thanks to Rich and the boys from the Bike Shop, they provided a lot more than just equipment. They had my back, and reminded me of it everyday.
Thanks also to my sponsors who sent me good vibes and had faith.
I know this is a long blog, but I want to say one more thing - the minute you give up on yourself, its easy for everyone else to do the same. The people who I mentioned above reminded me of that and b/c they never gave up on me, even when they should have, I made it. I don't know what the future holds, but I know its going to be better b/c of the people in my life.
Guy
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Tri Del Sol - A race is more than just the run and the bike
With my form coming around, especially after being off of antibiotics, I felt the urge to try and get some revenge on a course that I have had issues with my last 2 outings there. So, I saddled up and headed to Middleville, MI, for the newly named, Tri Del Sol, to see where my fitness was. It would be a race after a tough week of work and training; having driven to Southern Illinois and back with 24 hours for a trial, only to rush to pack up and head to Michigan, less than 24 hours after getting home. But when I woke up Friday morning in MI, I felt a sensation I haven't felt all season - I felt strong, even with 14 hours of training in my legs.
I went out to the course on Friday and rode the bike portion and ran most of the run course. I found myself being thankful for the cooler weather, even with a strong wind. And my letgs were responding well to the hills, so I found myself feeling good, even confident heading into the race.
Saturday morning brought cool temps, and that same wind. It made the sun seem less hot than normal during the summer, and for me, that was a good sign. As we lined up for the start, I knew my plan, and thought, this could be my time. The first run went well, I felt comfortable running a 5:30 pace and even though I was directed the wrong way coming into T1, I was in 5th, 10 seconds off the leader. As I got my bike un-wrangled from the transition area, I remained calm, and started to ride. The first few miles included a bit of an uphill climb, so I rode conservative, but feeling strong, I sat back in my saddle and started to climb with power and caught 2 of the guys ahead of me. As we made the turn on to farm roads with some rolling hills, I started to hammer into the head wind, pulling back more time on the leaders. As I headed into the bike turnaround, I could see I was about 30-40 seconds off the leader, and I felt like I could close the gap. I was a bit concerned as I saw the approaching peleton heading the opposite way, containing about 4 of the guys who were ahead of me on the first run, all too happy to let someone else pull them along.
So, I figured it was best to ride hard, to ensure to put some time between myself and them. As I shifted gears, I started to hear a crunching noise emanating from my rear deraileur. So, I left it in my 53 x 13 and just went hard. As we got to 2 miles from T2, I caught the leader and started thinking about the second run. It was hilly and I didn't want to give any space. As I entered T2, I assessed my legs, they seemed to be pretty loose, so, I was excited to see what I could do. For the first 1 mile of the 2nd run, I stayed with the leader, and we ran side by side. My legs and lungs felt fine, and I was gaining more confidence with every step. And then it hit - my stomach siezed up, and all the fluid I took in on the bike was sitting in my throat. I backed off the pace a bit, hoping it would settle my system. It didn't. So, I let the leader go, surging every so often to stay in contact. But the urge to vomit was always present, and I didn't want to stop, afraid it would cost me a place. At mile 3, with a 2 miles to go, I got passed by 2 guys, who I knew I could stay with on the run, but my stomach just would not cooperate. As we approached 800 meters to go, I just went as hard as I could figuring I could hold on till the finish. As I crossed, I immediately ran into the bushes and vomited violently, cursing that my hydration/nutrition were my downfall in a race I truly felt competitive in. But the silver lining - my legs and lungs were fine, and as I collected myself and approached the winner, he said that he was sorry I got sick, but glad I didn't hang with him as he was at redline. I rode 3 hours on Sunday, and my legs felt great.
A part of me is excited that my training and fitness is reaching a new point, allowing me to dig deeper, and sustain faster paces for longer periods. But with my goal being half-iron distance Du's, my concern about my nutrition grows even greater as I know I can't afford to have these issues at that distance. Thankfully I have some time to work this out.
As always I want to thank my coach, my sponsors and my Bike Shop guys who are now replacing a cracked rear derailuer, (I still don't know how I raced on it) for having faith in me and helping me constantly improve. Yeah, it wasn't first, but being able to run myself into a top 5 place, 90 seconds off the win, with a bunch of liquid in my throat for 4 miles, lets me know, things are definitely coming around.
I went out to the course on Friday and rode the bike portion and ran most of the run course. I found myself being thankful for the cooler weather, even with a strong wind. And my letgs were responding well to the hills, so I found myself feeling good, even confident heading into the race.
Saturday morning brought cool temps, and that same wind. It made the sun seem less hot than normal during the summer, and for me, that was a good sign. As we lined up for the start, I knew my plan, and thought, this could be my time. The first run went well, I felt comfortable running a 5:30 pace and even though I was directed the wrong way coming into T1, I was in 5th, 10 seconds off the leader. As I got my bike un-wrangled from the transition area, I remained calm, and started to ride. The first few miles included a bit of an uphill climb, so I rode conservative, but feeling strong, I sat back in my saddle and started to climb with power and caught 2 of the guys ahead of me. As we made the turn on to farm roads with some rolling hills, I started to hammer into the head wind, pulling back more time on the leaders. As I headed into the bike turnaround, I could see I was about 30-40 seconds off the leader, and I felt like I could close the gap. I was a bit concerned as I saw the approaching peleton heading the opposite way, containing about 4 of the guys who were ahead of me on the first run, all too happy to let someone else pull them along.
So, I figured it was best to ride hard, to ensure to put some time between myself and them. As I shifted gears, I started to hear a crunching noise emanating from my rear deraileur. So, I left it in my 53 x 13 and just went hard. As we got to 2 miles from T2, I caught the leader and started thinking about the second run. It was hilly and I didn't want to give any space. As I entered T2, I assessed my legs, they seemed to be pretty loose, so, I was excited to see what I could do. For the first 1 mile of the 2nd run, I stayed with the leader, and we ran side by side. My legs and lungs felt fine, and I was gaining more confidence with every step. And then it hit - my stomach siezed up, and all the fluid I took in on the bike was sitting in my throat. I backed off the pace a bit, hoping it would settle my system. It didn't. So, I let the leader go, surging every so often to stay in contact. But the urge to vomit was always present, and I didn't want to stop, afraid it would cost me a place. At mile 3, with a 2 miles to go, I got passed by 2 guys, who I knew I could stay with on the run, but my stomach just would not cooperate. As we approached 800 meters to go, I just went as hard as I could figuring I could hold on till the finish. As I crossed, I immediately ran into the bushes and vomited violently, cursing that my hydration/nutrition were my downfall in a race I truly felt competitive in. But the silver lining - my legs and lungs were fine, and as I collected myself and approached the winner, he said that he was sorry I got sick, but glad I didn't hang with him as he was at redline. I rode 3 hours on Sunday, and my legs felt great.
A part of me is excited that my training and fitness is reaching a new point, allowing me to dig deeper, and sustain faster paces for longer periods. But with my goal being half-iron distance Du's, my concern about my nutrition grows even greater as I know I can't afford to have these issues at that distance. Thankfully I have some time to work this out.
As always I want to thank my coach, my sponsors and my Bike Shop guys who are now replacing a cracked rear derailuer, (I still don't know how I raced on it) for having faith in me and helping me constantly improve. Yeah, it wasn't first, but being able to run myself into a top 5 place, 90 seconds off the win, with a bunch of liquid in my throat for 4 miles, lets me know, things are definitely coming around.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Lumberman Du and falling back in love with the sport
I know its been a while since I have posted, and to be honest, it was with good reason. Sometimes I wonder how much other people care about what I write or how I race, but at then end of the day, writing for me is cathartic. I would writes even if no one read, because it helps me get a better handle on what I have going on in life. And by doing this, I can step back and see exactly what's going on and where I want to go from this point.
Last weekend I traveled up to Cadillac, MI to race the Lumberman Du, as I needed to get a race in my legs and to get my head back in the game. 2 weeks prior, on June 13, I sat in my hotel room in Ohio, trying to get ready to race the Flag City Duathlon, one which I wanted to do very badly, but I couldn't move. I could barely lift my head off the pillow, and I stumbled to the mirror to wash my face. My vision was blurred, and I felt dizzy. It had seemed the stress of work and training and everyday life had caught up to me, and for the first time in years, a race morning had arrived, and all I could think about was going back to sleep. And that's exactly what I did. Sure I spent 15 minutes cursing myself, willing myself to get dressed and go, but as tears came down my face, I realized, racing would not have done me any good, and most likely would have made me feel worse.
After getting up 2 hours later, I drove home in near silence, not sure what to do. Thankfully, my coach Jen had provided me some words of comfort and solace, making me realize that to push on this day would have caused longer lasting issues. So, I got home, unpacked and went for a run, hoping to clear the cobwebs. It didn't help. And 2 days later, I found out why, as I sat in a doctor's office, with a horrible ear and sinus infection. It gave me a bit of comfort knowing there was nothing wrong with my legs, or lungs, but the question was-how did Iget to that point? Had I pushed to hard in training or tried to squeeze in too much with work? On a couple's days rest, I thought about that. I thought about why my workouts seemed to be more difficult to get through. Why going to work was becoming a struggle. The answer lied in what is in many of us Type A's - we don't stop until we hit the wall, and when we do, its a nasty crack. I had been pushing to prove people wrong, pushing to prove that I deserved respect, basically, pushing for all the wrong reasons. I used to love every training session, every race, no matter the difficulty, b/c the sport is where I found my peace, it is my sanctuary. Because the road never talks back, it doesn't shout at you, it doesn't leave you, its always there, waiting for you.
After a couple days of letting the antibiotics get in my system, I started to train again, builing slowly. I figured I needed a race though, b/c I don't like long breaks, I get stale and my race sharpness tends to fade. So Michigan it was. Saddled with a new bike, and still on some heavy doses of antibiotics, I wanted to see where my legs where, but more importantly, where my head was.
The thing is, even as we try to slow down our daily lives when a race approaches, and keep ourselves away from unecessary stress, life doesn't always see it the same way. But instead of fighting against it, I went with it, and found it wasn't so bad. I arrived at the race feeling revived, and excited. Although it was windy, I felt decent in my warm up, and figured I'd drop it from the gun and see what happened.
As we started, I carefully put myself at the front, and would change the pace with surges every couple minutes to see if I could shed some guys. As we hit the turn around, I realized it was working. So, I kept that going all the way in to T1, and from the looks of the faces of the guys who were still close, they weren't feeling so great. I had just run my best opening 5K of the season in just over 17 minutes, without ever going in to the red, or really pushing too hard. The bike changed my world though. On a new bike that I had only ridden 3 times before the race, I couldn't get comfortable. I was constantly moving around on my saddle, trying to find that "sweet spot" where you can just put your head down and go. I gritted it out though, but found myself passed by one athlete, who put about 45 seconds into me. But I was trusting my running legs, so I was not too worried. Then the amount of antibiotics I was on caught up to me. I was sweating way more than usual and found myself getting badly dehydrated. As I drank the rest of my bottle and took a few Enlyten strips, I was hoping it would be enough to win the day.
I got into T2, quickly changed and zipped out. I was running hard, constantly keeping a look at the leader. The gap closed to 100 feet right before the turn around, and all I could think was, "just 1.5 miles to go, just drop it now and he's yours." So I surged, and surged again, and as I hit the mile to go marker, I became dizzy. I was dehydated badly now, chills running through me, and my equilibrium off kilter. I hung on, desperate to close it down, but it was of no use. I was shot. I ended up giving time back, and came in second, just over a minute back. I walked over to congratulate the winner, excused myself, walked into the bushes and began vomiting violently. Even though I felt awful, and I needed to get fluids in me, what I realized was, I never, ever gave up, never stopped fighting, never allowed myself to feel defeated. Hell yeah I wanted the win, but this was the step in the right direction that I was looking for. It brough t back the fire, the desire to race, and the desire to win. And armed with that, the season looks a lot brighter already.
Guy
Last weekend I traveled up to Cadillac, MI to race the Lumberman Du, as I needed to get a race in my legs and to get my head back in the game. 2 weeks prior, on June 13, I sat in my hotel room in Ohio, trying to get ready to race the Flag City Duathlon, one which I wanted to do very badly, but I couldn't move. I could barely lift my head off the pillow, and I stumbled to the mirror to wash my face. My vision was blurred, and I felt dizzy. It had seemed the stress of work and training and everyday life had caught up to me, and for the first time in years, a race morning had arrived, and all I could think about was going back to sleep. And that's exactly what I did. Sure I spent 15 minutes cursing myself, willing myself to get dressed and go, but as tears came down my face, I realized, racing would not have done me any good, and most likely would have made me feel worse.
After getting up 2 hours later, I drove home in near silence, not sure what to do. Thankfully, my coach Jen had provided me some words of comfort and solace, making me realize that to push on this day would have caused longer lasting issues. So, I got home, unpacked and went for a run, hoping to clear the cobwebs. It didn't help. And 2 days later, I found out why, as I sat in a doctor's office, with a horrible ear and sinus infection. It gave me a bit of comfort knowing there was nothing wrong with my legs, or lungs, but the question was-how did Iget to that point? Had I pushed to hard in training or tried to squeeze in too much with work? On a couple's days rest, I thought about that. I thought about why my workouts seemed to be more difficult to get through. Why going to work was becoming a struggle. The answer lied in what is in many of us Type A's - we don't stop until we hit the wall, and when we do, its a nasty crack. I had been pushing to prove people wrong, pushing to prove that I deserved respect, basically, pushing for all the wrong reasons. I used to love every training session, every race, no matter the difficulty, b/c the sport is where I found my peace, it is my sanctuary. Because the road never talks back, it doesn't shout at you, it doesn't leave you, its always there, waiting for you.
After a couple days of letting the antibiotics get in my system, I started to train again, builing slowly. I figured I needed a race though, b/c I don't like long breaks, I get stale and my race sharpness tends to fade. So Michigan it was. Saddled with a new bike, and still on some heavy doses of antibiotics, I wanted to see where my legs where, but more importantly, where my head was.
The thing is, even as we try to slow down our daily lives when a race approaches, and keep ourselves away from unecessary stress, life doesn't always see it the same way. But instead of fighting against it, I went with it, and found it wasn't so bad. I arrived at the race feeling revived, and excited. Although it was windy, I felt decent in my warm up, and figured I'd drop it from the gun and see what happened.
As we started, I carefully put myself at the front, and would change the pace with surges every couple minutes to see if I could shed some guys. As we hit the turn around, I realized it was working. So, I kept that going all the way in to T1, and from the looks of the faces of the guys who were still close, they weren't feeling so great. I had just run my best opening 5K of the season in just over 17 minutes, without ever going in to the red, or really pushing too hard. The bike changed my world though. On a new bike that I had only ridden 3 times before the race, I couldn't get comfortable. I was constantly moving around on my saddle, trying to find that "sweet spot" where you can just put your head down and go. I gritted it out though, but found myself passed by one athlete, who put about 45 seconds into me. But I was trusting my running legs, so I was not too worried. Then the amount of antibiotics I was on caught up to me. I was sweating way more than usual and found myself getting badly dehydrated. As I drank the rest of my bottle and took a few Enlyten strips, I was hoping it would be enough to win the day.
I got into T2, quickly changed and zipped out. I was running hard, constantly keeping a look at the leader. The gap closed to 100 feet right before the turn around, and all I could think was, "just 1.5 miles to go, just drop it now and he's yours." So I surged, and surged again, and as I hit the mile to go marker, I became dizzy. I was dehydated badly now, chills running through me, and my equilibrium off kilter. I hung on, desperate to close it down, but it was of no use. I was shot. I ended up giving time back, and came in second, just over a minute back. I walked over to congratulate the winner, excused myself, walked into the bushes and began vomiting violently. Even though I felt awful, and I needed to get fluids in me, what I realized was, I never, ever gave up, never stopped fighting, never allowed myself to feel defeated. Hell yeah I wanted the win, but this was the step in the right direction that I was looking for. It brough t back the fire, the desire to race, and the desire to win. And armed with that, the season looks a lot brighter already.
Guy
Friday, May 29, 2009
Tin Man Duathlon - Coming in to form
"Look, if I had a nickel for every talented kid whose come through this place, I'd have a lot of nickels. But, in this sport, if you can gut them out, out-last them, you can beat the talented, even the ones who are in great shape. Talent doesn't replace heart. It never does, and it never will. That's going to be your strength, and that's how your going to win. You're going to get your big engine going, and then when it comes time, you gut them out. You make them hurt more than you are. Not everyone likes to suffer that much. If you race with your guts at the end, you'll find out who can handle it."
Neal Mundhall - Former Head Distance Coach, Men's Track, Winona State University
For those who know me pretty well, its been a fairly crazy month. I've made some changes, for the better in my life, and that has had a positive impact on my training and racing. I won't lie, I started to truly not enjoy training and racing for a while there, and was consumed with trying to prove others wrong, instead of sticking to my training plan, and racing plan. I was training too hard, doing everything at full speed, and it was wearing me down, mentally and physically. I had originally planned to head to Minnesota, my old stomping grounds to do a race I haven't done in 15 years, the Apple Duathlon. But the weekend before, I was tired, more tired than I should have been, and feeling mentally drained. When I got to work last Monday, the 18th, I was shot, and looking at a work schedule that was going to be unrelenting all week. So, I had to re-evalute - what is more important; how do I achieve everything I want without stretching myself to the point of breaking?
The decision came to me pretty easily while sitting through a seminar that I was not particularly interested in - I would not go to MN, but I would race somewhere competitive, and keep my focus on long course moving. I wouldn't need to taper, and I could save some money, and most important, not put myself behind the 8 ball at work. Enter the Tin Man Duathlon, in Columbus, OH. Good course, great competition, and close enough to jet over after work.
So, I packed up and headed out with my TT bike, the first time I would be riding it, let alone racing it all season. I was slightly concerned, b/c I haven't been aero all year, and with new bars and a different set up, I wasn't sure what to expect. So I rode the bike 30 minutes the night before the race, made some minor adjustments, and figured I was fit enough to bang it out.
The race was at Prairie Oaks Metro Park outside of Columbus, and when I pulled up, I couldn't have been happier. Nothing but gravel trails to run on, and smooth, newly paved roads to ride. As I warmed up, some of the big Du names of the Region started to show up, Jimmy Little and the infamous Brian Barker. As we said hello, I thanked Brian for his kind words on the infamous forum thread, telling him I owe him one. In typical fashion, he responded like a true gentleman and fierce competitior - " No you don't owe me, you don't owe me a thing. Let's have some fun today." I was immediately at ease with those words. Here's a guy who is an amazing athlete, amazing person, overcame cancer recently, only to dominate the sport once again. A true warrior and a truly stand up guy.
The race started, and with Brian off the front, I stayed close, a couple seconds behind, avoiding some of the larger rocks on the path, feeling pretty good, but noticing the heat start to creep up. As we entered T1, he had a slight gap, maybe 10 seconds, and I was off. I got aero as soon as possible, and just started to hammer. The legs were feeling good, and even though I was moving around on my seat, trying to get comfortable, I was keeping my breathing under control, while upping my speed. As we headed back to transition, with about 5 miles to go, I saw Brian flat. I was bummed, knowing that it would have been fun to keep banging heads all morning.
Not a minute later, Jimmy Little came up on my and hammered past. But, unlike last year when he would ride away from me, I kept him firmly in my sites, determined to not give up this race. I hit T2, and was down about 45 seconds. After the first 2 steps on the run, I could feel that aero position on the bike have its affect. My lower back was super stiff, and my legs were not coming around. Not good. But, after about a half mile, I started to loosen up, and get into a groove.
The second run twisted through the park, with slight rollers here and there, and more gravel to manuever. I hit the half way point and could see Jimmy, as he was being paced by Brian. I started to get excited, getting that old stalking feeling back, running guys down to really make it a guts race. Then at mile 2, I started to blow up. The heat and my lower back were not getting along, and I felt the knots forming. I keep going though, not giving up, and holding my own. With less than a mile 2, guys came up on me, and I couldn't respond. I was in agony, and the harder I pushed, the blacker the pain. But the finish line came, and standing there was an exhausted Jimmy Little, and Brian Barker, to congratulate me. I had fallen to 4th by less than a minute. I missed the podium by 6 seconds. But Brian saw something that day he hadn't seen from me in a while - the guts to dig deep and keep going, even at the hardest moments, b/c that's what makes winners.
That moment was follwed by another good feeling - these guys who used to beat me by minutes, would have been mine had I not had an issue. I was right there with them, and they knew it, and admitted the same. But as the 5 of us stood around and talked, another feeling came over me, I was having fun again. I'm super competitive and don't like to lose, but, I was able to share those moments with people I respect and who respect and love the sport. Any lingering doubts I had about not going to Minnesota were instantly erased. I was exactly where I wanted to be.
After I did my usual vomitting, my partner in crime Greg and I started to do a cool down. And I smiled the whole time, thinking, I can't wait to race these guys again. I'll be ready, this year is different and its not just about the pro card. Its about what you have inside of you. Your heart, your fortitude. So I hope we make it another gut it out race the next time we all meet, I expect a different outcome. But a better group of athletes, I 'd be hard pressed to find. My hats off to Jimmy for the win, and of course to Brian, for being the man he is.
Stay strong,
Guy
Neal Mundhall - Former Head Distance Coach, Men's Track, Winona State University
For those who know me pretty well, its been a fairly crazy month. I've made some changes, for the better in my life, and that has had a positive impact on my training and racing. I won't lie, I started to truly not enjoy training and racing for a while there, and was consumed with trying to prove others wrong, instead of sticking to my training plan, and racing plan. I was training too hard, doing everything at full speed, and it was wearing me down, mentally and physically. I had originally planned to head to Minnesota, my old stomping grounds to do a race I haven't done in 15 years, the Apple Duathlon. But the weekend before, I was tired, more tired than I should have been, and feeling mentally drained. When I got to work last Monday, the 18th, I was shot, and looking at a work schedule that was going to be unrelenting all week. So, I had to re-evalute - what is more important; how do I achieve everything I want without stretching myself to the point of breaking?
The decision came to me pretty easily while sitting through a seminar that I was not particularly interested in - I would not go to MN, but I would race somewhere competitive, and keep my focus on long course moving. I wouldn't need to taper, and I could save some money, and most important, not put myself behind the 8 ball at work. Enter the Tin Man Duathlon, in Columbus, OH. Good course, great competition, and close enough to jet over after work.
So, I packed up and headed out with my TT bike, the first time I would be riding it, let alone racing it all season. I was slightly concerned, b/c I haven't been aero all year, and with new bars and a different set up, I wasn't sure what to expect. So I rode the bike 30 minutes the night before the race, made some minor adjustments, and figured I was fit enough to bang it out.
The race was at Prairie Oaks Metro Park outside of Columbus, and when I pulled up, I couldn't have been happier. Nothing but gravel trails to run on, and smooth, newly paved roads to ride. As I warmed up, some of the big Du names of the Region started to show up, Jimmy Little and the infamous Brian Barker. As we said hello, I thanked Brian for his kind words on the infamous forum thread, telling him I owe him one. In typical fashion, he responded like a true gentleman and fierce competitior - " No you don't owe me, you don't owe me a thing. Let's have some fun today." I was immediately at ease with those words. Here's a guy who is an amazing athlete, amazing person, overcame cancer recently, only to dominate the sport once again. A true warrior and a truly stand up guy.
The race started, and with Brian off the front, I stayed close, a couple seconds behind, avoiding some of the larger rocks on the path, feeling pretty good, but noticing the heat start to creep up. As we entered T1, he had a slight gap, maybe 10 seconds, and I was off. I got aero as soon as possible, and just started to hammer. The legs were feeling good, and even though I was moving around on my seat, trying to get comfortable, I was keeping my breathing under control, while upping my speed. As we headed back to transition, with about 5 miles to go, I saw Brian flat. I was bummed, knowing that it would have been fun to keep banging heads all morning.
Not a minute later, Jimmy Little came up on my and hammered past. But, unlike last year when he would ride away from me, I kept him firmly in my sites, determined to not give up this race. I hit T2, and was down about 45 seconds. After the first 2 steps on the run, I could feel that aero position on the bike have its affect. My lower back was super stiff, and my legs were not coming around. Not good. But, after about a half mile, I started to loosen up, and get into a groove.
The second run twisted through the park, with slight rollers here and there, and more gravel to manuever. I hit the half way point and could see Jimmy, as he was being paced by Brian. I started to get excited, getting that old stalking feeling back, running guys down to really make it a guts race. Then at mile 2, I started to blow up. The heat and my lower back were not getting along, and I felt the knots forming. I keep going though, not giving up, and holding my own. With less than a mile 2, guys came up on me, and I couldn't respond. I was in agony, and the harder I pushed, the blacker the pain. But the finish line came, and standing there was an exhausted Jimmy Little, and Brian Barker, to congratulate me. I had fallen to 4th by less than a minute. I missed the podium by 6 seconds. But Brian saw something that day he hadn't seen from me in a while - the guts to dig deep and keep going, even at the hardest moments, b/c that's what makes winners.
That moment was follwed by another good feeling - these guys who used to beat me by minutes, would have been mine had I not had an issue. I was right there with them, and they knew it, and admitted the same. But as the 5 of us stood around and talked, another feeling came over me, I was having fun again. I'm super competitive and don't like to lose, but, I was able to share those moments with people I respect and who respect and love the sport. Any lingering doubts I had about not going to Minnesota were instantly erased. I was exactly where I wanted to be.
After I did my usual vomitting, my partner in crime Greg and I started to do a cool down. And I smiled the whole time, thinking, I can't wait to race these guys again. I'll be ready, this year is different and its not just about the pro card. Its about what you have inside of you. Your heart, your fortitude. So I hope we make it another gut it out race the next time we all meet, I expect a different outcome. But a better group of athletes, I 'd be hard pressed to find. My hats off to Jimmy for the win, and of course to Brian, for being the man he is.
Stay strong,
Guy
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Mulitisport Mayhem - nothing like Spring racing in the Midwest
So, after a hard week of work and training, I headed to Central IL, for a sprint DU - Multisport Mayhem in Mattoon, IL. It was a Tri/Du combo so, it was good to see how I would match up with running and riding with triathletes and to see how the legs were doing.
The course is not super hard, however, Saturday morning brought cold temps, and howling 25-30 mph winds. As is typical with Spring racing in the Mideast, the winds were also gracious enough to be swirling, so you never really got a tailwind for any substantial period of time. The first run went as I expected, with the first mile plus, into the wind, and a cross wind, with me hitting T1 in 2nd and feeling relatively decent.
Hit the bike, and rode as hard as possible, passing lots of triathletes, and chasing down the guy leading the Du. Now, the bike would have been a lot more tolerable if it wasn't resembling the Team Time trial from the Giro D'Italia. I know the country roads weren't closed off, but, when I caught the leader, I felt like I was his lead out man for the sprint at the end of a stage. I thought about pulling up to see what he would do, but, into the head wind I knew I would come to a standstill. I finally just hammered the last mile into T2, and took off on the run. Same course, same wind. I was hurting a bit, but started to come around, when this guy came back on me. He even thanked me for pulling! We raced to the line, but he got me. After I crossed, he saw I was pissed, so, he came over to congratulate me, and thank me again for pulling and protecting him from the wind. I kid you not.
The idiot didn't realize the RD was right there, as were about 5 other people who were stunned he thought this was ok. He got a 3 min penalty, and I got the win. Its not really the way I wanted to win, but, it was a win. Its my fault for not really dropping him sooner and running his race instead of my own. So, there's your lesson - always race your race, not someone else's. Yeah, he may have got his, but I still believe if you race your race, you'll feel better no matter what the result.
Something else I learned from this race, and its something we all are known to do from time to time - don't leave your best race in your training. I do 95% of my training solo, as many of us do. But, we need to be better barametors of our effort. I know I wasn't tapering for this race, and had close to 13 hours of training in my legs before the gun went off, but its not an excuse for leaving my best running on the trails closest to my home. I have done that twice this year, and it proves costly. I went into Powerman AL flat, b/c I had over-trained, and then, in an effort to show that Powerman was not indicative of my ability, I repeated the same mistake going into Mayhem. I agree that some over-training, or very hard blocks of training are necessary to improve LT and stamina, but not every workout should be a race. In talking with my coach after the race, she put it plain and simple - "You train too hard. You don't back off on easy days, and it costs you. " I share this with everyone so if you see yourself doing the same, maybe reading this will help you re-evaluate how you train and race.
On a side note, as some of you may know, I was the topic of conversation on a forum that I will not mention. The comments regarding my status as a pro were questioned by a few athletes whom I did not know, nor have I raced against. It was my first time experiencing such hateful and crude comments from complete strangers, who know nothing about me. I am not going to address them here, because I know nothing would make them happier, and I refuse to stoop to that level. What I would like to say is, when anyone bad mouths an opponent, for any reason, it diminshes all of us in the sport. In the current economy, multi-sport is not high on sponors priority list. When they see bashing taking place, why would they want to support that? If our sport is truly supposed to be "a sport that anyone can do, or at least try" and if we are truly grateful for the opportunity to race, at any level, then better we focus on improving ourselves, and growing the sport, not acting like high school children, writing notes in class. To sink to that level is abhorrent, and keeps this sport from reaching a more mainstream market. Having the benefit of being on both sides of the sport, in marketing and as an athlete, when things like that pop up, its negative publicity that we don't need. So the next time you think you have some cute comment to make about your fellow athlete, or would like to rant about your fantastic abilities and how you can beat so and so, stop and think long term. If we don't do it now, we'll soon be relegated to racing each other on training runs. Think about it.
Stay Strong
Guy
The course is not super hard, however, Saturday morning brought cold temps, and howling 25-30 mph winds. As is typical with Spring racing in the Mideast, the winds were also gracious enough to be swirling, so you never really got a tailwind for any substantial period of time. The first run went as I expected, with the first mile plus, into the wind, and a cross wind, with me hitting T1 in 2nd and feeling relatively decent.
Hit the bike, and rode as hard as possible, passing lots of triathletes, and chasing down the guy leading the Du. Now, the bike would have been a lot more tolerable if it wasn't resembling the Team Time trial from the Giro D'Italia. I know the country roads weren't closed off, but, when I caught the leader, I felt like I was his lead out man for the sprint at the end of a stage. I thought about pulling up to see what he would do, but, into the head wind I knew I would come to a standstill. I finally just hammered the last mile into T2, and took off on the run. Same course, same wind. I was hurting a bit, but started to come around, when this guy came back on me. He even thanked me for pulling! We raced to the line, but he got me. After I crossed, he saw I was pissed, so, he came over to congratulate me, and thank me again for pulling and protecting him from the wind. I kid you not.
The idiot didn't realize the RD was right there, as were about 5 other people who were stunned he thought this was ok. He got a 3 min penalty, and I got the win. Its not really the way I wanted to win, but, it was a win. Its my fault for not really dropping him sooner and running his race instead of my own. So, there's your lesson - always race your race, not someone else's. Yeah, he may have got his, but I still believe if you race your race, you'll feel better no matter what the result.
Something else I learned from this race, and its something we all are known to do from time to time - don't leave your best race in your training. I do 95% of my training solo, as many of us do. But, we need to be better barametors of our effort. I know I wasn't tapering for this race, and had close to 13 hours of training in my legs before the gun went off, but its not an excuse for leaving my best running on the trails closest to my home. I have done that twice this year, and it proves costly. I went into Powerman AL flat, b/c I had over-trained, and then, in an effort to show that Powerman was not indicative of my ability, I repeated the same mistake going into Mayhem. I agree that some over-training, or very hard blocks of training are necessary to improve LT and stamina, but not every workout should be a race. In talking with my coach after the race, she put it plain and simple - "You train too hard. You don't back off on easy days, and it costs you. " I share this with everyone so if you see yourself doing the same, maybe reading this will help you re-evaluate how you train and race.
On a side note, as some of you may know, I was the topic of conversation on a forum that I will not mention. The comments regarding my status as a pro were questioned by a few athletes whom I did not know, nor have I raced against. It was my first time experiencing such hateful and crude comments from complete strangers, who know nothing about me. I am not going to address them here, because I know nothing would make them happier, and I refuse to stoop to that level. What I would like to say is, when anyone bad mouths an opponent, for any reason, it diminshes all of us in the sport. In the current economy, multi-sport is not high on sponors priority list. When they see bashing taking place, why would they want to support that? If our sport is truly supposed to be "a sport that anyone can do, or at least try" and if we are truly grateful for the opportunity to race, at any level, then better we focus on improving ourselves, and growing the sport, not acting like high school children, writing notes in class. To sink to that level is abhorrent, and keeps this sport from reaching a more mainstream market. Having the benefit of being on both sides of the sport, in marketing and as an athlete, when things like that pop up, its negative publicity that we don't need. So the next time you think you have some cute comment to make about your fellow athlete, or would like to rant about your fantastic abilities and how you can beat so and so, stop and think long term. If we don't do it now, we'll soon be relegated to racing each other on training runs. Think about it.
Stay Strong
Guy
Monday, April 20, 2009
Sometimes, a Good Kick in Ass is What You Need
So, I headed out to do my first really big Pro event - Powerman AL, which also served as the Pro LC Champs for Duathlon. I was nervous, but excited to be racing against a truly top notch field. Got in Friday late, so Saturday, went through my usual routine, and tried to check out the course. They changed it 4 times in 4 weeks leading up to the race, so, figuring it out was really hard. Even the RD wasn't sure at the pro meeting.
But this much I knew - 3 loops on the bike, with 27 turns, and 3 180 degree turns on roads that rival Chicago's southside. But we all had to deal, so, ready to race. Sunday, I was warming up under light rain and gusting winds. The wind advisory was calling for 50 mph+ gusts, and it didn't disappoint. But I stayed calm, and just got ready. Gun went off, and I stayed with the leaders for the first loop of the run, We were sitting around 5:20 pace, which wasn't bad until I realized, I was getting the chills. I was getting dehydrated and that's not good. So, I backed off, figuring to make up some on the bike. Hit T1, a little dizzy, but got on my helmet and went. Bike was hard, going from 25 mph, to 5 mph in less than 2 blocks to turn. Couldn't get into a groove until halfway thru lap 2, then started to hammer. Passed 2 male pros, and didn't look back. Every time I could put it down I did. Got into T2, and my poor nutrition and hydration caught up to me. I was starving and still had the chills. I took a gel and water at the first 2 aid stations, and it helped for my second loop, but not enough to hold off the pro from Kenya in the last half mile. I ended up 6th, and exhausted.
I'd be happier, if it wasn't for one key thing - I talked myself out of the race before it even started. I had a bad week at work, let it get to me, and I didn't focus. So, I let my nutrition suffer, along with hydration and boom, I was already out of the running before the gun went off. We all have our moments, the key thing I will take away is this - I can still grind out a decent race, but, when my head is in it, I know there is better racing in my legs. We all have those moments, they aren't always sharp peircing events that draw away our focus, they can be a long, slow burn, that leads us to go through workouts without the same kick, and without our heads where they should be. The competition was tough Sunday, but, so am I. Lesson learned, and as always, the hard way. I will be sure to deal with life better as it comes, instead of letting it build to this point. I can't point out, only back at myself. So, learn from my mistake - stay focused, and don't defeat yourself - we are all better than that.
But this much I knew - 3 loops on the bike, with 27 turns, and 3 180 degree turns on roads that rival Chicago's southside. But we all had to deal, so, ready to race. Sunday, I was warming up under light rain and gusting winds. The wind advisory was calling for 50 mph+ gusts, and it didn't disappoint. But I stayed calm, and just got ready. Gun went off, and I stayed with the leaders for the first loop of the run, We were sitting around 5:20 pace, which wasn't bad until I realized, I was getting the chills. I was getting dehydrated and that's not good. So, I backed off, figuring to make up some on the bike. Hit T1, a little dizzy, but got on my helmet and went. Bike was hard, going from 25 mph, to 5 mph in less than 2 blocks to turn. Couldn't get into a groove until halfway thru lap 2, then started to hammer. Passed 2 male pros, and didn't look back. Every time I could put it down I did. Got into T2, and my poor nutrition and hydration caught up to me. I was starving and still had the chills. I took a gel and water at the first 2 aid stations, and it helped for my second loop, but not enough to hold off the pro from Kenya in the last half mile. I ended up 6th, and exhausted.
I'd be happier, if it wasn't for one key thing - I talked myself out of the race before it even started. I had a bad week at work, let it get to me, and I didn't focus. So, I let my nutrition suffer, along with hydration and boom, I was already out of the running before the gun went off. We all have our moments, the key thing I will take away is this - I can still grind out a decent race, but, when my head is in it, I know there is better racing in my legs. We all have those moments, they aren't always sharp peircing events that draw away our focus, they can be a long, slow burn, that leads us to go through workouts without the same kick, and without our heads where they should be. The competition was tough Sunday, but, so am I. Lesson learned, and as always, the hard way. I will be sure to deal with life better as it comes, instead of letting it build to this point. I can't point out, only back at myself. So, learn from my mistake - stay focused, and don't defeat yourself - we are all better than that.
Monday, April 6, 2009
The Long Road to No Where
This past weekend, I decided to get out of town and train. Put in quality miles away from home. I've had a stressful month, family, work, and team issues, that need my attention, but sometimes can overwhelm my focus. So, I packed up Friday afternoon and headed North, yes you read that right, North, to get in some work. Its seems counter-intuitive for an athlete to go someplace colder to train, however, I wasn't simply seeking warm weather; I was looking for open roads, both familiar and foreign, the joy of training and suffering in solitude, found in doing in the opposite of the norm. And to that end, I succeeded. But my mind, always going, didn't stop to take the time to make peace with some things that I found myself still struggling with when I came home.
The purpose of the hard training is to prepare for the pro long course National Championships, this year to be held at the Powerman, AL venue. I have waited years for the opportunity to race a National Championship as a pro, and I was extremely excited about the prospect of doing well enough to represent my county at the World Championships in the pro field. Then, the news came through, this year there would be no long course duathlon world championships. In a single instant the governing bodies that be, decreased the value and importance of not only Powerman AL, but the amatuer National Championships, in Auburn, CA. This same entity that has been beating the drum about "saving duathlon" put all their eggs in one basket, and backed the short course national championship in Richmond, VA, turns and basically diminshes the value and importance of the long course versions of the sport.
The phrase that pops to mind (at least the only one that is suitable for print) is "cut off your nose to spite your face." And that, ladies and gentlemen, is exactly what has happened. Yes, supporting the short course national championships is necessary, but, there are a large number of athletes, just like in triathlon, who prefer the longer distance racing. They are now shut out, with a championship event, that doesn't provide the opportunity to challenge themselves against the best in the world. I specifically changed my schedule to go long, enjoying the longer training sessions, learning the difference in the pain from long to short, looking to become a more complete athlete. On a personal level, that won't change, but, I'm not alone, and its for all of us, that I write this - USAT YOU HAVE ONCE AGAIN MISSED THE MARK.
And they didn't just miss it by failing to back the longer events, they diluted the race experiences firther for both pros and amatuers by seperating the championships. Pro Long Course is in Alabama, amatuer - California. Over a month apart. California will not have a pro field. Why? The race is harder, the challenge greater and what a better way to help promote the sport than by watching the pros you admire racing side by side with you? Same can be said for short course. With all the hoopla surrounding the Amatuer Short Course Champs, there is no pro field, instead we are sent to Minnesota to have our own championships a month later. Why can't the pros enjoy the feeling of being around probably the biggest crowd the US has had in quite some time for duathlon? And in turn, why can't we put on our best for the amatuers to see? If we are to be truly united, then don't seperate us; instead encourage us to race together, on the same course, under the same conditions so we can see the future of the sport develop in front of us.
Am I ranting? Well, yes. But its not without purpose. As a duathlete, I constantly feel like that song "Don't Give up on Me", by Solmon Burke, pleading for USAT and fans to stick with us, b/c our sport is fun and sexy too! Just come look! There are bikes and prizes and everything, even a nice venue!
I hope I'm wrong. I hope its me that has missed the mark. I hope that what is being done by the top brass of our sport creates a renewed interest in our sport and shows a sharp increase in participation and viewing. I want to be wrong. But more than that, I wanted the chance to represent the USA in a long course world championships as a professional. Its a good thing I come from Chicago, where the phrase, "Wait till next year" is a part of every Chicago sports fans vernacular.
Thanks for letting me vent, and to those who didn't like the post, a much nicer, and gentler version is on its way. The moral is, we can be faced with tremendous adversity and disappointment constantly, and for many we are, but, what makes us true men and women, is how we rise above that, pick ourselves up daily, dust ourselves off, and dive head first right back into the fray. This sport is made for grnders as much as it is the graceful. Anyone from the Midwest knows that. We don't back down, and we won't quit. Just ask us. So, Worlds or not, I'm going to Alabama with a lot to prove, and a lot to do. To those who have their own "Alabama" be it in work, in sport, or in life in general, don't quit. No matter how dark, don't quit. I can't promise the light is at the end of the tunnel, but if you quit, you'll never find out.
Stay strong,
Guy
The purpose of the hard training is to prepare for the pro long course National Championships, this year to be held at the Powerman, AL venue. I have waited years for the opportunity to race a National Championship as a pro, and I was extremely excited about the prospect of doing well enough to represent my county at the World Championships in the pro field. Then, the news came through, this year there would be no long course duathlon world championships. In a single instant the governing bodies that be, decreased the value and importance of not only Powerman AL, but the amatuer National Championships, in Auburn, CA. This same entity that has been beating the drum about "saving duathlon" put all their eggs in one basket, and backed the short course national championship in Richmond, VA, turns and basically diminshes the value and importance of the long course versions of the sport.
The phrase that pops to mind (at least the only one that is suitable for print) is "cut off your nose to spite your face." And that, ladies and gentlemen, is exactly what has happened. Yes, supporting the short course national championships is necessary, but, there are a large number of athletes, just like in triathlon, who prefer the longer distance racing. They are now shut out, with a championship event, that doesn't provide the opportunity to challenge themselves against the best in the world. I specifically changed my schedule to go long, enjoying the longer training sessions, learning the difference in the pain from long to short, looking to become a more complete athlete. On a personal level, that won't change, but, I'm not alone, and its for all of us, that I write this - USAT YOU HAVE ONCE AGAIN MISSED THE MARK.
And they didn't just miss it by failing to back the longer events, they diluted the race experiences firther for both pros and amatuers by seperating the championships. Pro Long Course is in Alabama, amatuer - California. Over a month apart. California will not have a pro field. Why? The race is harder, the challenge greater and what a better way to help promote the sport than by watching the pros you admire racing side by side with you? Same can be said for short course. With all the hoopla surrounding the Amatuer Short Course Champs, there is no pro field, instead we are sent to Minnesota to have our own championships a month later. Why can't the pros enjoy the feeling of being around probably the biggest crowd the US has had in quite some time for duathlon? And in turn, why can't we put on our best for the amatuers to see? If we are to be truly united, then don't seperate us; instead encourage us to race together, on the same course, under the same conditions so we can see the future of the sport develop in front of us.
Am I ranting? Well, yes. But its not without purpose. As a duathlete, I constantly feel like that song "Don't Give up on Me", by Solmon Burke, pleading for USAT and fans to stick with us, b/c our sport is fun and sexy too! Just come look! There are bikes and prizes and everything, even a nice venue!
I hope I'm wrong. I hope its me that has missed the mark. I hope that what is being done by the top brass of our sport creates a renewed interest in our sport and shows a sharp increase in participation and viewing. I want to be wrong. But more than that, I wanted the chance to represent the USA in a long course world championships as a professional. Its a good thing I come from Chicago, where the phrase, "Wait till next year" is a part of every Chicago sports fans vernacular.
Thanks for letting me vent, and to those who didn't like the post, a much nicer, and gentler version is on its way. The moral is, we can be faced with tremendous adversity and disappointment constantly, and for many we are, but, what makes us true men and women, is how we rise above that, pick ourselves up daily, dust ourselves off, and dive head first right back into the fray. This sport is made for grnders as much as it is the graceful. Anyone from the Midwest knows that. We don't back down, and we won't quit. Just ask us. So, Worlds or not, I'm going to Alabama with a lot to prove, and a lot to do. To those who have their own "Alabama" be it in work, in sport, or in life in general, don't quit. No matter how dark, don't quit. I can't promise the light is at the end of the tunnel, but if you quit, you'll never find out.
Stay strong,
Guy
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
First Pro Debut, and a bittersweet homecoming
"If you are going through Hell, keep going" - Winston Churchill
I have been thinking about the above quote more often than not in the recent weeks. Not because my training is suffering, or my racing, actually, knock wood, those have been moving along pretty well. So, I'll start this blog with the good, and then get to the rest.
I headed out to Tennessee this past weekend for the Natchez Trace Duathlon, a short, but extremely hilly course, with top-level competition. I was a bit nervous about the terrain, since the Chicago winter only provided me 4 days of outdoor riding, but I had been training pretty hard, so I was hoping my fitness would carry the day. After checking out the whole course on Saturday, I knew that even though the race was short, it would play to the strengths of the most fit, so, I gained some confidence as I ran the single track trail for the second run.
Race morning arrived, and I was nervous as I saw the guys lining up to race. I just kept thinking about the advice of my coach - calm mind, watch your “get out pace” and never let up. The first run started out with a nasty climb for over a 1/2 mile, starting at 6% grade and kicking up as high as 19%. So, I let a couple guys go, figuring, they were going to gas early at that pace. Fortunately, I was right. By the end of mile 1 on the first run, I was sitting in 3rd, only 10 seconds off the leader. Got back into T1 and hit the bike, climbing out the same way we did on the run. But I felt strong, and spun up the hill on to the open road. As the bike leg progressed, I felt stronger and started to push the hills hard. I knew I had lost a couple places on the bike, but, not a lot of time. I stayed calm, not wanting to blow up with a closing 5K run. Whipped out of T2, and hit the single track.
It was muddy from the previous day’s adventure race, and the guys who passed me on the bike began to suffer as they sunk a bit in the mud and were tentative on the dry portions of the trail. I took a chance about 1/2 mile into the second run, doing a 30 second surge to pass 2 guys, and get into some clean air to get out of the trail. After 1.5 miles, we hit the road again, with a steady climb to the second mile marker. I saw 2nd and 3rd place, as well as first. With a mile to go, I wasn’t sure if they were hurting or not, but I knew it was time to go. I kept surging till I caught 2 and 3 as we hit the last 600 meters back to the park. I saw first place, but I was feeling the lactic acid taking its toll as the final climb on the run cut in to my legs. But, I crested and sailed down, feeling great. As I walked thru the finish chute I felt great, thinking maybe I should have gone harder, then after one sip of water and another step, I ended up vomiting in the nearest trash can. Thankfully, away from the crowd. I felt a bit better seeing the 3rd place guy having to be put on Oxygen after crossing the line and collapsing. You hate to see that, but thankfully he was ok.
I left the race feeling elated. I felt like I had made an impression, and it was a good one, more for myself than anything. I couldn't wait to tell family, friends and of course, my coach. I spent the long drive back doing just that. Then, I got home.
I have stayed silent on this topic for a bit, because, for better or worse, I keep a lot of things to myself, particularly when I am struggling with something. I don't like to burden others, and I figure that I am strong enough to work stuff out. And, that's usually the case. But over the last few months, as a team director I have been working diligently to get people on my team what they deserve, what they have earned and worked so hard for, the right kind of recognition. To put in modern terms, I was trying to show that, "No one puts baby in a corner." And being a bit naive and too trusting, I ran around trying to make deals, scramble for money, everything. I was given more empty promises and false hope than I could imagine. Every day for the last 2 months has been a roller coaster with these people. And for what? Only to discover, that they use your ideas, and your inititives to develop something without you, and completely neglect the people you are trying to help. I love our sport, but I have come to learn, the hard way, that the business end of it, is no different than any other major operation. The people who speak about promoting, "the growth of the sport - helping those who really need it, showcasing better talent" are leaving out the most important part - only if you are have no problem living without any moral code or ethics. I am not a sweetheart, not by any means, but, I would like to think that a person's word is still solid. Unfortunately, in this industry, from what I have seen, it means no more than a "hello". And that's a sad statement about what we are becoming as a society as a whole.
Some people have told me, "hey, what do you expect, these guys don't know how to see big picture, they don't care about the grass roots, the working man's/woman's pro, who is raising a family, while trying to go out and be tops in a pro field. They want glitz, they want hard bodies, and eye-catching story lines. They want hype." Well, there is plenty of that in this sport isn't there. At some point, and I don't know when, once the sport became more mainstream, all that talk about growing the sport at its purest level was no more than talk. Sure, local races grow by leaps and bounds, but who is really taking notice? And who is noticing the bright stars that are coming out of places like the Midwest? I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'll match the talent here against any other state or region in the US, and I'll always take Midwestern athletes. Hands down. From my coach to my close teammates, they are rock solid and damn good. I mean really damn good. And they deserve respect. They deserve recoginition, because not only do they train and race hard, they give back to this sport, as much as it has given them. They are mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters, raising families, and getting to start lines in International events and kicking ass. Truly. Without my coach, I would never be a pro athlete today. I'm positive of that. And if I didn't have others around me like Adam Brown, Tony White and Rich Swor, I wouldn't be as excited about every day of racing and training like I am.
So when someone asks why are you making yourself crazy to help your mates - because without even knowing it, they help me, just by being who they are. I'm one of the luckiest guys in the world because of them. And they flat out deserve better. So, I'll hammer the phones, I'll take the hits, because I'll be damned if people I consider to be family get denied what they deserve. I hope for those of you who are reading this, take a look around and be thankful for those people in your life like the ones I have. And I hope you take some time, to show them how much you appreciate them. Even in small ways, it means a lot. Whether we believe it or not, we are still all in this together. Just because its an individual sport, doesn't mean you got to where you are alone. Be grateful, be thankful and most of all, don't let anyone tell you you aren't worth it. At the next possible moment, you go out and shine, to remind them how wrong they are. Let them do the running after that.
Stay Strong,
Guy
I have been thinking about the above quote more often than not in the recent weeks. Not because my training is suffering, or my racing, actually, knock wood, those have been moving along pretty well. So, I'll start this blog with the good, and then get to the rest.
I headed out to Tennessee this past weekend for the Natchez Trace Duathlon, a short, but extremely hilly course, with top-level competition. I was a bit nervous about the terrain, since the Chicago winter only provided me 4 days of outdoor riding, but I had been training pretty hard, so I was hoping my fitness would carry the day. After checking out the whole course on Saturday, I knew that even though the race was short, it would play to the strengths of the most fit, so, I gained some confidence as I ran the single track trail for the second run.
Race morning arrived, and I was nervous as I saw the guys lining up to race. I just kept thinking about the advice of my coach - calm mind, watch your “get out pace” and never let up. The first run started out with a nasty climb for over a 1/2 mile, starting at 6% grade and kicking up as high as 19%. So, I let a couple guys go, figuring, they were going to gas early at that pace. Fortunately, I was right. By the end of mile 1 on the first run, I was sitting in 3rd, only 10 seconds off the leader. Got back into T1 and hit the bike, climbing out the same way we did on the run. But I felt strong, and spun up the hill on to the open road. As the bike leg progressed, I felt stronger and started to push the hills hard. I knew I had lost a couple places on the bike, but, not a lot of time. I stayed calm, not wanting to blow up with a closing 5K run. Whipped out of T2, and hit the single track.
It was muddy from the previous day’s adventure race, and the guys who passed me on the bike began to suffer as they sunk a bit in the mud and were tentative on the dry portions of the trail. I took a chance about 1/2 mile into the second run, doing a 30 second surge to pass 2 guys, and get into some clean air to get out of the trail. After 1.5 miles, we hit the road again, with a steady climb to the second mile marker. I saw 2nd and 3rd place, as well as first. With a mile to go, I wasn’t sure if they were hurting or not, but I knew it was time to go. I kept surging till I caught 2 and 3 as we hit the last 600 meters back to the park. I saw first place, but I was feeling the lactic acid taking its toll as the final climb on the run cut in to my legs. But, I crested and sailed down, feeling great. As I walked thru the finish chute I felt great, thinking maybe I should have gone harder, then after one sip of water and another step, I ended up vomiting in the nearest trash can. Thankfully, away from the crowd. I felt a bit better seeing the 3rd place guy having to be put on Oxygen after crossing the line and collapsing. You hate to see that, but thankfully he was ok.
I left the race feeling elated. I felt like I had made an impression, and it was a good one, more for myself than anything. I couldn't wait to tell family, friends and of course, my coach. I spent the long drive back doing just that. Then, I got home.
I have stayed silent on this topic for a bit, because, for better or worse, I keep a lot of things to myself, particularly when I am struggling with something. I don't like to burden others, and I figure that I am strong enough to work stuff out. And, that's usually the case. But over the last few months, as a team director I have been working diligently to get people on my team what they deserve, what they have earned and worked so hard for, the right kind of recognition. To put in modern terms, I was trying to show that, "No one puts baby in a corner." And being a bit naive and too trusting, I ran around trying to make deals, scramble for money, everything. I was given more empty promises and false hope than I could imagine. Every day for the last 2 months has been a roller coaster with these people. And for what? Only to discover, that they use your ideas, and your inititives to develop something without you, and completely neglect the people you are trying to help. I love our sport, but I have come to learn, the hard way, that the business end of it, is no different than any other major operation. The people who speak about promoting, "the growth of the sport - helping those who really need it, showcasing better talent" are leaving out the most important part - only if you are have no problem living without any moral code or ethics. I am not a sweetheart, not by any means, but, I would like to think that a person's word is still solid. Unfortunately, in this industry, from what I have seen, it means no more than a "hello". And that's a sad statement about what we are becoming as a society as a whole.
Some people have told me, "hey, what do you expect, these guys don't know how to see big picture, they don't care about the grass roots, the working man's/woman's pro, who is raising a family, while trying to go out and be tops in a pro field. They want glitz, they want hard bodies, and eye-catching story lines. They want hype." Well, there is plenty of that in this sport isn't there. At some point, and I don't know when, once the sport became more mainstream, all that talk about growing the sport at its purest level was no more than talk. Sure, local races grow by leaps and bounds, but who is really taking notice? And who is noticing the bright stars that are coming out of places like the Midwest? I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'll match the talent here against any other state or region in the US, and I'll always take Midwestern athletes. Hands down. From my coach to my close teammates, they are rock solid and damn good. I mean really damn good. And they deserve respect. They deserve recoginition, because not only do they train and race hard, they give back to this sport, as much as it has given them. They are mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters, raising families, and getting to start lines in International events and kicking ass. Truly. Without my coach, I would never be a pro athlete today. I'm positive of that. And if I didn't have others around me like Adam Brown, Tony White and Rich Swor, I wouldn't be as excited about every day of racing and training like I am.
So when someone asks why are you making yourself crazy to help your mates - because without even knowing it, they help me, just by being who they are. I'm one of the luckiest guys in the world because of them. And they flat out deserve better. So, I'll hammer the phones, I'll take the hits, because I'll be damned if people I consider to be family get denied what they deserve. I hope for those of you who are reading this, take a look around and be thankful for those people in your life like the ones I have. And I hope you take some time, to show them how much you appreciate them. Even in small ways, it means a lot. Whether we believe it or not, we are still all in this together. Just because its an individual sport, doesn't mean you got to where you are alone. Be grateful, be thankful and most of all, don't let anyone tell you you aren't worth it. At the next possible moment, you go out and shine, to remind them how wrong they are. Let them do the running after that.
Stay Strong,
Guy
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Starting the season off right
So, I know I haven't blogged in a bit, but, I am promising to get better at this. Life gets busy some times, and with the winters in the Midwest, we tend to fall in to routines and a bit of a funk. We can't get out as often to train as we want, and we start looking at our compu-trainers thinking they would look better floating in Lake Michigan. But, I have always believed we are some pretty hardy athletes, having to deal with inclement weather, and cabin fever, so, once we get some day light to race or get outside, we are tough to beat.
So, this past Saturday, March, 7, I got out and raced. But it was inside. I know what you are thinking,"where did all that moxie you just spit out above go?" Well, I missed what was to be my first race on February 28, b/c no one can stay healthy in my office or on the train I take, so, no matter what I did, I caught the stomach flu people were all too happy to pass along. But, I wanted to see what the last 3 month of really solid training had done for me. So, to the Midwest Indoor Du Championships I went.
The cool thing about indoor races, the people are more relaxed, they are very affable, and happy to help. This race was no exception, the volunteers, the staff, everyone at the Orland Park Sportsplex were fantastic. Towels, water, Gatorade, whatever you needed, they were right there. And the spectators were great too, b/c they are so close to the action.
The race consisted of a 1.5 mile run - 10 mile bike - 1.5 mile run. The track we ran on was small, 10 times around to a mile, with tight turns, so, needed to not be over-anxious, and watch my ankle go flying. Warmed up really well, then got ready to start. As I was warming up, my sister, and my niece/manager, got there, just as I was about to take the track. Of course, my sister sees me in my race kit, and her first comment, "It looks like you are wearing a Holloween costume" broke the tension and brought a smile to my face. A quick kiss from my niece, and I was off. I grabbed a pretty decent lead on the first run, settled in to about a 5:30 pace and was feeling fine. Finished up the run with a good 1 minute lead, and a 7:50 for the first run, and then, hit the spin bikes. True its not like riding your own, but we all had to ride them, so, no bitching. As I got going on the bike I looked up and noticed a decent sized crowd had gathered around. Other athletes getting ready to race and spectators were shouting me words of encouragement. It felt pretty cool, and reminded me of what I love about the sport - the commraderie in pushing each other and helping each other. Wrapped up the bike in just over 14 minutes, and then time for that second run.
At this point, I had no idea where everyone else was, I was just thinking of the best time posted of the day, and what I needed to do to beat that. As I started the second run, I tried to do math in my head, which I realized I can barely do while sitting down, with a calculator (that's why I practice law). I stopped that nonsense pretty fast and just dug in. At one point, half way thru I heard people chanting my name. At the edge of the track was my sister and niece cheering me on, smiling and laughing. One of my teammates, Gary Gieger was there too, snapping photos, and I dug deeper, thinking I want this one bad.
I crossed the line, knowing I had won my heat, but not knowing where I ended up. For a few seconds, I walked slowly on the track, then heard my sister, "Hey, come check this out!" People were applauding, and she told me I had the best time of the day. I came to find out an hour later, my time broke the course record by 3 minutes. I was stoked. I felt fine, my fitness was definitely good, and getting in a race, even a short one, felt great. I felt like a bit of a rock star as I was interviewed by local papers, and had photos taken. I made sure to get my niece and sister in them too, b/c of all the voices, I could always hear thiers.
There was one other thing motivating me that day. It was my Papa's birthday. The memory of him, and my Nonno, together, was on my mind the entire race. I always think, how lucky I am that they came to this country so I could do this. To see that same look in my sister's face, and then in my niece's smile, made my season opener, truly special.
Guy
I finished up the bike
So, this past Saturday, March, 7, I got out and raced. But it was inside. I know what you are thinking,"where did all that moxie you just spit out above go?" Well, I missed what was to be my first race on February 28, b/c no one can stay healthy in my office or on the train I take, so, no matter what I did, I caught the stomach flu people were all too happy to pass along. But, I wanted to see what the last 3 month of really solid training had done for me. So, to the Midwest Indoor Du Championships I went.
The cool thing about indoor races, the people are more relaxed, they are very affable, and happy to help. This race was no exception, the volunteers, the staff, everyone at the Orland Park Sportsplex were fantastic. Towels, water, Gatorade, whatever you needed, they were right there. And the spectators were great too, b/c they are so close to the action.
The race consisted of a 1.5 mile run - 10 mile bike - 1.5 mile run. The track we ran on was small, 10 times around to a mile, with tight turns, so, needed to not be over-anxious, and watch my ankle go flying. Warmed up really well, then got ready to start. As I was warming up, my sister, and my niece/manager, got there, just as I was about to take the track. Of course, my sister sees me in my race kit, and her first comment, "It looks like you are wearing a Holloween costume" broke the tension and brought a smile to my face. A quick kiss from my niece, and I was off. I grabbed a pretty decent lead on the first run, settled in to about a 5:30 pace and was feeling fine. Finished up the run with a good 1 minute lead, and a 7:50 for the first run, and then, hit the spin bikes. True its not like riding your own, but we all had to ride them, so, no bitching. As I got going on the bike I looked up and noticed a decent sized crowd had gathered around. Other athletes getting ready to race and spectators were shouting me words of encouragement. It felt pretty cool, and reminded me of what I love about the sport - the commraderie in pushing each other and helping each other. Wrapped up the bike in just over 14 minutes, and then time for that second run.
At this point, I had no idea where everyone else was, I was just thinking of the best time posted of the day, and what I needed to do to beat that. As I started the second run, I tried to do math in my head, which I realized I can barely do while sitting down, with a calculator (that's why I practice law). I stopped that nonsense pretty fast and just dug in. At one point, half way thru I heard people chanting my name. At the edge of the track was my sister and niece cheering me on, smiling and laughing. One of my teammates, Gary Gieger was there too, snapping photos, and I dug deeper, thinking I want this one bad.
I crossed the line, knowing I had won my heat, but not knowing where I ended up. For a few seconds, I walked slowly on the track, then heard my sister, "Hey, come check this out!" People were applauding, and she told me I had the best time of the day. I came to find out an hour later, my time broke the course record by 3 minutes. I was stoked. I felt fine, my fitness was definitely good, and getting in a race, even a short one, felt great. I felt like a bit of a rock star as I was interviewed by local papers, and had photos taken. I made sure to get my niece and sister in them too, b/c of all the voices, I could always hear thiers.
There was one other thing motivating me that day. It was my Papa's birthday. The memory of him, and my Nonno, together, was on my mind the entire race. I always think, how lucky I am that they came to this country so I could do this. To see that same look in my sister's face, and then in my niece's smile, made my season opener, truly special.
Guy
I finished up the bike
Sunday, February 1, 2009
A Time for a Change
"The only pace is suicide pace, and today seems like a good day to die" - Steve Prefontaine
I have the above statement written on my refrigerator, to remind me every day, exactly how I live my life, the only way I know how. Most people who know me well, know I have 2 speeds, full on, or sleeping. But the quote of Pre, meant something more - never live with regrets, live every day like its your last. So, it was with that mindset that I approached my coach late last season with a question I didn't think I would ever get the chance to ask again -"Do I have what it takes to go pro?" In typical Jenny fashion, she was very excited and very supportive, and encouraged me to apply. But I still wasn't convinced I had the stuff to race at that level. My self-confidence isn't exactly great, but with her guidance, and some very close friends support I started to really get my head around the idea.
So with the season ending in 2008 and having secured my second Mideast Duathlon series title, I did the one thing that I had tried to do 13 years ago, I sent in for my pro card from USAT. The process takes time, so I spent the better part of the fall, resting, getting surgery on my sinus cavity, and improving my overall health. But, with each passing day, I became more restless, wondering if I was going to make it or not. As more time passed and Christmas grew near, my hopes started to wane, and I wasn't sure I was ready for USAT to tell me "Sorry, you're decent, but not good enough to be a pro. Better luck next year." And then, just after Christmas, I got the word - I had been accepted, I had gotten my pro card. I was officially a professional duathlete. A wave of emotions came over me, excitement, relief, joy and yes - fear. As cool as it felt to say "I'm a pro" I realized, holy shit, "I'm a pro! The competition is going to be tougher, the pressure will be greater, what the hell do I do know?"
So I went back to the one person who knew best - Jen. She carefully laid out the game plan for moving forward, and slowly I started to feel more confident, more at ease. And the training ramped up, and I started to see progress, I was feeling stronger, more lean, more fit. But with one of the worst winters in the last 13 years in Chicago, gauging progress has been difficult. And with 4 weeks from my first race, I am scared, but excited, no doubt.
The decision to go pro wasn't easy. The amount of free time I have is already close to nothing, I work a full time job and have to make sure I keep up with that, and I don't want to look like some joke when I get to the start line. But I thought, 13 years ago, I was in the same position, ready to make this leap, and I allowed others, and a car accident to prevent me from doing it. And 6 years passed before I could even get the strength to train again. So now at 35, I was given another chance, and if I am to live life to the fullest, then I plan on grabbing this opportunity and giving it everything I have.
Some people close to me, don't understand why this is so important, why I needed to do this now. They puzzle why I would want to live like a college student and hermit, training and racing, and giving up my "prime earning years". But my response is simple - I have been blessed with another chance to do the one thing I love at the highest level, and that is more important than any climbing the corporate ladder, or buy the big house, or the big car. And this is what I say to everyone who is facing the same question - the answer is always right in front of you - will you regret not taking that step? If the answer is yes, then make that leap of faith. Even if you fall, you can do so proudly, knowing you were brave enough to try. And that's what separates champions from the rest.
So aside from training, I have been studying champions, in all different individaul sports and what they all have in common - keep the amount of people close to you small, make sure they are trustworthy and will always tell you the truth, and don't believe your own press clippings. That is the a sure fire way to fail - believing your own hype. Anyone can be beaten on any given day, so, cut out the bs, stay humble and get the work done. Watching the GSP v. BJ Penn fight this weekend, that's what stuck out the most to me - GSP closes the circle 4 weeks from a fight, he makes the sacrifice, b/c being a champion means more than hanging with friends all night, partying with girls, etc. Its about looking yourself in the mirror, and saying - How bad do I want this? I ask that everyday, and even sick, and tired, I always smile, knowing, I wouldn't want it any other way.
I want to thank my sponsors, my coach my friends, family, and most importantly, the ones who never thought this possible. The ones who 13 years ago told me to give up the dream, that I wasn't good enough. B/c of you, I am here now. So thanks for the doubt and lack of support, it was the extra push I needed to get here.
Stay strong
Guy
I have the above statement written on my refrigerator, to remind me every day, exactly how I live my life, the only way I know how. Most people who know me well, know I have 2 speeds, full on, or sleeping. But the quote of Pre, meant something more - never live with regrets, live every day like its your last. So, it was with that mindset that I approached my coach late last season with a question I didn't think I would ever get the chance to ask again -"Do I have what it takes to go pro?" In typical Jenny fashion, she was very excited and very supportive, and encouraged me to apply. But I still wasn't convinced I had the stuff to race at that level. My self-confidence isn't exactly great, but with her guidance, and some very close friends support I started to really get my head around the idea.
So with the season ending in 2008 and having secured my second Mideast Duathlon series title, I did the one thing that I had tried to do 13 years ago, I sent in for my pro card from USAT. The process takes time, so I spent the better part of the fall, resting, getting surgery on my sinus cavity, and improving my overall health. But, with each passing day, I became more restless, wondering if I was going to make it or not. As more time passed and Christmas grew near, my hopes started to wane, and I wasn't sure I was ready for USAT to tell me "Sorry, you're decent, but not good enough to be a pro. Better luck next year." And then, just after Christmas, I got the word - I had been accepted, I had gotten my pro card. I was officially a professional duathlete. A wave of emotions came over me, excitement, relief, joy and yes - fear. As cool as it felt to say "I'm a pro" I realized, holy shit, "I'm a pro! The competition is going to be tougher, the pressure will be greater, what the hell do I do know?"
So I went back to the one person who knew best - Jen. She carefully laid out the game plan for moving forward, and slowly I started to feel more confident, more at ease. And the training ramped up, and I started to see progress, I was feeling stronger, more lean, more fit. But with one of the worst winters in the last 13 years in Chicago, gauging progress has been difficult. And with 4 weeks from my first race, I am scared, but excited, no doubt.
The decision to go pro wasn't easy. The amount of free time I have is already close to nothing, I work a full time job and have to make sure I keep up with that, and I don't want to look like some joke when I get to the start line. But I thought, 13 years ago, I was in the same position, ready to make this leap, and I allowed others, and a car accident to prevent me from doing it. And 6 years passed before I could even get the strength to train again. So now at 35, I was given another chance, and if I am to live life to the fullest, then I plan on grabbing this opportunity and giving it everything I have.
Some people close to me, don't understand why this is so important, why I needed to do this now. They puzzle why I would want to live like a college student and hermit, training and racing, and giving up my "prime earning years". But my response is simple - I have been blessed with another chance to do the one thing I love at the highest level, and that is more important than any climbing the corporate ladder, or buy the big house, or the big car. And this is what I say to everyone who is facing the same question - the answer is always right in front of you - will you regret not taking that step? If the answer is yes, then make that leap of faith. Even if you fall, you can do so proudly, knowing you were brave enough to try. And that's what separates champions from the rest.
So aside from training, I have been studying champions, in all different individaul sports and what they all have in common - keep the amount of people close to you small, make sure they are trustworthy and will always tell you the truth, and don't believe your own press clippings. That is the a sure fire way to fail - believing your own hype. Anyone can be beaten on any given day, so, cut out the bs, stay humble and get the work done. Watching the GSP v. BJ Penn fight this weekend, that's what stuck out the most to me - GSP closes the circle 4 weeks from a fight, he makes the sacrifice, b/c being a champion means more than hanging with friends all night, partying with girls, etc. Its about looking yourself in the mirror, and saying - How bad do I want this? I ask that everyday, and even sick, and tired, I always smile, knowing, I wouldn't want it any other way.
I want to thank my sponsors, my coach my friends, family, and most importantly, the ones who never thought this possible. The ones who 13 years ago told me to give up the dream, that I wasn't good enough. B/c of you, I am here now. So thanks for the doubt and lack of support, it was the extra push I needed to get here.
Stay strong
Guy
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