Don’t worry, I won’t blog every day. But maybe just the first week for those of you interested in the weekly routine I’m following to prepare for Kona.
Tuesdays are big days compared to Mondays. By Tuesday, I should be good and recovered from the weekend’s long efforts, so I don’t mind putting in a good one today.
Today’s swim was a short 2000 yards. Nothing too lavish today, though I did throw in some 50’s with the band around the ankles. Great way to remind yourself how bad you suck at swimming!
After work is a 1.5 to 2 hr bike ride, either with the group at Eastern Pines (which involves some good small group pacelining at decent speeds with short pulls) or I’ll do intervals such as 6x5 min at what would equate to Olympic tri distance effort, plus or minus. Today I flew solo for intervals since it was raining and I wasn't sure anyone would show up. I do the intervals on RPE since I don't have a powermeter. After the ride I duck my head into the house to tell Angie the ETA I need for dinner to be ready (she’s a trooper for playing along with this whole shenanigan!) and then quickly head out for a run of 5 to 10 miles depending on where I’m at in my training block. The run is the important part of Tuesday's workout. The weight of this brick workout is tipped slightly run heavy, and I like to use it to see how my pacing is going deeper into run mileage after the bike ride. Since I'm just starting, 5 miles in a downpour was all I needed. I finished it up with 20 minutes of functional strength in the garage and then it’s time to shower, eat dinner and go to bed.
So, total training hours for Tuesdays is between 3.25 hrs and 4.5 hrs. Just 3 today though.
What a life, huh?
Just to share some further details, nutritionally here’s what gets thrown down my gullet every day:
1 st Breakfast:
A cup of fresh fruit (ie, pineapple, mango, can’t elope)
Nutella on one piece of whole grain toast
A cup of orange juice
Coffee
2 nd Breakfast (I’m half-Hobbit):
A Chobani Greek yogurt
A banana
Nutella and almond butter on whole grain bread
Diet Pepsi
Honey Stinger Waffle (optional)
Post Lunch Workout Meal:
Salad, including ham, with balsamic vinegarette dressing
1/3 cup Kalona Supernatural organic cottage cheese
1 cup chocolate milk
Small piece of Green and Black organic dark chocolate (or similar brand)
Diet Pepsi
Afternoon Snack: Peanut butter chocolate chip Larabar (optional)
La Croix flavored sparkling water
Dinner:
Salmon or chicken (about the size of a deck of cards)
Steamed veggies
A couple slices of tomato
A cup of rice or similar carbs (Friday and Saturday only)
An apple, asian pear, peach or similar
Pre-Bedtime: 1 spoonful of Kalona Supernatural organic cottage cheese
I'm not a die hard organic foodie, but some products I think it offers value and it can be an indicator of quality as well.
So, that's how Torture on Tuesday goes down. A nice glass of wine on the porch to watch the rain would be nice, but......!!!!
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Monday, July 8, 2013
Kona Training Day 1: Medieval Monday
Today’s the day I pull out all the stops and gear up for the Ironman World Champs in Hawaii on October 12. 13 weeks away! I call this Medieval Monday, because from here on the training goes into torture mode. No alcohol, a very mundane diet of the nutrients I think I need and nothing more, and everything revolves around my training. Work becomes my rest time to let the body recover from the workouts.
At lunch I did a short weight routine including Ab Ripper X and some basic strength moves in the gym. I refrained from leg extensions – doctor’s recommendation since I have that knee issue. The cortisone shot prior to vacation seems to be just what I needed though and my knee feels brand new! I did just 2 sets of 20 reps of each exercise since I’ve been on vacation for a while and don’t want to be too sore tomorrow. Next week I’ll evolve to 3 sets.
Opinions vary as to whether hitting the weights is helpful for a triathlete. I look at it as a means to strengthen the muscles, ligaments, and joints and to prevent injury. I stay away from the exercises that target smaller muscles (like biceps curls) and what I call “vanity exercises” (like biceps curls!), and try to give them a sufficient workout through pull-ups for example. I also move as quickly as I can between sets. This is not about gaining muscle at all for me. In fact, I feel a bit too muscly for this sport but I do like to train the muscles I have to be as strong as they can be if I’m gonna tote them around anyway.
Monday nights are my long swim workout – anywhere from 3000 to 6000 yards. Tonight I did a 4300 yarder with my buddy and excellent swimmer, Frank Fisher. I always have great swim workouts when it involves trying to hang with Frank, which is an exercise in futility mind you.
After the swim, I’ll evolve to adding in a short recovery run on the greenway of 3 to 5 miles, but those don’t start for two more weeks. Then it’s time to go home, have a bath or a shower, eat either salmon or chicken with steamed vegetables and lots of water flavored with 0 cal grape mix and then finish off with a spoonful of Kalona Supernatural cottage cheese before bedtime to get the time-released caseine protein kicking in while I slumber.
And that’s a typical Medieval Monday…… for the next 3 months! Stay tuned!
At lunch I did a short weight routine including Ab Ripper X and some basic strength moves in the gym. I refrained from leg extensions – doctor’s recommendation since I have that knee issue. The cortisone shot prior to vacation seems to be just what I needed though and my knee feels brand new! I did just 2 sets of 20 reps of each exercise since I’ve been on vacation for a while and don’t want to be too sore tomorrow. Next week I’ll evolve to 3 sets.
Opinions vary as to whether hitting the weights is helpful for a triathlete. I look at it as a means to strengthen the muscles, ligaments, and joints and to prevent injury. I stay away from the exercises that target smaller muscles (like biceps curls) and what I call “vanity exercises” (like biceps curls!), and try to give them a sufficient workout through pull-ups for example. I also move as quickly as I can between sets. This is not about gaining muscle at all for me. In fact, I feel a bit too muscly for this sport but I do like to train the muscles I have to be as strong as they can be if I’m gonna tote them around anyway.
Monday nights are my long swim workout – anywhere from 3000 to 6000 yards. Tonight I did a 4300 yarder with my buddy and excellent swimmer, Frank Fisher. I always have great swim workouts when it involves trying to hang with Frank, which is an exercise in futility mind you.
After the swim, I’ll evolve to adding in a short recovery run on the greenway of 3 to 5 miles, but those don’t start for two more weeks. Then it’s time to go home, have a bath or a shower, eat either salmon or chicken with steamed vegetables and lots of water flavored with 0 cal grape mix and then finish off with a spoonful of Kalona Supernatural cottage cheese before bedtime to get the time-released caseine protein kicking in while I slumber.
And that’s a typical Medieval Monday…… for the next 3 months! Stay tuned!
Sunday, July 7, 2013
A Man and a Horse
This is a story about a cowboy living off the land as he and his trusty steed, Cruiser, encounter grizzlies, hostile Shoshone Indians, duals at sunsets, six-shooters, the occasional saloon fight over whiskey, and a trail of unpaid bills at brothels from Crouch to Stanley, Idaho. I guess I can't back all that up, but the bit about the trusty steed named Cruiser is true. Come along on a journey with us.....
"Okay, nice mount! Pull the reins to the left to make him go left, right to make him go right. Pull the reins toward you to make him stop. Okay, that's how you ride a horse! Let's go!" And with that we were off! I'm riding a horse? I'm not even clipped in! And that's an awful long way down to the ground. Didn't Superman get paraplegic'd on one of these things?! What the hell was I getting into?!
My dad and I had planned this a year ago. An epic trip into the Sawtooth Wilderness of Idaho by horseback.....in the name of fly fishing at least on paper. In the name of loving my dad everywhere else. Not to worry cuz he ain't going anywhere soon, but if it's all the same I wouldn't mind racking up a few epic trips with him so that when it's too late I have a lot of fond memories to draw from. I have a good dad....a great dad. And I intend to savor the moments.
Day 1
Our guide from Valley Ranch Outfitters, Randy and Unnamed Horse, his Australian shepherd Cooper (evidently the boss of the operation), 2 pack mules and a pack horse, dad on Sedona the Horse, and me on Cruiser the Horse were outward bound, and we left our women to tend to the corn, children and clotheslines at 4th of July Creek near Stanley, Idaho. 5 miles later we would arrive at Hell Roaring Lake in the Sawtooth Wilderness. The trip was uneventful - except for the fact that I was on a horse! - but the view when we arrived was spectacular!
It was pretty obvious why the lake was named Hell Roaring. From any part of the lake you can either hear the rapids where the river exits the lake or the waterfall that feeds into it (or both!).
Dad and I checked out the fishing (no worms, please brotha, we were snooty fly fisherman!) from around the shore. I was concerned that backcasting would pose a major problem as the foliage was way too strong to allow it. Dad's a better roll caster than me. But the bigger concern was that the trout, though plentiful, looked like french fries and the only bigger ones seemed to be in the middle of the lake. There was no way to get our line out that far.
For an alpine lake at 7400 feet, it wasn't that cold. I'd guess 55 degrees. I could at least wade in to fish.
Randy cooked up a fine cowboy meal on the fire of steak, potatoes, and beans. I joked that maybe we could re-enact that ground-breaking scene from Blazing Saddles around the fireplace what with the beans, but that scene ended up waiting til dad and I were in the tent.
Dad and I tried our fly rods out that night - rather half-assed to be honest - and turned up nothing. No matter, we had this incredible view!
A few rubs on Cooper's belly, and we turned in for the night. Cooper is the Master of Everything Wilderness. We saw no critters. Cuz they saw Cooper. You don't mess with Cooper.
Dad had his restless leg syndrome issue the first night but got over it. I feel horrible about that and hope I'm not next in line. It's enough for me when my legs get restless for skipping a workout, so I can just imagine what he goes through. No sleep talking the first night. No snoring either.
Day 2
Coffee at first light with these views is a life changing experience!
Randy made some kickass eggs and bacon for breakfast. He was pullin out all the stops for this guided trip. Once bellies were full, dad and I hiked to the waterfall, occasionally dropping a line in along the way. The foliage was way too thick for me to be successful, but dad found a spot that he could dab his line in and hook some 4" trout with a San Juan Worm. We did spot a nice 10"ish trout so there was hope!
I fished at the headwaters of the waterfall but turned up nothing. It could have been a number of things that led to my getting skunked: leader was too long, wrong fly, wrong temperatures, too late in the day, angry trout having fights over who deserved my fly more than the other. Whatever, as long as it's not my fault. Myeh, right. I could see and hear a thousand trout sticking their heads above water laughing at me like I was the Lake Jester.
That hike to the waterfall was strenuous, and I was impressed that my dear old dad made it on those new baboon knees and hips that he had to replace his human ones. At least the new joints went well with his baboon ass. I could show you that picture too, but kids might be reading.
Dad and I also spied a couple bikini babes sunning themselves on a rock. I'll admit that we hesitated when we first saw them, in case they wanted to accept their false seclusion and attempt some skinny dipping without anyone knowing.....heh, heh. Aww crap, I can't back that up either. We tripped over ourselves to say hello, gawked for a minute or two, and then pressed on realizing we were both far too gentlemanly to make any sort of impression on them.
Dad and Randy retired to the tents to take an afternoon nap, while something welled up inside of me: the need for doing something epic. Had anyone ever swam this lake? Was it too cold? I snuck to a point where I could drop in. There were hikers on the other side, sunbathing on boulders while taking in the beauty of the lake. I splashed in and was on top of them in 5 minutes. Not much of a swim, but my heart rate soured with the adventure of it all. I don't know that anybody ever did that before on a lake so remote and sorta cold. The hikers looked at me like some sort of alien and I loved it. Cuz I am. It was a long walk around the lake back to the campground barefoot though.
The mosquitos came in the cool air of the morning and evening. The kill ratio in any single day was probably 70 mosquitos to 1.5 liters of my blood. I was losing. And in the heat of the afternoon the flies would come in carrying silver goblets and fill them with my blood at their leisure, leaving me with massive welts to scratch at while I rolled around in my sleeping bag at night. This was paradise!
Day 3
A trip on horseback to Imogene Lake, which was another 3 miles away and at 8500 feet! The trip was mostly uneventful, with one small fun story. About a third of the way up, Cooper had gone missing. Randy hollered for him like crazy and was obviously flustered. I wondered what this meant. Was the whole trip scrapped without Cooper? Would we go on without him? More calls for Cooper turned up nothing......and then......a rustle of branches and out came........a jackrabbit! Bounding down the trail toward us at breakneck speed, this jackrabbit was obviously also named Cooper and was heeding the call! A few feet from us he leaped back into the brush and disappeared, at which point the real Slim Cooper please Stood Up and leaped after him. All was right in our world.
When we got to Imogene Lake we had it all to ourselves! It was spectacular. Crystal clear water with great big boulders thrown into it over years of glacial movement, rock islands sporadically rising from the depths, and. not. one. sound. Okay, birds, but they don't count. Total peacefulness.
We hiked around the lake and then dad retired to his reading while I futilely cast my fly rod. It was 11:30 am - way too late to raise a trout, but a fun way to take in the view and pass the time. Afterwards, I hiked further to the headwater waterfalls and was delighted to find Randy and Cooper appear out of nowhere and join me. We hiked above the falls, which was on a giant slab of white rock, and encountered layers of pools and waterfalls upon each other til we arrived at an unnamed alpine pond almost at the pass over the Sawtooths to the backside of the range. I had no problem imagining I had discovered this little piece of Heaven all by myself, and that nobody had seen this before me.
We rode back to basecamp at Hell Roaring Lake just in time to eat dinner before a storm rolled in. The rain hitting the tent sounded like an audience clapping wildly for me as I retired to my sleeping bag. I must have been good at it.
Dad chose to show off his skills at talking in his sleep that night. "You know, I have two gold fish." "Really?" "Yeah, they're right next to you!" and "That monster looks like Frankenstein!" There was much more to the conversation but that's all I can remember.
Day 4
Homebound! And nobody was more eager than the horses, evidently! The last pack mule in the line had a problem keeping up with Randy's pace, which seemed to cause dad's horse, Sedona, to break into a trot himself just to keep up. Cruiser did the same. My guess is they like to be right behind each other so that the tail of the one in front helps swat the flies off their face. But it was quite annoying going from a comfortable walk to a 10 second trot constantly, and I was pulling on the reins repeatedly trying to assert myself as respected cowpoke over my horsey. Dad was doing the same. About halfway back I finally got Cruiser to see it my way and the trots seized. I don't know if dad had the same luck. For us greenhorns, trots hurt the buttocks and the kidneys.
No, we didn't catch any fish, and that's a shame.....somewhat. But not if you account for the amazing views, the peacefulness, and the glory that we basked in for 4 days. That's a long time to live in the same pair of drawers (the horse riding bit generated the most ass soup, interestingly enough) but well worth it. What an epic adventure and one I hope will turn into many with my dear old dad!
Epilogue
When I got back to my folks' place in Garden Valley, Idaho, their neighbor invited me fishing. We would hit some spots along the South Fork of the Payette River, which flows right in front of my folks' house. Dad was too tired to join, but he made sure I knew: "Son, now if you catch a fish out of my front yard after we just spent $2000 on a fishing trip and got skunked......" Point taken. But I sucked and I had fished that river tons of times and got skunked! Not to worry! Uh oh, cuz this is what happened......
Richter out!!!!!
Howdy, Cruiser and I would love to show ya the Sawtooths! Follow us on this fantastic journey.
"Okay, nice mount! Pull the reins to the left to make him go left, right to make him go right. Pull the reins toward you to make him stop. Okay, that's how you ride a horse! Let's go!" And with that we were off! I'm riding a horse? I'm not even clipped in! And that's an awful long way down to the ground. Didn't Superman get paraplegic'd on one of these things?! What the hell was I getting into?!
Cooper owned these mountains evidently. And he was quick to show us how you do things up there.
My dad and I had planned this a year ago. An epic trip into the Sawtooth Wilderness of Idaho by horseback.....in the name of fly fishing at least on paper. In the name of loving my dad everywhere else. Not to worry cuz he ain't going anywhere soon, but if it's all the same I wouldn't mind racking up a few epic trips with him so that when it's too late I have a lot of fond memories to draw from. I have a good dad....a great dad. And I intend to savor the moments.
Day 1
Our guide from Valley Ranch Outfitters, Randy and Unnamed Horse, his Australian shepherd Cooper (evidently the boss of the operation), 2 pack mules and a pack horse, dad on Sedona the Horse, and me on Cruiser the Horse were outward bound, and we left our women to tend to the corn, children and clotheslines at 4th of July Creek near Stanley, Idaho. 5 miles later we would arrive at Hell Roaring Lake in the Sawtooth Wilderness. The trip was uneventful - except for the fact that I was on a horse! - but the view when we arrived was spectacular!
Hell Roaring Lake. This is what we would wake up to every morning for 4 days. Cramer Peak on the left, and Fate's Finger is the spire to the right of the flat tree-lined ridge in the middle.
It was pretty obvious why the lake was named Hell Roaring. From any part of the lake you can either hear the rapids where the river exits the lake or the waterfall that feeds into it (or both!).
Dad and Sedona get their first look at Hell Roaring Lake upon arrival.....and slurpy lake drinks for the horses!
Dad and I checked out the fishing (no worms, please brotha, we were snooty fly fisherman!) from around the shore. I was concerned that backcasting would pose a major problem as the foliage was way too strong to allow it. Dad's a better roll caster than me. But the bigger concern was that the trout, though plentiful, looked like french fries and the only bigger ones seemed to be in the middle of the lake. There was no way to get our line out that far.
Dad readies his fly rod while Cooper keeps a keen eye out for critters...
For an alpine lake at 7400 feet, it wasn't that cold. I'd guess 55 degrees. I could at least wade in to fish.
Randy cooked up a fine cowboy meal on the fire of steak, potatoes, and beans. I joked that maybe we could re-enact that ground-breaking scene from Blazing Saddles around the fireplace what with the beans, but that scene ended up waiting til dad and I were in the tent.
Our first meal of the trip. Real cowboy food!
I've always been into maps. Love pouring over them.
Dad and I tried our fly rods out that night - rather half-assed to be honest - and turned up nothing. No matter, we had this incredible view!
Dad blends into the surroundings hoping to raise a trophy trout in Hell Roaring Lake.
A few rubs on Cooper's belly, and we turned in for the night. Cooper is the Master of Everything Wilderness. We saw no critters. Cuz they saw Cooper. You don't mess with Cooper.
An evening shot of Hell Roaring Lake with Cramer Peak in the background.
Dad had his restless leg syndrome issue the first night but got over it. I feel horrible about that and hope I'm not next in line. It's enough for me when my legs get restless for skipping a workout, so I can just imagine what he goes through. No sleep talking the first night. No snoring either.
Day 2
Coffee at first light with these views is a life changing experience!
Randy made some kickass eggs and bacon for breakfast. He was pullin out all the stops for this guided trip. Once bellies were full, dad and I hiked to the waterfall, occasionally dropping a line in along the way. The foliage was way too thick for me to be successful, but dad found a spot that he could dab his line in and hook some 4" trout with a San Juan Worm. We did spot a nice 10"ish trout so there was hope!
I fished at the headwaters of the waterfall but turned up nothing. It could have been a number of things that led to my getting skunked: leader was too long, wrong fly, wrong temperatures, too late in the day, angry trout having fights over who deserved my fly more than the other. Whatever, as long as it's not my fault. Myeh, right. I could see and hear a thousand trout sticking their heads above water laughing at me like I was the Lake Jester.
That hike to the waterfall was strenuous, and I was impressed that my dear old dad made it on those new baboon knees and hips that he had to replace his human ones. At least the new joints went well with his baboon ass. I could show you that picture too, but kids might be reading.
Just a kid trying to raise a trout. I think they were annoyed at my constant technique of bopping them on the head rather than delicately presenting a meal in front of them that might look like an actual insect worth eating.
Dad and I also spied a couple bikini babes sunning themselves on a rock. I'll admit that we hesitated when we first saw them, in case they wanted to accept their false seclusion and attempt some skinny dipping without anyone knowing.....heh, heh. Aww crap, I can't back that up either. We tripped over ourselves to say hello, gawked for a minute or two, and then pressed on realizing we were both far too gentlemanly to make any sort of impression on them.
Cooper and I take a chill break before dinner.
Dad and Randy retired to the tents to take an afternoon nap, while something welled up inside of me: the need for doing something epic. Had anyone ever swam this lake? Was it too cold? I snuck to a point where I could drop in. There were hikers on the other side, sunbathing on boulders while taking in the beauty of the lake. I splashed in and was on top of them in 5 minutes. Not much of a swim, but my heart rate soured with the adventure of it all. I don't know that anybody ever did that before on a lake so remote and sorta cold. The hikers looked at me like some sort of alien and I loved it. Cuz I am. It was a long walk around the lake back to the campground barefoot though.
There were plenty of ways to entertain yourself or get some exercise around the lake. This one took a lot out of me.
The mosquitos came in the cool air of the morning and evening. The kill ratio in any single day was probably 70 mosquitos to 1.5 liters of my blood. I was losing. And in the heat of the afternoon the flies would come in carrying silver goblets and fill them with my blood at their leisure, leaving me with massive welts to scratch at while I rolled around in my sleeping bag at night. This was paradise!
Day 3
Dad didn't take much coaxing to get mounted up and ready to head to Imogene Lake!
A trip on horseback to Imogene Lake, which was another 3 miles away and at 8500 feet! The trip was mostly uneventful, with one small fun story. About a third of the way up, Cooper had gone missing. Randy hollered for him like crazy and was obviously flustered. I wondered what this meant. Was the whole trip scrapped without Cooper? Would we go on without him? More calls for Cooper turned up nothing......and then......a rustle of branches and out came........a jackrabbit! Bounding down the trail toward us at breakneck speed, this jackrabbit was obviously also named Cooper and was heeding the call! A few feet from us he leaped back into the brush and disappeared, at which point the real Slim Cooper please Stood Up and leaped after him. All was right in our world.
Cruiser gets a drink in a spring along the way to Imogene Lake.
When we got to Imogene Lake we had it all to ourselves! It was spectacular. Crystal clear water with great big boulders thrown into it over years of glacial movement, rock islands sporadically rising from the depths, and. not. one. sound. Okay, birds, but they don't count. Total peacefulness.
Imogene Lake all to ourselves.
Casting lazily into Imogene Lake.
We hiked around the lake and then dad retired to his reading while I futilely cast my fly rod. It was 11:30 am - way too late to raise a trout, but a fun way to take in the view and pass the time. Afterwards, I hiked further to the headwater waterfalls and was delighted to find Randy and Cooper appear out of nowhere and join me. We hiked above the falls, which was on a giant slab of white rock, and encountered layers of pools and waterfalls upon each other til we arrived at an unnamed alpine pond almost at the pass over the Sawtooths to the backside of the range. I had no problem imagining I had discovered this little piece of Heaven all by myself, and that nobody had seen this before me.
The lowest waterfall that dumps into Imogene Lake. Randy and Cooper just got into the shot out of nowhere, seen on the left.
Randy and Cooper hike up over the white rock slab above Imogene Lake towards the unnamed ponds above.
Randy and Cooper survey the highest pond above Imogene Lake, about 9000 feet.
We rode back to basecamp at Hell Roaring Lake just in time to eat dinner before a storm rolled in. The rain hitting the tent sounded like an audience clapping wildly for me as I retired to my sleeping bag. I must have been good at it.
Hell Roaring Lake even looks spectacular in the rain!
Dad chose to show off his skills at talking in his sleep that night. "You know, I have two gold fish." "Really?" "Yeah, they're right next to you!" and "That monster looks like Frankenstein!" There was much more to the conversation but that's all I can remember.
Day 4
Homebound! And nobody was more eager than the horses, evidently! The last pack mule in the line had a problem keeping up with Randy's pace, which seemed to cause dad's horse, Sedona, to break into a trot himself just to keep up. Cruiser did the same. My guess is they like to be right behind each other so that the tail of the one in front helps swat the flies off their face. But it was quite annoying going from a comfortable walk to a 10 second trot constantly, and I was pulling on the reins repeatedly trying to assert myself as respected cowpoke over my horsey. Dad was doing the same. About halfway back I finally got Cruiser to see it my way and the trots seized. I don't know if dad had the same luck. For us greenhorns, trots hurt the buttocks and the kidneys.
No, we didn't catch any fish, and that's a shame.....somewhat. But not if you account for the amazing views, the peacefulness, and the glory that we basked in for 4 days. That's a long time to live in the same pair of drawers (the horse riding bit generated the most ass soup, interestingly enough) but well worth it. What an epic adventure and one I hope will turn into many with my dear old dad!
Dad and I at Imogene Lake.
Epilogue
When I got back to my folks' place in Garden Valley, Idaho, their neighbor invited me fishing. We would hit some spots along the South Fork of the Payette River, which flows right in front of my folks' house. Dad was too tired to join, but he made sure I knew: "Son, now if you catch a fish out of my front yard after we just spent $2000 on a fishing trip and got skunked......" Point taken. But I sucked and I had fished that river tons of times and got skunked! Not to worry! Uh oh, cuz this is what happened......
15" rainbow trout caught out of the South Fork of the Payette River with a helgramite nymph. That's a bunch of words to say I caught a kickass fish in my folks's front yard!
Richter out!!!!!
Saturday, June 8, 2013
For Those That Follow.....@richterkid's Journey to Kona
This is not the start of my training for Ironman Hawaii, though it may as well be. With 4 weeks to go before I begin stepping things up to get ready for the big day, today's easy bike ride was followed up by a run in some pretty good heat and humidity that left me thinking to myself, "This is it. This is what it's gonna feel like for the next 4 months." And I can't wait.
As I work my way into this training block for Kona, I intend to let it all air out there for you to see. This is gonna be an inside look into my journey to the start line. Most of you won't care, but for the small handful that do I plan to post every trick. No secrets will be kept, just straight up what it's taking me to get ready. I'll post updates here of a more wordy nature, but follow me on Instagram at @richterkid to get the nitty gritty and most up-to-date scoop. I'll likely copy the posts to Facebook and Twitter but some posts may not get spread that far.
Also, Angie's on Instagram now too, and will be posting her side of the story from time to time. Follow her at @arichter70. She's taking to Insta a lot better than Facebook, so come race day this will be a better mode to follow the action if you're looking for it.
At any rate, and before this journey even gets underway, thanks to all of you for your support and for making me understand that, on occasion, this stuff actually means something.
Monday, June 3, 2013
Take Homes From Volunteering at the Raleigh 70.3 Triathlon
I got a new perspective on the world of triathlon last weekend and it was a blast. I got to captain a volunteer aid station on the run course. It was a lot of work but not as much as what it took to be the race director of the Fiesta Biathlon. This was a good way to be part of the triathlon action, help a couple thousand folks in desperate need of a sip of water, an ice cube, or a shout out, and it didn't come with the post-event anxiety of what I could have done better and where things went wrong in my epic day that everybody is supposed to really care about but are so screwed up in their priorities that they're probably busy fighting cancer, educating the young, catching terrorists, or savoring something with bacon in it.
Carl Bonner rocking the Superman socks at Run Aid Station 6, Raleigh 70.3.
For those of you that haven't experienced the glory that is running through the oasis that is the Tricredible aid station of the Raleigh 70.3 run course as you crest a whopper of a hill in the squelching sun and find the riches of ice, cold water and electrolyte yucky drink, bananas, pretzels, gels, rockin' music, hot men dancing a jig, and a shady downhill, here's a video of how this goes down from the racer's perspective:
So, back to the task at hand. As I sip a nice glass of appropriately aged Burgundy out of a Box, here are a few take home thoughts I was left with after volunteering......
Carl Bonner is wayyyyyyy ahead of his time. Word has it that Usher hired him to choreograph a video but had to let him go because he couldn't perform the moves Carl did. But don't take it from me, see for yourself......
Greg Bennett has a twin brother. I know this because Greg passed our aid station in first and second place. This is the first Greg as he approached our aid station. I dunno, maybe the second. As an aside, his wife Laura is hot. Congrats to both on their wins.
I'm sure bras have come a long way since they were invented using coconuts 12 years ago, but seriously girls......you wear these things all day long?!?! I give women mad props for typically being the smarter gender, but men rule when it comes to practicality. Oh yeah, and the lifeguard enjoyed my tan line at the pool today. Damn it.
I know, I know, I know. We needed Coke and sponges. The Ironman officials designed the course and they decided ours was not the place for those precious items. Maybe it was in poor taste that I was drinking an ice cold Coke while you guys were all begging for fluids with your "baby giraffe legs" impressions while I sat in the ice bucket smoking a fatty. I'll try to do better.
Seriously, though, you guys that raced and those that helped out with our aid station were awesome. It was a privilege to share the course with all of you. Well done, and I hope to see you again next year!
A few other pics to share as I'm too lazy tonight to write more and the Bachelorette comes on soon......
Carl Bonner rocking the Superman socks at Run Aid Station 6, Raleigh 70.3.For those of you that haven't experienced the glory that is running through the oasis that is the Tricredible aid station of the Raleigh 70.3 run course as you crest a whopper of a hill in the squelching sun and find the riches of ice, cold water and electrolyte yucky drink, bananas, pretzels, gels, rockin' music, hot men dancing a jig, and a shady downhill, here's a video of how this goes down from the racer's perspective:
So, back to the task at hand. As I sip a nice glass of appropriately aged Burgundy out of a Box, here are a few take home thoughts I was left with after volunteering......
Carl Bonner is wayyyyyyy ahead of his time. Word has it that Usher hired him to choreograph a video but had to let him go because he couldn't perform the moves Carl did. But don't take it from me, see for yourself......
No caption necessary.
Greg Bennett has a twin brother. I know this because Greg passed our aid station in first and second place. This is the first Greg as he approached our aid station. I dunno, maybe the second. As an aside, his wife Laura is hot. Congrats to both on their wins.
I'm sure bras have come a long way since they were invented using coconuts 12 years ago, but seriously girls......you wear these things all day long?!?! I give women mad props for typically being the smarter gender, but men rule when it comes to practicality. Oh yeah, and the lifeguard enjoyed my tan line at the pool today. Damn it.
Yours truly, in the flesh so to speak. It is my wish that this is the last image in your head when you fall asleep tonight.
I know, I know, I know. We needed Coke and sponges. The Ironman officials designed the course and they decided ours was not the place for those precious items. Maybe it was in poor taste that I was drinking an ice cold Coke while you guys were all begging for fluids with your "baby giraffe legs" impressions while I sat in the ice bucket smoking a fatty. I'll try to do better.
Seriously, though, you guys that raced and those that helped out with our aid station were awesome. It was a privilege to share the course with all of you. Well done, and I hope to see you again next year!
A few other pics to share as I'm too lazy tonight to write more and the Bachelorette comes on soon......
Frank Fisher comes into Run Aid Station 6 to be greeted with a blast of cold water from his daughter's Supersoaker.
Dave Mirra rocking the Raleigh 70.3. He led the race in most fakey indian 720 can-can backflips.
CC Wilkins would NEVER allow Ironman to put on an event without gracing it with his presence. Here he is at our aid station as he nears completing EVERY Raleigh 70.3 that has ever happened.
The death march that is the hill leading up to Run Aid Station 6.
Richter out. In this case, the Official Ironman Branded Richter Kid. Collect all the action figures at your nearest Toys R Us.
My apologies to any friends I didn't get a shot of at the race amongst my volunteer duties. There were a ton of you and you all rocked it out there. Tricredibles rock!
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Do's and Don'ts of the Thursday Night World Championship
With DST a week away, that means the Thursday Night World Championship is just a couple of days after! I love this ride and the craziness that us wannabe cyclists have made it into. I know not everyone comes to this ride looking to put everything they have into it, but for those of you that like to ride in the front or might someday want to here are some do’s and don’ts:
1. Don’t make any attempt to socialize with anyone of
different cycling skills, gender, or bike preference in the parking lot prior
to the ride. Triathletes have their
area, road racers have theirs, and recreational riders have their spot. If you’re
new, there’s a shitty spot in the corner where you can stand until someone
decides to respect you.
2. Don't ride in your aerobars when you’re behind anyone
in a paceline unless you want to crash into the guy in front of you and take
all of us down with you (for triathletes only).
3. Don’t attack or attempt a breakaway at any point prior
to where folks turn off for the sissy short loop.
Even if you are successful, nobody will take you seriously and you will be hunted down like a dog as you have
violated the rule of hammering during mandatory initial social mileage.
4. Do let stronger riders in your slot in the paceline if
you’re struggling. It's in your best interest to let them wear themselves out in the front anyway.
5. Do be prepared at every RIGHT turn for a sudden spike
in power. There are attacks at every
right turn. Every. Right. Turn. These attacks are also mandatory, though not necessarily by the same person.
6. Do roll through pole position even if you’re not strong
enough to take a pull. Just allow
yourself to ease into the pole position and immediately roll off to the left. Pulling off behind the leader as he pulls off
is a sissy move and only disrupts the rhythm of the paceline.
7. Do give an elbow flick to signal the guy behind you
when you are ready to wuss out on your turn at the front. If you can work a middle finger into it as well, that's a bonus.
8. Do point out obstacles in the road for us behind
you. We’re getting tired and punchy and
we need all the help we can get to stay upright.
9. Do take the Thursday Night World Championships
seriously. It IS a World Championship
and points are being tallied by somebody.
I don’t know who, but somebody.
10. Don’t
sprint to the Greenville city sign just before Hastings Ford. We don’t do that anymore. It’s a miracle nobody got killed sprinting on this section of highway 264. The last
sprint is at Bradford Creek Golf Course.
11. Do feel free to keep the pace lifted when we turn on to 264 to head back into
town, but understand that this is officially the cool down point so nobody will
care or feel like you just dropped us.
12. Do
talk all the smack you want. Refer to #9
if you’re unclear as to why.
13. Don’t
declare that you need to pee and you want everyone to stop and wait for
you. That’s for winter rides and other
stuff. Stop to pee and you just get
yourself dropped. If you catch up though, much respect.
14. Do
have everything you need to fix your own flat.
We’ll probably stop with you to help and make it look like it's a respect thing, but really we're just using you as an excuse to stop because we're exhausted.
15. Don’t
cry like a little girl if you get dropped and you’re all alone and you don’t
know the way back. You should have
learned the course, which is posted on EC Velo’s website.
16. Don't be the smelly guy. Nobody likes to ride behind you. It's very simple: your clothes should be clean when you put them on. After that, you're free to soil them as you please.
17. Do play head games. Blabbing to everyone that you have a race on Saturday and you're just going to "spin" easy tonight, and then attacking at the first right hand turn with everything you have is just plain good tactics.
18. Don't take it personal if you are the new guy in a slick racing kit and you feel like all the attacks are directed at you. They are. We're just giving you a chance to earn respect.
That should pretty well cover it. See you at the TNWC!
16. Don't be the smelly guy. Nobody likes to ride behind you. It's very simple: your clothes should be clean when you put them on. After that, you're free to soil them as you please.
17. Do play head games. Blabbing to everyone that you have a race on Saturday and you're just going to "spin" easy tonight, and then attacking at the first right hand turn with everything you have is just plain good tactics.
18. Don't take it personal if you are the new guy in a slick racing kit and you feel like all the attacks are directed at you. They are. We're just giving you a chance to earn respect.
That should pretty well cover it. See you at the TNWC!
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Taechon Beach First Strokes
So, this is where I learned how to swim. Sort of. I say this because I did swim in that ocean.....eventually.
When I was an idiot kid growing up in Korea, many summers were spent at Taechon Beach on the East China Sea. Well, back in the 1980's we couldn't call it that over there. The Koreans weren't so thrilled I guess that the Chinese got their own sea, so they called it the Yellow Sea instead. I don't know why. It was far from yellow, though on many occasions I did make a small contribution towards changing it that color. Actually, back then if you bought an atlas in Korea and turned to the page that would show it, the words "East China Sea" would be marked out by hand and "Yellow Sea" written in its place. Censorship was alive and well back then. I even remember Sting's song "Russians" being on the banned list in Korea. But anyway........swimming.
I'm not sure how old I was, but during the summers they'd have these swim schools for different aged kids to take. The first one was called "Fish," and I remember very little coaching or nurturing of any sort during the sessions. It was more like we just goofed around in the shallow water. At some point there was some kind of graduation, in which we had to prove we could swim from one swim teacher to another. I knew I couldn't do it. So I did the ol' trick that everyone's tried at least once - go through the motions of swimming when you're really just grabbing the bottom with your hands and pulling yourself along as you go. I don't know if I really fooled anyone, but they gave me the graduation badge anyway. I think I gave up on swimming for a while after that.
It was years later, during high school, that I was back at Taechon Beach for another fun summer. By then, I was really into running and was spending my summer staying in shape for next year's cross country season. I think these were the early days of my endurance junkie-ness. The cabin had this pile of sorry beach toys, among which was a styrofoam board that looked like it had been whittled by hand into something resembling the front half of a surf board. For some reason - probably boredom - I grabbed that thing and headed out to the water. Now, if the tide was out, it was a really long walk to get to the water's edge. The Yellow Sea has the second largest tides in the world. So, as I walked down the beach with my chunk of styrofoam I devised a plan to make an epic journey of it: I would use this piece of junk as a float and kick my way the whole length of the beach (the American side - which was, I'm guessing, about 1 mile long) and back. For me, at the time, it was a pretty challenging endeavor. I could swim, but not very well. But I did it and it took me forever. The reward was that the styrofoam rubbed my ribs raw, and I had two blistered and bloody spots on my stomach when I was done. What a sense of accomplishment though!
I think back now on those days wishing I had applied myself more in the water. Keeping up with the swimmers in a triathlon is tough enough when some of them swam all their lives. Us folks that learned it late in life are already sucking hind tit as it is, and I can't help but be jealous of the ones that complete an Ironman swim in 57 minutes.
I don't know that there's much of a point to this post, other than I just wanted this place to have a part in my blog somehow. I miss Taechon Beach deeply, and it was a very magical place during my childhood. You will not find a more beautiful, family-oriented haven that also shares its sands with land mines and gun turrets. For those of you that did the swim to the Monster, or even the swim to the reef, my hat's off to you!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)