Sh#*! Happens

“In reality shit happens in every race”

                                                       Jaime Dispenza, Laughing Dog Tri Coach

There was very little room in the pool area so all of the assembling for the pool

portion of the sprint triathlon was done in the parking lot. I was doing my first

pool swim race in over a month. I was led from the parking lot into the pool area

with 11 other racers. We were told to pair up and that once our lane was clear

we could jump in and practice. Skip, a friend of mine, and I paired up and bided

our time as we waited for our lane to clear. One swimmer out, one continued on.

The minute hand clicked closer to our heat and still our lane did not clear. Skip

and I nervously chatted and kept an eye on the swimmer in our lane – now the

only swimmer left in the pool. Finally, with less than a minute left until our heat

began the swimmer struggled out of our lane. Skip and I quickly jumped into the

pool. For a second everything felt fine and then a feeling of alarm came over me.

My trisuit top was too big!

When Jaime and his wife Heather moved to Bend Jaime was kind enough to loan

me a Laughing Dog Tri singlet to wear when I raced. At that time I was quite a

bit heavier and so the singlet fit pretty tightly around my middle. I wore the

singlet under my wetsuit in a couple of races and it did just fine. However, I

hadn’t really taken the time to assess how the singlet would handle in a pool

setting. When I jumped into the pool I discover just how much weight and girth I

had lost in the last couple of months. My once snug singlet was now very loose

in the water. I could feel the fabric floating around my body and I panicked. I

needed to get the singlet off otherwise I’d be wearing something that would slow

down my swim. However, before I could begin to remove the singlet my heat

began. I swam the race wearing a nice drag singlet that felt like I was pulling a

parachute down the lane.

The first hundred yards of the race I went through several emotions. I was

panicked about having the singlet on, then I was pissed at myself for not

swimming in the singlet in the pool prior to the race, and then I was depressed

because I knew that this would slow my overall race time. After that first 100 I

finally got myself settled down and swam a decent, though slow 400. I emerged

from the pool and told myself, “well that portion of the race is done, you’ve got

two more races to finish, let’s go!” I went out and finished the rest of the rest. My

swim time sucked but on the bike and run portions I had personal bests. I didn’t

podium, but I wasn’t last, and in the end I got a burrito, a beer, and a teenage girl

said I looked cute in ‘my doggie top’ – what couldn’t be better?

When I ran through the race with Jaime he made the comment about shit

happening in every race. As I thought about it, he was right. I’m not sure that

anyone can say they’ve run an absolutely perfect race. Maybe a piece of

clothing didn’t go on right. Maybe a piece of equipment failed. Maybe there was

a delay in coming out of the transition area. Maybe a wrong turn was made.

Maybe an unexpected cramp occurred. At the end of the race I chatted with a

couple of friends who participated in the race and each had experienced their

‘shit happens’ moment. Neal related that he came out of pool and tried to put his

singlet top on but couldn’t get it unbunched over his chest so he rode the entire

portion of the race looking like he was wearing a bikini top, albeit one exposing

his nipples. John chuckled as he described how he fell on his bike as he came

into the transition area when it went from asphalt to grass. Aaron described

taking a wrong turn in the park and running toward the finish line with a volunteer

quick on his heels yelling at him to turn around. We all had our shit happens

moments during the race.

I realized after talking to Jaime that the trick in all of this is to determine how

you’re going to respond when your ‘shit happens’ moment occurs. I could have

easily just ‘mailed in’ the race after my swimming debacle. Instead I told myself

that what was done was done. It had happened, there was nothing I could do

about it, and I needed to move forward, and finish the two portions of the race I

had left. I ended up having a pretty good race and it was fun to laugh with

friends afterwards about our mistakes, pitfalls, and pratfalls. After that race

Jaime loaned me a one-piece trisuit for my next race. I made sure I wore it for

one of my practice sessions. I jumped in the water and swam a couple of laps. It

fit like a glove. I knew I’d have another ‘shit happens’ moment in my next race,

but at least this time when I swam I wouldn’t feel like I was wearing a parachute

in a wind tunnel.

The next race I did great on the swim. However I missed a turn on my bike when

a volunteer wasn’t paying attention and I blew through a roundabout. As I turned

around and got myself back on the course I smiled and thought to myself, shit

happens in every race.

Nothing New on Race Day

Jaime, my coach, has many mantras that are often repeated through the race

season. One that resonates with me is the mantra of “Nothing New on Race

Day”. If you’re going to introduce something new into your race day make sure

you don’t choose to do it the morning of the race. I’ve heard horror stories of

riders who put new wheels on their bikes the day of the race only to get a flat and

not have a way to repair or replace the wheel. Two personal experiences stick in

my mind that made me take Jaime’s words to heart.

My first experience came when I did the Rolf Prima Triathlon over in Cottage

Grove, Oregon. This was my first Olympic distance triathlon. Jaime wanted to

get some heart rate readings for the race and I wanted to know distances so we

agreed that I’d wear my heart monitor and wear my Garmin Forerunner. Since

the Forerunner wasn’t waterproof I’d need to put the watch on after I emerged

from the swim portion of the race. I kept telling myself I needed to practice

getting the Forerunner set up so I’d be ready to go but I would either forget to do

so or just leisurely set it up before I went for a run or a ride. On the day of the

race I still hadn’t practiced setting it up in a race situation. I ran into the transition

area, stripped off my wetsuit and started trying to get the things on I would need

for the bike portion of the race. I strapped the Forerunner on and then began to

try to get things set up. The adrenaline of the race left my fingers fumbling and

my patience at a minimum. The Forerunner wasn’t setting up quick enough, and

worse, it was delaying my departure from the transition area. I got on the bike

and rode out of the transition with my left hand on the handlebars and my right

arm clumsily trying to set my Forerunner so that I could read the data. Having no

success, I finally said, “to hell with it” and just started riding. I ended up finishing

the race just fine, but I also think the bike portion of my race would have gone

better had I known how far I had gone and how far I still needed to go.

My second experience is one that really sticks in my mind. This one occurred

when I participated in the RAT race in Redmond, Oregon. When Jaime and his

wife Heather moved to Bend Jaime was kind enough to loan me a Laughing Dog

Tri singlet to wear racing. At that time I was quite a bit heavier and so the singlet

fit pretty tightly around my middle. Fast-forward two months. I’m still wearing the

same singlet but I’ve also lost quite a bit of weight. It still fits but it isn’t as snug

as it once was around my torso. The swim portion of the RAT was done in heats

in a pool. Prior to that race the two other races I had done with the singlet were

done in open water with a wetsuit. I hadn’t really had a chance to assess how

the singlet would handle in a pool setting. Our group was led into the pool area

just minutes before our heat began. We were told we could get into our lane

once it was empty of racers from the previous race. Unfortunately my lane had a

very slow swimmer that didn’t emerge until approximately 30 seconds before the

race began. I jumped into the pool only to discover just how much weight and

girth I had lost. My once snug singlet was now very loose in the water. I could

feel the fabric floating around my body and panicked. I needed to get the singlet

off but before I could begin to remove it my heat began. I swam the race wearing

a nice drag singlet that felt like I was pulling a parachute down the lane.

What did I learn from this, other than listening to my coach’s wisdom? I learned

to practice every part of the transition, no matter how minor, and I also made

sure several days ahead of the race that I practiced with the equipment and

apparel I would be utilizing.

If anything this type of practice and preparation gives you a certain confidence in

your abilities once race day arrives. It doesn’t mean that problems won’t occur

(more on that later) but it does mean you’ve done as much as you can to prepare

effectively in order to be successful on race day.

What is an Athlete?

This past weekend was pretty brutal. Temperatures hovered around zero. It was

sunny but very cold and the ground was covered from a snowfall on Friday. My

training for the weekend involved a long run and a brick (a bike spin followed

immediately by a run). If I waited for the snow to melt it could very well be

February.

I knew I’d have to find some winter traction for my running shoes. Thankfully the

nice folks at FootZone were happy to fix me up and get my shoes outfitted with

nice sheet metal screws. They even showed me what to use (3/8” sheet metal

screws), how to attach them, and how to get them off my shoes once the weather

warmed up. Outfitted and bundled up, I was ready to roll.

Though it was very cold, the sun felt warm and there was no wind. The sky was

clear and the views of the mountains were phenomenal. It felt good to be alive

and I felt strong and happy. I made my way along the deserted and snowpacked

roads and reveled in the moment. I heard a car behind me slow down on my

right. As the car came up along side me I heard the window roll down and a

person in the car say, “See dear I told you.” I glanced over and saw the driver,

an older gentleman, smiling at me. I nodded to him. He said, “I told my wife

when I saw your Laughing Dog Tri emblem that I knew you were an athlete.

Only an athlete would be crazy enough to run on a day like today.” With that he

rolled up his window and sped off. I smiled and felt a warmth work it’s way

across my body. For the rest of the run it may have been cold, but I was

definitely, to quote Dan Patrick, “en fuego”.

Many years ago a high school administrator, who was nothing more than an

oversized adult bully, told me “You will never be an athlete”. They say that

words can be like bullets, and that once they are out, it is hard to control the

damage that is done. For years those words, repeated to me so often when I

was at a fragile stage in my life, rode herd over my thoughts, my mind, and my

actions. I competed in many races but I never thought of myself as an athlete.

Even after I began working with my coach Jaime I still struggled with how I

viewed myself and I lacked confidence in my ability to be successful. It really

wasn’t until after the Leadman that things came into perspective.

Jaime writes a triathlon-related blog on that appears in The Albuquerque Journal.

The Leadman is a long distance race held here in Bend that covers 125

kilometers and it was my first long distance race. In his blog on the race Jaime

referred to me by name as a “fellow athlete”. That simple reference resonated

and hit me like a ton of bricks. For someone of his athletic caliber to consider me

a fellow athlete truly meant something. Three and a half decades of hurtful

words were shed and I felt like I had finally made a breakthrough. As I noted in a

post after I read Jaime’s blog, “35 years ago words were spoken by my coach

that beat me down and hurt me. Yesterday, words written by my coach uplifted

and healed me.”

This liberation forced me to finally question just what an athlete might be. I had

always thought of athlete as a gifted person who did well in a given sport. Author

and news anchor Robin Quivers probably said it best when she described her

first New York Marathon. “Being an athlete is a state of mind. It’s setting a goal

of measuring your performance against it. It means making the outcome and

how you got there matter.”

As I continued on my run on that clear, cold, and crisp day I thought about how

far I had come in the past few months and where my journey was going to take

me as an athlete. I was pleased in knowing that this time out on the road was

part of making how I get to my race outcomes truly matter. With that I picked up

my pace and headed home content in knowing that I now felt that I truly belonged

and that I considered myself an athlete.

Blue Lake

Well I hear the whistle but I can’t go

I’m gonna take her down to Mexico

She said oh no

Guadalajara won’t do

                                     My Old School

                                     Steely Dan

Some people have their superstitions. I put a lot of faith in positive things

occurring when good music is playing on the radio.

As I exited off I-84 onto Fairview my spirits lifted as Steely Dan filled the car with

one of my favorite songs. I thought to myself, this is going to be a very good day.

Spirits lifted or not, I was a wreck. This was going to be my first open water swim

and I was nervous as hell. I picked the Blue Lake Triathlon in Portland as my

first open water swim for several reasons. First and foremost, this race offered a

triathlon for beginners that featured an open water swim of just a quarter mile in

length. I felt this would be my best shot at easing myself into an open water

swim. Since I had done the bike and run I wasn’t as worried about those pieces

but the open water swim was a different matter.

I arrived early at Blue Lake, paid my entrance fee into the park, parked the car,

and made my way to the transition area. I picked up my packet and found where

to rack my bike. I discovered that each participant got a wheel bag – sweet! Of

course at this time I only had the wheels on my current bike, but it was sweet just

the same!

I got my wetsuit on without too much trauma, either to myself, or to innocent

bystanders. I kept my eye on the clock. I wanted to have time to get in the water

before my heat started. I could begin to feel the nerves tensing up as the start

time drew near. Right before I made my way to the lake an announcement was

made that the start would be delayed for an hour due to a backup of athletes

trying to get into the park. I texted Jaime, my coach, and he encouraged me to

relax, sit for 30 minutes, and then begin the warm-up process again. I joked to

him that the Deschutes Brewery tent was looking good. I received a reply with a

smile that said simply ‘take a deep breath and step away’.

I took Jaime’s suggestion to heart and found a place by the lake, sat down, and

tried to relax. After 30 minutes I walked down to the lake and began to practice a

few swim strokes with some other swimmers. Eventually it was time to assemble

for the swim. My swim group was herded into a staging area and counted. One

of the officials told us that this was to make sure they had the same number

coming out of lake that went in the lake. I can’t say I necessarily found comfort in

those words. I gathered with the rest of the group about ankle deep in the cold

water. I didn’t feel like I’d be one of the fastest swimmers so I positioned myself

toward the far side of the group.

With a “ready, set, go!” our group was in the water – a churning mass of arms,

legs, and oxygen bubbles. I figured that the first 25 yards would be the worst and

then everyone would spread out and things wouldn’t be so rough. What I did not

plan on was a moving swimming scrum throughout the entire race. Within yards

of the start some racers who went out too fast or were too freaked out were

already flipping over on their backs struggling to relax. Others were treading

water or resorting to the breaststroke. My strategy of hanging back to avoid the

melee simply meant that I had to pick my way through the neoprene carnage.

I turned at the first buoy and began to find my rhythm. I started sighting on every

tenth stroke and headed toward the next buoy. About halfway to the next buoy

another interesting thing occurred – I began swimming into the back end of the

group that went before my group. I weaved my way through the group and

rounded the last buoy. That is where things really got interesting. It was at this

point where the short course and long course swimmers all came together in a

final thrashing sprint to the shore. My one memory of that portion of the swim

was of a guy swimming perpendicularly through the rest of the group oblivious to

the fact that he was completely off-course.

I approached the shore and felt the lakebed beneath my feet. I struggled to lift

my body out of the water and run up the ramp. I was wobbly and felt like

perhaps some stout vodka had been added to the lake water. I made my way in

zigzag fashion to the transition area and slowly extracted myself from my wetsuit.

After what seemed like an eternity I found myself steering my bike out onto the

racecourse. I can’t say that I remember much about the rest of the race. The

course for the bike and the run was mostly flat and I remember passing others

and feeling like I was in a good zone. As I came around a bend in the run I saw

the finish line and a guy in my age group just ahead. I turned on the after

burners, passed the guy, crossed the finish line, and got a nice shiny medal.

Better still, my finish entitled me to a nice frosty beer! I savored the taste of the

brew, listened to the music from a good local band, and awaited my results.

Rather than putting the results on a board the results were placed on a table,

which was immediately surrounded by a throng of finishers. After several

minutes without the throng dissipating I chose to start packing up my things. My

wife and kids were back at the motel waiting for me and I figured I’d just check

the results later online.

The rest of the day was spent in Portland walking around with my family and

savoring my first open water race. I got back to the motel that evening and

decided to pull up the results. After a bit of navigating I was able to find my age

group. Lo and behold I discovered I finished first in my age division! I had a

chance to podium and didn’t even realize it or get the chance to experience the

thrill. I chuckled to myself, thought back on a day well spent with my family, and

hoped that I’d get that podium opportunity another time. As the presence of

Steely Dan foretold, it had in fact been a very good day.

Wetsuit Follies - Pulling the Trigger and Breaking it In

Living in Central Oregon, if you swim in open water, you’ll eventually need to own

a wetsuit. Much like a trisuit, only a select few genetically gifted folks actually

look good in a wetsuit. The rest of us look either like we’ve been stuffed into an

extra large sausage casing, or worse, we resemble a human condom.

So why do it? Truth be told, it makes you more buoyant and helps you swim

faster. Oh, and in early June in Oregon it will also prevent you from being fished

out of a lake suffering from hypothermia.

When Jaime and I met in early April in Bend we talked about an open water swim

I was going to do in early June. He kindly shared with me a sponsorship code

with Xterra, which allowed me to purchase a nice wetsuit at a great price. I went

ahead and ordered a mid-range full sleeve model. They also have sleeveless

models, but these are better suited for warmer conditions. For my first attempt I

wanted to be as warm as possible.

When I was sizing my wetsuit I lucked out because I was pretty close to Jaime in

size so I simply ordered his size. For the time and investment made it behooves

one to pay attention to sizing examples. If a local shop has rentals take one for a

swim spin and see how it fits. There are also national companies like Trisports

that offer the option to rent a suit for a specific race. Wetsuit makers such as

Xterra also allow the opportunity to rent a suit or even rent one with the option to

buy. This allows you the opportunity to try out a suit before buying. Pay close

attention to the return policy of the manufacturer and if it doesn’t fit right send it

back and get a size that fits perfectly. Sometimes there are back orders on

wetsuits, particularly at the beginning of the race season. Make sure you place

your order with plenty of time before your race. Word to the wise – it seems like

wetsuits are offered at steep discounts at the end of the season (October-

November). If you have a suit and are looking to upgrade this might give you the

opportunity to do so at a fraction of the cost of buying one in the spring.

Don’t wait until race day to break in your suit. Jaime’s mantra is ‘nothing new on

race day’ and it’s best to experience your first time of swimming in the wetsuit

without the mayhem of the open water swim – more on that later. When I first

got my suit I was concerned about using it and thought I’d need to go to a lake in

order to get this done. Mind you, this was mid-May in Central Oregon and most

of the lakes in my area were still surrounded by drifts of snow. I fretted about

what to do until I saw a guy at our local pool jump in and swim laps in his wetsuit.

I waited around until he was done and then I started pressing him for answers to

my questions. He noted that swimming in the pool in a wetsuit was a good way

to get used to how swimming in a wetsuit feels. You can’t do a 2000-meter

session, but you can get a good 500-meter set done. This gives a good feel of

swimming without overheating. Doing a few more laps without a swim cap on

gives you a bit more time in the water. After you’re done swimming it is very

important to immediately rinse off the wetsuit. This can simply be done by

wearing the wetsuit into the shower at the pool and thoroughly rinsing the suit off

before you remove it. Remember to also rinse the inside of the suit as well.

Contrary to popular believe, you do get wet wearing a wetsuit.

The following week after my conversation with the guy in the wetsuit I arrived at

the pool wetsuit in hand. After the obligatory comic dance, know as getting the

wetsuit on (see upcoming blog) I was ready to attempt my first laps and christen

the wetsuit. For a person who tends to have a problem with the back end

sinking, swimming in a wetsuit for the first time seemed like a pretty orgasmic

experience. I was a wetsuit virgin no more and it was probably a good thing the

suit was on so tight lest I be kicked out of the pool for indecent behavior.

Swimming with a wetsuit for the first time felt that good! My back end was

buoyant and allowed me to swim with greater ease. I glided along at a good clip

and before I knew it 500 meters were done. I removed my swim cap and got

another 500 meters in before I felt like I was beginning to overheat. After a rinse

off in the shower my first swim in my wetsuit was done.

The great thing about trying out my wetsuit in a pool was that it allowed me the

chance to experience the feeling of swimming in a wetsuit in a safe environment.

I was able to swim without the worry of others around me and it gave me the

confidence to approach my upcoming open water swim without too much fear.

Spectator Sport?

“Would you like for me to come cheer you on?” My wife, who was half-asleep,

asked me this question as I prepared to head out to the Beaver Freezer for my

first triathlon. While I appreciated her thoughtfulness as well as her willingness to

stand out in the damp cold I declined her offer of support. In my mind, no

amount of Dutch Bros. coffee would be worth watching me in my first triathlon.

Truth be told, triathlons are not the most fan-friendly events. Save for the start or

the finish, most of the race occurs on roads or trails that are far flung and away

from the action. Unlike the cyclo-cross races my wife does, triathlons normally

aren’t set up in laps. Rather, they are point to point or set up as an out and back.

I suppose one could hang out at the transition area. I’ve seen some folks do just

that, particularly when the swim/bike and bike/run transitions are in the same

area. I guess the thought of cheering someone on, waiting for a quick glimpse of

them as they return from one portion of a race only to quickly head out again isn’t

that appealing to me. In a sprint race the time frame for waiting isn’t too bad but

in a longer race such as a half-ironman you’re talking five to six hours. It’s

wonderful to have that support but I’m not sure I could ask anyone to wait around

that long.

When my last race of the year came up I did ask my wife to be there at the finish

line. It was a long course event and I gave her a ballpark estimate of when I’d be

there. After six hours of racing I crossed the finish line to cheers and the

beaming face my wife. After a quick congratulatory hug from my coach and

backslap from a fellow teammate I walked over to hug my wife. As I went to

embrace her I stopped and said, “Oh crap, I’m sorry babe. I’m drenched in sweat

and I must smell like death warmed over.” She laughed and hugged me anyway.

It was a nice way to end my first long course event.

I’m thinking for the next race I might suggest to my wife that we just go out and

celebrate with dinner after I’ve had a nice long, hot, shower and been able to use

some deoderant.

Making the Commitment - A Coach

“I knew the wheels were in motion after we spoke that night at Deschutes.” My

coach, Jaime Dispenza mentioned this recently when he looked over an earlier

blog on our first meeting. Back in April, prior to the Beaver Freezer, my wife and

I had met Jaime and his wife Heather for dinner. At that time Jaime was an

acquaintance and he and Heather were getting ready to move to Bend. By the

end of that evening I had a greater appreciation and admiration for what he was

doing. We ended our evening at the Deschutes Brewhouse. As we parted

company I knew I was at a turning point in my quest to become a triathlete. I

wasn’t necessarily sure what was going to happen but I had a feeling that Jaime

was going to have a part in what occurred.

In the coming weeks Jaime and I traded messages on Facebook. He offered

encouragement in my upcoming races – “be sure you have fun racing. Look up

and smile once in a while during the race, it helps!” As April progressed I shared

my race results and thoughts with him. He encouraged me to start working in

heart rate zones. After I got a heart monitor he offered suggestions and guided

me through the initial testing for the bike and the run. Once that was complete

he created my training zones for each.

By the beginning of May I had become hooked on tris and was feeling good. I

liked the fact that I was getting worthwhile information from Jaime. After a bit of

soul searching I realized I was ready to take the next step and approached Jaime

about coaching me in triathlons. I was a bit hesitant because I knew he coached

some elite athletes and was a great athlete himself. He put me at ease by noting

that he enjoyed coaching age groupers because he saw the changes from the

training so much faster and felt a sense of accomplishment from those folks.

We began with a training plan through Training Peaks. My week was full of

sessions in the pool, on the bike, or out on a run. My training regiment had a

sense of purpose and there seemed to be a method to the madness. My

workouts had variety, scope, and specific goals. Because I could input the data I

felt that there was a level of commitment. I had an investment in this process

and I also didn’t want to disappoint Jaime. We communicated a lot as he

tinkered with my plan. It was one of the benefits of having a coach. If something

wasn’t working it could be changed or adaptations could be made.

I will be the first to admit that I didn’t think I would ever have a coach. A coach

isn’t for everyone and if you do decide to make that jump it is important to pick

someone you feel comfortable with and trust. For the sake of the coach it’s

important that you’re willing to follow through on your goals and be committed to

the training. Communication is key. Listen, learn, and ask questions. In making

the commitment to a coach I gained many things – accountability, confidence, a

sense of purpose, and a new lifestyle. Most importantly, I gained a mentor, a

confidant, and a great friend.

Small Town Races

“It’s not whether people care – it’s about whether you care, whether you’re out

challenging yourself and want to have fun.”

                                                       Chris McCormack, 2 time Ironman World Champion

When I first decided upon races for my first triathlon season I didn’t look at the

name I looked at what was close and what worked with my calendar. Oregon

has many small town triathlons that usually benefit swim programs in their

communities. These races provide a wonderful introduction into the world of

triathlons.

The great thing about these small races has to do with their size. They’re small

and you get a chance to meet a wide variety of people. A lot of the time you may

see them at another race. During an early triathlon in Albany, Oregon I noticed a

group of people dressed in similar kits. They were called the Headhunters Tri

Club and they were from Camas, Washington. They seemed like a fun-loving

group of athletes. They competed hard but didn’t take themselves too seriously.

About a month after Albany I was competing at another race down the road from

Albany in Lebanon. Once again a large group of folks from the Headhunters

were in attendance. At the conclusion of the race I struck up a conversation with

Denise Croucher, the founder of the Headhunters. I mentioned that I was new to

the sport and that it was fun to see a group of people supporting the smaller

races, encouraging others, and having fun. In my conversation with her I

discovered she had done several Ironman competitions. She noted that a large

part of her group at Lebanon was training for the Kona half and that several of

them would be heading off on a post-ride bike ride. We talked about the race

and how fun these small community races were for the participants. So many

serious athletes, she noted, turned up their nose at the smaller events. She felt

that this was a shame because in her mind these races provided the opportunity

for competition, camaraderie, and fun. We discussed that even though these

races may lack the glitter and glitz of the premier races they were the foundation

of the sport. It was a fun afternoon and I left Lebanon with a greater appreciation

of the event and of the sport.

Small races hold a special place in my heart. They gave me my first racing

experience, my first competition, and my first age-group win. This year I have a

number of big races planned but I also plan on participating in some other small

races. Races that I didn’t get to experience last year that are in different places.

Though the location may change the distance will be the same and the

experiences will be equally unique as well as enthralling. As Chris McCormack

notes, “Events provide the canvas on which you can paint your own picture of

experience. All forms of racing in this sport are relevant, whether it’s Ironman or

not, every challenge is worthy and special. When you start to assess races not

on the challenge but on the logo and ‘what others will think’, you start to miss the

true spirit of the sport.”

Modesty

“One piece (triathlon suits) do rock, but your religion will be known by all

spectators, …not for the modest”

                     Jaime Dispenza - coach, mentor, friend. He rocks the one piece

                      with the best of them – as long as the race belt goes in front (at his

                      wife’s request).

There is a point where you just have to say, “Yeah, I know I may look ridiculous,

but so what.”

When I raced Boise it was a small indoor race and was managed in such a way

that you didn’t really see a lot of competitors or people for that matter.

Consequently, embarrassment due to an out of shape body being squeezed into

a non-flattering outfit was kept to a bare minimum, no pun intended. The Beaver

Freezer would be the reverse of that in so many ways.

First off the Beaver Freezer is one of, if not the largest triathlon that begins in an

indoor pool (in fact they utilize two facilities on the campus of Oregon State

University). It always sells out. I registered minutes after it opened up and within

two hours there was a waiting list for participants. If Boise was a very small fire

then the Beaver Freezer was a journey into a very large and sizzling hot frying

pan.

I was nervous about having to wear a tri outfit, particularly the tri bottoms which

didn’t leave much to the imagination. I was overweight, self-conscious, and

embarrassed about what would happen should a cute girl say, “hi”. I was able to

overcome all of this by telling myself that I was two and half hours from home, I

wouldn’t know anyone in the race, and no cute girl in her right mind would say,

“hi” to an overweight fifty year old.

The morning of the race in Corvallis was chilly and foggy. My tri shorts were

covered well beneath incognito sunglasses, a skullcap, heavy sweatshirt, and

baggy fleece sweats. I would be able to wait until the last minute to mortify the

world by stripping down. As I began to set things out in the transition area I

heard from behind me a high pitched and excited voice call out, “Dave! Dave!” I

thought to myself, that’s too funny, someone else named Dave is participating in

this race (not really that surprising, it’s a popular name). I went back to my work

only to hear the voice, a little bit more impatient this time emit the same highpitched,

“Dave!” I thought, what the heck, and turned around. I saw an excited

young girl frantically waving at me from just outside the transition area. It was

Janelle, a student from my school in Bend. I walked over to her, got a hug, and

asked her what she was doing in Corvallis. She happily replied, “I’m here to see

my Dad race in the Beaver Freezer and now I’m watching you race too!”

I calmed my initial fears of mortification and embarrassment by reasoning that

there were so many racers that Janelle’s Dad couldn’t possibly be in my wave. A

large hand slapped my back. “Hi Mr. D! Are you racing soon?” It was Janelle’s

Dad, Drew. My fears became more pronounced when I discovered that Drew

and I were, in fact, in the same wave of the race. “Isn’t that great Dave? We’ll

be able to see you race!”, Janelle squealed. Yeah, I thought to myself, and you’ll

get to see all of me. Probably more than you’d like. Hopefully you won’t need

therapy.

Drew set up next to me and we chatted. Our conversation actually helped me

get through some of the pre-race butterflies I was having. As Drew began to strip

down I realized I had arrived at my Rubicon. There was no turning back. I didn’t

yell out “Aleu lacta est” as Caesar is said to have done, but with a deep breath I

began to remove my clothing. The die had been cast and if there was any hope

of modesty that was quickly crumpled up along with my clothes and jammed into

my transition bag.

Shivering and clad only in a skimpy pair of tri bottoms that left very little to the

imagination I joined Drew, Janelle, and her mom. We walked toward Langton

Pool, where the men’s swim portion of the race would take place. I felt selfconscious,

exposed, and ashamed. As we walked Janelle looked over, completely oblivious 

to the fact that one of her teachers was almost naked, and

exclaimed, “I think it is so cool that you are racing today Dave.” My heart

warmed, my embarrassment faded, and I felt a sense of confidence seep into my

chilled body. I smiled, and looked over at her and said, “Me too Janelle, me too.”

I knew I probably looked ridiculous but at that point I didn’t care. I was ready to

race and I was ready to have some fun. I told myself that I may look ridiculous,

but so what.

Heather and Jaime

I don’t think he remembers this, but I met my coach and friend Jaime about eight

or so years ago at an office party we hosted prior to the holidays. My wife

originally hired Jaime’s wife Heather as a Hospitalist at Presbyterian Hospital in

Albuquerque. At the time of the party Jaime and I were in very different places in

our lives. He was the photo editor for the Albuquerque Journal and I was an

educator on a leave of absence from the Albuquerque Public Schools in order to

be a stay at home Dad to my two kids. We talked briefly about photography. We

were brought together by a large size Harvey Caplin photograph of Canyon de

Chelly we had hanging in our living room. At the time I don’t think I even realized

he was a triathlete or a coach. He just seemed like a nice and personable guy

with a cool job.

Fast forward to the spring of 2012. My wife and family had relocated to Bend,

Oregon and had been there for two years. My wife received a call from Heather.

She was finishing up a fellowship in Rheumatology at The University of Arizona.

She and Jaime were coming up to Bend with their two girls to look at a

prospective job and to check out the community. We met them for drinks and

discussed life in Bend. At the time Jaime told me he coached triathletes and was

one himself. It didn’t occur to me at the time that this was the same person I had

discussed photography with years earlier in our kitchen. It was prior to my 50th

birthday. I was overweight, out of shape, at a low point in my life, and I couldn’t

fathom being a triathlete. Less than a week later I would look in the mirror,

decide things needed to change, and decided that perhaps a triathlon might help

me make the needed changes. I’m not sure if my meeting with Jaime had

anything to do with this change but I’d kind of like to think so.

Several months later we received word from Heather that she had accepted a

position with a practice in Bend. She and Jaime were excited about the move.

Right before their move we met up with Jaime and Heather again for dinner.

Things had changed considerably for me and I had set my triathlon goal and had

begun my training. Our meeting for dinner came after my first triathlon in Boise

and right before my next triathlon in Corvallis. It was also coming up right before

Jaime had a major long course race in Tempe and he was in his taper phase.

He and I spoke about his next race and I shared my thoughts on my first race

and my concerns about my first open water swim that I would be attempting later

in the year. Jaime gave me some pointers and at the end of the evening he

offered me his code for a steep discount on an XTERRA wetsuit so I could order

it in time for my open water swim. We walked from dinner over to the Deschutes

Brewhouse and had a beer and talked a bit more about triathlons and training. It

was a very different conversation than I had with him in Albuquerque - much

more in-depth and genuine.

I walked away that night with a greater appreciation and admiration for what

Jaime was doing. As you will discover in an upcoming blog, it made me look at

and question how serious I wanted to get with my training and how committed I

wanted to be in working towards my triathlon goal. That night as my wife and I

parted company with Jaime and Heather I thought long and hard about what he

and I had discussed. I thought about my goal and what I was doing in order to

make that happened. I came to the conclusion that perhaps I needed to explore

other options and take my level of commitment to a higher level. I had, by all

accounts, reached a turning point.

Boise

“Wow man! You’re doing Boise? That is some goal you’ve set for yourself! That

is awesome!” I was a little surprised by this response. It had started out

innocently enough in the locker room of the local pool, as a brief conversation

with a guy who I knew was a local triathlete. It came up that I was going to do a

triathlon and when he asked me what I was training for I simply said “Boise”. In

my naivete I didn’t realize there was more than one race in Boise. He was

referencing the Boise Ironman 70.3 and I was referencing an indoor triathlon at

Boise State University. Same location. Two very different races and distances.

Indoor triathlons are not that unusual, particularly in the Pacific Northwest where I

live. In fact, there is a very popular series in Washington called the Rainman

series that takes place in several locations around Puget Sound prior to the

summer racing season. I discovered the race in Boise while looking for dates on

trifind.com. I figured it would be the perfect toe dipper for someone new to tris

such as myself.

The format for an indoor sprint tri is the same as any other sprint. The major

difference between this type of a race and a regular sprint tri is that it all occurs

indoors. What further differentiated Boise is that no times were kept during

transition. The racing waves were kept very small so it would seem less

overwhelming. No big crowds, no rain, no headwind, no difficult transitions. The

drive (just a bit over 5 hours) was probably a bit excessive for such a race but it

was a long weekend so for me this was as much a sightseeing adventure and a

weekend away as it was my first foray into triathlons.

I arrived at the Boise State Rec Center for my ‘race’ and checked in. After

changing into my swimsuit I found my way back to the pool. There were four of

us and we would each have a lane to ourselves. We were all assembled and the

lanes were empty so they let us go off early. The length was 750 meters. I was

worried about the distance but I just told myself to relax and if worse came to

worse I could always do a lap swimming the breaststroke. I was only competing

against myself and I viewed this race as simply setting a benchmark that I could

improve upon throughout the coming season. The swim wasn’t spectacular but I

did manage to get it done and yes, after about 550 meters, I did have to resort to

alternating breaststroke with the regular crawl. I survived, got it done, and pulled

myself out of the pool ready for the bike portion.

I changed into my bike kit and headed upstairs to the spin lab. The nice

volunteer went over with me the bike I’d be using and let me know that I’d need

to alert them when I hit twelve miles so they could come over and tell me when I

had completed my ride. Music blared from the speakers. Madonna, The Foo

Fighters, Calvin Harris, and Lady Gaga kept me going at a steady clip. I

discovered that although I like reggae it can be a real buzzkill as far as pedal

cadence is concerned.

Soon I was off the bike, changed, and running around the indoor track. The

surface was nice and springy and felt good, but the laps quickly turned

monotonous. I found myself trading quips with the volunteers as I would go by

and count down laps until I could claim my fictional margarita at the finish line. I

finished, showered, grabbed a snack, thanked the volunteers, and received my

time. 750 swim – 18:30, 12.4 miles 32:47, 5K run 26:33. I finished right in the

middle of the pack. Given that the transitions were not timed and that you could

take up to 15 minutes between stations it wasn’t exactly a race for benchmarks

per se but it was a non-threatening start to my triathlon season, and lifestyle.

A couple of weeks ago I saw my triathlete friend at the pool. We talked about the

past season and what the future held. When he asked me about next year’s

races I mentioned Boise. This time I quickly noted that it would be the 70.3 and

not the indoor tri. We shared a laugh about last year’s confusion and I noted that

this would be my first half-ironman. Once again, I would dip my toe into a new

experience and again, it would take place in Boise. This time I will truly do Boise,

and this time I have a new and more ambitious goal. As my triathlete friend

noted earlier in the year, I hope it will be awesome

Encouragement

It was mid-February. I was well into my third month of training for my first

triathlon. There had been some hiccups along the way. Of course, there were

the holidays. Worse still, I had been suffering from a respiratory ailment that

always seemed to rear it’s ugly head when I would get into the pool. After

several weeks of fitful training starts I had finally settled into a routine. I was

feeling better but I had also lost some training time and I felt that my swimming

was woefully behind schedule.

I arrived at the pool as I had done on previous Saturdays. I was there as the

doors opened. I shuffled into the indoor pool ready to begin my workout. I was

confronted with a bulkhead that no longer separated the pool into two 25-meter

segments. Instead, the bulkhead had been pushed to the end in order to create

one long 50-meter segment. This long course was done in order to help

swimmers prepare for the upcoming open-water swim season. I however saw

this long course as a huge mental obstacle to overcome in my swim training.

When I began swimming it should be noted that I struggled to complete a simple

25-meter lap without gasping for air. The master’s swim sessions I participated

in left me physically feeling nauseated and rather discouraged. My confidence

level with swimming was at an all time low. The simple addition of 25-meters to a

lap seemed like the last straw being dropped on an already overloaded camel.

Sighing, I got in the pool and slogged through my workout. The workout was

relatively easy – just 500 meters, which in training terms for a swimmer is a

pittance. However, it might as well have been the English Channel as far as I

was concerned. I got out of the pool tired, defeated, and questioning whether or

not I’d be able to accomplish my goal much less finish my first triathlon which

would occur in just over a month.

I remember standing under the warm water of the shower in the locker room after

my swim session. As the water streamed down my body I seriously thought

about giving up on my goal and just saying to hell with it all. The anger and

embarrassment I felt was palpable. I wasn’t making progress and I felt like my

swim fitness was atrocious. I was at low ebb mentally and emotionally.

I came out of the shower and was greeted by Robert, an ultra-distance runner

who, like me, came to swim early on Saturday mornings. We had seen each

other often enough to be friendly and engage in conversation. “What did you

think of the long course?” he asked me. Rather than give him some superficial

and pat answer for some reason I ended up spilling out the emotions flowing

through me. Robert quietly listened and then he offered me a couple of pointers

to try with my next swim session. He also offered suggestions on what I could do

to improve my form (mainly keeping my head down and pushing my chest down

in the water so my legs would come up closer to the surface). He ended by

encouraging me to keep working hard and doing my best. With that he pulled on

his bike kit, threw his backpack over his shoulder, and headed out the door

whistling a jaunty tune.

It wasn’t much but those words and that brief time spent with me as I look back

was probably what kept me going and recommitted myself to that goal. Coming

from a person such as Robert, an experienced athlete meant a lot. I took some

of what he said, applied it to my swimming, and began to see some small

improvements. It made me realize that even though this was my personal goal

and my journey that every so often I needed to be willing to look to others to

assist me on my journey.

When undertaking a goal that involves a certain amount of training it is important

to realize that there will be times of improvements and then there will be times

where things plateau, and even regress a bit. There will be days where things

don’t seem to come together and others when you feel that you’re the king of the

world. On the days things aren’t working out perhaps it’s best to take a step

back. Think about what you’ve eaten, determine how many hours you are

sleeping, and see if there are other stressors that may factor into poor

performance or the feeling of fatigue. Sometimes it may simply be getting into a

rut and needing to mix things up a bit in your training program to get things to fall

into place.

One of the benefits of having a good coach is that they are able to analyze your

training and make adjustments. They provide an ear for questions and can ease

nerves when self-doubt creeps into the psyche. They are able to see the big

picture and look for patterns that may not easily reveal themselves to someone

who is just beginning a training regimen. If a coach is not an option then perhaps

seek out a mentor or someone with experience. Sometimes it may simply mean

striking up a conversation with someone you’ve often seen at the track, on the

road, or at the pool.

I learned that day in February a good lesson. Sometimes we need just a bit of

encouragement to get over the hump. It is ok to seek out and ask for assistance

and guidance from others. After that day I also discovered that it ok to

encourage others as they work toward their goals. In doing so I just might be

helping others continue on their path towards reaching their goal. It also think in

doing so it reminds me of the goal I have set for myself. Several months after

our conversation I had the opportunity to share a beer with Robert and thank him

for those simple words of encouragement. Had I not heard those words and kept

going I’m not sure I would have accomplished my goals or be where I am today.

Walking the Walk

It is one thing to say you’re going to do a triathlon. It is purely another to follow

through, do the training, and show up at the starting line. I have already noted

that when I first set my triathlon goal I over-reached a bit. Rather than starting off

slow with a goal of one race I plowed ahead with a full season of races.

Thankfully I did at least give myself plenty of time to get ready and sought out

resources to help me along as I started training.

When I first began this process I knew that I would have to spend a lot of time

with my swimming. I felt relatively comfortable with the bike and the run but the

swim gave me the most concern. I decided to research adult swimming

programs and discovered a master’s program in my community. I heard through

friends that some of the master’s swim sessions could feel a bit intimidating.

Some of these sessions featured a make up of seasoned athletes, professional

triathletes, and former Olympians. For an average and uncoordinated Joe such

as myself this could have been a major deal breaker. Rather than let this be a

stumbling block I decided to talk to one of the coaches of the program before I

attended a session. He was very up-front with me and allayed my concerns. He

noted that yes, there were some excellent swimmers that attended some of these

sessions and he also noted that there was a group of very average swimmers at

the sessions as well. It was all about finding one’s comfort level and then

working towards overall improvement. It was tough at first, but eventually I

began to be able to go longer distances and it improved my overall stamina in the

water. It also introduced me to a new group of people in my community.

A couple of weeks after I had begun the master’s swim program I discovered a

multi-sport group in my community. Much like my first exploration of the master’s

program, I was very worried about what I would find and how I would fit in to such

a group. Maybe it helped that the first meeting was held at a brewery. What I

found was a group of like-minded individuals. Yes, there were some who had

done Ironman’s. Others, like myself, were training for or contemplating their first

race. Some were people I had met in the master’s swim program. We joked

about not being able to recognize one another when we were wearing our street

clothes. As with the master’s program I discovered it was about finding my

comfort level and then working towards overall improvement. We were in

different places but we were all heading in the same direction towards overall

better health and fitness. As with the master’s program it also introduced me to a

new group of people in my community.

In both my master’s swim and my multi-sport club experience I experienced

some initial uneasiness. For someone such as myself – new to the field who

lacked experience, this was pretty normal. I discovered that it was ok to be

nervous and have self-doubts. What I truly realized though was that I couldn’t

allow these concerns to prevent me from working toward my goal. I began to

understand that this was about my journey toward improvement. As with

anything, there would be challenges. I realized that unless I was an Ashton

Eaton or a Usain Bolt, more than likely there was always going to be someone

better than me and that applied to everyone else. Rather than worry about the

fact that Heather Jackson or Luke McKenzie was two lanes over from me in the pool I

began to focus on my own improvement. I realized that by taking the first step in

my training process I was doing more than a vast majority of the general

populace. Most importantly, I discovered that by taking those initial baby steps

and getting started that I was no longer just talking the talk, but that I was also

truly walking the walk towards attaining my goal.