The Good, The Bad, and the Unknown

The Good: MRI came back negative.  No changes compared to last April's scan (re: lesions), though I have not seen the full MRI report with my own eyes, as yet.  Not MS.

The Bad: An inner ear issue seems most likely with issuance of an Ear Nose Throat (ENT) specialist referral.  No appointment has yet been made due to the holidays, but I hope to have more knowledge of what might be going on in my head as soon as I can.  In the meantime, symptoms have improved some, but worsened in others.  Concentration appears to be a large catalyst - the harder I concentrate, the worse things get.  If I didn't know any better, I'd suspect my wife gave me a concussion in my sleep for snoring too loudly (not that I'd blame her based on how loud I've heard my son snore!).  In the meantime, I have more time to scour my text books and the internet for more information on the vestibular system and the inner ear.  Surely that's what my ENT will want to hear.  "So I read on the internet that..."   Ha!

The Unknown: The result, in the meantime, is more unknown.  Those facing the potential MS ("You might have something called Multiple Sclerosis"), often go through a lengthy period of time until that diagnosis materializes into reality ("You have MS").  As strange as it may sound, relief sometimes becomes the descriptor people atribute to the day they become diagnosed.  What they will face for the rest of their lives, however unclear that future may be, now at least has a name.  Some portion of their future has become Known.  And with that knowledge comes a little peace.  Certainly that was the case for me.  No matter what the future would bring, I could better steel myself for it once that Unknown ("might") became Known ("have").  

This confrontation with yet another Unknown has spun me into one of Dr Seuss' eloquently named Slumps.  And as he notes in Oh the Places You'll Go, "Unslumping yourself is not easily done."

Enter my coach, Karen Smyers.  I basically described where I was with relation to training, including a general inability to mentally get my head around where I needed to be in preparation for Ironman Lanzarote.  She has an amazing knack for saying the right words at the right time.  That's one of the big reasons I've worked with her for over a decade now.  In her words: 

"The unknown in all of this has to be draining and take a toll on you physically as well as psychologically.  So recognize that this will happen and it is OK to have down periods once in a while."

Until I had read that, I never realized how much it had taken a toll on me - I briefly burst into tears after someone had given me permission to self-acknowledge the source of my Slump: this focus on the Unknown.  For optimal fitness raining, you train at the level you are at.  That enables you to make advances in fitness and get to where you want to be.  Training where you want to be, on the other hand, tends to get you hurt or burnt out.  Be where you're at.  I had taken this mentality with my disease and (mostly) with my exercise: "control the controllables." My fitness, my balance, my diet, my sleep (mostly), my mental aptitude - great chess game today, Dad!  Maybe I'll get you next time.

But that's all one can do.  As I get more information (from my ENT visit, for example), I may find that I have more specific things to focus on to optimize where I'm at.  But in the meantime, focus on the Unknown only leads to the Slump.  Focus on the Known gets you out of the Slump.

Go on:  Unslump yourself.  I triple-dog-dare you.  (Yes it's the Holidays).

Happy Holidays.  Mine are getting a lot better, even if my symptoms aren't.  Thanks, Coach.

The Things We Take for Granted

Holiday time has arrived.  It never fails to sneak up on me, despite Christmas items finding their way onto store shelves shortly after Labor Day (?!?), Christmas music hitting the airwaves November 1st, and Thanksgiving rolling around before one finishes thinking "November started?" 

Yes, Holiday time has arrived, and with it comes the realization that family really does mean a lot.  Sometimes I need reminders, but this year, much of my family and my wife's family made the journey to the Pacific Northwest, where the Portland Ramsey's hosted Thanksgiving.  It was a hectic, but wonderful, week.  

But shortly before the holiday, I had started having some vertigo issues.  Being a PT, I self diagnosed myself with BPPV (Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo), a generally self-limiting cause of the room spinning.  Some self-treatment (it's good to be a PT, if I haven't mentioned that before) and some time later, and I was feeling much better.  

Feeling pretty good even, until I woke last Friday.  Something had changed overnight.  The room no longer spun, but dizziness pervaded my existence.  Not BPPV.  Driving took an enourmous amount of concentration to keep things in focus - literally.  My vision continually wanted to go out of focus - as if I'd had a bit too much to drink (and while it certainly was after noon somewhere on the planet, I had not been nipping at the flask).  I suppose fortunately, it had snowed here in Portland - something of a rarity, and Portlanders have no clue how to drive in the snow, so traffic crawled along.  My normal commute of 45' (leave home, drop Mattias at school, and get to work) took me 90' instead.  All of 20 miles.

This issue continued through the day.  I arranged a visit with a optometrist, which was long-overdue anyway, for the following Monday, and hoped I had a detached retina.  Yes, this sounds strange, and not simply because such a diagnosis wouldn't account for the dizziness.  But I want it to not be MS.  Anything but the MS.  

I went for a run later in the day, and strained a calf.  A long-planned Guy's Night (first since sometime last spring) was put off due to a combination of unexpected travel and the weather.

A trifecta of Crappy Things to Happen on a Friday struck, and I found myself in the immature reaction of deciding it was, afterall, after noon where I stood, and proceeded to crawl into - and through - a bottle of wine.  Not a good decision, but the one that decided upon.

I now sit here typing a few days later, after having a normal eye exam with my optometrist, but  an abnormal neurology exam today with an MRI of the brain scheduled for Friday.  My 8th since 2008.  If it's MS, that's probably the end of it for now - wait and see what happens.  If it's not MS, then something has simply "gone wrong" with my vestibular system, and we will deal with that at that point, starting with an Ear / Nose /  Throat (ENT) specialist assessment, and while vestibular system is not my area of specialty, I do know the long-term prognoses are "improved" rather than "cured".  

Today, I have had a(nother) Sobering Moment.  I have spent a lot of time under the impression that I, really, have no idea how long I have left to function "optimally."  And while I know that I am not optimal anymore, I also realize that I really have no complaints about it, either.  I have had a realtively benign course of MS.  Sitting here now, my eyes tired from the strain of maintaining focus on a computer screen for this duration, I have realized that something as simple as a vestibular attack may take so much away.  I do not feel comfortable getting on a bike outside right now.  I am forced to be much more conscious about my driving.  I am much more conscious about chopping vegetables.  I enjoyed racing my boy up to bed, and then regretted doing so from the queasy stomach that followed.   I have needed 10-15hrs of sleep per day for the last week.  I have another damn MRI on Friday.  I am unsure of whether to hope for an MS attack or vestibular dysfunction.  No-win scenarios suck.  

Mostly it occurred to me that MS is a disease that doesn't need to completely debilitate you to take away your ability to enjoy life.  It just has to hit one or two key systems.  You take away my balance, and you take away my sport - and potentnially all aspects of each individual sport within triathlon.   It just has to take away something I take for granted: knowing which way is up.

And so I appreciate those who bear this disease with me - my family - all the more.  I wish for more time and energy to figure out how to show them, but it may need to wait for another time.  MS, or whatever this is, might win this round.  But with their unending support (and I love them dearly for it), some determination, and some grit, I'll make it to the bell, take a rest, and attack in the next round.

That's just all I can do:  Keep on Keepin' On. Hug your family, hug your spouse, hug your children, hug your parents.  Hug those who help you.  They make it bearable.  Even when we sometimes forget.   Hang some mistletoe.

Thank you to all of my family, but most especially to Micha and Mattias.  You bear the brunt of this with me.  I do not envy you.

And that's my new sign-off:

Keep on keepin' on

Restwise Wrap-Up and Bucket List Progression

Restwise has been kind enough to take the time to interview me recently, and posted it online on their blog.  Thank you Restwise - both for your interest and your support.

Check out the interview here:


In other news, it's now official:  I'm checking off a 15 year-old bucket list item in 2014:  I'm on the start list for Ironman Lanzarote.  Another hot one through wind and lava fields, but this time I get to see camels on the side of the road rather than the Kona donkeys!

But first - off season continues:

Kona - Race Report

Another Kona in the log.

Reader’s Digest Version: swim was better than expected (yes, I think the speedsuit actually helps!), bike slower than hoped for – partially due to needing to pee more than I’ve ever peed in the first half of an IM (3 times on the way out), but mostly due to the tactical decision of going easy with the tailwinds expecting massive headwinds the entire way home from Hawi, but weren’t as bad as expected coming home – and a run that, aside from some nasty cramps and a couple of port-o-pottie stops went better than I thought it was while I was running, but was slower than I’d hoped for going into the race.  But I suppose when you hit mile 4 and are thinking how nice it would be to trip and break your leg so you won’t have to continue, I did okay.  9:39:12 official time (1:03:50 swim, 5:05:18 bike, and 3:21:11 run with some conservative transitions just over 4’ each).  It was good conditions in Hawaii – more than 250 people broke 9:30.  Memories of the winds of 2004 might have cost me this time.

 

Non-Reader’s Digest Version (yes, I know I’m long-winded):

The week leading up to the race was much busier than normal for me.  I met 3 of the original 15 Ironman participants, got to break one of the original IM trophies, even.  Happily they said that happened all the time.  Got a couple of rides, including a windy ride home from Hapuna together in the days leading up to the race.

 

I had the opportunity to participate on a panel discussion on behalf of the Ironman Foundation (that's me, on the left in the sun), broadcast across the Ironman Expo a few days before the race and relate my story to the folks ambling around the area.  Given that this year I raced in no small part to raise funds for research into athletes with Multiple Sclerosis, this seemed a perfect cap to that effort.  And with over $14k raised as of right now, I cannot be happier with this prong of my 2013 IMH adventure.  While my story seemed to pale in comparison to some of the fund-raising stories of others (“Raising funds to fight cancer after being given 2 months to live”, “Raising nearly $100k to benefit research into Autism after my son was diagnosed”, “Deciding to do and Ironman so that I would suffer a bit while my mother was going through chemotherapy”, etc), feedback seemed quite positive from folks who I talked with afterwards, inspiring me further to “give it my all.”

 As usual, it was hot and windy, but winds were a bit more favorable than usual – which lead to an error in my tactical decisions on the bike.  More on that later.  Some thin clouds came in across the Ali’I portion of the run – welcome news for me, as I had 3 thoughts keeping me nervous coming into the race: 1) the joys of a mass swim start; 2) the heat – heat has definitely affected me more this year with the MS, fatigue is higher, tingling abounds, the feeling that someone is incessantly rubbing sandpaper on my wrists, tightness down the back and into the quads whenever my head tilts below neutral, general irritability of mood; and 3) the thoughts of another day like the Pac Crest ½-Iron race from late June – where food poisoning 3 days before the race dropped 6 pounds from me overnight, and I fought through glycogen depletion starting by mile 6 on the run to finish my slowest ½-iron race ever.  I never – ever – want to repeat that mental digging again, and the thought of maybe needing to go there again really did put a chink in my confidence.  But my training had been good, I was prepared for the winds, there was nothing more I could do except execute the plan.

 BANG!  Swim start found me most of the way out to the left, right on the start line (I actually bumped into my old CU Triathlon team coach on a paddle board out there!), and while there were a few bumps and kicks (including one that made me quite happy I had Aquasphere goggles with a large gasket and not my older swim goggles that fit pretty close around the eyeball).  But with the exception of the turns (at mile 1.1 and 1.2), I could hold good feet, and maintain my stroke.  My speedsuit seemed to help nicely, as I came out over a minute ahead of my fastest predicted time.  Swim = 1:03:50 (82^nd AG, 535^nd overall).

Easy T1 with nowhere to sit, but lots of sunscreen put on.

(Bike caveat – I found, upon getting my bike from TriBike Transport, that my seat had somehow angled down 3deg.  In getting it back, I misjudged the angle, and while I thought it was about 1deg down, it turned out to be 1.5deg up.  I wonder if this altered my power production.  Regardless, it certainly provided me with the worst chaffing in … undesirable areas … that I’ve ever experienced.  Ever.  Fortunately, I was able to pigeon-hole this during the race, and just accept that it was uncomfortable, and the shower post-race would be unbearable.  Soldier on…)

Heading out on the bike, 2 things occurred to me: 1) ~65 minutes into IMH is a really popular time to be heading out on your bike, and 2) tailwinds moved us along heading north towards Hawi.  At this point, I made my errant tactical decision of the day and dropped my effort with the expectation of having nasty winds coming home from Hawi (based primarily on the misery of riding here in 2004’s terrible winds).  By the turn around in Hawi, I had dropped 119 places.  I told myself all along that letting folks go was okay – I’d see them later in the headwinds that would have overall bike times 20’ slower than expected. And if not, though, I was on pace for a PR bike time, which also convinced me that it was a win-win decision to have eased up.  Nutritionally, I’ve never done better on the bike.  I was spot on plan throughout the ride.  Unexpectedly, I had peed 3 times before the climb to Hawi, and again on the way down.  I’ve never peed more than twice on the bike in an IM, and it occurred to me that I was well-hydrated, it was also an annoyance to seriously coast down the hills to do my business.  The winds did pick up some, and people did start to come back to me.  Across the last 37 miles (the return portion of the Queen K), I found myself passing 114 folk.  Unfortunately, the winds were far less than expected, and I only passed 120 folks total.  (losing 12 places on the bike in an IM is something that has also never happened to me - fortunately I didn’t find that out until after the race.)  While I didn’t know how poor a choice I had made regarding pacing it had been, I was aware it had been a mistake.  But still – I’m heading out of T2 looking like sub 9:30 is still possible if I can nail the 3:10 marathon I think I’m capable of producing.  Bike 5:05:18 (and now 109^th AG, 547^th overall)

 

Again – thin clouds over Ali’I (the first 10 miles of the run) helping out.  All week I had noticed that I LOVED the shade, and did NOT like the direct sunlight.  It always amazes me how different my symptoms are between the two, even on warmer days.  Direct sunlight is not my friend.  Thus heading down Ali’I, I’m feeling pretty good.  Except that I cannot, no matter how hard I try, get my form right.  I remain sway-backed, no matter how hard I try to get my shoulders up over my hips and in front of my landing feet.  Maybe it’s something to do with the bike seat?  Well, not much I can do – just keep on trying to get it back, and keep on keepin’ on.

People are now steadily coming back to me – in all, I would pass almost 190 people en route to the finish – and that helps, certainly.  By mile 3 I decided it was cooler with no hat on.  Suit unzipped as far as it could go, ice dumped down it every aid station.  I took to dunking my own sponges each aid station – sinking my arms as far to the bottom of the ice water and sponges as possible (which worked until there was no more ice on the Queen K).   But already by mile 4, I really felt … hot.  Sharp reminders not to tilt my head down came whenever I forgot – nothing like the feeling of a jolt of electricity is zipping down your back, reaching to the tips of your fingers and wrapping around your hips to your thighs to remind you to keep your chin up.  I’m beginning to weigh the benefits of finishing versus breaking my leg so as to have a decent excuse to stop here.  Reminder of the time of day – near 1:30.  AKA “The Witching Hour”.  Nap time – mental state breaks down, I get, shall we say, irritable.  Bad enough on a normal day, really not good when 2/3rds of the way through an Ironman.

I take a quick break with the family at mile 7.  My parents once again made the journey to support me, as did my amazing wife and son.  Thinking of all the sacrifices they have made so that I could be here kept me going at this point.  Upon resuming, I consciously thing, “OK, pity party’s over – no more DNF talk.”  And it worked.  By the time I get up to the Queen K, I’m mentally feeling better, but now getting some nasty cramps in the abdomen.  Yet again – something I’ve never really had in IM.  Will these lessons never cease?  I stop at a port-o-pottie to see if I can’t just get rid of whatever’s causing it, but someone’s inside.  Unfortunately, as I’m stopped, it was just easier to wait, and wait I did.  Even the guy at the aid station on the bull-horn noted that “the guy on the Jon’s better hurry up”.  Finally he comes out, I go in, and nothing comes out.  Off I go again having simply wasted a few minutes.  But at least, I note, my form seems to be coming back.

Continuing to focus on the moment, I note that this year, they don’t allow spectators past mile 15 or so.  It gets quiet.  Breathing, foot falls, and that’s it.  Honestly, the folks who donated to my cause kept me moving through there.  They gave – now it was my turn.  But I’m beginning to consider that I never want to do this race again.   My wrists hurt, my hip flexors are cramping, my pace is slow, and do not look down (zap!).  Head into the energy lab, make the turn-around, and finally, whatever’s in my guy wants to come out.  Another minute in the Jon and the world is SO much better.  I look at my watch – 8:35 race time, and I’ve got 8 miles to go.  7:15’s seem so possible to get just under 9:30.  Then reality sets in, and my times are slower.  I still think I might be done with this race.  Maybe even IM.   I lose track a bit with a few miles to go, just knowing I’ll break 10hrs here.  That, regardless of conditions, was high on my list of goals for this race.  But then I note with about 1.5mi to go that sub 9:40 is still possible if I hurry.  Funny how you can sometimes find that extra bit, even then.  It wasn’t there in New Zealand – I was moving for all I was worth the entire run.  But here, there was that little bit extra that Kona (and a big net downhill final 1.1 miles) can get out of you.  I’m slapping hands with all the kids I can find along Ali’i.   It’s a terrific feeling (always is) to run down Ali’i.  Every time I do it, it’s more cherished than the last time.  And maybe this is my swan song.  Probably. Run time 3:21:11. 

 

 

9:39:12 and 358^th overall, 49^th AG (of 282 finishers).  Content, if not satisfied.

 

Out at midnight at the finishing chute, watching my wife dance with Chrissy Wellington.  A special place to be, no doubt.  Midnight on Ali’I the 2^nd Saturday of October is magic.  And probably it’s my last time. 

It’s now over a week later, and my amazing wife has firmly planted the seed of letting me race an early IM next year.  I’m looking at IM Lanzarote, as it is on my Ironman Bucket Lest. I ran the other day and felt good.  I rode today and felt terrific.  I hope I can qualify for Kona again.  I’d love to race there again. 

Amazing what a week does to the memory of agony.

 

Show Time Approaches

The race starts tomorrow.  As of last night, my nerves have started to become a bit more on edge.  The "what if's" and the doubts have started to creep in.  I have found myself dolling out advice to others that I am continually now needing to practice - "the hay is in the barn" or "plan for the worst, hope for the best" or "have plan A, plan B, and plan C, and ways to recognize when to switch between them" or "you've accomplished the goal of getting here - now enjoy the experience."

I have enjoyed seeing some new sights on the island (sunset on top of Mauna Kea, with the horizon nearly 14,000 feet below), catching up with friends going as far back as high school (good to see you, Melanie) and making new ones as recently as a Dutch guy just 5 minutes ago (thanks for the use of your pump, Bart).  I was honored to participate in the Ironman Foundation panel at the race expo yesterday along with some other amazing fund-raisers.  I have enjoyed having family here in town.  But I was reminded by my wife that tomorrow is the entire reason for all the sacrifice made by family and friends across the past 13 months - training and racing in New Zealand in order to qualify for World Championships and and then all the training leading up to this race.

And that brings me to my thank you's.  Regardless of the outcome tomorrow, I can only begin to thank  my wife, Micha, for all her support this past year.  It has been tremendous.  And my son, Mattias, who generally continues to practice patience with his always-tired Papa (well, as much patience as a 4yr old can possess).  My parents, who have flown both to New Zealand and here to Hawaii to once again cheer me on from the sidelines like they did throughout my younger days in school.  To my friends who've both teased and supported (that's kind of the same thing, right?).  To the folks at Therapeutic Associates, Athlete's Lounge, and RestWise - you've all helped me achieve goals that even a year ago I wasn't sure were possible.

And to the many many folks who have made my dream of raising money for a first-of-its-kind study on athletes with Multiple Sclerosis (something obviously dear to my, well, brain).  Together we will put over $14,000 towards that project, and I will be the first voluntary subject! 

To all of you, Thank You.  I am humbled, and encouraged, and motivated. 

As for the race itself, it looks to be sunny, air temperature in the mid 80's on the coast (which means low 90's on the Queen K highway, and pavement temperatures approaching 120 degrees), and likely to be a headwind on the way home from Hawi (at about mile 60 of the 112 miles on the bike).  Humidity will run in the 68-70% range.  Not horrific, but sweat will certainly be running down the body more-so than evaporating off.   I am nervous for really only two things tomorrow - the heat, and the swim.  I have noticed that heat has really started to bother me more this past year, increasing fatigue, and exacerbating my prior symptoms.  There is even a difference between being in the shade vs being in the sun.  And little shade exists on the course tomorrow.  As for the swim, starting a race with 1800 people all at once, all of relatively equal ability, makes for a crowded swim at the World Championships.  In the triathlon world, the swim start commonly gets the nickname, "The Washing Machine" because of both the way it looks, and the way it feels.  Once again I will position myself far out to the side, hoping for less crowded water.  I hope to finish the 2.4 mile course in 65-68 minutes.  The 112 mile bike I hope to come in around 5 hours, though the winds here can easily add 15 minutes to that time.  And on the run, I would be jumping up and down (well, maybe raising my arms a little bit) with a 3:10.  All told, including transitions, I think my fitness is there for a 9:25.  On this course, that can easily balloon to a 10:25.  Only Madame Pele, the Goddess of the island of Hawai'i, knows for sure.  I do hope she is in a kind mood tomorrow.

So that is that.  My race number is 1277.  You can track my progress on www.ironman.com.  I am excited, nervous, and mostly just ready to get the show going out of the water and onto the road!  Thank you all for following.  I'll be sure to update next week on how things actually went!

Good Racing, and Good Night!

Bubble Wrap, Anyone?

Well, general crisis averted.  My foot is healing up well, and I'm back to running at least on pavement without issue.  Trails, not so much as any uneven surface that hits the arch of my foot still really hurts, but I'll take long runs on the pavement for now.

I did have an entire week of cycling the week of the injury.  I logged almost 370 miles in 8 days - by far the most I've ever done in such a period.  Was a good week, and a hard week.  I managed a sad elliptical workout, a short treadmill run, a 2 mile transition run, and a 5 mile easy run that same week.  That last one was awesome because I actually got to run with my son riding his pedal bike (along with Mama riding as well).  He's up for 2 mile jaunts now, and is doing fantastic now that he's learned to use his brakes.

After getting back to some running this week, my coach chimed in that the foot was a good reminder to wrap myself in bubble wrap leading up to Kona.  I certainly continue to feel that the hardest part about having a good race is actually getting to the starting line ready to race - not hurt, ill, or exhausted.  Not at all as easy as it sounds.

This week, cycling mileage was back down to a more reasonable 180miles, and running was up to 32.  I am definitely feeling the season, though.  I'm finding that I'm more tired in general (particularly getting up in the mornings), but at the same time unable to take my naps anymore.  Partially that's a time thing, but partially it's an inability to quiet my mind.  I will park the car, recline the seat, and try to close my eyes for 20-30' prior to getting in the water (yes, this is actually typical for me when training).  But after 15' of my brain just working like the Energizer bunny, I decide I'm not going to sleep, so it's time to head into the water.  The cumulative effects of a year of hard training (leading up to Ironman New Zealand in early March, and now Kona) has tipped past the unsustainable point, and is severely bordering on overtraining.  The dance of knowing when the body is saying, "Enough!" vs when the mind speaks is becoming harder to walk.  Though at the same time, the importance of discerning that difference may well also be fading.  When bordering on overtraining, the mind or the body caving become equally important.  

So tonight's cycling intervals ended up going down the tubes.  They started off okay, but it became clear fairly quickly that they were not going as expected.  No clue if it was mind or body, but performance was lacking.  Bubble wrap came out, and I tried to make the most of it without wrecking myself.  First power goals dropped off, then durations were shortened.  Ultimately, a workout was completed, but perhaps not to the initial expectations.  

I'm trying to become an "Optimalist"  An interesting spin on pessimism/optimism.  Making  the  most  of what you're dealt.  More on  that next time.   Sleep is callling.

Good Training  and  GOOD  NIGHT!

The Offending Culprit

Stepping on this is in the dark has put my running out of commission for now. No race this weekend. More biking instead...

More Adversity is Better, Right?

I have trouble sleeping when it gets too hot, as it was the other night.  In getting a fan out of a dark room in the middle of the night, I managed to step over the bike trainer, but stepped right on the front wheel stand, which is a solid plastic ring (not a block) with a few cut-outs to allow different inclinations while on the trainer.  The resulting gash, located right in the middle of my foot across my plantar fascia (thankfully not into the fascia!) has me off of running for a while.  Hopefully I'll be back in time for this weekend's race - Best of the West Half-Iron near Salem, OR.  

But for now, that means I'll be getting in an extra long ride in place of the long run I was supposed to be doing today.  Just like the race itself, life always manages to throw unexpected barriers up.  How you react to them makes all the difference, though.  While I swore like a sailer at the top of my lungs when it happened (nope - it didn't tickle my foot), I've gotten back on track and will be just fine.  Better now than a month from not.  Less than 6 weeks to go!

Ownership

Fairly regularly, once someone finds out I have multiple sclerosis, I hear something like, "Wow, it's amazing that you still do what you do."  While I do take a certain amount of pride in hearing that, I am also unsure just what to say.  "Keep on keepin' on" or some similar reply typically comes out.  Doing what I've always done, to the best that I can do it, seems the only way to go, if you ask me.  I have raced triathlons for over 20 years, and I hope to continue them for another 40.  Yeah, 60 seems like a good number of years to race at the upper reaches of one's ability, if you ask me.  

If ever I could meet someone "famous" in the sport of triathlon, it would have been Jim Ward.  He passed away in 2000 at the age of 83 while mountain biking.  What a terrific way to go after an inspirational life. Finishing the Hawaii Ironman at age 77 - that's something to be amazed by, if you ask me.

I can remember a time, not too long ago, saying that I would never want to be on a medication I would have to take for the rest of my life.  Well, I've now had a daily injection of Copaxone for five-and-a-half years, and will likely be on it, or something similar for the rest of my life (though you could help us all find a cure by donating on my fundraising page - and thank you!).  Shortly after starting my injections, I decided that I never want to take a medication that I would need simply to combat the side-effects of some other medication I was taking.   I'm sure I'll cross that bridge when I get there.

But every day, I poke myself with a needle to keep my disease at bay.  I exercise hard - mainly to maximize my performance come race-day, but also to be in the best shape possible.  I lift weights.  I stretch nightly.  I take naps.  My diet, while never terrible, has improved dramatically since the birth of our son - which coincided to a year-and-a-half after I started down this MS road, and my whole family benefits (I'm the chef at home).  This week I have started to meditate (5 minutes of sitting still is tougher than I thought!).

All these things I do to raise the bar of my physical and mental capacity.  The stronger, better coordinated, more mentally sharp, better fueled, more limber, and generally closer to the high end of my capabilities all around, the further that bar has to fall.

Training in Boulder, CO back in the mid 90's, I had the pleasure of riding with some of the fastest triathletes on the planet.  I would ride with (well, I'd start the ride with) the likes of Mark Allen, Chuckie Velupeck, Wes Hobson, Greg Welch, Kenny Souza, and my personal favorite, Christian Bustos.  A Chilean goat-herder turned world-class triathlete who crashed in a race in Argentina and was dragged under a press vehicle for quite a ways until someone heard him screaming underneath.  Ultimately he had a nasty scar down his calf from where a nerve was taken to put in his arm so he could use his hand again.  Riding next to Christian one day, I asked him what kept him going?  "Never say die" was his simple reply.  Another way to phrase it would be "Take what you've got, and make it work."  "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade".

This ultimately brings me back to ownership.  Multiple Sclerosis is mine.  I cannot give it away like some gauche present to be re-gifted to someone else that you probably won't ever see again.  I cannot get back everything it takes from me.  I cannot do these things.  In racing we often talk about controlling the controllables, and not wasting energy or thought on the things that cannot be controlled - to do otherwise will slow you down.  Taking my medication, staying fit, eating right, getting proper rest, staying flexible, and all those things are in my control.  I want to focus my energy on being a guy who is a top athlete, in-demand physical therapist and coach, Papa-extraordinaire, wonderful husband, good friend, and fabulous chef (ok, good cook), who happens to have multiple sclerosis.

I have my days of being lousy at all those things.  But I've also some days of being remarkable at all those things - because I make those the things on which I focus my time, energy, and thought.  Having MS is not good, it is not bad:  it simply is.  Otherwise it will begin to own me - and that cannot be allowed, no matter how far down it drags the bar that is - me.

Good Training, and Good Night!

The Intense Weeks: A Typical Week in the Last Phase of Ironman Training

To those who continue to follow me, thank you.  To those who have donated to the cause of fighting Multiple Sclerosis with me, THANK YOU.  We have raised nearly $4k on the way to Kona.  To those considering helping the fight, please visit http://bit.ly/11jTDEA

Many folks want to know what a typical week looks like for me in training.  "Who" varies from fellow competitors, to the athletes I coach, to novice triathletes, to patients to friends and relatives.  Answering always takes a bit of thinking about who asked the question.  Fellow competitors and the athletes I coach get a fairly detailed look at the current phase.  Novice triathletes will hear a more general overview of things, while patients, friends, and relatives get some mixture depending on how much time we have and how bored they start to look.  My readers here will get the detailed review (for better or worse).

I work part-time (MWF), and have daycare for my son during the week.  I try to get the vast majority of my training done during the week to maximize family time on the weekends.

I do 3 week blocks, followed by a recovery week.  Particularly with the intensity that I train at, I've found that more than 3 weeks of cumulative training will fairly quickly result in illness, injury, and overtraining.  RestWise has been instrumental in helping me find how closely I can toe that line.  This past week marks 9wks to Ironman (IM) in Kona, and 1 more week of hard training before a recovery week.

The basic structure of the past week - what Coach Smyers prescribed:

Mon - rest day

Tues - bike/run brick - 2.5hr steady IM effort bike (with 3x15' 40k Time Trial effort intervals) and 70min running at half-ironman race effort (half-ironman is exactly that: half an IM, or 1.2mi swim, 56mi bike, 13.1mi run)

Wed - long swim (400's and 50's) total 4000m

Thur - 5hr steady bike at IM effort

Fri - morning recovery swim (before work) long run (after work)

Sat - interval swim (75's and 100's) total 3300yds

Sun - running form drills in the morning and  bike intervals (VO2max effort)

Total time at 15hrs (2.75hrs swim, 8.5hrs bike, 3.75hrs run)

Now, at least as importantly, here is what I accomplished:

Mon - Success!  Took a rest day.

Tues - 2.5hrs on the bike netted 54.8mi as prescribed - generally 230watts (W) for all but the intervals, which were at ~305W.  The run went as planned as well, though heart rate (HR) was quite high (more on that later).  10 miles at 6:20 pace and last mile at 7:20 for 70 minutes total.

Wed - swim done early in the morning when I can swim long course meters.  Definitely tired from Tuesday, though, core and legs particularly (which makes for slower, sloppier swimming).  Main set was 3600m - 3x [2x400 on 6:50, 8x50 on :55] mixing up some pull, some paddles.

Thur - As planned, netting 106miles in 5hrs 31sec.  One stop at mile 75 to refill (I have space for 5 bottles on my bike while training, reduced to 3 when racing).  As always at this point in training, I'm thinking "There's no way I can run a marathon after that."

Fri - slept an extra hour rather than doing my recovery swim.  Long run done in Forrest Park (I love Portland, OR) along the Lief Erickson Trail.  Mile markers every 0.25mi.  17 miles total in 1hr 52min.

Sat - I slept 11hrs Friday night - in addition to the 30' nap every day this week.  interval swim went south as soon as I started the harder section, and ended up becoming my recovery swim workout from Friday.  Mentally and physically the right decision.  I also had a swim lesson from local legend Dennis Baker that afternoon for what I think resulted in the first time in my life I swam twice in one day.  Dennis is helping to redo my stroke completely.  It's going to take quite a while, and it's slowed me down for now, but I can already see how it will in the long run (swim?) significantly improve my efficiency in the water.

Sun - we will see, but my RestWise score is up from 60 to 80 today, I'm up early and feeling energized again (and have time for this blog post finally!).  I'll be doing form drills with one of my new athletes (professional triathlete Damian Hill), and bike intervals on the trainer later this afternoon.  Those will hurt, but I think they will go well today. 

In reviewing my planned schedule and my actual schedule, there will be a moving of workouts in the future, if Coach Smyers agrees.  Saturday I think I am just too exhausted from the previous 4 days to be able to get a constructive swim workout in.  Thus my day off will move to Saturday and involve a recovery swim (1500yds easy).  Friday will then only be the long run, and the interval swim will move to Monday, when I have a bit more energy.  We will see how next week goes.  4 more weeks of hard training to go - with a lovely recovery week after next week - then taper arrives!

Going back to one part of interpreting HR data, HR will climb higher than effort would suggest when dehydration is setting in - less blood volume with the same demand from oxygen (i.e., pace, in this case), requires the heart to pump more often to circulate that lower blood volume.  Thus your HR goes up, even though your perceived effort does not.  This is an example of how training / racing with a HR monitor (though there are some pitfalls to be aware of) can be extremely beneficial, giving you nutritional status feedback.

Off to do my form drills running.  SO helpful for efficiency (i.e., faster speed with the same effort).  Thanks again for reading, following, and contributing!

Good training, and good day!

Time oh Time - Where Art Thou?

Time.  My Achilles heel.

Well, okay, I have lots of Achilles heels: at least two ( PT humor), but time certainly constitutes one of the biggest.  I should specify that the distinct lack of time hits me every day.  I know, I know - we all could use another 20-30 hours in a day, right?  Here is really where the MS gets me, though. 

My biggest complaint with MS revolves around fatigue.  My mother will attest that I have always needed more sleep than any other human she has ever met, and my wife (who needs less sleep than any other human I've ever met) would wholly agrees Truth be told, I love sleeping.  10 years ago if you asked me how much sleep I could use every night to optimize my function, I'd have said 9-10 hours at night, and I'm good to roll all day long, at least when training hard.  A nap once in a while filled the gaps formed by work, exercise, and being social (though I should point out that exercising with friends was a huge component of my social life - two birds with one stone!).  

Enter MS.  And one correction:  I loved sleeping.  Particularly since 2011, I have been tired.  My son was born in 2009, and while that first year was exceptionally difficult to someone who at the time loved sleep, it was not the worst.  That year my wife suggested that I  accept that I needed  a nap every day.  I did, though I made the mental note that needing and wanting a nap had distinctly different connotations in my head.   But (as usual), she was right, and things got a bit better.  Now I accept that I could for optimal function, I would need 11-14hrs of sleep per day.  Not conducive to living a "full" life.

Now I know a thought that crossed some minds reading this:  "Chris, you were training for 2 Ironman Triathlons that year - surely that accounts for a significant portion of your tiredness."  I will not disagree on that point at all!  Naps certainly help when training hard.  In fact, I've heard that research has shown that successful people of all fields find time to shut down for brief periods regularly throughout the day. I highly recommend naps to my athletes (and friends, and wife, and we both agree that our son benefits from them).

I disagree that the training puts the nail in the coffin for one, repeatable reason:  when I have a period of lighter training (or no training in off-season), I need far longer naps.  How much longer?  When training hard, I will feel a night and day difference off 10-30 minutes of napping.  When not training, I will finally feel that same night and day difference after 60-90 minutes of napping.  I put that in the significantly longer category.  My MD thinks it likely a product of sleeping harder at night when I'm training hard (as I really am physically tired from exercise).  I guess I'd buy that, though I suspect there's more to it than that.

Regardless of why, though, I've got a time suck:  train hard, but sleep less (an oxymoron if ever I've heard one), or train less and sleep more.  I know one thing:  MS leads to functional loss.  The stronger I stay, the more coordinated I am, the better my endurance, the more likely I'll still be able to function better than had I not been training hard all along.

Someone asked me if I plan to keep trying to get back to Kona after this year.  So long as it keeps me motivated to stay exceedingly fit, and my family permits me, you bet your butt I'll keep trying to go back.  It's my best defense against the inevitable. 

I just wish I didn't need a nap every day - and that it my wife wouldn't have to suggest (because it's obvious) that I go lay down and that she's happy to take care of our boy.  She is, of course, right again.  And while I no longer argue with her about that, I have come to the point over the last 6 months to resent the nap I used to cherish so much.  I could get so much more done if I didn't need all this damn sleep.

I'm just thankful I have such a wonderful wife and child who help me out.

With that, good training, and good night.

Needing a Little Inspiration

There are times that I find I need a little inspiration.  This came from a friend today (the guy with the bloody face - Roger Little).  Perfect timing to get me out the door when I'm not looking forward to the tingling effects of the heat outside.  

Thanks, Roger.

I apologize for not posting much recently.  I had a terrible bout of food poisoning arrive just prior to a big race.  That, of course, resulted in a poor race, and I've been both physically and mentally recouperating from that.  But I've got 2 posts in progress now continuing the discussion on the ingredients that I feel are required for a solid Ironman performance. 

In the meantime, get inspired.

http://eminemtube.com/ironman-till-i-collapse/

Expectations - meeting, exceeding, and falling short

First off, I again wanted to thank all those who've donated to help me fight Multiple Sclerosis and find the cure.  Together we're just under $3k!  Unbelievable.  Spread the word, contribute if you can (even $1 helps!), and follow the adventure.  Thank you.

This post comes a bit out of order in the Ironman ingredient list.  Recently I raced at the Pacific Crest Long Course triathlon outside of Bend, OR, and found myself staring this particular ingredient hard in the face.  As a result, it seems appropriate to discuss it now.  I know this post is exceptionally long, and I apologize.  This post serves both as lesson and race report.  IF you just want the lesson - skip to the end.  Hopefully you'll be intrigued enough to read the rest!

A week out of this race (my top non-Ironman race for the year), I looked forward to digging into the race scene again after having a pretty good showing a couple weeks earlier at the Blue Lake Olympic triathlon outside of Portland.  Poor swim, but then solid bike and fastest non-relay run of the day.  Good stuff.  Given that I'm training for long-course, I was eager to test my legs as that race suggested that my legs hadn't gotten the message that they had generally neglected speed work for short course.  I set my expectations fairly high, thinking that top 5 (in the prize money) was easily doable, and top 2 or 3 was in reach.  Maybe I'd even hit the jackpot and take home $1k as I did at the Stumptown Half in 2011.  I was excited...  tired, but excited.

Tuesday before the race, I made the mistake of eating those leftovers that tasted fine, but were of questionable age - I wouldn't feed them to my son, but I was okay chomping them down (all veggie).  within 3hrs I was not feeling chipper anymore, and after almost exactly 6 hours, my son got to see what I'd had for lunch hours earlier in the bathroom.  Lovely.  Fever set in, appetite bottomed out, and my hydrations status was, shall we say, less than ideal.  The next day, I weighed in 5 pounds lighter than the previous day.  I managed to get a single bowl of soup in me (across a few hours), and a few glasses of electrolyte drink.  Really not ideal taper week nutritional preparation.  I finally got a bit of an appetite back the following evening, though my stomach seemed to have shrunk in half.

Thursday brought improvement - I no longer felt like I'd been run over by a truck.  I guess that's improvement.  Mini-meals the rest of the day, and serious questioning of the race.  If my son wasn't signed up (and super excited) for his first triathlon (the Splash, Pedal, Dash), I would likely have bailed.  But Friday I was feeling substantially better, eating like a horse, and my mental status had re-shifted to thinking top 5 might still be in reach.  So we packed up, and headed south.  Watching (running alongside) my son, Mattias, doing his first ever triathlon was inspirational, thrilling, and exciting.  To describe me as "Proud Papa" would be a massive understatment.

Race morning - I've made my oatmeal and coffee.  Sitting down to eat, and after about 1/3rd of the bowl, I just push it back.   I could eat no more.  Expectations falling again.  I'm disliking this roller coaster ride.  I ask my wife if I should even start - I'd put that as the equivalent of a male stopping and asking directions.   Fortunately (unfortunately?) my bike is already up at transition - miles away from the finish line - and I've purchased a ticket on the bus to take me to T1.  So off I go.  "Can you make it a workout?" my wife asks.  I've already started to shift my expectations and goals to that end.

Once I finally reach the lake's edge, though, amongst all the other racers, I'm again feeling motivated.  "At least go through the motions, Chris - you never know what might happen.  Mabye low expectations will yield a breakthrough!"  Chatting up with fellow racer Craig Dean, I get the scoop on who's who.  Looks like there are about 5 guys who could all be in the same time-range, yours truely included.  Maybe I could pull it off?  The roller coaster continues...

BANG!

Out through the swim (my general nemisis), and I'm out fairly well, though left a bit of breakfast in the lake (sorry Craig!) - something else that's never happened to me before.  Over 20 years of triathlons -  this is a lot of firsts for one race!  Out on the bike, things are going well though I'm having trouble getting calories in.  "You can fake your way through a half" I hear myself saying.  "Not if you want prize money" comes the reply.  Back to the workout mentality - make this a go-to day for tough races.

Finishing the bike, I later find out I'm sitting in 3rd place.  Ordinarily this would make at least 3rd a matter of just having a decent run.  Unfortunately, I'm less than a mile in when I see my family, and I'm going fully a minute/mile slower than expected given the heart rate (HR) and effort I'm putting out.  4 miles later, I've stopped to try and get rid of stomach cramps.  HR falling, effort climbing (sure sign of caloric need).  

Just then I'm David Garcia comes by me and we exchange woes.  I mention that I'm not sure finishing is really a good idea.  "Finishing is always a good idea" he replies.  The perfect words at the needed moment.  Pace and HR continue to fall, effort continues to climb.  I have never concentrated so hard to go so slow.  I'm now 2min/mile slower for what feels like a full-on maximal run effort, and have 3 miles to go.  

Thoughts of my son come to mind.  "He didn't walk during his race - you can keep running."  Gotta keep running (my racing mantra).  Chugga chugga choo choo!  The mantra I've arrived at thinking of my son.  It keeps me going one dreadful foot in front of the next.

One goes through a short tunnel with about 1/3rd of a mile to the finish.  The crowd begins to thicken there.  Chugga chugga.  As the crowd thickens and the finishline approaches, I'm doing everything I can not to break down into tears.  I have no idea where these came from, but they are unstoppable.  I find a quiet corner in the recovery area and they just burst out.  Uncontrollable rolls of tears and sobbing.  

Until that moment, I had not realized what I had done, or how hard it had been.  I've gotten very good at not giving up - not quitting.  I thank my wife for that - she has taught me a lot in that arena.  But I've never been glycogen depleted like that and continued to push through.  Another first.  One that has taken me weeks to get over.  I do not wish to go there again.  I did not enjoy much of that race, and seriously detested much of it.  

My fantastic coach - Karen Smyers - points out that the depletion and pushing just breaks the barriers normally up to the public down, and I can understand that.  But the roller coaster of expectations, built up, dashed, and ultimately smashed (I finished 17th) shattered my mental strength.  

And hence the lesson of the day (hopefully you're still reading!):  set your expectations well.  Realize that expectations and goals form different aspects of going into a race.  Wanting to achieve a thing, and expecting to achieve a thing are different.  When goals become expectations, or expectations fail to realign with reality (such as fully accepting the effects of food poisoning).  As I said - over 20yrs of racing, and I'm still learning things. 

In the end, that's a good thing, if a frustrating one at times.

Next up - not sure.  Probably the Best in the West half-iron in early September, but regardless, still Kona bound!

Good training, and good night!

Training (Finally!)

Time to talk training (I know - finally!).  This is a long post (though I'm generally long-winded), so appologies in advance.  But approaching discussions about training require caution.  I've gone round and round in my head as to how to approach this topic.  First (across the next several posts), we will talk about the various aspects training requires.  Future postes will delve more specificity into what I do in training for my races (Kona included!).  I caution those  investigating how to do an IM to avoid confusing someone else's goals with their own.  I train the way I do because of the background, desire, and hopes that I have revolving around Ironman.  An IM "hopeful" should definitely not train the way I do, as they would likely get hurt, just as I would get hurt or sick training like Craig Alexander ("Crowie" - a 3-time IM World Champion and course record holder).   Construct your personal training  program based on your goals, experience, fitness, and desire.  If you need help, ask someone with experience, or hire a coach.

Training for an Ironman (IM) requires a mixture, or "recipe" of commitment, time, energy, intensity, discipline, sleep, nutrition, mental tenacity, and perhaps most importantly, well-chosen expectations.  The exact mixture of ingredients depends heavily on your goals - maybe finish your first IM (or triathlon, for that matter), set a new Personal Record (PR), place in your division, or maybe even win the whole race and be World Champion - and anywhere between.  

Today let's tackle the first 3:  Commitment, Time, and Energy.  I'll address them all in the next few blogs, and then give a basic outline of my historical training plan, and finally the recent training plan - taking into account MS, family, and work - things that add to the complexity of life after 40!

Commitment:  Finishing an IM requires an athlete to complete 2.4 miles of swimming, followed immediately by 112 miles of cycling, followed immediately by 26.2 miles of running all in under 17 hours (race starts at 7am with the course closing at midnight the same day)  Why these distances?  In 1978, the founders of the Ironman, living in Hawaii, took 3 existing competitions and just put them together:  The Waikiki Roughwater Swim (2.4miles), the Around-Oahu Bike Race (112mi), and the Honolulu Marathon (26.2mi).  Crazy to some - enticing to me (and many others).   Finishing, while not a small feat, is less difficult than one might expect.  I say this based on many many athletes who, after finishing their first IM, tell me, "You were right, that wasn't as bad as I expected."  If you've never done an IM, keep that in mind as you weigh the sanity of those toeing the starting line.  But one certainly needs to commit to the mixture needed to accomplish their respective goals.  This October, IM World Championships will be my 17th IM, and my 6th race in Kona itself after qualifying 9 times.  Thus while finishing the race serves as the fundamental goal, the main goal revolves around setting a new personal course record in Kona - currently 9:25 for me, set back in 2006 - you read that right - before all this MS stuff got started.  My family (one of the best in the world!) fully supports the effort, and that support deserves lofty goals.  Check that ingredient off:  I (we!) are committed!

Time:  A portion of commitment encompasses the understanding that doing all this training will require a certain amount of time - swimming, cycling, running, eating, sleeping, showering (something my family and co-workers find particularly beneficial), day-in and day-out for months at a time (or years, in my case).  How much time?  There begins the differences between how I train, and how most people train to race an Ironman.  I am known as a "minimalist" trainer.  I don't mean footwear, I mean time.  My overall hourly volume of training falls on the lower (and in some cases, lowest) range of what most anticipate being required to finish, let alone race, an Ironman.  Most folks "in the know" would probably suggest 18-23hrs per week of swimming, biking, and running during the last 10 weeks or so of IM prep.  Prepping for IM New Zealand this past March, where I finished in 9:33 - my 4th fastest IM ever - I trained an average of 11.7hrs during the final 10 weeks of IM prep.  My longest week was under 14hrs.  That's what I mean by a "minimalist" trainer.  

The trade-off comes in the form of intensity, which we will talk about another time.  But suffice to say that I train at a high intensity.  I occasionally train with some of the local pro triathletes here in Portland, Oregon, and one made the comment that what I'm doing is really pro-level training.  I countered that the workouts may be at that level (at least biking and running - I won't kid myself about my swimming capabilities!), the underyling easy miles don't exist in my program.  The extra 10 hours/week of training that would get added to my program, were I to have the time, would come in the form of base-level effort rather than high intensity.  I guess you could say that I'm on the "Pro-lite" program.  Perhaps that's why I have the endearing nickname, "Semipro."  Thanks, Team Psycho...  But the time expectations are in line with past IM training programs.  I know what to expect there.  Check that ingredient off:  time.  And a huge thank you to my wife and son for the family committment noted above, granting me that time.

Energy:  By "energy", I do not mean the effort put into a given workout - "intensity" -   but rather having  the energy to successfully accomplish the workout(s) for that day.   Quick physiology tip of the day:  you get faster when you rest.  Training, the stimulus, breaks the body down - physically, by damaging various cells in the body; nutritionally, by using up fuel and hydration resources;  and mentally, by inducing some amount of central fatigue.  Each of these topics reach way beyond the scope of today's entry.  Take home the notion that training just breaks you down.   Recovery allows reformation of damaged cells, rehydration and topping off stored fuel sources, and regenerating the ability to harness the mental tenacity to successfully tackle the next workout.  Anyone can train hard, and train themselves straight into injury, or worse, burnout.  One of the big keys, in my mind, to longevity of a training and racing career revolves around appropriate recovery strategies.  I have used RestWise (www.restwise.com) for several years now, and found it a helpful objective tool to guide my decisions for completing, modifying, or sometimes just bailing on the scheduled workout of the day.  Experience plays a huge role in determining those decisions as well, but RestWise helps.

Enter multiple sclerosis:  the biggest complaint I have about MS (and one of the most common compliants associated with MS) is fatigue.  While hard to explain - and I don't know that it can be well-explained so chime in if you have a better explanation - reminds me of "food narkiness".  We have all experienced that point at which hunger turns sharply into downright nastiness - our temper flares, and we want nothing other than food - NOW!   My fatigue is something like that.  I will go from generally being tired and wanting a nap to suddenly being annoyed, angry, and needing a nap.  Ironically, when training hard, those naps tend to be shorter (30-40min) than when I'm in a rest week, or taper, or off-season (1-1.5hrs).  I used to like to take naps because they helped.  My wife suggested I accept that I need to take a nap every day.  And while overall, I think it's helped my general attitude, I have come to resent the need for these naps.  My doctor - a sports medicine specialist, nutritionist, and generally really smart guy - believes that I need shorter naps when training because I sleep harder at night.  That seems to make sense.  I still don't like needing to sleep in the parking lot of my gym before a pool workout just so I can get through it.  But there you have it.  That has been my solution to making sure I have the energy to tackle the day's workout:  naps.  Love them or hate them, I need them.  Add that to the time needed catagory, and commit.

Speaking of which...  nap time.  Thanks for reading and supporting the cause!

Good Training, and Good Night!

Father's Day (a couple days early)

Wow folks!  We've managed to raise over $2000 so far for research on Multiple Sclerosis.   Help the Fight Against Multiple Sclerosis  Thank you so much for your remarkable support, and please keep spreading the word!

So Sunday is Father's Day.  That day has become much more special to me since my son came along 4 years ago.  Today I'd like to pay tribute to my own father, who I believe deserves much of the credit for my life-long pursuit of racing.  You see, he ran my first road race with me 38 years ago.  That one -mile race might have been my best shot at a world record, as I finished in under 20 minutes.  Not bad for a 2 year old.  And while I don't remember it, he swears I ran the whole way by myself - and we weren't last across the finish line.

Growing up in the 70's at the dawn of the running "boom", I remember going to road races with my father and watching him racing from the side of this road, and that road.  I remember some of the scenes of races that I ran myself as well.  In particular I remember running down a road through a forest with tall trees all around, but not much underbrush.  You could see down the road a ways, even though it was winding through the woods.  I still think of that race sometimes - it was such a peaceful run.  In my memory it was snowing, though I don't know if that's something I added as time has gone on - funny how memories work sometimes.

I recall numerous runs I'd go on with my father.  We lived on a street in Newtown, CT (yes - that Newtown) that was exactly 1 mile long.  He would head out on his runs, and then I would join him later for a lap.  Sometimes he would keep running after that, and sometimes he would finish with me. Other times we would run at the track.  It was there he said to me one day, "You don't always get the best improvements in your running by sprinting the end of every training run."  I literally thought about that particular advice last week for some reason.    Funny how memories work sometimes, indeed.

I haven't uttered that to my son yet, but I will at some point.  For my little guy right now it's more on the lines of "Sprinting at the start isn't always the fastest way to do your race."  He's fairly accomplished for a kid who just turned 4.  He's done 2 KiddieCross races (cyclocross bike races for little folk) and 3 running races.  He's very excited to do his first triathlon in Bend, OR in 2 weeks - the Splash, Pedal and Dash as part of the Pacific Crest Triathlon weekend festival.   I don't know that he will grow up to be a runner, a triathlete, a soccer player, or a couch potato.  What I do know is that because my Dad took the time to run with me while I was growing up, I was able to see how much fun it could be.  I still do (though for the record,  I like cycling more).  I do hope my son grows up to be half the man my Dad is - that would be a success in my mind.

Thank you , Dad.  I wouldn't be who I am today without you.  Happy Father's Day.

Why Race with Multiple Sclerosis

People tell me I'm extraordinary for doing what I do, given that I have MS.  I have always found that an odd comment.  I did my first triathlon in 1992 - Colorado's Longmont Triathlon still exists today!  Since then, I've raced at the collegiate national level (go CU Buffs!), the amateur national and world championship level, and the Ironman (IM) world championship level.  I've started - and finished -  16 Ironman races in 4 countries: the US, Canada, Switzerland, and most recently New Zealand this past March.  My fastest IM (9:10)  came in 2005 at Ironman Florida. 

I put this brief resume out there to illustrate what I hope people understand about me:  that I give it my all at races despite having MS.  Put another way, MS hasn't changed what I expect out of myself any more than any other barrier to training - family, friends, work, cooking, eating, sleeping, injury, rehab, body maintenance work.  The perception of these barriers takes on a positive or negative connotation in our own view.  I will look at an injury as a negative, of course, but having an injury may or may not limit my training - it depends on the injury. But I guarantee you that I (and just about any other competition-driven individual out there) would do the same - train as hard as reasonable given the circumstances.  Why should MS change that attitude?

In fact, I'd argue that it should, if anything, reinforce that attitude.  The stronger and more coordinated I am, the better.  The higher my level of endurance, the better.  The tougher mentally I am, the better.  MS is only, inevitably, going to strip those away from me.  The higher I set the bar now, the farther the bar can fall before it hits the bottom.  To this day I think one of the main reasons I stayed out of a wheelchair in 2008 when I had transverse myelitis is because I was so strong and had such good endurance to begin with - because getting up a single flight of stairs just about did me in each time.  Getting the mail certainly did.  

MS has changed the way I approach training.  I need naps now (rather than enjoy naps).  I stretch more. I have a renewed (and thankfully lasting) interest in lifting - I do a lot of TRX and kettle bell work now.  I wish I had done it years ago - it makes that much of a difference.  I swim generally two times per week now instead of three, because the gym work more than makes up for it in core strength, endurance, and coordination.  So, in a way, I suppose I need to thank my MS for that.  Never thought I'd say that...

It should not go unstated that I am truly thankful to have an understanding wife - and let me tell you that is the understatement of the day.  Micha has done 8 IM's herself, including a trip to Kona after qualifying at IM Wisconsin in 2006.  She understands why I do what I do.  She understands what it means to me to continue pushing myself to my limit.  She gives me permission to continue fighting, in no small part because she also realizes that I may not be able to do this when I'm 70 like I always thought I could.  Without her support, my goals and aspirations would fall apart.  Indeed, much of my ability to suffer well out there on the race course comes from thinking about whether she would keep pushing in my shoes - and she most certainly would.  So while I still can, I'll just continue to do what I've always done - race hard, race well, and (fingers crossed) race fast.

Good Training, and Good Night!

Next up:  Blue Lake Olympic Triathlon - this Sunday (6/9/2013)!

OHSU MS Research Center - Making a Difference in the Lives of Those with MS

The Oregon Health and Science University (OHSU) has a top-notch MS Research Center.  This is one of the primary reasons I have chosen to raise funds for them (donate to the cause here: http://bit.ly/11jTDEA and thank you!).  You will see that much of their research gets started with support from folks just like you and I.  Without it, the research into MS might not ever get off the ground.  The OHSU MS Center has had a number of accomplishments this last year. I would like to highlight three.

First, they were awarded a $3 million grant by the Department of Veterans Affairs to conduct a trial of RTL1000 in secondary progressive MS.  RLT1000 was invented at OHSU by research scientists Drs. Arthur Vandenbark, Gregory Burrows and Halina Offner.  This novel therapy controls disease causing white blood cells and enters the brain and spinal cord where it can control special cells called microglia which we believe causes injury in progressive MS.  Importantly, philanthropic gifts were important to the early development of RTL1000 and would not have been invented without these early gifts.  There are a number of things they need to do before the clinical trial of RTL1000 can move forward, including getting permission from the FDA to do the trial, and they hope to start the clinical trial in late 2013.

Second, they have continued to make progress on developing a drug that can protect mitochondria from injury.  They believe that such a drug would be beneficial in all forms of MS, including progressive disease.  With support from the NIH, they screened over 600,000 different small molecule drugs and identified about 30 that looked promising.  These drugs are now being tested in the laboratory of a collaborator, Dr. Paolo Bernardi at the University of Padua.  His testing will identify the most promising 3-4 drugs.  OHSU plans to test these in the mouse model of MS in mid to late 2013.  Philanthropic support was important to their initial research that led to their discovering the mitochondrial “target” for these new drugs.

Third, they are nearing completion of the first ever clinical trial of a low fat vegan diet for MS using brain MRI as the primary measure of effectiveness of the diet.  This complicated trial involves over 50 people with MS.  The last volunteer exits the trial next March and they should have initial data on the trial toward the middle of 2013.  This trial is being supported entirely by the McDougall Foundation using gifts made to the foundation to support diet research.  They also completed their first 8-week wellness program for people with MS, called Living Brain Wellness.  This pilot program was a tremendous success with 15 people finishing the program.  The participants were extremely enthusiastic and were experiencing a variety of health benefits from the program.  They want to expand this approach to as a way to give people with MS the “tools” they need to improve their general health.  They believe this will also benefit their MS and plan on studies to establish this.  This is a unique approach to MS that is not being pursued by other traditional MS Centers.

 

I find the dual role the OHSU plays in not only delving into cutting edge research, but also into practical application of strategies that those with MS can apply now.  Something like altering your diet (possibly completely) requires quite a bit of effort and support - and the OHSU MS Center helps out tremendously.

Beginning Today

The crusade against Multiple Sclerosis begins today.

This is not the first, by any means.  Many others have started on this journey before me.  But today, I start my own effort to make a difference.

Hello. My name is Chris Ramsey.  I have multiple sclerosis.  I initially started down the road in 2008 with transverse myelitis.  All signs came back at that point indicating that MS was just a matter of time.  I started on MS medications (Copaxone) within 2 months of developing TM.  Clinical diagnosis of MS came 3 years later.

Hello. My name is Chris Ramsey.  I am an elite age-grouper triathlete.  I have qualified for the Ironman World Championships 9 times.  This October I will return to Kona, HI to compete there for the 6th time.  As always, I hope to do better than ever before (117th overall in 2006).  This will be my 3rd time racing there since I started down the road of MS (2009, 2011, and 2013). 

Hello.  My name is Chris Ramsey.  I am asking for your support to alter the course of Multiple Sclerosis in our world.  I am dedicating my Ironman World Championships race this October to raise awareness of Multiple Sclerosis, who it affects, what it can does, and how I've coped with it.  I am trying to raise funding to research ways to combat this debilitating disease.  I am trying to make it something one can only read about in a history book.

Hello.  My name is Chris Ramsey.  I would be honored if you would follow my story and help this journey affecting so many of those around me and around you.  Are you up to the challenge?

Please visit http://bit.ly/11jTDEA and contribute today

Good Training, and Good Night!