Ever since the accident in January, I've been struggling in more ways than one. On the one hand, I developed my most consistent base ever while training for an Ironman Lake Placid. Tons and tons of aerobic mileage training we call zone 1-2. Gees, I should be fit and fast? I suppose I cleared enough atherosclerotic plaque to last a few years. I actually loved the training and put more hours/week than I ever have. I suppose everyone I knew thought doing Ironman was ridiculous. Maybe they were right? I also was not working much, so I had to do something besides thinking about my injuries. I keep this helmet, but decided to store it away so I don't have to look at the 4 crush spots. At least the helmet has better ventilation now! As I said before, this thing saved my life. said 
I didn't finish Ironman Lake Placid. I suppose, no surprise lookin back. However, the prerace dinner media show had me more inspired than ever. It expoed Ironman racing as a pure and simple agonizing pleasure. It was a powerful message! Racing for the experience and pleasure of it and conquering something difficult. Pleasure may not be the answer to happiness, as who would debate that racing an Ironman is a happy experience. But isn't pleasure a part of a well lived life?
That race, my brain and body I suppose, ended up in a piled heap at mile 112 on the bike. Nutrition plan gone disarray? Training intensity to easy for the elevation that Lake Placid provides? My knee was fine in training, but obviously wasn't trained for the strain of 112 miles of hills? At mile 60 I was laying down on the ground in pain with a belly full of ibuprofen and peptobismol to get me thru the day. Trying to get my stomach vasculature to wake up so I could absorb just something, oh please! I remember thinking how ridiculous it was of all my previous suggestions to racers. I was now using them, forgetting them, or messing it all up. Since the accident, my body sure behaves differently. Race day nutrition, "phooey" I said at mile 20 on the bike as I either couldn't get thru the crowds to stop or only got bottled gatorade. At mile 56 I started remembering bottled gatorade contains high fructose corn syrup. I can easily tolerate that at longer races, but not at this intensity. Unfortunately my new brain is more forgetful when at race pace. Messing up the nutrition haunted me on that final loop or as I lay there on the grass looking up at Whiteface Mtn. I pedaled the remaining miles slowly straight to the medical tent. After receiving an IV, I later found that accepting that IV was an automatic DNF. Could I have limped thru that marathon? Ruined my vacation with my family? In reality, one of the reasons I was there was to force myself to train to help get over the injuries, so I had no problem just joining my family on the bus trip back to the hotel hours earlier than anticipated. Being in the medical tent, the very tent I volunteered in many years ago, reminded me why I chose to come back to Ironman Lake Placid. Yes, a few positive things happened that day. Being in the medical tent, the first casualty was a male having chest pain and seemingly a heart attack. While I was getting riddled by the nurse and EMT for being an idiot doctor, and although I had an IV in me and knee was wrapped in ice bags on a stretcher , I at least provided some advice to the supervising physician about his patient having myocardial ischemia, what we call a heart attack. Ironman at least got me on my feet again and maybe saved someone's life.
56 miles
At one time, I mistakenly jeered at the challenge of an Ironman, like many adventure racers do. I learned that my old body isn't back yet and far from it, and two, it's alot harder race than many people imagine when trying to race it fast. So, someday I will get that marathon in also. Another goal! I don't think it's an easy challenge anymore. In fact, no race has been easy since the accident. The first swim lap, I felt like I was pummeled to death. That's not too fun! The second lap I was 3-5 minutes faster as I found lungs are better adapted to breathing air than lake water. The first 30 miles of bike I was at 24.5 mph with a heart rate average in mid zone 2, 23.9 mph by the halfway point at 56 miles. There was a slight tailwind. I felt good but could sense the coming cataclysm. Brain fog was setting in. I thought I was going easy? I was racing for things like PR or first in age group which wasn't a plan, but somehow being back in the heat of it, that was my natural intention. Big mistake. I had somehow caught the tailend of the pro male field and I mistakenly thought that was the answer to racing happiness. The race was then basically over at 56 miles. My body shutting down so fast it was shocking. It was a slap in the face. What does a PR or age group place really mean then, deep down? Anyhow, that event told me how far I am away from being myself again.
I then competed in a surfski race (one in which my brotherinlaw and I hold the course record) and got last place and fell off the boat twice. That was an even bigger slap in the face and a rude wakeup call that I have a long way to go. In reality this was only weeks ago. I was far enough off a PR to laugh, if a PR is what I was after. Still, deep down, as awful as my performance was, I sensed a new feeling coming on. The race was the most painful paddle race I have done, physically and emotionally. Still though, I was getting pleasure out of just doing it, even if I wasn't remotely competitive.
I'm only a few weeks away from competing in Mayor's Cup 2009, possibly one of the harder marathon kayak races I can think of. For the first time, I have some fear and maybe dread of the race. I'm clearly not who I used to be. Should I be doing this? On the other hand, Mayor's Cup will be a new challenge for me. An ever greater challenge than before. Maybe I will actually obtain intense pleasure by just racing around Manhattan. For the first time, I really don't care what I get placement wise. So, just today, Im thinking of how cool it will be to just simply race around that Island we call Manhattan. I ended up rethinking racing it on a surfski, and will remain in a more stable kayak. Maybe my goals have finally been readjusted more appropriately?
Getting last place in the local kayak race: I don't think I've ever finished worse than top 3 ever in a local paddle race. I did that 2 hr race in the past 15 min faster but in a slower and wider boat. Something about my balance not being there causing me to fall off the surfski, as it was mostly flat water, or was my fitness just not back? Just another challenge I suppose, but that race adjusted my way of thinking.
I competed in a 24 hr bike solo RAAM qualifier this year and was hobbled with knee pain causing me to get off the bike at 11+ hrs. I had three things going on with that knee but I somehow just wanted to be out there. I managed 19+ mph to stay above qualifying pace, but I couldn't attack any of the hills for fear of the knee acting up. I let the lead pack go, something I normally just can't do, racing it opposite of last year, interestingly enough to see those leaders again at 8-9 hrs as they slowed down. Some people may think "gees, you did 225 miles, you should be happy." I guess it was a nice long zone 1-2 day. Maybe I should be thrilled, and maybe deep down I am. It's still amazing for my neurologist to comprehend. But getting last place in the surfski race reset me. Last year, the race was agonizing mentally as I wasn't enjoying such alone periods on the bike. This year, I enjoyed just being on the bike, waving to the farmers, counting the numerous fields of corn. Compared to last year, this time I wasn't able to put out the same wattage, but I really enjoyed the race.
More recently, I've done a few cyclocross races, but unable to generate the anaerobic power in training because of the knee and my brain just can't tolerate very high heart rate spikes. My performance has been lackluster so far. I'm racing with team Adventures for the Cure , and haven't produced any significant results. Almost embarassing if I were to dwell on it, if the only pleasure I got was from winning. But honestly, I stopped dwelling. At this pace, my results won't allow me to bump up into the front 2 lines that are coveted in cyclocross. Racing behind 50-90 racers like I have been doing, has been one of the greatest aerobic challenges I have had. I think it is good. So, I have another challenge, and that's to get to those front 2 lines, but the reality is it will take awhile or maybe I will never get there, and Im gonna at least enjoy that challenge. Last week, I road the first lap in 5th-8th place till I rolled a tubular off the rim. As bumming as it may seem to have to DNF, I was enjoying the simple pleasure of racing.
When I first jumped on the Cross bike this season, I immediately found I couldn't clip into the pedal on the left side, specifically when trying to do a clip in at sprint effort when not visualing sighting my foot. Just lingering effects of a traumatic brain injury. It was sort of a slap in the face, but clipping in became another challenge. So, I honestly practiced 200 hundred clipins till my legs could barely straddle the bike. Quietly and slowly, I am enjoying these challenges, as they are new to me.
My cardiovascular engine just hasn't been put thru the high pace efforts yet. At least consistently and structured. I just can't tolerate them yet. I'm not really sure when I can go completely all out without having problems, but the engine is slowly improving. I'm finally sensing the engine starting to come out of hibernation. Will the race goals change? The new neuromuscular connections are seeming to become more efficient. My 20k TT pace 3 weeks ago on my new TT bike was 26.2 mph, so I know I'm getting there. Does it matter though? I've been unable to sustain consistent power on the bike for whatever reason the last 8 months, but my new powertap is showing improvement. I ran 5 min intervals the other day and it was the first time I wasn't overcome with brain fog and a headache. A huge milestone! I take that has a greater PR than anything. It was one of the most enjoyable workouts I have done. The knee seems to be quieting down. Right now, I think my PR is simply to race without pain or symptoms.
Honestly, all thru this, I debated giving up racing. I struggled with it mentally. I wasn't doing well, it was more painful,and I don't have the same confidence. But, does racing for a PR or win truly make us happy? I would argue it does give us intense pleasure, but not true long term happiness. That is, unless training and racing is apart of who we are and it makes us fitter and healthier. Getting outside or even staying indoors to elevate the heart rate, is really the true answer to happiness. It least it has been shown scientifically to be the case. Exercise alone can be more effective than St. John's Wort or any newer serotonin antidepressant.
While I debated giving up racing, I started to think why I race in the first place. To get outside, to be fit, to take care of ourselves, encourage others to exercise, etc etc. Possibly, even more worthy, to race for a cause. I am now a member of Team Adventures for the Cure. However, the fact is, racing is usually stripped down to competition and solely PR's. We all look at those times, the splits, how many laps we completed, what place we got. Deep down, does it really matter? I suppose it does, especially if it gives us motivating encouragement to get out there, train harder, remain fit, and to continue to be an active citizen. When I was stripped of the ability to win or set a PR, the other more significant tangible things came to light. So, I suppose I will always be active and get outside.
Cardiovascular disease still runs rampant in the US population, which is something that will always keep me running. That is, running from the thing that kills more people than any other disease or accident. This whole thing has taught me to take a step back and try to enjoy racing for what it is, and not to hinge happiness on solely winning. It wasn't easy, and maybe I'm becoming enlightened? Or maybe I'm just foolin myself? Is it a defense mechanism for being "back in the pack?"
The reality is, I feel fortunate that I'm healthy and active and not littered with cancer or suffering from another debilitating disease. As I have found, living with a brain injury isn't easy, but exercise helps me get through the day. I am less stressed of missing a workout, less focused on the time it takes to get to a place to training, and less focused on the powertap or the speedometer. The pure reality: there are so many more unfortunate people out there who can't bike 11 hrs, attempt an Ironman, even begin to fathom getting on a surfski, or whatever.
So, it's as simple as readjusting my goals and outlook. However, deep down, the desire is burning stronger than ever trying to climb back up. That's the new challenge for now. Maybe just having challenges is the answer to happiness? All the goals have been stripped down, and I see these new challenges emerging. In the meantime, I have thrown away doing solo RAAM, which got replaced by other goals. Maybe less lofty in my old mind, but surely more appropriate? I got asked by two separate teams to race 2010 RAAM with them. Either 2-person vs 4-person. It seems as though there will be a 4-person RAAM team based out of the Midatlantic area, possibly racing as a team from Annapolis, and racing for a charity, and not merely ourselves.
In a few weeks, I'm doing my first team adventure race since the accident. Sometimes life is a struggle, but life is always good! I believe God meant it that way.
