Into the Woods

You remember that part in the Matrix when Neo was first talking to the Oracle?

In the scene, the Oracle looks at Neo.  She looks above his shoulders and asks "Do you know what that means?  It's latin.  It means know thyself."

When I watched that movie when I was 13, that part resonated with me.  I took it to heart and always made sure I discovered myself as much as I could.  Over time, I have taken that to a degree where I have stopped myself from doing things I know I would enjoy.

That sounds bad at first glance but when you have an addictive personality, you attempt to protect yourself from potentially altering your lifestyle whether it be in a good, bad, or indifferent way.  This includes partaking in activities and events I would thoroughly enjoy.  For example, the only reason I have not learned how to surf is because I know I would want to do it year round and push the limits. Knowing that, I have stayed away and just stick to body surfing for the time being.

So when I started to get in shape to do my first triathlon, I stumbled on the book "Ultramarathon Man" by Dean Karnazes and got introduced to the world of Ultra Running.

Ultra running is simply any distance greater than the marathon distance of 26.2.

To give you a quick summary of the book, Dean starts ultra running on his 30th birthday and runs 30 miles.  Dean hasn't ran since he was 15.  He just decided to run 30 miles for his 30th birthday because he felt his life was stagnant.  He was suffering from a mid-life crisis and did something about it.  So after he recovers from torturing his body for 30 miles, he starts training and then he mistakenly discovers ultra running races and decides to give it a try.

Throughout the book, you relive his first 50 miler, 100 miler, and the toughest race on the planet: Badwater.  And through his experiences, I was enamored and inspired to do start running ultras myself.

Now, when I started doing triathlons, I was in the worst shape of my life.  I was intimidated by doing a sprint distance so even thinking about running over 30 miles when I haven't even biked that distance or even finished a half marathon (at that point in time) was way out of the picture.

However, the seed had been planted.  I knew that I would eventually do one.

So when my good friend Jason told me he was doing one and ended up not doing much training, I started to gain interest.  I had just come off a very disappointing race in Timberman where I gave up so I wanted to punish myself in a sense since I was mentally weak and the majority of any ultra marathon is going through mental struggles.

It didn't take much convincing.

I signed up for the Blues Cruise 50k in Reading, PA held at Blue Marsh Lake three weeks before the race began.  

The longest distance I had run by that point: 15 miles.

I'm ready.

So when Jason, Buggey, and I lined up at the starting line, none of us were ready.  We were all ill-prepared...to put it lightly.  So we planned to stick together, walk the uphills, take our time at the aid stations, and offer support to each other.

The gun goes off and it's a pretty cool scene.  Just under 400 runners with full of energy and wearing water backpacks, handheld water bottles, and/or fanny pack endurance kits running together on a mostly single track trail to better themselves on a fall Sunday.

The morning was perfect for running.  Since Hurricane Joaquin did the polite thing and went out to sea, the air was still cool from all of the rain and it was overcast with temperatures around the low 50s.

Perfect...simply perfect for running.

At mile 6, Jason, Buggey, and I were talking fantasy football and enjoying ourselves as we continue to embark on our journey.  Then, when we crossed a bridge, all of us simultaneously starting screaming in pain.  Buggey was in mid sentence when he started to yelp.  We start slapping the back of calves and knees with hands of fury to stop this immediate pain.  After a few slaps, I look down to see what the hell is going on.  A yellow jacket bee was stinging me.  I slapped the bee off but the stinger was still stuck in my skin.  I pulled out the stinger and assessed how Buggey and Jason were doing.  They were both wearing high socks and I guess the yellow jackets could give a shit about that.  Jason ended getting stung around 8 times.

This is the first time I have ever encountered a yellow jacket.  I have always heard that they are super aggressive and that aggressiveness increases when you disturb their hive.

Now, all of us are in pain going forward.  Like we needed to up the pain meter at all.

Around mile 8, the pain in the run started to settle in my quads and calves.  23 miles to go.  This should be interesting.

At the aid station at mile marker 10, a change of landscape occurred in the course.

The first 10 miles was relatively flat and easy going.  There was barely any elevation change and the course is supposed to pack just under 4000 feet of climbing.  Oh boy...we are only getting started.

Well, right after we stocked up on some goodies and got our water bottles filled up with Gatorade and water, the hills hit us hard.  Now, it helps us greatly when you are power hiking and not running, but these hills are on a slope percentage of 20% so it is no easy task.  We worked the up hills and utilized the downhills to our advantage.  We took our time and made sure we didn't expend too much energy while utilizing what the course gives us.  Taking advantage of anything that becomes available is vital to us finishing well.

At mile 12, something weird happened.  The pain burst onto the scene but in a unique way.

Pain entered into all parts of my body.  The nervous system was acting on overdrive but this was different.  Something I have never felt before.

The pain felt good.  Really good.  The serotonin, dopamine, and endorphins were flowing freely and it put me in almost a euphoric state.  So, I went with it.  I locked into this comfortable pace and started moving.  Over time, Buggey and Jason's voice start to soften and before I knew it, I couldn't hear them anymore.  I quickly looked behind me and they were nowhere in sight.  I wasn't planning on doing this and it was my intention to stay with them but I locked into this mode and rode it like a wave.  I didn't want it to end.

This is the epitome of masochism.  I had never felt like this before and I never wanted to go away.  It felt incredible to be in such pain.  There is no other way to explain it.  Logically, I know I shouldn't  enjoy being in so much pain but I did.

This naturally induced drug high lasted until around mile 20, where the race really started and the pain was the only thing that remained.  At this point, this is the farthest I had run since I did the marathon in the Ironman over three years ago and I still had 11 miles left to go.  This is also where the toughest part of the course was.  There was zero flat sections.  I was either going up or down and even though I was power hiking all of the uphills, it still hurt.  A lot.  My hip flexors, calves, hamstrings, quads, and my meniscus were screaming at me.  What started to hurt the most was the downhills, which should be my best friend but since my meniscus were so tender, that any pressure from going downhill gave me tremendous amount of pain.  I tried to manage as best I could and put the pain out of my mind.

At mile 25, I thought about doing a 50 miler and how depressing this mile marker would have been with the pain I was feeling and knowing I was only halfway to the finish.  I gained more respect for that distance.

Thank God I only had 6 miles left.

Every mile started to become my mission.  I started to stare at my GPS watch more frequently, rationalizing every move I made.

Just get to the last aid station.

Just get up this hill and take your time on the downhill.

One step at a time.

After I stop and eat some delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at the last aid station (mile mark 26.5), I thought I hit the jackpot.  The course became flat, wide, and on grass.  Plus, with just loading up on some calories at the aid station, it gave me a energy boost.  I started moving at a decent clip.

I look down at my watch and observe I am moving at an 8:15 pace which 27 miles in, I thought was pretty impressive.

I started passing people left and right and each pass giving me more energy and confidence going forward.  The pain that was plaguing me before became a distant memory.  If the last few miles are like this, I will finish way above my original time.

Jason, Buggey, and I thought we would be around 6 hours.  Then, when I broke off and looked at my pace during the half way point, I knew I would break six.  At around mile 25, it became apparent that I would break 5:45 unless something catastrophic occurred.  When I looked at my watch just as I heard my GPS watch ring the 28th mile in, breaking 5:35 seemed to be insight.

Then...mile 29.

The last two miles was completely uphill and it destroyed every bit of confidence and energy I had.  All of the pain came rushing back and I hit a terrible low.  I didn't want to be out there anymore.  Everything hurt and all I could think about was "I could be at my friend's house watching football.  Why the fuck did I do this?!?  I wanted to quit so badly and just walk my way to the finish.  I just wanted the pain to stop.  Every step hurt more and more and tears started to appear in my eyes.

One step at a time.

This is why you signed up for this.  To feel extreme pain and push through it.

I power hike the tough uphills and run when it is feasible.

Then, appeared the finishing area.

I saw Jason's parents and wife and couldn't be happier to see them.  They were great to come and support us and fantastic at finding multiple points to see us and cheer us on.  They have no idea how much that means to us.  It's a great power boost.

A smile comes across my face because I am too tired to do my usual Dragonball Z power up finish scream.

I cross the finish line at 5:41:49 and 109th overall.

I am humbled and invigorated by the race and distance.  It did exactly what I needed it to do.

I needed to fight through pain and push harder to get through it.

I needed to be humble by what real pain feels like, not perceived pain.

I needed to connect again in why I do this.  I had lost my way.

It did all of this and more...now I am addicted to ultra marathons and looking for more.

Know Thyself

Living on the Edge: Part 2

This is the second part of the Crib Goch climb.  If you need to catch up, click here.  Again, this is directly coming from my travel journal.  98% of this is verbatim.  I only altered a few things due to grammar.

To the story:

I get terrible sleep due to the fact I am retarded and decided to watch more Youtube videos (1) and some episodes of Top Gear.

(1) Below is one of the videos I watched.  Warning!  It is extremely graphic and something I will never forget.  I actually just watched this again for the first time since this very story commenced.

                                                          I am not a smart person.

Brilliant Idea

I check the weather (2) and it is not looking good.  I am slightly happy inside because I really don't want to do this.  I usually love these type of adventures but the websites continually warn to not do it if you are not properly equipped. 

(2) Rain and Wind...ahhh  What I am doing?

I had a T-Shirt, jeans, running shoes, and a cheesy smile.  Some may say that won't cut it. 

However, Jones is determined to do it and I don't have the heart (or balls) to stop him.  George drives us up to the start of the hike after we make some sandwiches for breakfast and lunch.  When he drops us off, we immediately see Crib Goch, yet we can't see the top of the mountain since it is in the clouds. 

It's pretty windy and it rained last night. 

Let the adventure begin.

As we start the hike, I see people on the mountain and it doesn't appear they are hiking at all.  They are literally climbing.  I look at Jones and he's a bit surprised as well.  He has never done this either, but he claims his 78 year old grandpa did this 5 years ago.  I will not be shown up by someone three times my age (3).

(3) I don't have an ego problem at all.

We press on and as we get closer, I stop and say to Jones "that mountain is unbelievably intimidating yet awe inspiring."  My adventurous side is starting to take over which is a relief, but I am still very afraid.

I would also like to note I am afraid for one reason.

Lindsay Keogh

I love the girl with all my heart.  I never would have imagined or conceptually ponder how much  anybody can love anything as much as I love her.  I am consistently thinking about her and as long as I have her, I must take care of it and putting my life in a bluntly stupid situation is a contradiction of those beliefs.  If I was single, I truly wouldn't care and I would be all about this.  I know that sounds unfair to the rest of my family and friends but their are honestly two people in my life.

Lindsay and everybody else.

We get to a point where we can take the pussy way out and take the beginner's trail up to Snowdon Mountain or continue our way up Crib Goch.  Jones and I look at each other and press on.

There was no turning back now.

The further we climbed up the mountain, the tougher it became.  There wasn't any clear cut path.  You made it up as you go.  We were with three other groups of people and all of us went up a different route.  At one point, Jones and I stood for 15 minutes deciphering which path to go up.

This picture was taken while Jones and I were contemplating the correct route to get to the top of Crib Goch.

Jones then said something I will never forget:

"I have to be honest, I never would have thought there would be this much climbing."

I wanted to wring his neck.

All day he was saying that it's just a serious hike.  Boy, was he wrong.

We were putting our lives in danger and we weren't even on the top yet.  I couldn't show him my anger though, it would only exasperate things and that's the last thing we need at this point.

After a little more thinking, Jones finds a path of to start the climb up again.  We start moving at a good pace and I see the top through the clouds, I then look to the right and saw only a white abyss (4).  I almost lost my grip due to the immediate sense of vertigo.  It was so intense.

(4) When the clouds cleared up for a quick second, a 3000 foot drop appeared.  I was 3-4 feet away from the edge and didn't realize it.  It is a good time to mention I have an extreme fear of heights.

Now to paint a better picture, the cliff came together in two ways.  The one side was slanted, probably at a 45 degree angle.  If you fall, you would have a solid chance to grab something and live.  Unlikely, but at least there was a reasonable hope to get out alive.  The other side was a straight free fall.  You fall on that side, goodbye world.  The safer side was on the left and death was on the right.  Needless to say, I stayed to the left....to the best of my abilities.

After the vertigo took over my body, I yelled "Oh my God."

"What, what happened?!?" Jones replied with a sense of fear in his voice.

I tell him not to look to the right.

He does anyway and dittos my exact reaction but then gives awesome advice.

"Just look at the rocks"

Simple enough

It works terrifically.

To aid in the process, I start singing "Just keep swimming"from Finding Nemo.  It's retarded how much this was helping.  I was getting strangely comfortable ...well until we got to the top.

 
What a sense of accomplishment!  However, this was just the beginning.  It's hilarious now, but when we got to the top, I see one of the groups having a fucking picnic.  I was in shock and then Jones says,

"Oh, what a good idea"

"Are you fucking kidding me man?  I just want to get through this."

Jones completely ignores me and pulls out a sandwich he made in the morning and starts to eat it.  So, I try and relax, look at the mountains and lakes in the distance and marvel at it's beauty.  We were in the heavens as the clouds surrounded us.  It was blissfully surreal in the most frightening way.  I laid down on the rocks and looked up.

I was in disbelief where I was.  Never would have thought I would be doing any of this...ever.

When Jones finished his freaking sandwich, we started our trek across the top of the mountain.  I was petrified at first, but as I constantly was thinking of Jones advice and singing Finding Nemo, I slowly started to calm down again and get comfortable.  I was moving at a good pace, but the wind was crazy.

It was blowing at a furious speed but fortunately, it was blowing from right to left so periodically, I would climbed down a little bit to guard myself against the 20-25 mph gusts.  If it was blowing the other way, it would have been extremely dangerous.

After a few minutes, it appeared we were on the way down, but then, a second peak with a huge ridge immersed itself from the clouds.  I started to become disheartened.  I then looked to my left and saw a path way down and around the cliff.

Thank God!

I actually called Lindsay at this point just to hear her voice (5).  It made me happy for the time being.

(5) I was legitimately scared at this point.  I thought the hard part was over.  A part of this story I left out when I initially wrote this journal was that the path I saw was off the beaten trail.  It was about 1500-2000 feet below and we had to walk down some loose rocks and around some massive boulders to get there.  It wasn't a marked trail or path at all but it was safe enough to get down the mountain to the specific path on the way back up to the top of Snowdon Mountain.  I saw a lot of people walking and was so relieved to see civilization again.  We had lost the other three groups we were hiking with.  I was just wanted to get down and be around others.  We were by ourselves and it appeared we had went as far as we could.  Jones and I stood there for about 10 minutes and just when I started to walk down to the path, Jones found a way back up Crib Goch so we could finish the hike.  I wanted to push him off the cliff at this point but knew I couldn't leave him.  So this brings us back to the story...

Jones and I regrouped and completed the difficult portion of Crib Goch.    We joined civilization again for the first time in about two-three hours.  People were walking and it was splendid to see others again.  Everyone exchanged greetings and pleasures.  People were just happy to see others after a long, arduous climb.

Next, onto Snowdown Mountain.

To be completed in Part 3.

Thanks for Reading!

Dissecting Deflategate

My goodness, I didn't want to do this.  I usually don't write about stuff like this but my God, has this story taken the country by storm.  As if the NFL needs any more publicity and controversy heading into the biggest game of the year, yet, here we are.  In the middle of the dumbest sports story of my lifetime (1).

(1) To this point... I hope....I really hope.

This story isn't about the Evil Empire of the New England Patriots.  It isn't a story about how Jim Irsay is one of the biggest babies in sports (2). And crazy enough, it's not even about the irrational hatred for Tom Brady and Bill Belichick.

(2) Don't think for a second he didn't produce this report.  The Indianapolis Star started this circus and Irsay has been behind some of the biggest changes in the NFL today...conveniently after a playoff loss.

It's about cheating.

This is about how we as a country view everything in two different matters and only, two different matters.

Black or White

Good or Bad

Hero or Fraud

There is zero gray area in our society and Deflategate is a prime example of it.

Let's assume the Patriots did deflate the balls to 10.5 pounds purposely for the Colts game this past Sunday to avoid any future turn out on what the NFL or anyone else decides because no one can trust anything that comes out of Roger Goodell's mouth anymore.

With this assumption, let's ask a few questions and see if we can determine whether or not the Patriots cheated.  My answers will be in bold.

Could Deflategate have helped the Patriots performed better? Yes

Could Deflategate have given them a psychological advantage as well as a physical one? Most likely

Did the New England Patriots gain a distinct advantage over the Indianapolis Colts?  Maybe 

So let's ask the main question...

Did the New England Patriots cheat? Undetermined

What's the definition of cheating?  Acting dishonestly or unfairly in order to gain an advantage, especially in a game or examination

What is the rule stated by the NFL?  The NFL Football must be met to specifications of 12-1/2 to 13 1/2 pounds.  The footballs are measured two hours and fifteen minutes before kickoff by an NFL sanctioned referee.

So by the NFL rule and definition of cheating, did the New England Patriots cheat? Yes

When the story first came out, quarterbacks from all over the league weighed in on the issue.  It didn't matter if they were active or retired, yet their opinion was consistent.  Every quarterback tinkers with the pressure and feel of the footballs to their approval and comfort.

Aaron Rodgers states he likes them over-inflated.

Eli Manning gives them a special rub down with oils (3).

(3) Not a joke...At least this is linear with his uniquely shaped helmet for his uniquely shaped head.

Troy Aikman likes them under-inflated (4).

(4) This was legal when Aikman played.  The rule used to be that the home team supplied the footballs.  The NFL changed the rule so both teams supply their own footballs...to their preferable liking.

Brad Johnson paid equipment managers at the Super Bowl before they took on the Oakland Raiders $7500 to have them at a specific weight and feel.

These are all quarterbacks from all different skill levels and all have won Super Bowls.  So if all of these quarterbacks admitted to altering the pigskin to their comfort level to get a competitive advantage, does that constitute cheating?

By definition and the rule, yes.  Simple as that.  But what competitive advantage did that give each of them over the opposition?  They still have to make the throws.  Receivers still have to make the difficult catches.  And the running backs...how does this help them?  Did the under-inflated balls help LaGarette Blount's dead corpse score three touchdowns and run all over the Indianapolis defense?

I hope I don't have to answer that last question.

So back with the quarterbacks' preferable football pressure.  If everyone is altering the footballs illegally(6), isn't every QB cheating?  So if everyone is cheating, doesn't that mean it's a level playing field?  Continuing with that narrative, a level playing field, isn't the outcome of a competitive contest now decided by planning, execution, intelligence, and skill level.

(6) There is no way to prove or disprove whether the previously mentioned quarterbacks exceeded the limits for football pressure so for the sake of argument, I am assuming they broke the rules.  Also, a $7500 influence on the pigskin's weight and feel definitely makes you question things.

Now, bringing back the definition of cheating:

Acting dishonestly or unfairly in order to gain an advantage, especially in a game or examination

With everyone breaking the rules and creating a level playing field in the process, is that considered cheating? No

Now when everyone watched the Patriots thrash the Colts, didn't it become extremely evident that the game was decided by planning, execution, intelligence, and skill level?

That last question was rhetorical.

Now, if you want to stick with the black and white analysis of everything and anything, then yes, the Patriots cheated.  But if you want to consider everything that was discussed and use the eye test, it is completely evident that the Patriots did not cheat.  They were the best team in the AFC all year, the number one seed, and played their way to the Super Bowl...deservedly so.

And if anyone wants to question my bias...here you go.  I am a Jets fan and have a big bet on Seattle to win.  I still not have forgiven the New England Patriots for Spygate and it puts a smile on my face knowing that they have not won a Championship Ring since Spygate broke out.

Spygate was cheating.  Deflating footballs was not.

Thank you for reading!

Oh, How Things Have Changed

On Black Friday of 2014, I attended my 10 year High School Reunion.  I was really looking forward to this.  We had a great class.  Everyone got along.  We obviously had our cliques, but there was barely any animosity toward anyone throughout my three years there (1).

(1) I attended Bishop Ahr my freshman year.

It was always great going to high school, seeing friends all the time and barely having any responsibilities. 

Who am I kidding? I had zero responsibilities. Just one of the many reasons I loved high school.

So, when I arrived at the reunion, I was extremely disappointed when only 30 people out of 320 showed up. 

Way to have my back Class of 2004.

I still had a lot of fun talking and catching up with everyone.  It was great that everyone was doing so well and in so many different ways.   But it got me thinking...

I am sure everyone has changed quite a bit over these past 10 years since we all split ways after project graduation. 

How much have I changed?

We all surprise ourselves as we change over time, yet it's still remarkable when we look at past versions of ourselves and state, "Holy Shit! I never thought I would ever do this!" or "If my 16 year old saw me doing this now, he/she would have kicked my ass into oblivion!"

It's fun to think about since none of us can predict the future, yet we can recall how we thought back in high school with accurate clarity. We contemplated on who we would become and what we would be doing because don't you remember that question your guidance counselor asked during your junior/senior year when applying for colleges:

"Where do you see yourself in 10 years?"

Your answer never usually materializes, whether it's good, bad, or indifferent.  We all had dreams and visions on what we believe would become true but it never works out like we envisioned.  Our goals get squashed by reality with a frighteningly high frequency (2), but that doesn't mean it's a bad thing.

(2) If you are below the age of 16, all of your dreams will come true.

Times change.

We change.

Adapt or die.

Ok, this is going to get dark really quickly.  So let's get into the things I saw myself doing which I do not partake in anymore.

Basketball

I had a bright future in the game I love most, but I quit on myself entering my junior year in high school and then was too afraid to try out in college.  When I stopped playing in high school, that became the turning point in my life.  I don't think I would have studied engineering and most likely would have attended another college. 

However, I always played pick up games, participated in recreation leagues (Go EMUS), and shot around with the friends.  I even started refereeing basketball to stay close to the game I love. 

At one point, I started writing on the behalf of the NBA with friends from High School before that exploded in my face in the smallest microcosm of the Social Network (3).

(3) I was the Mark Zuckerberg of the group.  And not in the way of creating the website.  As in the way of pushing people away through my aggressive actions and beliefs.  Sour subject to be honest...moving on.

But due to my huge involvement with Triathlons, something had to be put to the side.  Basketball had always been a tough sport on my body (specifically, my ankles) and as I got better with endurance races, basketball became a tough sell (4).  It had to go.

(4) My last two injuries: dislocated knee---playing basketball and severe high ankle sprain---refereeing basketball.  Even when I sprained my shoulder after I got hit by a car, I was out two weeks from swimming.  These past two injuries: Two months and counting from running.  I rest my point.

I never thought I would stop playing basketball. 

Now, I avoid playing it for two reasons.

Injuries and Addiction

You have to pick your battles sometimes.

Video Games

I just don't play them nearly as much as I would like. 

Just not enough time in the day. 

What can you do?

Something I never thought I would be doing.

Reading

This is the hobby that if I told myself 10 years ago "You are going to love reading," I would have responded with a "Go Fuck Yourself."

When I was younger, I sucked at reading.  It did not appeal to me.  I had zero time and patience for it.  I was always better with Math and Science so never felt the need to get into reading much.  I was also a young boy and too distracted by sports, video games, and tomfoolery to get into a something so static. 

I am laughing out loud to myself imagining me sitting still and reading books.  It didn't mesh.

But as I got older and into triathlons,  I started reading books about endurance competitors to learn more about the activities I have engaged in and find inspiration. This started a chain reaction. One book led into the next.    I started to find new subjects instantaneously.  I even started to get into graphic novels.  I now have a waiting list on my shelf and it's only getting bigger.  

What I find most appealing is the opportunity to expand my mind and personality.  I find a strong connection in the things I am reading which doesn't surprise me, but what does surprise me if the amount of material that is out there for me to connect with.  And to think I would get this from reading. 

Never in a million years. 

No...

....Just no....

I always lived by learning about myself and discovered new things through experiences with the people I meet, know, and love.  Never did I think I could find this by reading about Jimmy Connors (5) or Scott Jurek.

(5) I am eerily comparable to Jimmy Connors:
             -Manically competitive
             -Loner
             -Extremely loyal
             -Gambler
             -Married to an Irish Woman (5 months away!)
             -Lives in Santa Barbara (Mine as well as Lindsay's dream location)
             -Tries to connect with every one he meets
I thoroughly enjoyed his memoir titled "The Outsider"

I get excited when I fall into a good book.  It calms me down, yet inspires me simultaneously.  It's very enthralling and something I never would thought about doing 10 years ago.

Unless, I wanted to give myself a swirlie.

Thanks for Reading!

Living on the Edge: Day 1

In August of 2010, I backpacked through Europe for one month and kept a journal for a portion of the trip.  The below story is an experience I lived through during the excursion and it will live on in my memory forever.  What you read below is directly taken from the journal.  Of course, any grammatical errors will be corrected but I will be adding my usual footnotes containing my recollection of the events transpired almost 5 years later.  I am also going to add anything I left out because this going to be written in multiple posts since it covers two days.

The story begins on Day 3 of my trip:

I slept in again, actually to 12 this time.  What a fantastic sleep it was.  I got 11 hours of great sleep.  Pretty sure it's still jet lag, but that is to be expected.  I feel great but Sai (1) should have woken me up sooner. He informs me Jones (2) and I that he has to meet up with the city council to collect more welfare money.  

(1) Sai hosted Jones and I in his house.  Pretty cool and relaxed dude

(2) Gruffydd E. Jones is a friend I met one year prior when I went to Ireland for Saint Paddy's Day.  We were staying at the same apartment with 6-8 other people.  I connected with him the most as I met a bunch of people through the couch surfing network but something was different when we hung out.  I was enamored with the way he lived his life and I believe he was only 19 at the time.  He told me places to visit around the world and how great the country of Wales is.  I told him I am planning to couch surf through Europe the next year and would love a travel partner.  He promised to travel with me when I go through the UK (Northern Wales, Glasgow and Edinburgh).  He evidently kept his promise.  He also has the best Facebook profile photo I have seen to date

A pretty crazy system.  

All Sai has to do is convince the council he is trying to find work and they'll give 300 pounds a week.  That's nuts!  I like Sai, but he is taking advantage of the system.  

Anyway, due to this, we can't cycle down the coastline and visit the beaches like originally planned.  Instead, Jones and I have to move along to our next place to stay.  A small town named Nanttle.  Jones already hooked up with the couch surfer host through text, so it's all good.  

It's a bit hilarious and remarkable in the same breath since Nanttle has a population of 66, yet there is someone willing to share their home.  It puts a smile on my face.  So, we take the bikes back and say our goodbyes to Sai.  He tells me he may meet up with me down the road, which I hope he does (3).  He's a pretty cool guy and I would thoroughly enjoy his company.  We will see though.

(3) He doesn't

Jones and I continue on by stopping at the market to pick up some food supplies to hold us over for two days.  It only costs 11 pounds ($20).  Superbly cheap.  We take the bus to Talyfron and meet a young gentleman who is willing to show us the way to Nanttle.  We have to walk around a bunch of quarries and a town where an emergency evacuation occurred.  It was an old village with abandoned cars, ruined houses, poisonous waters, and mountains of slate. 

The young man informs us the village was abandoned in the 1930's . 

It's too bad.  Slate is an expensive material and a lot of money could be made.  I didn't understand while people just didn't come back here and take some to make a ridiculous profit.

As we walked through, the quarries and scenery is beautiful.  It's absolutely remarkable to see the world through my eyes (4).

(4) I have a huge ego.

So much beauty . 

I am constantly reminded of American Beauty and Lester Burnham's quote when I survey the land before me.  Just breathe Derek (5)

(5) Lindsay's eyes are going to roll into the back of her head after she reads this.

Then, Jones spots a house on the highest peak in the quarry.  Naturally, he suggests "Great place to have a picnic, eh Derek." 

Of course I cannot say no, it is going to be great to take in the sights, plus I am fucking starving.  We have rotisserie chicken, Welsh bread, hummus and various fruits to qualm our hunger.  It's simply brilliant.

Afterwards, we move to our destination of Nanttle to meet George Lockett, our couch surfing host.  He is a very nice fellow.  He welcomes us with open arms and right as we are done putting down our bags, he offers to take us to the beach.

Fucking A Right

I have been looking to swim a bit after we were supposed to today anyway.  On the trip over to the beach, I ask questions about George's life.  What I hear blows my mind.

George Lockett is a semi-famous spiritual healer and been practicing it for 20 plus years.  He has written multiple books about the subject, been interviewed countless times, and runs his own website.  He followed this lifestyle after studying meditation for 10 years in monasteries around the world.  Through his travels, he has met people who levitate themselves, objects, and even walk through walls (6).  He states he obtained the ability to remove himself spiritually from his body and explore the universe.  The man gets up at 4 or 5 everyday and meditates for hours.  He is at total peace with himself.  I can't help but admire and marvel at his life journey.

(6) I know this sounds crazy and unbelievable.  I still believe him today.  It was the way he was talking about it.  Very calm and collected.  Never sounded like he was gloating or bragging.  He was just discussing his life work like someone explaining what they do as a bank teller.  I don't know.  It's just the way he was talking.  It made me a believer.

We get to the beach and my excitement is overwhelmed when I see the water.  I enter the other side of the Atlantic immediately.... and then Jones tackles me.  It is pretty cold, but I have been in colder.  I ask Jones what he thinks of George's lifestyle. 

He's heard of it before and actually experienced this first hand. 

Not himself exactly, but as a witness.

He was in the Himalayas and this Buddhist monk who has been teaching his practices for years was going to a special burial place to die and be reborn in another entity.  This wasn't a funeral.  It was a celebration.  The whole community gathered around and cheered for him as this was the most beautiful way to pass on.  Everyone was generally happy for him as he was practicing the most praiseful act one can perform.  The most amazing thing is he just walked in a tomb to die under his own will and belief. 

I still can't fathom how one person can just walk to his death when there is nothing wrong with that individual.  It blew my mind. 

After Jones told me the story, I swim a 1/3 of a mile to get some good exercise.  It feels good to swim.

When George takes us back, Jones suggest our next adventure. 

Hike Crib Goch and Snowdon Mountain.

I have never heard of Crib Goch, but we do some research and it is the number 1 trail in the UK for extreme hikers to partake in.  I am excited until he shows me some pictures.  It is a knife edge mountain cliff over 3000 feet in the air and many of people have died trying to cross it.  I am now bound with fear and start to psych myself out.  I regrettably look at some more photos and youtube videos about the mountain but one video raises my spirits. 

These gents walk briskly across the mountain with ease and a hint.  I got this. 

The weather is sunny in the video and information suggests you don't traverse Crib Goch when it rains, fogs, and/or is extremely windy. 

We shall see what tomorrow's weather brings.

Nighty night

Race Recap: Philadelphia Half Marathon

This was the last race of the year and a second straight season I signed up for this particular event.  It's always enjoyable to do events consecutively as it starts tradition and familiarity with the course so you can set Personal Records and build memories.


I love the city of Philadelphia, which is an interesting take on my persona since I hate big cities, yet the city of brotherly love connects with me in a way where New York City, London, and Los Angeles do not.  Maybe it's the people, the beauty, or the accessibility, or maybe it's even the immense pride of history and identity.  It's probably the combination of all those attributes but all I know is I always enjoy my time there.


Now, I am competing in my second half marathon in Philadelphia with my close friend Jason(1) which is great for two reasons. 

(1) Kaz Alert! Kaz Alert!  My good friend Kaz couldn't sign up for the race in time (because he was designing and launching defense ballistic missiles off of the coast of Hawaii...not a joke...the man designs defense ballistic missiles for a living) so he decided to join us about a quarter mile down the start.  He ran with us for about 2 miles and then slowed up a bit.  Kaz ended running a 1:38  half marathon (He ran about 1:37 but I added a minute to eliminate any possible discrepancy from his point of entrance) which comes out to a 7:28 pace.  You know when the last time he ran...September!  September!  Almost a two month layoff and he runs an elite pace.  Just incredible.  He never ceases to amaze me.


-We are pretty much neck and neck in running ability so it will be interesting to see who comes up on top.  Jason destroyed me last year by over two minutes and set a personal record in the progress.  I was looking to get my revenge... in a friendly competitive way.

-It's always great running with friends and with our abilities so close, we will be able to push each other to a better level.


The race starts and we went out way too fast.

I was following Jason's lead since he seems to be more in tune with his pace than I am.  Jason runs more than me and works extremely closely with his GPS watches.  His one watch measures vertical oscillation, cadence, ground contact, and heart rate and Jason works endlessly with the data achieved to help him improve his performance.  It's one of the many reasons he has improved his overall game.  He has even shown me a few tricks of the trade to help use the data for my own personal gain. 


The first two miles, we are averaging 6:30 miles, which is a big no-no.  Every running professional and their mother state the best way to enter a race 13.1 miles or longer is to start below race pace, work into it, and then in the later miles, exceed that goal pace for a strong finish. 


Jason and I don't listen well.


We know we are moving faster than race pace but we both are in good form.  I am feeling great and I see zero struggle in Jason's stride so maybe we are going to have the race of our lives and exceedingly exceed our own expectations, which is pleasant....in theory.


Over the next few miles, we slow ourselves closer to our goal pace which is to break 1:30 (6:51 average mile over the 13.1 mile distance) and feel like we are a good place to do so. 


Then, after mile 7, are pace slows just a tad.  It was slight but noticeable enough in where we both understood we were going slower than the goal pace.  This put us a in tricky spot since we still had 6 miles left to go so we couldn't take the risk of putting in the extra effort to gain that additional time and then bonking out by the finish.  So we decided to coast the next few miles until around mile 10, where we can put forth a solid 5k effort to give us a chance to break 1:30.


Mile 9 is where the biggest hill in the course resides.  It is short yet steep and when you are trying to PR, these challenges and obstacles get in your way.  However, we both kill the hill and make our move shortly thereafter.  We both fuel up at the aid station right after we pass the Mile 10 marker.  I start making my move and slowly put distance on Jason.  He tries to stick with me but I gain a few seconds every 10-15 strides.

When I get back into Central Philadelphia and observe the Art Museum (where the Rocky Steps are located as well as the finish line), a sense of relief sets in.  I think about the past season and my future going forward with triathlons and long distance races as the reality sets in that I will just be missing the 1:30 time.  I see the finish line and finish as strong as I can.

1:30:25.

Typical...

I am upset even though I set a personal record but I had nothing left to give.  I left it all on the course.  I was hurting at the end and thought it was a great way to end the season.  It sucks I didn't PR but I am more than content with my performance.  I think this time is due to poor execution than anything else.  Something I will look into going forward.

Jason finished about a minute behind me.  He wasn't too happy either as he ran a little bit slower than last year but it's a time we can build on together.

So with that, the season has ended and the off season has begun.

Thanks for reading!

Race Recap: LBI Triathlon

This race happened back in September so this may be a little late.  It only took to 2015 for me to write about it but nevertheless, it's time to look back.


After being half-disappointed about the Ironman 70.3 Timberman race, I needed something to boost my confidence.  It has been three years since I competed in my last sprint triathlon (1) so signing up for the family organized race in Long Beach Island was way overdue.


(1) A sprint triathlon is the 5k of triathlons.  They may seem daunting at first but anyone who keeps in decent shape and knows how to swim can complete one of these.  Therefore, everyone that I talk to who says "I wish I could do that" (and there are a lot of you), here you go.  No excuses.  The swim ranges from 1/3 to 3/4 miles, the bike, 10-18 miles, and the run finishes off between 2-5 miles.  Not really daunting when you break it down.  Also, anyone who reads this blog, I would be more than happy  to give advice and supply motivation.


A really underrated thing about the Sprint triathlon distance is that it takes a small part of your day.  In sprint races, you are out of there by 10:00 the latest and this includes the trophy ceremony, so you can make plans and feel great about yourself the rest of the day.  Plus, it doesn't take a lot out of you.  Half-Ironmans, Ironmans, and Half-Marathons do damage to you.  You'll feel it throughout the day and can be exhausting to say the least.  The only thing you want to do is sleep and eat.


Actually, my biggest concern entering a Half-Ironman is having to drive back home shortly after the finish because the worst thing you can do is cram yourself into a car and drive 4-7 hours.  But I have no choice, I can't take the time of work and I am definitely not going to fork crazy money over for air fare(2).


(2) This is why I consistently pray for Lindsay's bakery to take off so I can afford to take some extra time off after races.  Every book I have come across states the last thing you want to do is get into a crammed car and drive for hours on end after completing a race.


With that being said, besides regaining some swagger, I was mostly looking forward getting on with my day with Lindsay and spending time with her.


Entering the water, I realize I can probably do the entire swim walking on the surface, which probably be enjoyable to watch.


The first portion of the race is conducted in the bay, which is great because I do not want to deal with the Atlantic.  Nevertheless, the air-horn goes off and I probably get punched in the face every other stroke.  Yet, somehow, I finish the swim extremely quickly.  I can honestly say I did not complete seven strokes consecutively without having to stop due to getting struck, getting cut off, or being ran over by a much better swimmer (3).


(3) I forgot I was swimming against Michael Phelps in the Olympics.


I get on the bike and it is flat and fast.  So fast, I someone wipe out badly on the first turnaround. 


That must have sucked.


The bike course is three loops, which is great so Lindsay can see me multiple times and cheer me on.


Then I experienced something for the first time.


For about 4 miles, I was in first place.


Me.


First Place.


I couldn't believe it.


It was a pretty cool feeling being the first person going around the turnaround and everyone cheering you on.  This is something I could get used to.  My confidence was beaming.


However, I knew this wasn't going to last.  I felt like I wasn't moving fast enough on the bike to sustain the lead.  I tried to push more but my body wasn't responding.  I still ended up averaging 22.5 mph but I got passed by three people before I unclicked the pedals.


Now to the run. 


Boy, did this feel good.  I was moving.  I was trekking around a 6:20 mile and feeling great.  It felt like I was in High School Cross Country again.  The only problem.  The guys in front of me were going faster.  A few, a lot faster.  But I knew this was going to happen.  My running isn't strong enough to compete with these guys yet.  Maybe in the future, but not right at that moment.


I come into the finish line at 56:45 and in 6th place overall and 1st in my age group.


Confidence boost achieved


Waiting for the results, I found something I am going to hang onto forever.


The 1st place guy finished the race in 50:18.  He destroyed the entire competition and dismantled me by over 6 minutes.  I sat there thinking how I could possibly get to that level and then I found out his age.


The dude is 50!


50 years old.


That is not a typo.


Simply incredible.


Nobody beats father time but few can argue that we as a society are finding ways to excel at top levels for an extended period of time.  I just saw a story where a 94 year old man ran 100 meters in 19 seconds and an 87 year old woman doing parallel bars at a gymnastics studio.  Now this, a 50 year old destroying the competition.  You want to know the second place guys time:


53:12


He beat him by three minutes.  Doing the three mile run, that's 2/3 mile lead.  That's just insane!


In triathlon, their are 40+ year old professionals and upper 30 year old world champions. 


These type of stories give me more than hope.  They give me purpose that I can do this for a very long time and do it at an elite level...if I ever get there.


Which is more than enough ammunition for a pathologically competitive person.


Thanks for reading and Happy New Year (4)!


(4) My New Year resolution is to write more and watch less TV.  Let's see how this pans out.