The Asthmathlon

JWT - A (Long) Post-Mortem

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Mon, 26 Sep 2011 22:52:00 +0000

After arriving home, yesterday, after the triathlon and post-triathlon celebration, I barely was able to keep my eyes open to watch the end of the Giants – Eagles football game and then put together my race report for the team. I then slept for 15 out of the next 18 hours. Since I worked so hard yesterday, I am going to give myself a little break and use my race report as my post-race blog (albeit slightly edited). I will follow up with another blog in a few days with a little post-race perspective. However, before turning you all over to my race report, I will answer the one burning question that I know that you were wondering about… “To pee or not to pee… that is the question.” Well, the answer is, I didn’t have to go over the entire course of the race. I might have been slightly under-hydrated, though, as you will see in my race reports, I had some muscle cramps.

Wait, that wasn’t the questions? Well, read on for more answers:

RACE REPORT:

Saturday Night: In bed at 8:00pm, in the bathroom at 8:45pm, back in bed with eyes closed after shooting out an email at 9:00pm. Still in bed at 10:00pm, check weather report at 10:20pm and fall asleep sometime soon after.

Sunday Morning: Up on my own at 3:30am (?!?!), turn off my pre-set alarm at 3:45am, get ready, get ready some more, eat something, bathroom trips (x5), almost forget to take asthma meds, remember to take asthma meds, pump bike tires, get everything to car, type memo re: last night and this morning (blogger’s disease is VERY dangerous), go to car, rack my bike on the back and get the music going. It's race day.

There are almost no cars on the road and it is completely dark at 5:00am, but at the end of Playland Parkway there is an explosion of lights and people. I arrive in the Rye Playland parking lot and see my teammates. I head to Transition (the “T” as it is known), which is where we leave our bikes, sneakers and other race gear, and pick them up when we come out of the water after the swim and then return to after we complete the bike course. I get my race number, 199, sharpied onto both arms, legs and thighs by a volunteer, and my age (34) on the back of my left calf. I rack right next to Ronnie Ram and across from Nick, two of my Team In Training Teammates, who are both in my age group. They have been great competitors, teammates and new-found friends over the past five months. I put down my daughter's Tinkerbell towel (I grabbed the first two towels that were in the hall closet and ended up with a pretty, solid pink towel and Tinkerbell – ah, the life of living with girls!!!) and get myself all set up at the T. I then head back to my car to meet other teammates to say morning prayers together. When prayers are completed, I don my wetsuit, grab my swim gear and head towards the TNT tent for our team picture.

As I see the team gathered together for our team photo it really hits home how much of a team we are, having spent five months training together. I run down to the beach and jump into the water to get a feel for the water and prepare for the swim. It feels good, with the water being a nice temperature. Leon Zemel, a teammate of mine who I have spent dozens, if not hundreds of hours training with and Shaun Meller, my TNT Mentor, who I have also spent tons of time training with, getting advice from and, not to mention getting 5:30am rides to swim to swim trainings up in Greenwich CT, are in the water, too. The national anthem is sung and we are all ready to line up, with Pros going out at 7:00am sharp.

Wave 3 Red Caps (that’s my wave!) go out at 7:06am. After the Pros launch themselves into the water, the Yellow Caps go out and Red Caps line up on the beach. 30 seconds, 10 seconds.... I set my watch's timer and go... a few feet of funny running in the water and a dolphin dive/kick and I am away into the swim.

I am pretty sure I zigzagg through the swim, crashing into people left and right. This is not my finest swimming performance. My concern with bumping into people and attempt to avoid swallowing more water (blech!) makes the stitch in my side less of a focal point, so I guess that is good. In short, my swim is sort of a mess. However, I soon see the shore and stand up when the water is waist high and wade in to shore, slowly, spurning Coach Regan's dolphin dive and funny run advice. Why do I spurn such sage advice? Well, I am kind of dizzy and in no condition to run out of the water. As I slowly wade out of the water, one of the race referees looks at me dead in the eye and asks, "do you have your sea-legs?" "Yes," I lie. Actually, I don’t say yes, because I am not thinking coherently enough to reply with a quick “yes”, so I give a thumbs-up. I feel like I am drunk, stumble-walking up the beach, boardwalk and to the bike. I feel like a mess, but I am out of the water in 31 minutes… then again, I may have hit the pad four minutes later. I have no idea. [I learn later that I crossed the swim-timing line at 32+ minutes].

I drink some water and try to clear my head in the T. The T is kind of a blur, but luckily I have everything laid out well, so I can't mess up my transition to my bike. It seems like a really slow transition, but the bike, speed, air, water and some Goo (Goo is a complex carbohydrate gel) got to clearing my head pretty quickly. Did I mention that a lovely puff of albuterol helps out with the breathing? [It actually was a slow-ish transition, around four minutes long, which isn’t bad, but not where I would have liked it to have been].

Man! What a pleasure it is to ride on a street with cops holding back traffic! Can we set that up for every time that I go out on a bike ride? I try to keep my head down in aero position and push through a little pain. No need to wait for lights. That keeps my momentum moving forward coupled with my intimate knowledge of the bike route, having traversed the course with TNT for the past six weeks. I am completely prepared for every turn.

I feel good throughout the course save for the big hill on Riversville.. [I guess I could have moved a little faster, but my time of 1:17 was a heck of a lot better than the 1:35 that I expected to bike in just two months ago]. Claire's Climb, another large hill, isn’t too bad, and not having to do a repeat is even better. [When we practiced biking the triathlon course, as a team, we would always cycle up Claire’s Climb and then ride back down to the bottom, doing at least three “hill repeats” each time]. After the climb I am really ready to let ‘er rip and the remaining mostly-downhill course was fast moving from there. As I head down the final stretch on Playland Parkway, I see my wife's car sitting in traffic and I yell, wave and give a thumbs up to them as I pass by. [I learned later that my six year-old daughter saw me as I passed by and yelled to my wife, “There’s Daddy!!!” much to my wife’s surprise, who then watched me as I moved down the road.]

I arrive back at the T, rack my bike, put on my sneakers and rush out... I quickly find that I have cramps in both my right and left quad, and my right hamstring. What I don't have is my albuterol inhaler, which I left on my bike... not so good. Leaving my inhaler isn't a “go-back to the T and get the inhaler dealbreaker", since I am already almost a mile in to the run, but I know that I have to manage my breathing and nurse my cramps more carefully. The run is a slow-go, and I see Leon on my way back from the Rye Playland turnaround. As I pass him, I yell at him that he needs to catch and pass me (Leon started in a wave 12 minutes behind me)... and he eventually did...

Just as I start to feel the cramps loosen up a bit (breathing is still rough), I hit Hill St. Unfortunately, Hill Street is not an ironicly named road that is perfectly flat; it is, as promised, an upward ascent. And the cramps return. Let's see... the next couple of miles to the country club turnaround (there are a couple of country clubs lining a road that we run down and back) go something like this..."ow, ow, ow, why am I doing this? ... ow, ow, ow... can't I take a short walk-break? ... no, because I will not be able to start running – if what I am doing is considered running - again..." Before I forget, it is SO nice to have water stations along the running route, and the kids handing out the water are awesome, but dear heavens, how do you run and drink at the same time? I learn that I can only ask for water at these stations because I when I take Gatorade at the first station in end up a sticky mess, since I am able to pour only half of the cup in my mouth... and the rest ends up on my face and body.

At the country club tennis courts, Leon catches and passes me. I look at my watch and see that I have a 2:35 race time at that point, and we have just under two miles to the finish line. I know that Leon started 12 minutes behind me, meaning that he has a shot at finishing in under 2:40. Just then, my quads loosen up and I get a kick, allowing me to catch up to Leon. When I pull up along side Leon, we talk for a second about time and our chance to finish in times that we both would be thrilled with. After a minute or two of running side by side, I realize that we are moving, but not fast enough. I know that I am not going to hit a 2:45 or 2:50 race time, but Leon has a shot.

I remember something that Shaun Meller said (lovingly) when the three of us (Shaun, Leon and I) were out on an early morning swim in Connecticut, with one of our volunteer coaches, Coach Chris Kortland. "You have a problem, Leon," Shaun said. "You always have to be first, no matter what." With a mile or so to go, I look at Leon, knowing I have enough in me for at least a short sprint, and say, "Leon, you are going to have to catch me." I sprint ahead and built a decent lead over Leon. Sure enough, in a few moments, Leon picks up his pace, passes me, and like Forest Gump, "he just kept on running."

I never can catch up with Leon, even with Coach Dawn yelling me to catch him, as we turn into the final .2 mile stretch, “C’mon Avi!!! Catch Leon!!!” I am thrilled to see Leon cross the finish line in 2:39 (holy smokes!) - he worked amazingly hard and deserves a strong showing and a fast time. I cross the line a few seconds after Leon in a time of 2:51 (even though I was a few seconds behind Leon, I got a 12 minute head start because of when our respective waves left). My wife and kids are at the finish line and see me finish, though it does take a few minutes to finally connect after crossing the finish line – I walk to where I saw them standing and my wife goes to the finish area. I am really proud of my time and it is great to have my family there to share the moment with me (my mom, dad, sister, sister's boyfriend, mother-in-law and father-in-law arrive soon after).

Ronnie Ram (a.k.a. Frack, of TNT’s Frick & Frack), “General” Robert “E. Lee.” Friedman and others finish up soon after, followed by Rocco (a.k.a. Frick of TNT’s Frick & Frack) and Brad “I want to do a half-Ironman,now” Scher (sorry if I forgot anyone). I make my way up to the corner of the park where Coach Dawn, Diandra & Jincy (from the LLS Westchester Office) and other TNT mentors are cheering TNT members on to the home stretch. After yelling and cheering for a bit, I head back out on the course to run some team members in. Shaun Meller, who took a spill on his bike, was gutting out a solid performance when I find him about .4 miles from the finish line and I have the honor of running him to the park, where the chute leading to the finish line begins. Over the course of the triathlon bike ride, every now and then, cyclists will crash. Taking a spill (in addition to Shaun, Rocco took a spill, too), pop back on your bike, keep riding and then run 6.2 miles is really rough. Your body absorbs a serious impact caused by the speed of the bike, the weight of the cyclist and the fact that the fall is cushioned by concrete (yeah, nice and soft!). Even if you think you are alright right after impact, the mental and physiological impact can take a while to set in. Shaun was my triathlon mentor; he spent time preparing me physically and mentally for the triathlon and running him in to the chute, where hundreds of people were waiting and cheering on the finishers, after all that Shaun did for me, not to mention the courage he showed in the race, is an amazing honor.
I go back out on the course again, and after being refused by some true, solo-warriors (go David Blumenthal, soon to be a fantasy baseball league champion!) and running another person or two in, I find Beatriz Nivash. You may not know this, but at the first TNT training, I ran 1.5 miles and thought I was done with my run for the day... until Beatriz yelled to me, "Are you done already?" Apparently, I wasn’t; we ran together another 2+ miles (I didn't know Beatriz before then, though I knew of her). Beatriz finished last year's triathlon in 5:45, and she didn't get to do a portion of the race that probably would have taken her up to another 15 minutes. As a result of training for last year’s triathlon, Beatriz completely changed her lifestyle, making exercise a major part of her life. About a mile away from the finish line, I meet up Beatriz...
"Would you like some company?" I ask. "Sure!" she replies, so I join her. After a few steps I ask her, "What is your goal time for this year?" "Four hours," she says. We figure out that she started six minutes behind me, and based on my stopwatch time, which I never stopped when I finished (luckily!) I figure out her current race time. Now, I don't know if Beatriz means she wants to finish somewhere in the four hour time frame or in right around four hours, but we are actually at the tail end of three hours. Beatriz has no idea what her time is, so I am excited to give her some good news. Not thinking that Beatriz is up to a big push (I was totally not ready to do it...) I say, "I have great news! You are looking good for a finish of 4:05, but if you push it, there is a shot that you come in just at four hours." To my surprise, her response is, "Yeah?!?! Let's go!!!" Beatriz hits a new gear and starts really moving, pushing me to move faster than I am actually prepared to, but I want Beatriz to meet her goal, but clearly not as much as she does! As we chew up real estate (she had a little more than a mile to go when I met up with her), I keep looking down at my watch and what seems unlikely becomes more and more possible. I cannot believe my watch or the extra gear that Beatriz has. We fly down the side of the park and turn into the park with a minute and 30 second, or so, to traverse .2 miles. Beatriz pushes and pushes to the last second. I stop at the top of the chute and watch her run down into the crowed, yelling furiously, staring at my watch, trying to will time to move slower and give Beatriz an extra second or two to cross the finish line in a time that she didn’t dare dream of. I have her crossing the line on my watch at 3:59:54. [Her official time was 4:00:06. I still contend that she finished in sub-four hour time.] She is amazing and inspirational.

I go back out on the course, again, and find Miriam Parness, a little more than a mile from the finish line. She is walking when I meet her, because she slammed her toe while going from the beach to the transition are after her swim. “I hurt my toe,” she tells me, “so I am walking.” I didn't know (and clearly SHE didn't know) what her toe looked like at the time... and I know this because when we hit a bit of a downhill slope she says to me, "I can run here," and she does. I am amazed by her spirit and fight, running the portions that she can, even though she is walking most of the way. After the race, she showed me her toe – had I known, and had she known what it looked like, I would hope that one of us would have stopped her before she got on her bicycle. From half way down her toenail on her big toe to the bottom of her toe is COMPLETELY purple and blue – a deep, deep purple and blue. I am amazed by how tough Miriam is, as we run together... when I see her toe after the race, I think that she might just be bulletproof. [After the race, Miriam went to see a doctor. She reported to us that not only did she have a broken big toe, she had also broken another toe a few weeks earlier, during training. She didn't go to the doctor until after the race because she refused to be told that she could not compete. Seriously.]

There were a few especially touching moments that I see involving family (this is in no particular chronological order). It was awesome seeing Rob Friedman and then Elana Minkove getting escorted in to the finish line by their young kids - very, very special. Later on, a couple of TNT members and I are out on the course and find Ellie Chefitz a mile from the finish. After running with her less than half a block, we see her husband and one of her sons who came to meet her and run her in. Her husband, Allen, had run the triathlon, himself, but has the honor of escorting his wife to the finish with his son. Last but not least, I go out with Coach Chris Kortland and Skippy's Team Captain Rob Friedman to find our last TNT member, Doug. We find him a little more than a mile out from the finish. Doug looks great and is moving at a solid clip. Rob and I comment to each other that our calves are making it a little tough to keep up with Doug’s pace (Doug moved through the course at a nice pace, but was in one of the last waves to go, thus he was the last TNT member out on the course). We run him in to the .2 mile mark where we meet a ton of TNT members at the edge of the park. Everyone runs Doug to the very edge of the chute and then we run alongside him on the outside of both sides of the chute, a purple wave, the color of LLS and TNT, moving towards the finish line, symbolically finishing the triathlon all together. This amazing TNT tradition underscores the powerful bonds and friendships that we have built as a team and our team's unity and strength. It is truly amazing the way TNT turns triathlon from an individual sport into a team sport.

That is the race report, from me. The post race party was great, delicious and filling. There is more that can be written, but I think this is more than enough. Thank you for your indulgence, your support and your readership. It has been an honor.

Thank you coaches, thank you TNT, thank you teammates, thank you Skippy's Team. This was amazing - every painful and arduous step of the way, all five months long... Thank you all.

Goals!

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Wed, 21 Sep 2011 17:46:00 +0000

Goals are important. How important are they? You might want to ask Andres Cantor, because he thinks that goals are a very big deal.

Just under five months ago, I set three goals for my triathlon experience, (i) to raise $3,333.33 for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, (ii) to lose 33 pounds, and (iii) to complete the Westchester Triathlon in 3:33:33. Today, three and a little more than half a day before I compete in my first triathlon, I have a goal update for all of you. Just as a warning, in three sentences I will be making a blatant appeal for you to donate a couple of dollars to LLS. But, don’t worry, I am only $130 short of my goal (for those of you who are math gurus and have looked at my donations page and see that it appears as if I am $180 short, you are right about that, but I have sent in a $50 check that still has to be processed; thus, I am only $130 away from my goal). So, are you prepared for what I hope is going to be my most blatant and, hopefully, final request for your generosity? Here it is: Please support my five-month-long (very painful and time consuming!) triathlon training by clicking here and donating to the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. If for some reason you were about to donate and see that I already reached $3,333.33 don’t put your credit card and mouse away – keep typing and clicking and give to a very important cause. Thank you, again, to everyone who has already donated!

Ok, enough about you and your money… it’s time for me to look in the mirror and see where I am at in terms of my weight and race-time goals. Let’s start with weight…

I will save my explanations, disclaimers and caveats for later in the paragraph, and I will just come out and say that I have not met my goal of losing 33 pounds. I have lost 20 pounds and my before-and-after pictures (yes, I have them; no, I am not posting them) are significantly different. One major contributing factor to my failure to reach my stated weight-loss goal was that weight loss became a secondary focus about two months into my training (here is that explanation-disclaimer-caveat section that I was talking about). I was coming home from trainings sore, tired and all-sorts-of-grumpy, and the feeling persisted throughout the day and sometimes into the next day. I asked a friend of mine, who happens to be very knowledgeable about the subject of sports nutrition, about why I was feeling so dead. He asked me about my nutrition, training, etc. In short order, he explained that in my effort to lose weight, I was driving my body crazy. After a long, strenuous workout, my body was craving protein and carbohydrates, for the repair and rebuilding of muscle structure. Salad was not cutting it, so my body was going after any and all protein that it could find, including what was available in my muscle fiber, etc. So, while I was losing weight, I was also losing muscle and, because useful protein was not easily available when it was needed, I was also failing to build as much new muscle as I could have been. As you might guess, after that I changed my diet, adding calories (good calories) and a lot more protein, I stopped losing weight at a fast rate. While I hate to whiff on a goal, I am confident that I made the right decision to move off of my weight loss goal… and for those of you who read my previous blogs, I do fit into my little black dress (for those of you who have not been reading my blogs and have no idea what “my little black dress” is, PLEASE, read this post before coming to any conclusions.

Don’t worry, though, I have some good news! Taking a (boring) trip back in time, I picked the 3:33:33 time goal to keep in line with my theme of “3” (then again, so was my 33 pound goal, but let’s forget that for a minute). To be perfectly honest, I had a real personal goal of finishing the race in 3:15, which was based on the times of friends who I knew who had completed the triathlon last year, and the fact that my asthma is usually at its worst in September because of my allergies. Flash forward back to today, and I can tell you that my strategy to gain muscle vs. lose weight has paid off, I think. I am pretty confident that I will finish the triathlon in under 3:15, but I am going to go a step further and I am going to say something stupid, which I think I will regret…

Here goes…

In honor of everyone who has donated to LLS in support of my training, and as a penalty for not dropping all 33 pounds, and ONLY if I get another $130 in donations so that I reach the $3,333.33 goal (have I lost you yet?)… drum roll please… Then, I will work my tail off to finish the triathlon in less than 3 hours (this is assuming that we have dry race course conditions – if the roads are wet, I am going to slow down on my bike and stay safe, meaning all bets are off).

You might be thinking, “Three hours, big deal!” So, here is some context. No first-time triathlon runner from Skippy’s Team finished the triathlon in less than three hours, last year. I believe that the fastest time was around three hours and ten minutes. Keep in mind that last year’s Skippy’s Team included people who have ran marathons, half-marathons and have trained for and competed in endurance events prior to participating in the Westchester Triathlon. I have NEVER competed in an endurance event... and have I mentioned my asthma (have I ever failed to mention my asthma?). Furthermore, based on my current timing (:36 swim, 1:28 bike, :58 run + :08 total transition time), I am looking at a 3:10 race time – and I have never completed all three events back-to-back-to-back in training, so 3:10 is purely theoretical. What that means is beating a 3:00 time will require a lot of adrenaline, luck and some pain, too – but, I am going to go for it.

So, in what will probably be my final pre-race blog post, I want to thank all of you for racing alongside me, supporting me and laughing at me. This has been an amazing experience and I thank all of you for being a part of it. See y’all at the finish line!

P.S. – The real reason why I need to finish in less than 3 hours is Richard Cantor, of Scarsdale, a man who I have never met. I need to finish the triathlon in a sub-3 hour time because I need to finish the triathlon faster than Richard Cantor. Why do I care about finishing before Richard Cantor? Well, last year, at age 67, Richard finished the Westchester triathlon in 2:55. So while I’ve resigned myself to the fact that, at age 34, I am going to get crushed by a bunch of 40 year-olds, smoked by a plethora of 50 year-olds and beaten by a handful of men in their early 60’s. However, if I can’t swim, bike and run faster than all the 65+ year-old men… well, that means that I just need to work harder. Good luck Rich!!! I am gunning for you! Oh yeah, did I mention that if I finish in over 3:05, I will be in danger of having a slower race time than 76 year-old John Cook, of Stanford, Connecticut, who finished last year’s triathlon, at age 75 in 3:04. Truly, awe inspiring!

Sharks & Vampires (The Good Kind)

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Thu, 15 Sep 2011 16:48:00 +0000

As some of you know, despite my best efforts to keep this fact a secret, I am an attorney. Therefore, any and all abuse that I heap on the legal field in this blog post should be considered lawyer-on-lawyer abuse and I may be labeled, appropriately, as a self-hating lawyer. I am comfortable with that label, since I think it is one that many lawyers wear proudly. Lawyers will usually laugh first and laugh loudest at jokes that label our brethren as either blood-sucking vampires (What is the difference between a lawyer and a vampire? – A vampire only sucks blood at night), sharks (What is the difference between a lawyer and a shark? – Ummmm… yeah, I can’t think of any differences, too) and, my favorite, catfish (What is the difference between a catfish and a lawyer? - One is a rabble sucking bottom dweller, the other is a fish).

However, it seems that every once in a while, people find reasons to love a lawyer. Whether that love is a result of a lawyer getting them out of a speeding ticket, setting up a trust that saves them a bunch of money in taxes, saves them money on their property taxes (hint, hint), etc., people realize that not all lawyers are the personification of pure evil; well, at least that attorneys aren’t the personification of pure evil all the time.

Well, now I have another reason for you to love a lawyer. Don’t worry, you don’t have to love all lawyers, just a bunch of them, and you only have to love them for a second or two.

The law firm of Troutman Sanders LLP, a large, Atlanta, Georgia-based, international law firm, has generously donated over $15,000 to The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, through LLS’s Team-In-Training program. Now, I know that some cynics and skeptics out there might want to downplay the generosity of this donation or point to ulterior motives for the donation. However, my simple response to any and all doubters/haters is (i) LLS is not the only worthy not-for profit organization that the firm supports, so this donation is not the total “give” from the firm; and (ii) Troutman could have easily given less money and still achieved any and all of its PR goals and/or ulterior motives – a $5,000 donation to LLS would have been more than generous. As for me, I have no connection to Troutman Sanders LLP, other than the fact that I worked for a peer firm for two and a half years; the only potential benefit that I can see gaining from writing this blog post is that Troutman will continue to support LLS in future years, which I hope will be the case (as an aside, I probably didn’t have to tell you that I am an attorney at the beginning of this blog, since you would have figured it out based on the fact that I (i) used Roman numerals to delineate my points, now twice in a paragraph; (ii) placed a disclaimer at the end of this paragraph; and (iii) have used four semi-colons in single paragraph – and yes, each one is a good reason to hate me).

So, now that you have thought kindly of Troutman Sanders LLP and their attorneys for at least a second or two, you can go back to abhorring every single attorney in existence. But, at least you should agree with the fact that, unlike vampires, the attorneys at Troutman Sanders have a heart and a soul… well, you’ll agree with that fact as long as you aren’t sitting on the opposite side of the table from them.

9/11 on 9/12

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 21:19:00 +0000

Sorry everyone, but I have to write a 9/11 post. I really didn’t want to join the minions of writers and bloggers who have said everything there is to say about 9/11, and who have said it better and more intelligently than I will. Then, while watching TV, last night, I saw a couple of things that pushed me to the edge, and then a little internet research pushed me over – way over.

Let’s start here: http://www.firehouse.com/news/911news/fdny-study-confirms-rise-cancer-after-911. In short, a credible study, published in The Lancet (a highly reputable medical journal) has found “a modest excess of cancer cases in the WTC-exposed cohort [firefighters employed after 9/11]” (http://www.thelancet.com/journals/lancet/article/PIIS0140-6736(11)60989-6/abstract). You may have noticed in the first article, the third leading cause of death from cancer, impacting those firemen who were responsible for digging through the rubble at the WTC, was identified as blood cell cancer (non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, multiple myeloma & leukemia). Ten years after 9/11, the impact of the two planes ramming into the Twin Towers are still felt. Though the video footage is nowhere near as dramatic, and there are no mega-memorials at athletic events, the men and women who are dying from cancer are just as much victims of terrorism as those who died on 9/11.

I was led to research this issue by a clip on CBS 2’s 9/11 look back show, which I flipped to while I watched the Jets – Cowboys play on Monday Night Football. I happened to catch a piece on NYPD’s Ladder 1 Company, which somehow didn’t lose a single firefighter on 9/11, despite being one of the first firehouses to respond to the WTC. However, last year, one firefighter passed away from AML, which his doctors attributed to carcinogens he inhaled while working “on the pile” at the WTC. As I flipped to another station, I saw a clip of family members reading the names of lost loved ones. I then thought of the opening ceremonies of the Monday Night Football game, with a huge, unfurled flag and 70,000 fans chanting “U-S-A”. Then, I was reminded of the fact that this year, in honor of the tenth anniversary of 9/11, 9/11/11 was appointed as a “national day of service”.

I hate to say it, but I didn’t do anything specific for the national day of service, and I am willing to bet that I am in the majority of the US population. I had my daughter’s birthday party, yesterday, not to mention the all-important NFL football games to watch. I also woke up real early to train for my triathlon. I am sure that we all have good excuses and we don’t always have time to be of service on a day specified by the US Government (or be romantic on the exact day that Hallmark has told us we need to be regular-Romeos) and I don’t mean to suggest that we shouldn’t have memorials, commemorations or even spectacles with gargantuan flags to commemorate 9/11, either.

What I do suggest is that we need to remember that many of us are lucky enough to chant “U-S-A”, watch a mega-ceremony put on by the NFL or watch a show on TV on 9/11 and then resume our regularly scheduled lives on 9/12. Those people who have lost loved ones don’t get to walk away from 9/11 on 9/12. There are also many people who are a step closer to 9/11 every day that they are removed from it, because with every day they are a step closer to a date with cancer that is a direct byproduct of 9/11. Those direct responders and their family members will not get to walk away, be it in a few months or a few years.

Now, I want to take a moment to say that I am not trying to downplay or be insensitive to a lot of people that I know who were in Manhattan on 9/11/01, who were directly impacted, physically and/or psychologically. Plenty of people who watched the events of the day either live or on TV bear some real emotional scars, and I recognize that. I am sure that a large segment of the population has some close connection to 9/11 through friends and/or family who worked in the WTC or the Pentagon, were a first responder, were involved in the aftermath, etc. Personally, other than watching the events of the day unfold on TV, I have marginal intimate connection with the actual events of the day, other than my years of working and going to school in NYC and spending many hours photographing the Twin Towers for a photojournalism class. I know how much that day impacted and continues to impact me and I can’t imagine what the impact has been on others.

What I hope to accomplish with this post is to remind myself (and maybe you) of the ongoing nature of 9/11; that we can’t just let the events of the day go because it’s now September 12th, 10 years after the fact. I also hope to inspire you, my readers, to take some time to do some good in honor of 9/11 – it doesn’t matter what the actual date is, it matters what is in your heart. I also want to alert you to the fact that there is something that you can do that might save a life from 9/11/01 on 9/12/11. The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society is on the front line of research for blood related cancers. There are firefighters and police officers who will be impacted by cancer that research indicates has a likelihood of being caused by the events of 9/11. While there is no guarantee that a cure for blood cancer will be found in time to save first responders, every dollar makes it more likely.

You can donate to the LLS, and sponsor my triathlon bid here: http://pages.teamintraining.org/wch/wchtri11/aspiraq31y

As I have said before, if you have a favorite charity that you have a connection to, this is a great time to donate to that charity. It is a terrific and important way to remember the events of September 11th, and with a little bit of luck and the grace of G-d, maybe, just maybe, we can find a cure in the near future so that we don’t have to have to lose another of our brave members of the FDNY to the ongoing tragedy of 9/11.

If You Can Dodge a Wrench

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Thu, 01 Sep 2011 16:18:00 +0000

Last Wednesday evening’s TNT open water swim (OWS) was lightly attended, mostly because team members were on summer vacations. However, another possible factor (and by possible, I mean like a .000001% chance) in our low turnout rate was that the weatherbugs on the team realized what most of us did not, namely that the 14 mile per hour winds that swept across the Long Island Sound would result in pretty choppy conditions. By pretty choppy, I mean consistent 3 to 4-foot swells and an occasional 5-foot swell, for good measure. If you are skeptical about my claims, take a look at this report for Friday, Saturday and Sunday of this week (note (i) the wind speed chart and then (ii) the wave height chart, below it).

I was taken back around 16 years, when I used to do a bit of boogey boarding off of Long Beach (yes, that Long Beach, which was on the news all weekend during hurricane/tropical storm Irene coverage). I tried to get out to the beach on windier days, when the waves were larger, even going out once when the waves were gigantic (8 to 10-foot swells), thanks to a hurricane off the coast of North Carolina. Yeah, I was one of the idiots out there that the news reporters love to point out “those maniac surfers who just won’t listen to the authorities”. In full disclosure, the Long Beach lifeguards were on duty and, not only were they on duty, it was the first time and last time that I have ever seen every single lifeguard not only actually out of their chair/station, but they were actually standing in the ocean with the water up to their calves. Last Wednesday’s waves were not hurricane-esque waves, but I can say confidently that they were equal to the ocean’s churn on a windy day (minus the hard break of the waves at shore). As a result, our coaches cut our planned swim routine in about ½, a few people headed back to shore early and there were a few cases of seasickness.

Fortunately, last night’s OWS presented a kinder, gentler Long Island Sound. Those of us who were at last week’s OWS could barely recognize the placid water that presented itself to us. We swam long and hard, with little drama, other than the fact that I swam into a sizable branch, head on - undoubtedly a parting gift from Irene. After swimming back to shore, those of us who were at last week’s OWS commented on how nice and easy it was to swim this time around. I guess the saying is true - CLICK HERE!

For a more extended clip, and for those of you who haven’t seen “Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story”, you can CLICK HERE.

My Heroes

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Mon, 29 Aug 2011 16:06:00 +0000

Sunday morning’s Team in Training training was washed out, thanks to Irene. This caused some triathlon training problems for me, since Sunday morning trainings are my most intense, so missing the training meant that I needed to figure out how to make up the time and intensity of my training elsewhere. But, it is important that I take a step back and be thankful that my family and friends are safe and sound and, save for some water in my unfinished basement and downed tree limbs around my house, my home was spared and we have electricity!!!. Here are a few notes from my weekend of Irene:

My Basement: We use our unfinished basement for storage, since the basement takes on marginal amounts of water when there is a heavy rain. My neighbor, whose backyard is a watery mess, decided that rather than put drainage in his back yard he should grade his backyard so that all his excess water drains into my yard (and basement), so heavy rains often result in water in my basement. Spending money on a sump pump seems like a waste of money because we rarely get significant flooding in the basement and, in deference to the water that sometimes does inhabit the basement, we store most everything in our basement in plastic storage boxes. In the end, we depend on a French drain mechanism to funnel out all the water that comes into our basement.

At 11pm on Saturday night our basement was dry. At around 2:30am, with the rain picking up steadily, I decided to see whether the basement was taking on water. I assumed that there was some water, with the steady and heavy rains, but I had no idea how much. As I headed downstairs to see whether my French drain was working, or not, it occurred to me that anyone depending on anything French to defend property or land should not be surprised when the French defense is quickly and completely overwhelmed and then requires US and British assistance. Sure enough, my French drain was not up to the task of handling the water that Irene and my neighbor decided to dump into my basement. Luckily, after I had to move a whole bunch of boxes and repositioned some non-waterproof items that were being threatened, the French drain eventually recovered and the only remnants of Irene is some dampness and a little moisture on the floor.

New York Sports Club: At around noon on Sunday, when the rain from Irene subsided, I called up New York Sports Club in New Rochelle to see if they might be opening up (I hoped and prayed!) in the afternoon, AFTER the brunt of the storm passed. It turns out that they were open; they were open since 7am – yes, 7am, which is when the gym usually opens on Sunday!

If you weren’t tracking the storm, the epicenter and most powerful portion of Irene hit the New Rochelle area at around 9am, and some of the strongest bands of rain were pelting the area from 4am – 11am.

Imagine waking up at 5am, looking outside, seeing a raging storm and thanking heavens that you are not an essential worker, like a policeman, fireman or EMT – someone who might have to go out in the mess that was Hurricane/Tropical Storm Irene. After all, you work in a gym, and why should would anyone risk life and limb (people were killed during the storm from falling tree limbs, etc.) to open up a gym for some crazy fitness nuts… even fitness-crazies would understand, right? So, you dutifully call in to NYSC of New Rochelle to confirm that the gym is closed and WTF!?!? – You find out that you need to get to work. And no, you don’t get to wait until after the most dangerous part of the storm passes by; you need to get to work now, by 7am! Otherwise, some tri-wacko isn’t going to get his workout in and may go from 5% body fat to 5.01% body fat that day.

In any case, I got in a pretty decent workout (21 miles on the bike and a 3 mile run). So, thank you to the brave employees of NYSC in New Rochelle. Without your dedication to my health and fitness and your disregard for your own safety, I would have lost a most crucial day of training.

My Little Black Dress

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Wed, 24 Aug 2011 16:33:00 +0000

As you may know, at the outset of my triathlon training I set three goals for myself. The theme for these goals was the number “3” – fitting for a triathlon. My target goals were (i) to raise $3,333.33 for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society (donate here); (ii) to lose 33 pounds; and (iii) to complete the triathlon in under 3 hours, 33 minutes and 33 seconds.

Here is an update on my progress: I am just under $500 away from my $3,333.33 goal and I think that if I survive the open water swim (more on that in a future post), I will be able to complete the triathlon in under 3:33:33.

Now you, as an intelligent individual, probably picked up on the fact that I didn’t mention where I am regarding my weight loss goal of 33 pounds. Yeah… That goal…

So, it’s not all bad news; I have lost 19 pounds, to date, and I would like to think that I have added some muscle mass, which has mitigated some of my weight loss. However, clearly I am not where I want to be regarding my weight loss, which leads me to my little black dress.

Before I go any further, I want to be perfectly clear: I DO NOT ACTUALLY OWN A LITTLE BLACK DRESS. Despite having three degrees from New York University and spending years upon years in Greenwich Village, I have never worn a black dress of any kind (little, big or otherwise); I do not own a black dress; I will not own a black dress; I do not wish I owned one. The “little black dress” is purely metaphorical in nature.

Now that I cleared that up, as you probably guessed, a “little black dress” represents a specific outfit, be it a wedding dress, a strapless gown, a bikini or an actual little black dress, which is too small on a buyer (usually a woman) when it is purchased. The buyer (let’s go with “she”) then sets out a diet and exercise regimen and/or goal date when she will be able to fit into that dress/gown/outfit, and look fabulous in it. You’ve seen this concept in commercials for “Special K” cereal and the like, where a woman looks in the mirror while holding up a dress that is too small for her against her body, as she shifts from side to side, dismayed by the fact that she can’t fit into the fabulous dress. The shocking and amazing conclusion of the commercial has the previously-forlorn woman glowing as she magically fits into the previously-too-small dress, thanks to said-product-being-advertised.

Well, I have a “little black dress” that comes in the form of a cycling jersey. If you have never seen or worn a cycling jersey, you should know that they are meant to be form fitting. Extra jersey or t-shirt material can get caught in the wind, as you bicycle, creating a parachute-effect or “drag”, which means that a loose-fitting shirt or jersey can slows you down by “catching” the air that you move through. Sure, there are some more forgiving/looser jerseys, but the real, hardcore jerseys have little margin for error (flab) when it comes to squeezing in to them.

I happen to have a size medium, baby blue cycling jersey, which was gifted to me (this is not one of the 11 jerseys that I won on Ebay, discussed in my post from last week). To give you some background on my couture sizing (I love calling my decade-old, free t-shirts couture), prior to training for this triathlon I inhabited size large t-shirts and even size x-large t-shirts, on occasions (you know, because I have broad shoulders). Thus, when I started training for this triathlon, I designated my baby blue cycling jersey as my own “little black dress.” Four months ago, I clawed, crawled and battled my way into the jersey, just to see what it looked like on me, and I practically needed butter and oil to get myself out of it. Today, well, I can get in and out of the jersey, but there are still a few too many bulges and tight spots to say that I am “in”. But, I am getting there.

Fitting into my little black dress is especially important to me because it represents more than just a weight loss number; it represents fitness, muscle tone and overall body shape. It considers the muscle that I have added in addition to the weight that I have lost. So on race day, even if I don’t hit that magic 33 pound goal, I will be a happy man, so long as I can really fit into my little black dress.

Just so you know, though, I am going to make up for any weight loss shortfalls on my part by lowering my 3:33:33 tri-time commitment. Keep in mind, my time and my weight loss are completely under my control, so I take full responsibility for those commitments and impact me, personally. My fundraising goals impact LLS and people fighting against blood cancers. This is where you can make an impact. Please join my blog readers (and those who have donated so that they do NOT have read my blog) who have already donated and ensure that I am able to hit my fundraising goal by donating here: http://pages.teamintraining.org/wch/wchtri11/aspiraq31y. Thank you for all of your support!

A Man Walking With His God

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Fri, 19 Aug 2011 16:59:00 +0000

To donate to the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society: http://pages.teamintraining.org/wch/wchtri11/aspiraq31y

Below, is an email that I put together with the help of Robert Friedman, one of the captains of Skippy's Team, and the late Matt Fenster (Matt didn't help me outright, nor did he or does he know about this blog post, but I borrowed his wisdom, courage and words). I hope that you find Matt's words inspiring and that the preface to his words does not diminish the power of what he wrote as the final blog post of his all-too-short life.

Here is my email to the Westchester Jarden Team In Training:

Hi all,

While most of my emails and blog posts are on the humorous side of the world, I want to pass along some news and, I hope, inspiration for this Team In Training. Unfortunately, a most incredible man, named Matt Fenster, passed away, yesterday, after a long, brave battle against AML. A number people in the TNT group knew Matt and his children and have been impacted by his bravery and inspiring personality. I hope that his bravery (see his email below) can serve to inspire our team.

Many of us in our TNT group have put in a good amount of time and effort into improving our speed and technique in particular triathlon disciplines. The results have really been amazing and we will all benefit from the longer-term health benefits of being in better shape, and the short-term benefits of faster tri times.   However, it is important to keep an eye on what is really important. Matt Fenster's passing was a blinding reminder, to me, why we are all on TNT and not just running triathlons on our own; we are TNTers because we are raising money for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.
I hope that Matt's final blog post and Rob Friedman's introduction to Matt, below, serve to inspire all of us to take a few more minutes out of training and add a few more minutes into fundraising. You never know which dollar will be the one that will prevent families and friends from experiencing the excruciating loss of a loved one.

Thank you for your time and for reading on. - Avi

[Written by Rob Friedman]:
Matt Fenster was a father of four young children, a husband, a son, and a brother. He was a friend to many and worked endlessly to help his community in Riverdale, NY and beyond. Matt was diagnosed with AML in April 2010. Bone marrow drives were held in communities in the US and Israel, resulting in matches not just for Matt, but for 19 other people as well. Matt's transplant was initially successful, but the disease returned and months ago he required a second transplant. In April of this year Matt and his family learned that the second transplant failed and that that there were no other treatment options under consideration. Matt Fenster passed away yesterday.

While I did not know Matt or his family, their tragedy is one we unfortunately have seen too often. As a group, we have decided to do what we can to help prevent others from experiencing this kind of tragedy. We have each committed to train for an Olympic distance triathlon and raise a minimum of $2,300 to fund research and find a cure for AML. We are five-six weeks away from race day. We all have work to do for training and fundraising. Now let's get it done!

For more inspiration and insight into the kind of person Matt was, please read through his words, below.
--------------
The following few paragraphs were written by Matt a few weeks ago--he asked Jen to send this out on Caring Bridge as his final post:

Hi, all. Just to mix things up a bit, for what will probably be my last post, here are some thoughts from a man walking with his God.

Psalm 23, a psalm of David.

God is my shepherd, I shall not lack. [I never have lacked.] In lush meadows He lays me down, beside tranquil waters He leads me. [This year I have been able to feel a peace that I had not previously known -- in Hebrew, "nachat ruach." ] He restores my soul [which I believe is eternal]. He leads me on paths of justice for His name's sake. [I can only hope that I have followed these paths more often than I have shunned them.] Though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me. [Throughout this ordeal, I have never been afraid. Perhaps it is because I am a person of faith? Or maybe I am too simpleminded to recognize the magnitude of the loss that I am facing?] Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. [I interpret God's "rod" and "staff" to be my family and friends, respectively.] You prepare a table before me in view of my tormentors. [I think about the tables in my life. . . my childhood dinner table . . . breakfast before school with my kids at a cafe table . . . the seder table . . . the table from which I read the Torah in synagogue.] You anointed my head with oil [I was brought up to believe I was special and could accomplish anything that I wanted], my cup overflows [a phrase I have uttered to myself each Friday night before the words of Kiddush].   May only goodness and kindness pursue me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of God for eternity. [Although I am saddened by what I will miss, the days with which I have been blessed have been full.]

A final thought: Walk with your God. Identify what is most important to you, go after it, and when you have tasted success, be thankful for it.

Shalom.

Matt

Guessing?

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Thu, 18 Aug 2011 15:45:00 +0000

Open water swims in the Long Island Sound can be a lot of fun. The pre-swim excitement was palpable this week, as teammates struggled to put on their wetsuits and help each other zip up (wetsuit zippers are on the back of the wetsuit and, though there is a leash, it is much easier to get zip up with an assist). Prep was quicker, now that most of us had a week under our belt; Pam cans were readily available and Body Glide sticks were everywhere.

In addition to improving our dressing skills, we are also starting to adjust our palates from the mild, chlorine taste of the bourgeois swimming pool to the uber-sophisticated, hyper-salty taste of the Loung Island Sound. I am considering adding a new routine to my training regimen to better to prepare for the OWS – I am going to pour myself a bowl of sea salt, say about a cereal bowl-full, and start eating it with a teaspoon. I think a bowl a day is about right.

While I complained a bit about the OWS in my blog last week, there are some advantages to being out in the open water. One big advantage is that there is no end-wall, where you have to turn around every 25 yards. Unless you are one of those awesome swimmers that can do flip turns, enabling you to keep your momentum while looking like Michael Phelps, stopping at the wall every 25 yards can be a real momentum-killer. However, the wall does serve one important function – it helps you keep track of the distance that you’ve traversed. So long as you can count (don’t discount the difficulty of counting; keeping track of laps is easier said than done, at least for some of us), all you need to do to figure out how far you’ve swam is to multiply the number of lengths that you swam by the length of the pool. It’s pretty simple.

The trouble with open water swimming is that you don’t always know the distance that you are swimming. While some beaches have distance guides or guidelines posted, or distance information is common knowledge and readily passed along from swimmer to swimmer, many beaches do not offer up that information. As a result, the members of Team In Training were left guessing (FYI, for those that don’t know, the guy in the sunglasses in the youtube video is blind) as to how far we swam these past two weeks. Luckily, thanks to one of our “Baywatch” lifeguards (you need to refer back to last week’s blog if you don’t get the reference) who I asked for some guidance as we were leaving the beach, I have a rough estimate of the distance of our swim. TNTers, you can email me if you want to know more.

On a side note, I love Ebay. In full disclosure, I do not own any Ebay stock, so this is not a pump-and-dump stock scheme… only an attorney would put this disclosure in a blog, right? Every now and again you can find an absolute bargain on Ebay. I happen to have been trolling Ebay for a cycling jersey. Why? Because even though I am a middling, at best, cyclist, I want to pretend that I am better than I really am and look the part. Plus, some jerseys just look awesome. However, I don’t have much money to spend on a cycling jersey (I am all out of triathlon gear money) and cycling jerseys can be expensive (I am at the point where anything over $20 is expensive). I was tracking a Super Grover jersey, which, unfortunately, I could not afford ($51 for Super Grover ?!?!) and had to let go. Luckily, I came across this auction , which I won. I won eleven jerseys for $10, including shipping, from an Ebay newbie. Honestly, when I won I was worried that he was going to send me only one jersey, or that the jerseys that he was going to send were going to be dirty, unraveling pieces of garbage. Well, they arrived yesterday, and Teri Hatcher said it best, on Seinfeld, when she said http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BL2PicT9Kng.

Blood in the Water

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Fri, 12 Aug 2011 17:30:00 +0000

One thing I failed to mention in my last post about the open water swim was that Rye Beach provided us with the “Baywatch” treatment. While David Hasselhoff was not there on Wednesday night, we had two lifeguards, in kayaks, with those big, long, red floatation devices, in the water with us throughout our swim. Apparently, this is the first time that TNT has been given this treatment, and I would like to think that the reason this happened was because of my presence on the team. Ok, maybe not.

Now, it is important to realize the logistics and dynamics of having a group of over 30 swimmers, of different swimming skill, in the water at the same time. A swimming stroke is comprised of a flutter kick (or of violent, karate-esque kicks) and arm-strokes (or arm-flails, as the case may be). When you have a lot of kicking and arm-flailing, it can be kind of dangerous. Curious as to what a horde of people swimming at the same time in the same place looks like? Have a look: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jVyAa_0-vuM&hd=1.

In order to prepare us for this reality, a couple of weeks ago, our coaches introduced us to a “full combat swimming” drill. We were lined up in a row of four people, shoulder to shoulder, in a single swimming pool lane. The row of the weakest swimmers was first in line and rows of stronger swimmers were set up behind them. Now, there are six swim-lanes in the pool at SUNY Purchase, and the drill was to swim to the wall at the end of the each swim-lane, duck under the rope that divides the first lane from the second lane and then swim back to the end of the second lane, then duck under that rope… and you get the drill… all the way to the end of the sixth lane. The weaker swimmers were given a head start and were ordered to “hold the line”, which means to avoid getting passed by stronger swimmers who were to follow them. Between 10 to 20 seconds later, the next row of swimmers was released with orders to hold their line and to chase down the first row, and so it went for each row. What ends up happening in the drill is that you need to nudge, elbow, claw, and sometimes fight your way in front of swimmers in your row (or drop back, and avoid the churning feet of those in front of you). Then, as you approach the next wave of swimmers in front of you, you need to avoid the churning feet, find a little space, climb over the backs of swimmers or crawl through some small hole between swimmers, all while trying not to hurt or drown anybody else, or yourself (remember, we all know each other at TNT). The drill was educational, rough and real, and it created some awkward moments, but the experience came in handy on Wednesday night.

So this past week, to add to the chaos, we learned first-hand that the Long Island Sound, in fact, DOES NOT have swim lanes. Instead, we needed to sight, or look up in between strokes, in order to attempt to swim in a straight line. The net result was organized-chaos. We were told to swim back and forth between specified buoys, with outbound traffic on the left and inbound traffic on the right. However, the lack of lanes and sighting (foggy goggles add to the difficulty of sighting, which is not easy to begin with) lead to a number of collisions or near-collisions.

Adding to the danger was the razor-wire that connects the buoy that run alongside the area where we were swimming. To clarify, there is no razor-wire in the Long Island Sound (at least that I know of); there is a heavy duty rope connecting the buoys. However, something magical happened in the LI Sound and that rope has become VERY sharp (and chemists, marine biologists or know-it-alls, please feel free to chime in and explain how this happens). How do I know? Well, while trying to avoid another swimmer, I veered to my left and brushed my fingers against the rope, cutting up the inside of my left ring finger with a 2 inch long cut (no stiches needed, but the cut is pretty deep). I was not the only one who left the water cut up, either. But hey, we are triathletes! We are tough! And we are fighting for a great cause – the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society!

So if you haven’t sponsored me yet, think about me, bloodied, bruised (did I add that I left the water a little dizzy because I was sweating buckets in my wetsuit, only I didn’t know it because I was enveloped in water) pushing myself to my limits to raise money to find a cure for blood cancer.

If that doesn’t convince you to sponsor me… man… you are one tough nut to crack!

You can sponsor me simply by clicking here and using your credit card (hit the “Donate Now” button on the right side of the webpage): http://pages.teamintraining.org/wch/wchtri11/aspiraq31y

Thank you for your support!

Baby Jellyfish

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Thu, 11 Aug 2011 20:46:00 +0000

Yesterday was a very exciting day for TNT triathlon trainees. Finally, after months of training in the SUNY Purchase pool, we were unleashed into the open waters of the Long Island Sound (sure, we were on a beach, surrounded by jetties, so the water was more like a salty swimming pool than “open water”, but let’s not kill the excitement too soon). It was our first group swim in the Sound and 30+ TNTers gathered at Rye Beach, right next to Rye Playland, ready to trade in chlorine for salt and the other naturally (and not so naturally) occurring chemicals that make up the LI Sound.

I need to break into my writing flow here because there is a lot to write about, so I am going to chop this blog post into two, to ensure that this will be a blog post and not a novella…

…now, back to the beach.

We all got into our hot pink swim caps, and black and silver “Team In Training” wetsuits – yeah, we looked awesomely bizarre... and, there were onlookers. Rye Beach, Rye Playland and The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society (an awesome organization which you should support - and if you haven’t done so already and are reading this blog you SHOULD feel guilty about not supporting them and me, but you can click here to donate and support my triathlon training http://pages.teamintraining.org/wch/wchtri11/aspiraq31y), hooked the team up. Rye Beach closes just after 6pm, but LLS arranged for us to have the water to ourselves from 6pm – 7pm. So while families packed up from a beautiful day at the beach, we, the Pink & Black Invaders began to populate the beach, much to the amusement and photographing pleasure of beachgoers.

In addition to the visual shock and awe that we provided viewers, we also provided viewers with high quality physical comedy. Wetsuits are made of thick, tight-fitting material, and there is all sorts of pulling, yanking, grabbing, grunting and cursing that is involved in pulling on a wetsuit. There are many amusing strategies that can be employed by individuals, including the shopping-bag-on-feet technique, the spray-Pam-all-over-your-body technique (yes, the cooking spray Pam), and the use of body glide (a lubricant) to help the process along. If you are bored next Wednesday night and are looking for some physical comedy amusement, come on down to Rye Beach, then head over to Rye Playland for amusement park fun.

Another key to successful wetsuit-wearing is to use body glide on your neck, to reduce chafing. So, as instructed I got body glide ALL over my lower neck… and I leaned that “the neck” means all the way your neck, up to your hairline. I have a nice red rash to remind me just how high I need to get that body glide, next time.

Eventually, we did get into the water, which is when I discovered my true love for my wetsuit. Despite the difficulty of putting on a wetsuits, once you swim with one on, you will never want to swim without one because they act as a flotation device. Simply go in to the water, dip your neckline under the water and fill up the wetsuit with water. Just like that, you float on the water like you were in the Dead Sea. No need to kick to keep your hips up in the water while swimming – your wetsuit does it for you!

The first order of business was to swim out to the first row of buoys in the water. It was there where we were all informed that we shouldn’t worry about all the little jellyfish(!!!) that were in the water. I hadn’t noticed them before, but there were lots and lots jellyfish, everywhere. Good news, though! It turns out that they are babyjellyfish and didn’t have stingers (yet)! The truth is that they added a pretty cool dimension to the swim because every couple of stroke I would feel a jelly-like object bouncing off my hand or finger tips. Should I feel guilty about knocking the heck out of these baby jellyfish?

I’ll pick up the rest of the swim in my next blog post, tomorrow (I hope!).

Singing in the Pain

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Thu, 04 Aug 2011 20:42:00 +0000

For the sake of background, I need to explain what a hill-repeat is, and why they are part of my triathlon training. As you may have guessed, a hill-repeat is when you bike up a hill, turn around, ride back to the bottom of the hill, and then bike right back up the hill, again (and again, and again). Obviously, purpose of hill-repeats are inflicting pain upon the cyclist and preparing the cyclist to bicycle up hills that are on a specific course. Team in Training participants do a lot of hill-repeats as part of our training because the cycling portion of the Jarden Westchester Triathlon course has a lot of sizeable hills, and doing hill-repeats prepares us to complete the course/complete the course at a quicker pace.

For those of you who are wondering, it is MUCH harder to bicycle up a hill than it is to bicycle on level ground or downhill (I know, shocking). My cycling experience has given me a lot of insight into why my car makes “that” noise, like it is straining, when I am driving up a steep hill. As a result of my training, to be completely honest, I have come to empathize with my car when it starts making that sound. I’ve gone as far as telling my car that we were almost at the top of the hill, that it was doing a great job and it would NOT have to do a hill repeat.

There is one last thing you should know: Hill repeats hurt. They hurt a lot. I will spare you the boring reasons and details about gearing, torque, etc., and leave it at going up hills sucks and bicycling up the same hill multiple times sucks even more.

I have tried multiple strategies for making hill repeats more bearable. I’ve tried channeling my anger, using my hatred of “the hill” as my motivator. Aside from the fact that tricking myself into hating a hill is tough, my anger usually runs out during repeat number two, and then I am usually mentally spent for the remainder of the repeats. I’ve tried thinking about blog topics as I go up the hill, but that takes me to the topic of, “Ow, ow, ow…this hurts…ow, ow, ow…” every single time; to date, I have not gotten past that topic on a hill-repeat. I’ve tried playing a song in my head, but I am not able to focus on that song, and it quickly is drowned out by the painful screams in my mind cause by the hill repeat. So, until this past Sunday, I have been solution-less.

Then it happened, on the way down “Claire’s Climb” (a large hill – thus the name “Claire’s Climb” – that is on the triathlon route) the serendipitous moment that I had dreamed of, occurred.

While descending Claire’s Climb, I started singing out loud.

I started singing Britney Spears’ “Hit me baby one more time” (in reference to the fact that I was doing going to climb Claire’s Climb, you guessed it, one more time). I sang Britney’s bubble-gum-pop ditty in an angry, death-metal sort of tone. I doubt anyone wanted to hear me sing, but I was more than happy to serenade myself! As I turned around and made my way up the hill, I kept singing and, wouldn’t you know it, the hill was not nearly as miserable to climb as it was the last time.

By the time I hit the top of the hill I was over Britney, and wouldn’t you know it, what song popped into my head other than “That’s Amore.” So the cyclists next to me (or passing me by) on the next repeat were regaled with, “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore…” There is no rhyme or reason to the songs that I sing, there is no single genre that works best for me, and I don’t have a “go-to” song. What I do know is that everyone else better put in ear plugs when they are next to me on the hills because I will be singing my way up those hills, one note at a time.

Well, Hello, Neighbor!

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Wed, 27 Jul 2011 19:03:00 +0000

Think of the worst person that you could embarrass yourself in front of – let’s go through the most common categories:

Family: They love you (you hope) and will (hopefully) forget the incident. Even if they don’t, the truth is that you probably have spent so much time around your family that you’ve embarrassed yourself more than once in front of them, and they have probably embarrassed themselves in front of you. All-in-all, while it’s never fun to embarrass yourself, a family member is not too bad of a person to have as a witness (see, my daughters watching walking down the street with one shoe on and one shoe off, a few weeks ago).

Strangers: Sure, it’s no fun to make a fool out of yourself in front of a total stranger, but unless the act is recorded on video and posted on YouTube, it isn’t that bad. You probably gave the other person a good laugh, and you will never see them again. Making a fool of yourself in front of a stranger might even be preferable to making a fool of yourself in front of friends or family, since the likelihood of future encounters with a stranger is minimal.

Friends: This analysis is similar to that of family, though this analysis only applies to embarrassing situations that occur when you are no longer in school. If you are in school, making a fool in front of friends or schoolmates is the worst type of embarrassment there is (as a sophomore in high school, I once threw up in school three times in the course of a day; I threw up once in front of the freshman class, once for the juniors and once for the seniors – finally the nurse sent me home, you know, because there were no more grades to throw up in front of). However, once you are out of school your friends, know you, rib you and forgive you. You will probably have some dirt on them and they know you well enough not to judge you on that one specific occasion.

Co-workers / neighbors / business associates / people who you casualty encounter on a day to day basis: I think this is the worst group to embarrass yourself in front of because you have such little time and so few interactions with the other party, during which time the other person will form his/her opinion of you. As a result, big picture assumptions and decisions are made by those people based on short and infrequent interactions. Worse yet, forced, repeated interactions with the other party require you to face the embarrassing moment over and over again. Of course, there is also the danger of getting labeled, for ease of recollection and identification - who wants to remember or attempt to pronounce the name “Avi”, when they can just call me something like “coffee stain guy”?

I recognize that my analysis might be flawed, lack categories and overlooks some important points - your comments and thoughts are appreciated. But, let’s move on to why I bring this issue up.

After an hour-long bike ride, I turned down my block to see my next door neighbor bringing out his recyclables to the curb (it was paper/cardboard day in New Rochelle, today). I have had some nice discussions with this particular neighbor, who is a very nice gentleman, and we get along well. As you know, I have been working on my “unclipping skills” and I have actually had the hubris to pass along tips to others, now that I am thought I was an expert. However, it is clear that I have not moved up to the advanced level of unclipping.

I steered my bike over to the curb where my neighbor was standing, with my left foot unclipped, and I put my left foot down to stabilize the bike. My neighbor extended his right hand, and I began to extend my right hand to shake his hand, as I started to unclip my right foot. He said, “Hey, how are you.” I said, “I am doing well, it’s great to see you,” as my hand reached half-extension. Then I looked as my neighbor and calmly said, “I am about to fall.” My neighbor watched, dumbstruck, as my almost-handshake turned into me keeling over on my bike, to my right, and me torqueing my body so I landed on my hands in a quasi-side push up (thankfully, my left foot was unclipped, so I could adjust). What I learned at that moment was that my neighbor has a great lawn with the softest grass – I knew it looked great before today, but now I know it feels great too. I then proceeded to unclip my right foot, stand up and began to explain to my neighbor why I made a complete idiot out of myself.

I have a feeling that the next time I wave hello to my neighbor, he’ll be thinking “Hey, tip-over guy!”, or something like that… I can’t think of a nickname, but if you can, please let me know. I might just get something for the person who comes up with the best nickname.

Alarm Bells Are Ringing

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Tue, 26 Jul 2011 21:04:00 +0000

On Sunday, a teammate of mine shlepped me around the entire 25 mile triathlon bicycle course. One hour and forty minutes later, I realized that I am in more trouble than I thought. Apparently, the additional 6 miles, which I previously didn’t ride last week (not to mention the sweltering heat), took me over the edge. I ran 3.1 miles last week after a 19 mile bike ride; this week, I made it the 31 steps up my driveway, barely. I am pretty sure that I slowed my teammate down by a solid five to ten minutes over the course of the ride.

Yesterday, I was still recovering from my ride in the morning, but I headed to the gym @ 8:30pm for a swim, only to realize when I got there that I forgot to take my asthma medication. While you may remember that I had previously biked and ran without taking asthma meds, I thought better of spending too muchtime under water without sufficient oxygen-enhancing assistance (I also missed getting to Costco and Home Depot before they closed because of my bumbling stupidity).

Last night, I decided to make up for everything. I set my alarm on my cell phone for 5:30am, ready to go out to bike and run (yeah!). I failed to realize that my handy dandy wall charger was unplugged, so though my phone was plugged in, the charger was not. My alarm never went off and I slept to 6:45am (which, I must admit, was sort of a pleasant surprise).

I ate cheesecake this weekend (small piece), had half a slice of pizza, had a small smoothie this morning… I am falling off the boat in not so small steps. Alarm bells are starting to ring, especially because I have put 3 pounds back on (down 16 pounds, versus 19 pounds – and every pound counts when you are going up what seems like Mount Everest, which happens to be a tiny hill to most everyone else). Oh yes, I failed to mention that my brake pads on my bike are doing some funny things...

Alarm bells are ringing everywhere…

But, there is good news. Tomorrow, a team mentor has organized a bike ride at 5:50am (that is 20 minutes earlier than usual) and we will be doing many hill repeats (read: masochism in one of its highest forms). I will go swimming tonight and will remember to take my meds, first.

Then, there is the best news of all. Some of you may be aware that the Bar Exam is going on today and I am not taking it. Clearly, things could be worse (I could be in the Javits Center with thousands of hyper-stressed lawyers-to-be taking the first of at least two days of 8-hour-long exams). Just thinking about it makes me feel a lot better (schadenfreude anyone?). Things are looking up already; now I just need to make sure that my alarm is set to go off at 5:15am and that I actually plug my cellphone charger in tonight.

Alarm Bells Are Ringing

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Tue, 26 Jul 2011 21:03:00 +0000

Rough Riding

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Thu, 21 Jul 2011 20:59:00 +0000

Rough Riding

Although my bike ride this morning was only an hour long, I had a rough ride. Physically, mentally and emotionally, it was just rough all around.

I returned from a four-day-long business trip to Bah-stahn (otherwise known as Boston). Since I am not a Yankees fan, I can say that it happens to be a beautiful city; well, at least the five square block radius around my hotel was beautiful. I was a good boy and made sure to train for an hour a day, while I was away, doing running and weight workouts. But, for some reason, when I got on my bike this morning, things didn’t click physically.

While I have the luxury of having a great group of training partners, this morning, I spent my first twenty minutes of my ride riding alone, which was fine. The alone time gave me time to think and reflect upon the fact that this weekend is the one year anniversary of the passing of a very good friend of mine. It seems like a long time ago and yet it seems like no time has passed since I last saw my good friend. I thought about the fact that my friend battled cancer for a year, in a fashion that I could only describe as godly. He never complained, always smiled and joked around; he worked through chemo treatments and somehow looked like he was doing better than everyone else, despite the realities of his situation. He was a mountain of a man—physically, mentally and emotionally—and he whipped cancer, getting a clean bill of health, with nary a complaint and without an ounce of self-pity. Unfortunately, a tragic accident took him from us all too early.

I thought about the fact that when I wake up at 5:30am to train, I sometimes wonder whether I should just avoid the pain and struggle of training and go back to bed. I thought about the fact that cancer victims, like my friend, have no choice but to wake up and fight each and every day, if they want to have a chance of living. They have no snooze button. I know that my friend got up every day ready to fight, embracing his battle without complaint. In fact, he encouraged others and raised us up with him. I thought about how he would be an amazing mentor and training partner, if he were training for this triathlon with me.

I also realized that each and every person that the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society is fighting for has a circle of friends and family who probably feel the same way about them as I felt about my friend; these people wake up every morning, not just five or six days a week, and fight, battle and persevere. I have the luxury of getting off of my bike. They don’t. The only way that they can get off of their bike to rest and relax will be as a result of dollars and cents spent on cancer research.

So, I ask you, please donate. Please donate generously to this all-important cause. Please donate so that more and more people can wake up in the morning and hit the snooze button in their lives, or have the energy and ability to actually train for a triathlon or marathon, as opposed to battling illness. If LLS is not your charity of choice, please write a check or donate to your favorite charity. If you don’t have a favorite charity, or you are looking for a second or third-favorite charity, please consider donating to LLS, and supporting my triathlon bid.

Thank you.

But, I Might Break A Nail!

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Mon, 11 Jul 2011 19:27:00 +0000

It has been a rough last two days of training on my bike. In that time, I have blown out three tires in two days of riding. To be perfectly honest, it has been demoralizing and frustrating, but my only option is to get back on my bike and keep pedaling (after getting my tires fixed). If I look for the silver-lining, at least I got a blog topic out of the blow outs.

Last Thursday, about a mile and a half from home, I rode over a long but shallow pothole. I heard two large bangs under my feet. I had never experienced a blown tire before, nor had I ever heard the bang of a tire blowing out, so I was actually relieved to see that the bottom of my bike was still intact (I thought that my bike chain just dropped off, possibly along with my back gears) and found that the noise was the result of my then-deflated tires, bursting. I dismounted safely, surveyed the damage and knew that I could not ride my bicycle home. Now, I know, and was subsequently advised by passing teammates who stopped to check on me, that it is better to carry your bike, as opposed to rolling the bike, in order to avoid damaging my bike rims. So, I lifted my bike up and started carrying it home. And, as I walked home, I could swear that I heard my bike whispering to me, “So, big boy, how do you like walking a mile in my shoes, hauling me around?” Adding insult to injury, about halfway home, I could have sworn I heard my bike say, “Hey tough guy, even if you lost another 20 pounds, you would still weigh more than 125 pounds more than me!”

Is it strange that I now feel somewhat sympathetic towards my bicycle?

By Sunday, I had both blown tubes fixed at the bike shop and was in tip top shape, ready to go on my TNT bike training ride. For the first time, our coaches led the team out of the SUNY Purchase campus and onto neighborhood streets. We biked up Claire’s Climb, one of the major hills that we will tackle in the triathlon, then went down the hill and then went right back up the hill…and down… somewhere between three and five times, in total (if it sounds a lot like knocking your head against a wall, you’ve got a perfect picture of what it feels like). Not fun. Then, after all that, on the way back to campus, BANG! I get another flat, a solid six miles away from my car.

Luckily, two TNT mentors and a coach stopped to help me out, because otherwise, I would have been walking back five miles in 88 degree Fahrenheit heat. For a few minutes, it seemed like we were stuck in a bad joke (all because of my ineptitude), “How many TNTers does it take to change a bicycle tube?” First, I had the wrong size tube for my tire rim, which resulted in one of the mentor’s hard work, changing the tire tube 85% to completion, worthless. Then, the mentor’s hand cramped up, as a result of the exertion. We went through two other tubes, which didn’t fit my rim, until Regan, a TNT coach, pulled out a tube that fit (pretty much) my rim.

Unfortunately, Regan had just gotten a manicure before the weekend (she didn’t mention this until she was 65% of the way through changing my tire) and had ruined it on my account. She expertly fixed the tire, sweating, pushing, pulling and prodding the tube and the tire, and then pumped the tire up, to boot. My contribution to the effort was standing by, watching and saying, “thank you.”

– I did absolutely nothing.

What I didn’t tell Regan, or the other mentors, is that I know how to change a tire, but didn’t help because I too had just gotten a manicure, and I didn’t want to chip a nail.

(Just to be completely clear, I had NO idea how to change a tire – as sad as that sounds – and, I actually did not get a manicure, but I might as well have – I stood around looking and feeling like a useless idiot, thanking the heavens that such a strong and capable woman like Regan was in my life to help me out with my busted tire.)

THANK YOU TNT MENTORS AND COACHES FOR ALL OF YOUR HELP!

Do You Love Me…? Do I What?!?!

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Thu, 07 Jul 2011 13:26:00 +0000

If you’ve seen either the movie or the play, “Fiddler on the Roof”, you know of the famous “Do you love me?” dialogue-song between Tevye and Golde. The emotionally serious and comical interchange between husband and wife offers insight into a husband’s insecurities and a wife’s belief that her actions, not her words, should be sufficient evidence of her love for her husband (an obvious reversal of traditional gender stereotypes regarding a husband’s and a wife’s need for communication and affirmation of love).

My wife and I are coming up on our 11-year wedding anniversary and our 15-year anniversary of when we started dating, so we have been together for a while… I am lucky to be married to such a wonderful woman who is so amazing in so many ways (I am trying to strike a balance here, between being too mushy, yet complimentary enough so that my wife doesn’t give me hell about this blog or make it less convenient for me to train for the triathlon, so I apologize to you, the reader, for erring on the side of being a little more mushy than less). Lucky for me, I don’t need to ask the question, “Do you love me?” – I know my wife loves me.

Let me take you back to this past Monday night (I will try my best to condense a longer story). My wife and I were out for the night in NYC with my brother-in-law and his wife, celebrating the 4th of July. I was walking with my BIL and my wife was walking with my SIL, and soon enough, I noticed that my wife and SIL stopped following my BIL and I back to our car, choosing to take a different route. I told my BIL that we should go ahead and follow my wife and SIL, and not correct them if they lead us in the wrong direction. We followed until we were a block and a half past the car, when my wife finally asked if I knew where the car was. “Of course I do,” I responded. My wife said to me, “You wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t ask, right? You were laughing at me the whole time!” My wife knows me all too well.

So, fast forward to last night, as I ran out of the house to Team In Training’s Wednesday night team swim training. I went to the closet where we keep our towels, grabbed a yellow towel, ran to give my two daughters a kiss goodnight (my son was already asleep), and turned around to see my wife doubled over in laughter.

“Look at your towel. Go get another one.”

I thanked my wife, gave her a kiss goodbye and said, “I have no idea why you told me about this; you know that I wouldn’t have said anything to you.” She nodded, knowingly.

I know my wife still loves me. If she didn’t, I would have been using this towel to dry off in front of 25+ triathlon teammates.

I would have looked Triathlon Tough.

Ride Between the Rain Drops

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Tue, 05 Jul 2011 15:49:00 +0000

“We ride in the rain because after the swim, we are already wet, so riding wet is no big deal… The only type of weather we don’t ride in is when there’s lightning, because we would all be sitting on large pieces of metal, and that would be a bad idea.” – Coach Regan

Sunday morning, July 3^rd, was wet and rainy. I am willing to bet that you didn’t drag yourself out of bed nice and early in order to spend two and a half hours riding 20 miles and running another 3 miles. You didn’t do that because you are sane.

However, Skippy’s Team 2 and Team in Training were out and about on the SUNY Purchase campus, all of us soaking wet. We trained because, well, we always train, unless there is lightning (see the quote above, err… well, close paraphrase above – I don’t videotape Regan’s pre-workout speeches on my phone to post to YouTube, though I am thinking that I should start because she is awesome).

There are a lot of downsides to training in the rain; most of them fall under the header of “Because You Get Soaked To The Bone”. However, other most of the other downsides fall under the very popular header, “Because It Is A LOT More Dangerous Than Bicycling On Dry Pavement”. Many of you know that light to medium rain can create extremely dangerous driving conditions. These dangerous conditions are caused by all the slick oils that are on the pavement-surface or are just under the surface, which rise to the top of the pavement in the rain, or become part of a super-slippery suspension, that coats the top of the pavement. When there is a lot of rain, that oil gets washed away, eventually. Unfortunately, we didn’t have enough rain for that to happen. We just got to ride on the slick, slippery stuff, which made the 11 hill repeats/ascents that much harder.

But, as Regan informed us, there is one VERY significant upside of riding in the rain. That is, if you fall off your bicycle, because the ground is so slick, your skin won’t grip the pavement/ground as well. So, rather than completely ripping up your skin, as a result of the friction between your skin and the ground, the reduced friction will allow you to slide along the ground… Your skin will still get ripped up, just not as badly.

Hurray Rain!

Thankfully, no one was hurt… well, no one fell; I think we all hurt a bit after the workout.

So, if you are ever awake on a Sunday morning, feeling bad about the fact that rain has ruined your morning plans, come join Team Skippy 2 and TNT at SUNY Purchase and get soaked with us!

Ah, July 4th Weekend!

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Thu, 30 Jun 2011 16:46:00 +0000

July 4^th weekend used to be simple; barbeque, fireworks, swimming and a little time to relax. This year, my world is more complex, and so too, as July 4^th weekend approaches, I have decisions I have to make as to which traditions I keep, which I modify and what additional activities I will engage in. I’ll start from the top.

Barbeque: I love BBQ. I love chicken, hot dogs, burgers, steak, corn… and I have barely gotten started. If I ate just one of each of the items I just mentioned, I would put on 5 – 6 pounds in one day, or 10 – 12 pounds for the weekend (yup, I am all about the double-Q on the 4^th). I haven’t even touched on beverages. Here is the plan: load up on salad, go for the chicken first, followed by half portions of steak and burgers (no buns!) and do my best to stay away from the hot dogs, and drink A LOT of water.

Fireworks: Fireworks are a go! I received an invite to a rooftop party (with food) to watch the fireworks in NYC. I plan on going there with a piece of duct tape across my mouth – no snacking allowed.

Swimming: This year’s swim will have to be a good amount more aggressive than swims in years past. So, this is sort of a modification of an old tradition. I don’t think I ever swam .5 miles – 1 mile on July 4^th weekend, in the past, it was more like .5 laps – 1 lap.

Relaxing: Relaxation time on July 4^th weekend has diminished over the years, especially as we have had children. This year, I think that my weekend relaxation will probably look a lot more like conking out. I’ll be discussing my training plans for this weekend next, but needless to say, afterwards, I will probably be ready to fall on my face and sleep. So, this year, I probably won’t be relaxing as much as recovering. But hey, the eyes will be closed, so that is a start.

New Additions to July 4^th Weekend: Sunday morning, I have TNT training with a mandatory bike/run (1:15 hour bike and then a :25 - :50 minute run!). Monday morning, at 6:30am, I am planning on going on a 25 mile bike ride. Why am I spending my weekend this way? I have no clue, but I plan on doing it (I am going to fit swimming in here some time, too).

Do you have great plans? Put them in the comments section – I want to hear what you are doing, so that I can daydream about your great plans while I am on my 25 mile bike ride.

Do you have horrible plans or no plans at all? Put them in the comments section – I want to hear what you are doing, so that I can feel better about my weekend as I pedal along on my 25 mile bike ride.

No matter what you are doing, have a happy, healthy, fun and safe July 4^th weekend!

Out of the Closet

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Mon, 27 Jun 2011 15:35:00 +0000

This triathlon has forced me to take a long look in the mirror, to search the depths of my soul, and through this process I have altered the fabric of the person that I am – and I will never be the same.

“Watch out for chafing.” – Martin Hartley.

While I have received a number of words of encouragement from donors on my Team in Training (TNT) personal web page, there may be no more caring, nor truer words written than those above from Martin Hartley. After heat stroke and dehydration, chafing and blistering are the two of the greatest dangers to triathletes (getting hit by a car or drowning, along with other catastrophic dangers exist, too, but they are among the more unlikely dangers and those dangers were also present in my day-to-day life before I started training for a triathlon). TNT leadership does a great job of educating us about appropriate hydration, and though blistering is a serious threat (see my “Princess and the Pea” post) it can be mitigated with a good pair of sneakers and socks.

Chafing, on the other hand, is subtle danger, creeping up on you silently and painfully. Chafing can occur anywhere that skin makes contact with, well, anything else. Thighs, arms, chest… you name the place and chafing can occur, much to your chagrin and to the delight of your dermatologist. The more you exercise and the more you sweat, the better the chances that you will experience the enjoyment of raw, enflamed, chafed skin. In addition, when you ride a bike for a long time, there are other causes and locales where chafing can occur, sometimes known as saddle-sore) namely where one’s rear end and thighs make contact with the bicycle seat.

I have learned that the first line of defense to chafing is wearing the right clothing. Immediately, upon beginning training for the triathlon, I switched from cotton shirts to moisture-wicking shirts and I wear running (low or no-cotton content) socks, only. Sure, these shirts and socks retain the smell of sweat more than breathable cotton, but this is a necessary sacrifice (on my family’s part). Those changes were easy to make, since I have been using moisture-wicking shirts and socks on and off, prior to starting training. However, there was one major change that I have made in my life that is evidence of my evolution as a person, as a result of this triathlon.

Ever since I hit puberty, and had the autonomy to choose my own clothing, I have been a hetero-shortsicle. While I have worn a variety of types of shorts, be they basketball shorts or board shorts, my shorts would always fall into the category of long, baggy shorts. I have been firmly committed to that way of life. I also have to admit to looking down on others who chose a different way of life. I hated short-shorts (like running shorts) and was baffled by people who wore them. Jean shorts were an obvious sign of character weakness, in my eyes. However, I reserved my truest and deepest disgust for those who I truly could not understand, nor fathom, the nature of their shorts decisions. My true wrath was reserved for male spandex-wearers, specifically men who wore bicycle shorts.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I was alright with spandex that was hidden under baggy shorts, as was popular in the NBA in the mid 90’s. As long as you hid your affinity for spandex, so the world was exposed to your basketball shorts, I was cool with it. I even forgave those who intimated their affinity for spandex, letting it peak out under their basketball shorts, like Kenny “Sky” Walker, of the New York Knicks. If you were a spandex-wearing man, that was fine, just keep it in the closet, or at least under your basketball shorts.

So, when I told my wife that I was signing up for the triathlon, she laughed at me, saying that she couldn’t wait to see me in spandex. I responded that she would see me in them on race-day and no sooner. I knew that I was a hetero-shortsicle and I would stray from the one true path ONLY if forced.

After my first 15-mile bicycle ride, I knew that I had some soul-searching to do. I had to explore the person that I had been for the past 21 years to see whether I had made a major mistake. What was my motivation for this self-questioning? Chafing. My heart told me that I needed to explore my true needs, but my mind told me that I needed to stick to the dogma that I knew to be true. I was able to hold my heart at bay for a while, but after I got back from my second 15-mile bicycle ride I knew that I needed to go beyond the boundaries within which I had been living in my entire life.

I knew my life had changed sometime in the middle of my third 15-mile bike ride. I was more comfortable with myself. The pain that I had experienced my last two bike rides was no longer there. I was finally comfortable. I realized that I was comfortable with the fact that I was a bi-shortsicle. That morning, when I pulled on my bicycle shorts for the first time, I knew that they looked so wrong; but as I rode my bicycle, pain free, I knew that being a bi-shortsicle was so right. Though, at times, I was embarrassed going out in public as a bi-shortsicle, I knew that I had to embrace who I was, and slowly but surely, I became more comfortable in my new, spandex skin.

However, soon enough, my “bi” nature was challenged. TNT training on Sunday mornings begin with a bicycle ride, and these past couple of weeks training concludes with an optional run component. The run component posed a challenge to my bi-shortsicleness because the padding in bicycle shorts is not conducive to running, since the padding is very thick. Therefore, for two weeks I arrived at training in a pair of bicycle shorts, completed the bicycle ride, ducked into my car, used a really large towel as a cover, and then changed into a pair of (long, almost down to my knees) running shorts. I did this for two weeks, and came to the realization that I needed to evolve past my bi-shortsicle self and take the next step.

Triathlon shorts are specifically made to have enough padding to be pretty comfortable on a bike, yet the padding is subtle enough to that you can run in them comfortably (allegedly). It took only a short while to take the next leap. I am now a tri-shortsicle.

I have worn my tri-shorts swimming and they are great (the shorts are designed to dry quickly, since you wear them under your wetsuit, while swimming, and then when you come out of the water you take off your wetsuit and wear your tri-shorts for the bicycle and run portions). I have worn them for bicycling and they are comfortable, too. I have yet to take my tri-shorts out for a run, but I am comfortable with the idea that the world will see me and know me as a tri-shortsicle.

So, there you have it, I am out of the closet about what I take out of the closet to train for this triathlon. I am a tri-shortsicle. This journey has not been easy and I am not always comfortable with this fact. However, I am embracing who I am, as I continue to engage in my journey of self-discovery.

Lightning Crashes…

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Mon, 20 Jun 2011 12:36:00 +0000

If you are a fan of the band “Live” you are probably familiar with their 1994 hit song “Lightning Crashes” (youtube link to the song, so turn your speakers down if you are at work), which peaked at #12 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart. I am a member of Gen X, which by definition means that I have been fan Nirvana, Doc Martins and all things flannel, and I am also a big fan of Live. It has been a while since I broke out Throwing Copper or Mental Jewelry (though Throwing Copper was far more successful on a commercial level, I think Mental Jewelry is the superior album and worth a purchase), which was a great blast from the past, so I owe a “thank you” to Friday’s weather.

You must be asking yourself, what does Live have to do with a triathlon? That is an excellent question.

If you recall, Friday was a mercurial weather day in New Rochelle, raining early, clearing up into a beautiful day and then turning back to thunderstorms in the later part of the afternoon. As you can imagine, rain is not ideal weather for bicycling or running, so I went to New York Sports Club to swim. The NYSC pool is indoors and, as you may have gathered from my previous columns, I need to put a lot of time into improving my swim. I arrived at the gym, pleasantly surprised to see that there was an open swimming lane, and jumped right in. I swam a warm up lap and then followed up with a brisk two-lap follow up. I was about to head out on another two-lap sprint when I was politely asked to exit the pool by a member of the NYSC staff. “There’s lightning,” I was told.

I got out of the pool and then politely explained to the staff member the concepts of outside and inside, and pointed out that the lightning was outside and we were inside. There happens to be a huge window that is right next to the pool, and it was intimated that the lightning could go through the window and hit the pool. Another swimmer was far more reticent that I was to leave the pool, giving the NYSC staff a good piece of her mind, calling the rule “extremely customer unfriendly,” and questionined how a brand new building could be dangerous in a lightning storm. One staff member forwarded the explanation that NYSC’s policy to evacuate the pool is in case of a blackout – but, there was plenty of natural light from the outside streaming through the tremendous (lightning-penetrable) window, so that didn’t seem to be an overly convincing reason. Then a senior staff member, who seemed very confident, explained that electricity, even in a modern building, could travel through the pipes and into the pool.

I have to be honest – if some high school-aged staff member had made the statement in a high pitch voice, I would have laughed out loud, right to his face. I wasn’t buying any of the explanations; I chalked up the pool’s closing to some over-zealous lawyers and a highly-restrictive insurance policy. Regardless, I knew I wasn’t getting my fourth lap in, so I headed over to Costco to do a mega-shopping. While I was frustrated about my workout, I knew I had my next blog topic. So after unloading my Costco shopping, I logged online to confirm the fact that the staff at NYSC was full of garbage and that the world, in fact, is run by hyper-protective lawyers.

Lo and behold, in less than a minute of searching the internet I found this, in the New York Times no less. Who would have thunk it? Apparently, I owe someone an apology.

Triathlons and Child Birth/Labor

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Thu, 16 Jun 2011 15:28:00 +0000

I am not afraid to say it. I think that child birth/labor, and training and competing in a triathlon are similar in many ways. I’ll wait while my female readers, especially those who are pregnant or who have gone through labor, go to the kitchen to get rotten tomatoes, funky heads of lettuce, raw eggs and the like, to throw at me. Take your best shot! Throw with everything you’ve got! Please know that this invitation is only open to you while you sit in front of your computer and is NOT an invitation to pelt me with objects of any kind in-person. I would not be nearly as brave if I was actually standing in front of you, but I can be virtual He-Man hiding behind the impenetrable walls of your computer screen, the internet and my computer. Yell at me and tell me that I have no idea what I am talking about… I can take it (you can actually leave comments for me – maybe I shouldn’t mention that though).

I fully admit that I have no clue whatsoever about the actual pain experienced during child birth. However, I have been in the labor room and spent the entire child birth experience with my wife for all three of my kids, so I do know a little something about the pain experienced by my wife as an observer. As a result of this experience, I will be the first to say that I highly doubt that the pain and distress that is experienced during triathlon training (assuming that training doesn’t involve some sort of horrendously painful injury) is not even on the same planet as the pain experienced during child birth. But, here are some of the similarities that I have observed:

It is ALL about the breathing:

Whether you are a professional Lamaze breather who, in your mind, can transform your pain into fluttering butterflies and gurgling brooks, or you haven’t taken a single birthing class, I can guarantee you that during labor a trained medical professional will tell you, the birthing mother, over and over (and over…) to breathe. I can’t tell you what the medical reason is for the breathing, for all I know the breathing thing is just a ploy to focus moms on something other than the intense pain that they are experiencing, but child birth is all about the breathing. Triathlons, at least for me, are all about the breathing, too, for a couple of reasons. First, from a biological point of view, O need to breathe in order to exert myself. No breathe, no move. Second, focusing on my breathing gives me a mental center that often takes my mind off of the pain. Breathing at a steady controlled pace requires concentration (at least for me, which might be a function of my lower-level intelligence) and when I am concentrating on breathing, I focus less on all the reasons why I want to stop. Third, breathing helps me set my pace, taking a breath and exhaling for every two or three strides or strokes, as the case may be. This allows me to maintain a steady pace, as opposed to vacillating my speed and output.

You know that it is going to be over (eventually):

What gets me through my training is knowing that eventually I will be done, even if “eventually” is going to be in a couple of hours. Sure, I don’t have to change a triathlon’s diaper or save up for a triathlon’s college fund (it is never over with kids, is it?), but my comparison pertains to the immediate challenge at hand, not the long term issues.

There are moments when you (irrationally) hate everyone:

Usually, at the 25% - 35% point of a 6 mile run, a .93 mile swim or on any sort of incline that I encounter on my bike, I start to hate people for no rational reason at all. I usually start with myself for agreeing to train for the event, I hate the people who sponsored me (even though I love you!) because if they hadn’t already sponsored me I could drop out (please sponsor me if you haven’t already!), I hate my coaches who motivate me and give me training assignments, I hate the people who encouraged me to train, etc. As for child birth, we have all seen the movies where a woman in labor starts yelling irrationally at everyone in the room. Now I know that this doesn’t happen in every labor room, but I am sure that is not a rare occurrence, albeit the yelling might be less dramatic, or the anger might be held inside and yelled in the mind (like I do).

There is a strong temptation to use drugs:

While a good number of women deliver “naturally” many others swear by their epidural. Personally, I have blogged about my understanding of endurance athletes who use performance enhancing drugs (see “I Forgive You Lance Armstrong). However, I will compete in this triathlon “naturally” – even though I am the proud owner of the website www.CheatStrong.com. Ladies, for what it’s worth – if you want to experience pain take the epidural and then run a triathlon, you’ll be in better physical shape and it will hurt less to train for a triathlon (though it will take longer to finish).

So there you have it. There are more comparisons, but I think that I have provided you with enough ~~ammunition~~ food for thought. Your comments are always appreciated. Moms, thank you for tolerating all my musing. Don’t forget that it is Father’s Day on Sunday!!!

Don't Try This At Home

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Mon, 13 Jun 2011 14:30:00 +0000

For the first time in my life I have been taking care of my asthma in a manner that my pulmonologist approves of. I am exercising, taking my prescribed medications on a regular basis and I am dieting. As I feel better and better, deep in the recesses of my mind I have wondered, “Do I really need to take all this medication?” It is tough to avoid the thought, “Is it all the exercise that is really doing the trick, and is the medication really just working due to a placebo effect?” I got my answer this past Sunday.

After a tough, but not out of the ordinary, bike training on Sunday morning, I put on my running sneakers and went out on a run with some of my TNT teammates. I take that last statement back. I put my sneakers on and intended to go out on a run. About .25 miles in to the run I stopped running and started to jog and, soon enough, I was wogging. I struggled tremendously to complete a 2.5 mile run (considering that I ran 5 miles on Friday, I was very disappointed) and when I got back to my car I felt as tired and as beat up as I have felt in a long time. During my last mile I was really upset, feeling like my training had hit a wall and, worse, I had taken a major step backwards. A few of us were talking after running, and I said, offhand, to a teammate, “I guess I should have taken my Xopenex this morning.” Xopenex is a fast acting inhaler that I use in more extreme circumstances, but I try to use it sparingly. It was at that moment, with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath that I realized that not only did I fail to take my Xopenex, I hadn’t taken my Advair, which is a medication delivered by an inhaler, which I must take twice a day, without fail.

My mind was flooded with a plethora of realizations, among them: (i) I am an idiot for forgetting to take my medication; (ii) apparently, Advair really does work, and it is not just a placebo; (iii) I had just done bike training and ran 2.5 miles without taking a key asthma medication – that is pretty awesome, all things considered; (iv) I had just done bike training and ran 2.5 miles without taking a key asthma medication – and I could have ended up in the hospital, brilliant!

So, please, if you happen to see me out running/biking/swimming, and especially on race day, please ask me if I have taken ALL of my medication that I am supposed to take. If you can help it, ask me before I start exercising…

The Princess and the Pea

noreply@blogger.com (Abraham Spira) — Fri, 10 Jun 2011 15:11:00 +0000

You all probably know Hans Christian Anderson’s story of ThePrincess and the Pea. For those who went to sleep during story time, the focal point of the story is a queen’s test of true princess-ness. The Queen believed that a real princess could not sleep if there was a tiny pea underneath her as she slept, even if that pea was hidden under two-dozen mattresses. Well, this morning I discovered that I am a princess of sorts.

I got up early to run, got dressed, which includes putting on “special” $10 running socks and my $100 sneakers (I actually get nauseous when I think about how much I spent on this gear, but I will explain why I did it in another post). My sneakers are well padded and my socks are moisture-wicking, as were my shorts and t-shirt. I hydrated, stretched for a few minutes and started to run. Fast forward to .5 miles into my run, when I felt something irritating the bottom of my foot. While in a former life I would have continued to run, I stopped to handle this issue. When running long distances small irritations turn into larger irritations, which turn into small blisters which turn into large blisters, which means potential training days lost to healing the blister. So, I decided to nip the irritant in the bud.

I stopped, took off my sneaker, looked inside, shook my sneaker vigorously and then, convinced that I got rid of the irritant, retied my sneaker and started to run again. 5 steps later I felt it again, stopped, untied my shoe… this time I blew into my shoe, too, retied my sneaker and started to run again… and then stopped ten steps later. This time, I went through my previous method of cleaning out my shoe, then swept the bottom of my shoe with my finger, and then took off my sock and inspected the outside - I found nothing, put on my socks, retied my sneakers and started again… 3 steps later I stopped again. I was feeling like an idiot, stopping for the fourth time in eighteen steps and prayed that no one was watching my pathetic display of prissiness. This time I inspected the inside and outside of my sock. Lo and behold, I found the smallest pebble,the size of a speck, caught up in my super-sock’s fibers. I dislodged it with my fingernail, put my sock back on, retied my sneakers and proceeded to run another 4.5 miles with no problem.

The saddest part of this whole story is that while this blog should have been about my 5 mile run, all I can write about is the fact that I stopped four separate times within a quarter-block span because a speck in my sneaker was rubbing against the bottom of my foot, stuck in my $10 pair of socks in my $100 pair of sneakers (pathetic, right?). To add insult to injury, now, if anyone comes up to me and calls me “princess” (whether they have read this blog or not), I am now obliged to respond, “Yes?”