tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256806053568496902024-02-21T00:23:04.967-08:00Wassdoc's BlogMy father has been keeping a journal for years and encouraged me to do the same. This is my limited attempt to share the thoughts going on in my head on a somewhat regular basis. I am a husband, a father of two great women, father-in-law to an incredible man, grandfather to an amazing boy and adorable little girl, a Geriatrician, an age group triathlete and 16-time Ironman. I endeavor to give life everything I have and not to ever look back!Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.comBlogger765125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-21068106424881531382023-12-31T22:23:00.000-08:002023-12-31T22:23:26.513-08:002024: Starting the Year With a 5K<p>I slept in this morning, the first day of the new year. I had planned to get up and do the New Years Day Hobsonville Parkrun 5K, and when I realized that I could literally put on my running shoes and run to the start with a minute or two to spare, I made the decision to do it. Originally, I'd planned to go hard today, but since I had not had time to stretch, I made the decision to run easy...at least for the first couple of miles. But let me take a step back. It's 2024 and I haven't written a blog post since July of 2023, when I wrote about my focus on finding my running and swimming speed. The best laid plans... Literally 5 1/2 months later, after moving 6,000 miles away literally to the other side of the world. Today was my 8th 5K in 6 1/2 weeks, albeit still fighting some hip and back issues. I've been incredibly consistent, averaging right around 25 minutes and not having attempted to go all out yet. Looking at my last blog post, I estimated that I was capable of running a 5K in 22-23 minutes. That's going to be my goal for 2024...I love having a goal. </p><p>Today's 5K was about taking things as they came. I used my 2 mile warm up run well, averaging ~10 minute/mile pace at a low heart rate. Check. Since I didn't do anything fast, and the race was literally starting a couple of minutes after I arrived, I decided to start easy, which turned out to be 9 minute pace for the first two miles, my effort did increase during the second mile, but still was within my Z2 heart rate effort. By the time I finished the first two miles, I felt it was ok to run the last mile hard...not super hard, but hard nevertheless. I kept under 8 minute/mile pace, considering that my right hip/hamstring insertion was sore yet again (probably from not fully stretching beforehand), I'll take it. This was the fastest I've run the third mile of the 5K since I began doing this race in November. </p><p>I look back at 2023 only very briefly. Honestly, it is not a year I plan to remember very much of. It was filled with stressors, and as usual, I wouldn't change a thing, because now we're in New Zealand an I'm running a local 5K every Saturday morning! </p><p>I still feel that my last Ironman, which was now over a year and a half ago, definitely took its toll. In yet another reminder that my full Ironman days should be over, I don't believe that my body has let me forget. My back and hips continue to have issues, although I'm now doing near daily core exercises and stretching. Hopefully, with time and patience, I won't wake up every morning already stiff and sore. I'm fortunate that over the past thirty years, I've built a base of fitness that my body can call upon. Still, it's been humbling to "hit the fall" of a 5K within 1 1/2 miles of the start. I'm hoping that I can build up some endurance associated with hard efforts that will carry me through in the coming year. So far, my best time of 24:20 wasn't a typical all out 5K effort. That's encouraging, insofar as my fastest 5K in the last two years is only about a minute faster.</p><p>One of the funnest parts of my journey has been seeing what this 64 year old body is capable of. Considering that 32 years ago, at the age of 32, I ran my first 5K, and my time then was right around 23 minutes. Getting back to that time seems to be a reasonable goal right now, and all signs seem to be consistent with my being capable of doing so. Right now, I'll be targeting June 22nd as my first 5K at the age of 65. Let's see what I can do then!</p><p>I also pulled out my guitar yesterday, for the first time in years. For a moment, I felt like I was 16 again! There are a number of things that I need to be doing with my life, not the least of which are doing things that aren't stressful. It's time. 2024 is here. I'm ready to embrace it!</p>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-28721099640251153012023-07-23T16:24:00.001-07:002023-07-23T16:24:59.565-07:00Surprise: When I'm 64!<p>I've often joked in the past year or two that I'm as fit as I've ever been, but have more aches and pains. This has recently taken on a whole new meaning. I completed my sixteenth, and final (for now), Ironman nearly 15 months ago. Whether it was the difficulty of the race, or the additive stress of my "work" related efforts over the past year and a half, I felt physically demolished. Over the past year, I've had hip, back and shoulder pains. It often takes me an hour of stretching and movement to be able to walk comfortably. I hadn't been on my bike until a few weeks ago. I did keep running, albeit, not nearly at the volumes I reached in the past couple of years. I also finally got back to swimming a few months ago, which, not remarkably, have been helping my shoulders start to feel better. With my decision to "retire" from the Ironman distance came the natural desire to work on shorter (and faster) efforts. I'm not doing any specific "training," but continue to focus on doing what I want, when I want. So, imagine my surprise over the past few weeks as I've "tested" myself out in relation to my run, swim and bike abilities!</p><p>While I haven't done a lot of speed specific training, I have worked some shorter, faster efforts into by run and swim "training." From the run perspective, this culminated last week when we spent the week in San Diego with our grandson. I was one mile from the UCSD track and couldn't resist going to the track for my workouts. I've never considered myself to be fast, but have to remember that I was asthmatic as a child and never ran one mile non stop until I was 32! So, I really don't know what my capabilities were when I was younger. Also, since I gravitated to longer distance running early in my running "career," I really don't know my speed capability, short of my one sub-20 minute 5K on my 49th birthday. Ironically, my 5K times over the past thirty years have consistently been in the 22-23 minute range. </p><p>When I lived in Colorado, I did run with a track club and would occasionally find myself running 400m in about 90 seconds. There was one day, about 15 years ago, that I ran one mile on a track (at sea level, compared to my training at 5K feet), in just under 6 minutes. My only other sub-6 minute miles (most recently in the last few months) have been aided by downhills. I went to the UCSD track and did a workout I've been doing on the street close to home. 3 x 200m, 200m, 400m. I didn't look at my watch and just ran this solidly. My 200m times were ~43-44 seconds, or a 5:44-5:52/miles pace. My 400m times were done in 91-93 seconds, or a 6:04-6:12/mile pace. With this background, combined with my daily aches and pains, I took to "testing" myself out on the UCSD track. Having conferred with my coach, I endeavored to complete a 100m, 400m and 800m track run. </p><p>Here are my results:</p><p>100m in 16 seconds</p><p>400m in 82 seconds</p><p>800m in 3 minutes.</p><p>First of all, these three times are internally consistent. Second, they're literally as fast as I've ever run them! They correspond to my potential to run a 5K in 22-23 minutes. Second, compared to other 64 year old runners, while I'm not at the highest level. I'm pretty darn competitive. The irony is that I've never considered myself to be a fast runner, but somehow at the age of 64, I am! It makes me wonder what I might have done when I was younger if I'd believed myself capable of running faster. It also continues to blow me away in relation to my daily aches and pains. However, it also gives me both confidence and inspiration to persevere in my athletic quests. </p><p>I haven't done a triathlon since the Ironman World Championship in St. George 15 months ago. I'm signed up to compete in a sprint triathlon in one week. The distances are the complete opposite of an Ironman. The swim is 1/4 mile (in the ocean). The bike is 8 miles. The run is 2.5 miles. With this in mind, I've also recently been focused on my swim speed. I've recently tested myself at 25, 50, 100, and 300 yards.</p><p>25 yards in 16 seconds</p><p>50 yards in 36 seconds</p><p>100 yards in 1:20</p><p>500 yards in 8:00</p><p>These are also times that I are close to the fastest times I've ever swam. </p><p>I only got on my bike a few times in the last couple of weeks and my power output isn't far off from where it was over a year ago. </p><p>I'm excited to be racing a triathlon again. Doing a sprint will be both interesting and hard. I'm sure I'll spend this week continuing to deal with nagging aches and pains in my shoulders, hip and back. But, next weekend I will race. Looking forward to writing the race report!</p>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-35491448520943617302022-09-26T09:52:00.001-07:002022-09-26T09:52:19.993-07:00The Last Full Measure of Devotion<p><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Philip Prince's <a href="https://wishofalifetime.org/" style="color: magenta;">https://wishofalifetime.org</a> came about due to a weight he'd carried from the moment his brother Palmer died. Philip was in basic training at the time and could not come home for his brother's service. The inability to properly pay his respects to his brother was something that Philip carried with him throughout his exemplary life. I will never forget the moment that Philip threw the wreath into the water off the coast of Okinawa at the coordinates where his brother’s remains had been laid to rest. Philip had carried that weight on his shoulders for 67 years.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">The weight came off before my eyes, reminding me of the types of things that really matter to us.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> No matter how old we are, there are always things that are important to us. Being with Philip that day was one of the most meaningful moments of my life. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfLYMR4jgmvYXq-Y5o0JIWhB2_wlbsoW7UqNjrOaX37GZ2eAPSENfBr6VtNSNQ_VzXSh7SA0pb63davbuFCX8vqignQQEaC3UW86WOBQivTMyxMoAUN_-EVOhXbh0NMobV1EBWgXn81qi3S5OwYmctS65Sn3hLym2DfA2GLllMd6untgILfTw5zguw/s4000/1817C8ED-5D71-4800-A9F7-29D3B20D3D9A.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2248" data-original-width="4000" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfLYMR4jgmvYXq-Y5o0JIWhB2_wlbsoW7UqNjrOaX37GZ2eAPSENfBr6VtNSNQ_VzXSh7SA0pb63davbuFCX8vqignQQEaC3UW86WOBQivTMyxMoAUN_-EVOhXbh0NMobV1EBWgXn81qi3S5OwYmctS65Sn3hLym2DfA2GLllMd6untgILfTw5zguw/s320/1817C8ED-5D71-4800-A9F7-29D3B20D3D9A.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEginhBqi76wCvZSD418_r5MsYSjjn6K5qVYgWChiYp9oKj0B73tkJbdSQdWLxI3qZKY2HDYWmNr3MzKJUaxQChQeZf4SF2qM6GJc0hI4fHfTP1wEh-sCt3iVLvzeYIY_x1tmjue_JkF-YUb-jgvaLnJeKdcyjhpckcjlfPMxdt8EyNvWNlcHOcAbWvg/s2092/8D0F80AB-09A1-4131-AAE2-365160351887_1_201_a.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1569" data-original-width="2092" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEginhBqi76wCvZSD418_r5MsYSjjn6K5qVYgWChiYp9oKj0B73tkJbdSQdWLxI3qZKY2HDYWmNr3MzKJUaxQChQeZf4SF2qM6GJc0hI4fHfTP1wEh-sCt3iVLvzeYIY_x1tmjue_JkF-YUb-jgvaLnJeKdcyjhpckcjlfPMxdt8EyNvWNlcHOcAbWvg/s320/8D0F80AB-09A1-4131-AAE2-365160351887_1_201_a.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Our trip had come full circle and on our last full day in Okinawa it was appropriate that we visited Kadena Air Force Base.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Major Christopher Anderson and Casey Connell gave us a tour of the base and made us feel at home.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">We both continued to learn a lot.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">I think that it had only been more helpful to Philip and myself to see the ultimate impact of Palmer’s service to his country.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Kadena is the largest Air Force installation in the Pacific and home to the 18th Wing, the largest combat air wing in the Air Force.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">As we were there, we were reminded of the impact of this base as the Chinese and Japanese postured over a couple of islands nearby.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> In today's world, the importance of this base can not be overstated.</span><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span><div><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;">Major Anderson and Mr. Connell first took us to see a place where the Japanese had hid kamikaze planes prior to the invasion of Okinawa. These were not the planes that hit the USS Hyman, but that didn’t really matter. You could see the meaning on Philip’s face as we bent over to look inside the concrete shells that had once housed kamikaze planes. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikMD6hMMmdryiWISkITtik-09azCnqjz3xjS2VXb3GC9PjdYtlxT2VVRU2966-iJzolFA3rcyLEoZnQssS_whK0e6ElMSEvRiQElXjPo5M-SeW3Q1Y8xJukfR26t17oCa0jLuRoZjWCjp3tXVxxMJDP78pKNHtx746yiqug9DFGGsyI2fDjGpdw8V5/s4000/386DD555-F66E-439C-A56A-223F6E276B9F.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikMD6hMMmdryiWISkITtik-09azCnqjz3xjS2VXb3GC9PjdYtlxT2VVRU2966-iJzolFA3rcyLEoZnQssS_whK0e6ElMSEvRiQElXjPo5M-SeW3Q1Y8xJukfR26t17oCa0jLuRoZjWCjp3tXVxxMJDP78pKNHtx746yiqug9DFGGsyI2fDjGpdw8V5/s320/386DD555-F66E-439C-A56A-223F6E276B9F.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;">From there we drove to the spot where the Japanese surrendered in Okinawa in September of 1945. As we learned at the Okinawa Prefectural Peace Memorial Museum, the Okinawan people do not speak of war, they speak only of peace. It is unfortunate, but true, that we still live in a world where peace must still be accompanied by a military. The fact that Major Anderson was Chief of Public Affairs for the 18th Wing and that Mr. Connell was one of their historians, told me the importance that our military places on this. Those that refuse to acknowledge history, are destined to repeat it. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitiMVGLShpeJX-IOnRpjzgUR6UAv8nOeMifYSni_DHGEdhYhPUZfhx4KcGTtsLr2H4sDU-5nhejXe8cVDQHloM7jPbnFXjDZ4kbYQr2LBtrXPKJh8K5iU3UuYAJGXzI8KJNXVNjTSSIQajR41b20fIVDSvgGqiPuRfT7Ozas0ScrC3A15Jp5amuEHN/s4000/7A98C3F6-478A-4321-8D1F-091E35EB571D.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitiMVGLShpeJX-IOnRpjzgUR6UAv8nOeMifYSni_DHGEdhYhPUZfhx4KcGTtsLr2H4sDU-5nhejXe8cVDQHloM7jPbnFXjDZ4kbYQr2LBtrXPKJh8K5iU3UuYAJGXzI8KJNXVNjTSSIQajR41b20fIVDSvgGqiPuRfT7Ozas0ScrC3A15Jp5amuEHN/s320/7A98C3F6-478A-4321-8D1F-091E35EB571D.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;"> </p><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;">Eighty three years ago, Hugh Palmer Prince joined the Navy. Subsequently, his three brothers, Eugene, David and Philip, would join the army. Eugene would get a medical discharge. David would serve in Europe and was badly injured after the Battle of the Bulge. Philip would have been part of the invasion of mainland Japan if not for the dropping of the bombs and the Japanese surrender. Four brothers served their country, three came home and continued to serve their country in various ways.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;">Philip’s brother Eugene joined the Army but was medically discharged during basic training due to rheumatic heart disease. He graduated from the University of Tennessee in Engineering and worked for the Clinchfield Railroad. Later he went on to work for the Richmond-Fredericksberg & Potomac Railroad. He passed away in 1988.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;">Philip’s brother David served in the 78th Division which went through England, France, Belgium and Germany. He was the recipient of the Bronze Star, three Battle Stars, and the Purple Heart where he was wounded by a mortar shell after the Battle of the Bulge. As he was being evacuated, a German plane strafed the vehicle he was in. He returned to go to Wofford College, then went on to receive his PhD from the University of North Carolina. He then became a Professor at Wofford College where he ultimately served as Chairman of the Education Department. He passed away in 2005.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;">Philip lived an exemplary life. From the very moment he set foot on the Clemson campus in 1944, his heart was with the Clemson Tigers. In 1994, Philip stepped up to take the reins as the 12th President of Clemson University. The organizational changes that he instituted in only one year still stand. He became a tireless fundraiser for the University. He raised funds for a large endowment, and continued to work on raising additional funding, recognizing the ongoing decrease in state funding. His legacy will continue, as both of his grandsons attended Clemson. Philip died February 28, 2020.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;">Hugh Palmer Prince, gave the last full measure of devotion to his country. Through the auspices of the Wish of a Lifetime Foundation (<a href="https://wishofalifetime.org/" style="color: magenta;">https://wishofalifetime.org</a>). Philip was able to pay his final respects to his brother. I not only made a new friend, but continued to learn. As Philip saw over our week together, I love to ask questions. As a physician, I often say that I learn every day how little I know. As a human being, I feel the same way. Getting to know our elders and trying to learn from them is one way for all of us to grow. In this way, Palmer’s legacy will always continue.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhn4X__LbxEh_wS2NkaHMQ8A4GNj2jcG2zATCECgApfQBtfGnBPgSmygFYe8jy8Kw4Sc5M2kbwpcUWz3H72kjUB0aSgnhhKsAKYX6jPzn86DKq2J85OwPae9V-Lth_GLiFVO5AURMcAPX_S_KgQAu7oD_U5Ksuqj39VkPiMQJbA_XzcQpNmqjAL1x_/s4000/AF72AF67-EA29-4161-90D2-F67772C9D49E.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhn4X__LbxEh_wS2NkaHMQ8A4GNj2jcG2zATCECgApfQBtfGnBPgSmygFYe8jy8Kw4Sc5M2kbwpcUWz3H72kjUB0aSgnhhKsAKYX6jPzn86DKq2J85OwPae9V-Lth_GLiFVO5AURMcAPX_S_KgQAu7oD_U5Ksuqj39VkPiMQJbA_XzcQpNmqjAL1x_/s320/AF72AF67-EA29-4161-90D2-F67772C9D49E.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p></div></div>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-74361543454401215532022-09-25T10:17:00.001-07:002022-09-25T18:29:02.740-07:00The Life of Philip Prince<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Returning to Clemson, Philip distinguished himself as a member of Alpha Phi Omega and was Co-captain of the 1948 Football Team which won the 1949 Gator Bowl.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Philip made one of the biggest plays in Clemson football history, a blocked punt against South Carolina in 1948.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqByBfqAtrkEQLO1JOmnJEOjDwXuNwE7dMgvbH_tREMybeXCoWltM9JXzWB5-5iwePF_dYuRPDbOOm-hrpJj9vU3A5aYWaUhzJvymC3g3dJL8iIZIda-LAKyKeSY1IpdL7T7xKPRGLzq-Yt7v7s7n3YuPmbaifQWsPZEIYi3DDh6izP_TZ7oxWzdk/s1924/995F77F5-F83B-46AE-AC27-2B4D86E7B4C3.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1924" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqByBfqAtrkEQLO1JOmnJEOjDwXuNwE7dMgvbH_tREMybeXCoWltM9JXzWB5-5iwePF_dYuRPDbOOm-hrpJj9vU3A5aYWaUhzJvymC3g3dJL8iIZIda-LAKyKeSY1IpdL7T7xKPRGLzq-Yt7v7s7n3YuPmbaifQWsPZEIYi3DDh6izP_TZ7oxWzdk/s320/995F77F5-F83B-46AE-AC27-2B4D86E7B4C3.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">The Tigers were undefeated at the time when they found themselves trailing South Carolina 7-6 with just four minutes left in the game. With the line of scrimmage at the South Carolina 28, Gamecocks punter and quarterback Bob Hagan felt he just needed a solid punt to put the Tigers in poor field position. One more defensive stand against a Clemson team that had scored just six points to that point would do it. Philip took a different route on his rush, got by his man and blocked Hagan’s punt. The ball caromed to the 11-yard-line where Oscar Thompson picked up the ball and returned it for a touchdown. The Tigers went on to an 11-0 record in 1948, the school’s first undefeated season since 1900, and a number-11 final ranking in the AP poll, the highest in school history at the time. Clemson, Michigan and Notre Dame were the only college football teams with perfect records that year and most historians, former players and coaches, remember Philip’s blocked punt as the key play of that season.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Philip was Vice President of the 1949 Clemson Senior Class. Upon graduation, he signed with the New York Giants football team, playing in about five games, while attending graduate school, but a shoulder separation saw him finish out the season with the New Jersey Giants farm team, and although he was asked back the following year, he opted to focus on school and getting married. He attended Columbia University and Kings College prior to additional service in the Army in 1950-1951. Philip worked his way up to becoming vice president of the Milliken Company, where he worked until 1967. In<span class="apple-converted-space"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;"> 1978</span></span> he became Senior Vice President of American Express Company and then with Synco Property, Inc. until his retirement in 1985. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Philip also had a distinguished record of service as a Clemson alumnus, becoming President of the Board of the Clemson Foundation in 1989.<span class="apple-converted-space"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;"> </span></span> With the resignation of Clemson President Max Lennon in 1994 Philip served Acting President for eleven months. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguLz1RaH0kDX0KPpQDjKP7q-8Nca_LMD8GghEM0DXQKaRnGp9ik1vnhWCvYqQE_BtykrCm9vvSs399X92CLcY2FtG7tYh5UNyljO3eKghcvhSdQvQeSN1Bs_HkyFj9LJQkCFqDgWnTgZHyR2elgIPE9B0KWS4lGnOBeHxZaiBKRrTSmyjjuA3iAZyu/s1902/BC419978-0B21-417F-A772-0525F1042457.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1426" data-original-width="1902" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguLz1RaH0kDX0KPpQDjKP7q-8Nca_LMD8GghEM0DXQKaRnGp9ik1vnhWCvYqQE_BtykrCm9vvSs399X92CLcY2FtG7tYh5UNyljO3eKghcvhSdQvQeSN1Bs_HkyFj9LJQkCFqDgWnTgZHyR2elgIPE9B0KWS4lGnOBeHxZaiBKRrTSmyjjuA3iAZyu/s320/BC419978-0B21-417F-A772-0525F1042457.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">The Philip H. Prince Alumni Presidential Scholarship is a Scholarship sponsored by Clemson University. The Prince Award for Innovation in Teaching is an annual award named for Clemson President Emeritus Philip Prince and recognizes outstanding teachers who demonstrate creative and novel teaching methods in the classroom. Philip married Celeste Orr in 1950. She died Saturday, December 20, 2008 at the age of 80. They had two sons, Kevin and James.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIXyftnXykMCTWFe__KGD42RB02tt3KmQppXvO9TYlhqGRwEqEz06CCqs76N5zcWQZuo_Z2t9aqo5U8USMDHhbZuHiLL3uq1Z53rNo_ZeAPn1j9YUFaNodL5L9Q45kQ2WSjc21qWJfATrukWp2mvC-IPokiMfpp02VYOz0J3pBmULVUpxy-DUPPBNO/s1440/194A73D3-BEC5-41AC-ABE0-E88A8D53196E.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="966" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIXyftnXykMCTWFe__KGD42RB02tt3KmQppXvO9TYlhqGRwEqEz06CCqs76N5zcWQZuo_Z2t9aqo5U8USMDHhbZuHiLL3uq1Z53rNo_ZeAPn1j9YUFaNodL5L9Q45kQ2WSjc21qWJfATrukWp2mvC-IPokiMfpp02VYOz0J3pBmULVUpxy-DUPPBNO/s320/194A73D3-BEC5-41AC-ABE0-E88A8D53196E.jpeg" width="215" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Prince served in that position for 11 months and didn’t just “hold the fort” for someone else. Prince was given the task of reconstructing the administrative and academic divisions within the university, as he was faced with the challenges of continuous state funding cuts. He accomplished this by grouping the nine existing colleges into four and by combining administrative units. His successor later split one of the larger colleges into two, leaving the university with five colleges after restructuring. At the end of his 11 months, the term “acting” was removed and historically he is considered a full-time president. Philip was again recognized by the University with an honorary Doctorate of Humanities from Clemson in May of 1995. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Each year five faculty members are presented with the Phil Prince Award for Innovation in Teaching at the Victor Hurt Convocation that begins the academic year. In 2015, Philip received the Bond<span class="apple-converted-space"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #6a707d; letter-spacing: 0.75pt;"> </span></span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">Clemson Distinguished Athletes Award<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="color: #6a707d; letter-spacing: 0.75pt;"> </span></span></span>at the Boston College game. It is an award presented each year to a former Clemson athlete who has distinguished themselves after graduation. Philip made one final significant contribution to the Clemson football program in the mid 2000s when he served as chairman of the fund-raising campaign for the West Endzone project. With his name connected to the project, it received instant credibility. The success of the Clemson program the last decade can be traced to the building of that facility at Memorial Stadium.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTku9yS1bCxiNFkgBAdaZqo7YT6H63VC_L65SyQvnbfNp-anA6aEj1keErmS2ffCUbHJnmNLm4CJ2xJ0opjQ3sgvscq3F8tFY5pXIRYco6-SxCAU7NCHDqlcKTdd2qRCVQDunVvBiSFY5ubtpIKALm50-UyTAD3gt3It3JCONrhK0zCT9dcKII9Zve/s2180/8F6F02B7-A9AD-4154-A7E6-F6F75B127DCD.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1422" data-original-width="2180" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTku9yS1bCxiNFkgBAdaZqo7YT6H63VC_L65SyQvnbfNp-anA6aEj1keErmS2ffCUbHJnmNLm4CJ2xJ0opjQ3sgvscq3F8tFY5pXIRYco6-SxCAU7NCHDqlcKTdd2qRCVQDunVvBiSFY5ubtpIKALm50-UyTAD3gt3It3JCONrhK0zCT9dcKII9Zve/s320/8F6F02B7-A9AD-4154-A7E6-F6F75B127DCD.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #6a707d; letter-spacing: 0.75pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-87314832887047358522022-09-25T10:16:00.005-07:002022-09-25T10:16:48.001-07:008 Miles<p>I haven't run more than 4 miles since early June. My last Ironman in May literally ripped me to shreds and following it up with a half marathon in early June wasn't the best idea. I love to run. I've wanted to run. I go to bed at night thinking I'll run in the morning, and then I don't. I don't think I'd run at all in the past couple of weeks. Today was the day.</p><p>My back wasn't aching when I got up. Sure, my body has a few aches and pains, but what do I expect at 63. Emotionally, I felt good this morning, which has not been the case on many days for some time. I read the newspaper and took my time getting ready to go out and run. And then I did. I ran <i>8 miles.</i></p><p><i>8 miles </i>has been somewhat of a staple for me over the past couple of years. It actually started as 7 miles, and ultimately grew to 10 miles, but I've looked forward to coming back to those <i>8 miles.</i> I immediately recognized that my mind went right to meditation. I guess I always knew this, even as I've tried to meditate while sitting down. Running is my good place. Running is where I can use all of the meditation tools. Thoughts come and go, and I let them. Sometimes I just connect with my surroundings. Sometimes I think of other things. Good and bad, but I note them and move on. running is my good place. <i>8 miles.</i></p><p>In the spirit of meditation, I don't know how far I'll run tomorrow. There's a part of me that already is intent on running every day. There's a part of me that's already intent on running <i>8 miles </i>anytime I feel up to it. The journey begins anew. <i>8 miles.</i></p>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-40765964798704100082022-09-24T09:14:00.005-07:002022-09-24T09:28:17.082-07:00April 6, 1945: The Battle of Okinawa<p><span style="color: #202122; font-family: arial;">The USS Hyman sailed with Admiral Hall's Southern Attack Force on March 27, 1945 and arrived in Okinawa on April 1, 1945.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 6pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 6pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #202122;">Her main role was to protect American ships from enemy submarines and planes. She fought off several air attacks and on April 5, led a search group hunting a reported </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif">midget submarine</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #202122;">. The next day the ship was attacked as the Japanese made </span><i><span face="Arial, sans-serif">kamikaze</span></i><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #202122;"> attacks in hopes of stopping the landing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;">On April 6, 1945, the date of the largest mass kamikaze attack of World War II, seven Japanese kamikaze aircraft attacked the USS<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Hyman</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>(DD-732), (In the Wake of the Jellybean, Ray Novotny, https://www.kamikazeimages.net/books/ships/hyman/index.htm). “The ship's gunners, sometimes with assistance from other ships, shot down all of the attacking planes except one. The fourth plane, a Zero fighter, managed to crash into the ship between the stacks even though heavily damaged by gunfire. Former<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Hyman</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>crewman Oscar Murray described the Zero that hit the ship:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;">“My General Quarters station was as a gunner on a 20-mm anti-aircraft gun. I wonder if things would have been different had I been able to fire another two seconds at the Japanese plane that struck and nearly sank us. He was so close.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The head of the pilot turned toward us as he struck the stacks. Just before striking the ship, I, or others, shot off his left wing but the plane's momentum carried him into the ship. The plane's explosion, along with its gasoline, blew away the area between the two stacks almost to the waterline, and with most of the forward torpedo mount. Flaming gasoline flowed in all the surrounding areas, burning or killing many below and several above deck.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;">As I followed the plane, my gun came to a complete stop, abruptly halted by the gun stops designed to prevent guns from rotating too far and doing damage to the ship's superstructure. By then he was out of sight and immediately struck the ship. Normally, Japanese planes exploded upon a direct hit but this one didn't. Had I or others been able to hit him with more rounds, perhaps he would have done so, I will never know: I know we did our best.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span style="font-family: arial;">The crash by the kamikaze plane and the subsequent explosion killed 12 and wounded 41 men aboard<span class="apple-converted-space"> the USS </span><i>Hyman</i>. One of the men who died was Philip’s older brother Hugh Palmer Prince. </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxMs2H-0UOUZoXajTuGCvVQ8JsiUPJbL7l4VL2rlxBiwp10ByMZ-PQ5zajmn9URgVV73H6QiVc_-q-69bSSuvHc24tgzV8_V6C6G3K0bg_FuPl9pvYHWdA6B9Zp_xDK9keuTnf0LOK5FUj8sQZhSOhlXHanlqv7vfkmejQ8J3hZaLif9Gi0XzG6MDO/s1490/19A8FAAF-1C0B-44FC-AF3D-AE69C05D573E.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1490" data-original-width="1160" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxMs2H-0UOUZoXajTuGCvVQ8JsiUPJbL7l4VL2rlxBiwp10ByMZ-PQ5zajmn9URgVV73H6QiVc_-q-69bSSuvHc24tgzV8_V6C6G3K0bg_FuPl9pvYHWdA6B9Zp_xDK9keuTnf0LOK5FUj8sQZhSOhlXHanlqv7vfkmejQ8J3hZaLif9Gi0XzG6MDO/s320/19A8FAAF-1C0B-44FC-AF3D-AE69C05D573E.jpeg" width="249" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-56035473608751612202022-09-20T12:29:00.000-07:002022-09-20T12:29:35.663-07:00The History of the USS Hyman<p><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10.5pt;">Willford Milton Hyman was born on 16 August 1901 in Pueblo, Colorado. </span></p><p><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhATPjUDwqQ1_LY5f5FAjzyk1GV4kMdYu3htWefZeQ8Ow32VD3S05BgyDb1frhxoeCZnSj9_3c-Go4_z7LXmXnDOLKfipHqhjgQvxfbliY50dml_flafxkrcp3N6aNmDq6tN_hvopVIu1fOW2evJ_TWeDK0JX5fg0rngMOHJ0odKLWe0nbDpkeOBB7l" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="188" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhATPjUDwqQ1_LY5f5FAjzyk1GV4kMdYu3htWefZeQ8Ow32VD3S05BgyDb1frhxoeCZnSj9_3c-Go4_z7LXmXnDOLKfipHqhjgQvxfbliY50dml_flafxkrcp3N6aNmDq6tN_hvopVIu1fOW2evJ_TWeDK0JX5fg0rngMOHJ0odKLWe0nbDpkeOBB7l" width="180" /></a></div><p></p><p><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10.5pt;">He graduated from the United States Naval Academy in 1924. He first served on the battleship USS New Mexico and in the years before World War II, was assigned to many ships and a variety of shore stations, including the Office of Naval Operations. He assumed command of destroyer USS Sims on 6 October 1941. After convoy escort duty in the Atlantic, the USS Sims moved to the Pacific in early 1942.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10.5pt;">In May, as the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Empire_of_Japan" title="Empire of Japan"><span style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">Japanese</span></a> attempted to extend their conquest to Port Moresby, the ship was operating with oiler USS Neosho in a fueling group for Admiral Frank Jack Fletcher's aircraft carriers. While the carrier fleets maneuvered for position, Japanese planes found Neosho and Sims in the Coral Sea; and, thinking they were a carrier and escort, they attacked in strength. After Lieutenant Commander Hyman fought his ship through 2 air raids, 36 Japanese planes attacked the 2 ships. The USS Sims took three 500-lb. bomb hits in this third attack. From the time the first bomb that hit the USS Sims had exploded to the time she was sunk was a total of 48 seconds, leaving only 13 survivors. Realizing that the destroyer was damaged beyond repair, Hyman ordered "abandon ship" but remained on the bridge, directing the evacuation until going down with his ship. The sacrifice of his ship and Neosho had much to do with saving the Navy's carriers in the widely separated engagements known as the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_the_Coral_Sea" title="Battle of the Coral Sea"><span style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">Battle of the Coral Sea</span></a>. He was posthumously awarded the Navy Cross.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10.5pt;">Construction began on the USS Hyman by Bath Iron Works, Bath, Maine on November 22, 1943, the ship was <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ship_naming_and_launching" title="Ship naming and launching"><span style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">launched</span></a> on April 8, 1944 and commissioned on June 16, 1944.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;">The USS Hyman conducted exhaustive shakedown training off Bermuda and in Casco Bay, Maine, before sailing from Boston on September 18, 1944 to join the Pacific war. Philip H. Prince's brother, Hugh Palmer Prince, was part of the ship's crew. Philip had just missed seeing his brother prior to </span><span style="font-size: 14px;">their</span><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"> departure. The USS Hyman steamed via the Panama Canal Zone and San Diego to Pearl Harbor on October 12, 1944. During the next few months she was occupied with training exercises, including practice amphibious assaults, and escort voyages to the advance base at Eniwetok.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10.5pt;">When the island of Iwo Jima became a prime objective, the USS Hyman set sail on January 27, 1945, with the transports of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kelly_Turner" title="Kelly Turner"><span style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">Kelly Turner</span></a>'s expeditionary force, touching at Eniwetok before carrying out on Saipan a final rehearsal of the Iwo Jima landing. On the morning of 19 February, the destroyer formed part of the screen for the transports; and, as the first wave landed, she turned her 5-inch guns shoreward and opened fire to provide support for the assaulting troops. She bombarded Japanese troops and bunkers until February 23rd, when she made an antisubmarine sweep south of Iwo Jima. The next day, after returning to gunfire support station, the USS Hyman fought off an air attack. Fire support and other duties continued until the destroyer sailed for Leyte Gulf on March 2, 1945. There she took part in practice bombardments for the upcoming invasion of Okinawa.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:USS_Hyman_(DD-732).jpg"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #0b0080; font-size: 10pt; text-decoration: none;"></span></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #0b0080; font-size: 10pt; text-decoration: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiGmgEsCpgPBUCJw3PzxsJU6I1wY75uII5bcd5NX4-_VIn10grClIDNVSsHfV1XOAgnTZPhPg8j6sA1EQpkAhsiZksFpjBpu52wB-__1--hytFvWFDzjX-idvF6fBlJDBKA0mOjJhW8dt1QobnxurmTIMtpWDG_tUmftIM5CfN8KHJiI4E2MNrpYOgR" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="950" height="162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiGmgEsCpgPBUCJw3PzxsJU6I1wY75uII5bcd5NX4-_VIn10grClIDNVSsHfV1XOAgnTZPhPg8j6sA1EQpkAhsiZksFpjBpu52wB-__1--hytFvWFDzjX-idvF6fBlJDBKA0mOjJhW8dt1QobnxurmTIMtpWDG_tUmftIM5CfN8KHJiI4E2MNrpYOgR" width="320" /></a></span></div><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #0b0080; font-size: 10pt; text-decoration: none;"><br /></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #202122; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8pt; margin: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #202122; font-size: 9.5pt;">USS Hyman in San Francisco Bay, 20 July 1945.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #202122; font-size: 10.5pt;">Hyman sailed with Admiral Hall's Southern Attack Force 27 March 1945 and arrived in Okinawa 1 April.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #202122; font-size: 10.5pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #202122; font-size: 10.5pt;"><br /></span></p>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-26398202857778223722022-09-19T07:29:00.000-07:002022-09-19T07:29:06.486-07:00An Appalachian Family<p><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Walter Eugene Prince, Sr., was born in Anderson County, South Carolina, in 1886.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">His family, which was of Scottish/Irish origin, had immigrated to Pennsylvania during the potato famine.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">They subsequently migrated to the Appalachians, where they lived as farmers for generations.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Walter had a 7th grade education and probably worked on the family farm early in his life.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">However, the railroad was his calling and he got a job as a brakeman with the Southern Railroad Company.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">When a new line was built from Spartanburg to Kentucky, he saw an opportunity and applied for a position as a conductor with the new railroad.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">He got the job and worked as a conductor until he retired at the age of 70.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">He was a gruff, but loving father.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">His job kept him away from home a lot.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span></p><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;">Mary Hunter Palmer was also from Anderson County. One of her ancestors was Edward Hyde, who came over from Ireland and was the minister of a presbyterian church in Anderson County prior to the revolutionary war. His statue still stands in front of the church today. Mary graduated from the two year college in Asheville, North Carolina. She wanted all of her children to go to college. She worked as a telephone operator with Southern Bell. She was a very loving, caring, and wonderful lady. She was stern when she had to be, which occasionally happened with six children.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;">Walter and Mary were married around 1916 and Hugh Palmer Prince was born two years later. Philip Hunter Prince was born in Bostic, North Carolina on August 4,1926, and the family soon moved to Erwin, Tennessee. He was the youngest son, and grew up in the midst of the Great Depression. His family would recollect that before he was born they would travel to Florida and other places in the family car, a Buick Touring Car. After he was born, the car was up on blocks. There would be no trips during the Depression. In fact, they would play in the car pretending to be John Dillinger. Walter had a large garden in their backyard and leased 1-2 acres to farm in order to grow enough food to make it through the depression. The whole family helped work the land. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;">There was a CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps) encampment near Erwin, and they built a facility called Rock Creek Park. One can’t help but be reminded of the public works programs instituted by FDR during the Depression and the real things that came out of it that still stand today. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;"> <o:p></o:p></p><p class="Body" style="border: none; font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0in;">In 1939, Palmer decided to join the Navy. He would be stationed in Norfolk. Philip looked up to his brother, seeing him make the decision to join the military at a time that there were already rumblings of war. The year he graduated from high school, 1944, he actually took the train to Norfolk to visit his brother and saw the ocean for the first time. He saw his first aircraft carrier and was impressed that man could build something so huge. He didn’t get to see Palmer, who had just departed on the USS Hyman. He would never see him again.<o:p></o:p></p>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-52586641525967177092022-06-25T07:56:00.002-07:002022-06-25T09:54:51.176-07:00Stick to the Truth<p>I know that a lot of people, myself included, felt that yesterday was a very dark day. But I also know that there were a lot of people who felt the opposite. I like to call myself a "pragmatic idealist." Waking up this morning and reading about yesterday's decision, which the L.A. Times correctly noted to be 5-4 (Roberts did not actually vote to overturn Roe v. Wade), I'm struck most by the polarization in our country. </p>If we are to move past this polarization, becoming more polarized doesn't seem to be the answer. I think it's important to maintain a coherent and rational approach to what is likely to happen in our individual states. I for one will not partake in rhetoric. California will not be criminalizing abortion. Texas will. My reading of the ruling makes it pretty clear that the Supreme Court is, in fact, going to leave abortion law to the states (with the clear exception of Thomas, and the possible exceptions of Comey Barrett and Alito). Kavanaugh has already come out and said that women can travel to another state to get an abortion. I don't see other rights being taken away (again with the exception of Thomas). <br /><br />What does this mean? It means two things. We must figure out how to keep Democrats in control of the Senate and the White House (we can't allow a further shift of the Supreme Court). We must help our friends in Red states stand up for their rights, and shine a brighter light on the true intentions of the Republican party as it is now constituted. True Libertarians should not find a home in the Republican party.<br /><br />What concerns me, however, is the rhetoric. If we've learned one thing from donald trump and the trump republican party, is that lies are dangerous, rhetoric is dangerous. In this regard, I will always agree with Michelle Obama, we must take the high road. Let's stick to the facts and the truth. Let's tell the story of Lady Ruby over and over again to remind the public what we are dealing with. If 60% of Americans believe that women have a right to choose, let's make sure that ALL of them vote, in both blue and red states.<br /><br />I do believe that we are at a crossroad. But I am also confident in the demographic trends of this country. We can not let the loudest people control the narrative. We do have to keep our eye on the prize. We must avoid taking extreme positions that stretch the truth in order to make a point, because doing so weakens the high ground that I believe we stand on. Stick to the facts. Stick to the truth. Keep engaging in thoughtful discussions with those who are willing to listen.<br /><br />One final comment. There is one observation that gives me some solace. It is not uncommon for conservative Supreme Court justices to become more liberal over time (Blackmun, Souter, O'Conner, Kennedy to name a few), while it is less likely for a liberal justice to become conservative. I believe that there is a reason for this.<br /><br />The grand experiment in the United States that began 250 years ago (with slavery and without women having the right to vote, I might add), is being tested right now. Let's take the high ground and do the work that's needed to get us back in the right direction. However, I do not believe that taking the playbook from the extreme right (or the far left as well at times), which includes lying and stretching the truth, is the answer. We have a lot of work to do, let's get started.Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-69992612553127280722022-05-30T16:24:00.000-07:002022-05-30T16:24:01.752-07:00Showing Respect For Ironman<p>It's been three weeks, and while I'm itching to jump back fully into training, I know better. Ironman takes a huge toll on the body and one's physiology. I remember in 2013, four weeks after completing Ironman Lake Tahoe (which ironically was very similar in the end to St. George), I ran one of my best 5K trail races ever! And, three days later, I broke out with shingles. On must<i> show respect for Ironman</i>, or it will kick you in the butt.</p><p>Since I'm not planning to do anymore full Ironman races, that doesn't mean that I won't train as if I'm going to do one. Or, not. The nice thing about completing an Ironman is that for the next 4-6 weeks it's absolutely ok to do whatever your body tells you to. Today I ran 8 miles, which actually felt absolutely fine. I'm not surprised that my muscles were ok, nor was I surprised that I was ok. I wasn't fast, but that was the point, I just ran 8 miles. It's pretty nice that, at the age of 63 (soon), I can go out and run 8 miles with no consequences. The thing I have to be careful of is not to get ahead of myself. It would be easy to put in some intensity, and I'd probably not only do fine, but possible do great. However, it would be playing with fire. I need to <i>show respect for Ironman.</i></p><p>I only have two races scheduled this summer, and they're back to back on one weekend at the end of August. A 4 hour race on Saturday followed by a one hour race on Sunday. In Santa Barbara. Should be fun, and that's the idea! I could pretty well coast the rest of the summer and do them, but that's not me. I'll definitely put in some solid training, but I have no clue yet what that training will look like. I'm planning to work on my swim and continue to stay strong with my run. Honestly, at this point, unless I was planning to do another Ironman, the bike almost takes care of itself.</p><p>As I reflect on Ironman St. George, I'm totally at peace with my decision to make it my last Ironman. I really have to question the long term impact of an Ironman race as I get older. The last three weeks have reminded me of the impact on the body. More so, the impact on one's hormones and physiology. As a geriatrician, I've often said that older adults have less reserve. Completing an Ironman pretty much wipes out that reserve. I'll vouch for that. That's why I'll <i>show respect for Ironman!</i></p>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-51696057135865019792022-05-13T06:48:00.000-07:002022-05-13T06:48:01.559-07:00The Post-Ironman Nadir<p>When it hits, it really hits. Yesterday was the 5th day after the Ironman World Championship in St. George. The immediate post-race euphoria waned, and some typical life contemplation and reflection led to a serious emotional nadir. The irony is that I've recovered physically from this Ironman faster and better than any other that I've done. Hopefully, the emotional nadir, which I believe is hormonally induced, will pass quickly.</p><p>It's not to be lost that one of the things that my wife doesn't like about Ironman are the emotional ups and downs. The <i>post-ironman nadir</i> is the worst. I was hoping that it wouldn't hit me, but it did. Oftentimes, it's associated with physical feelings that make me wonder if I've developed an incurable and terminal illness (the vagaries of the <i>post-ironman nadir </i>and being a physician).</p><p>I woke up today feeling better, but it's probably too early to tell. I'll have to see how the day goes. My weight is also down to less than pre-ironman levels, which isn't necessarily bad, as I've been maintaining a healthy diet and avoiding the usual post-ironman non-stop buffet! I'm not sure what my true ideal weight is, although I certainly don't want to find myself skimping on necessary calories and nutrients as my body recovers from one of the most stressful things I can push on it. Nevertheless, empty calories never help, especially someone like me, where any extra sugar is immediately turned into fat, fueling other hormonal changes as well.</p><p>As a physician, I do love the physiological intrigue of the <i>post-ironman nadir,</i> and I'm sure that I can find previous blogs from my other fifteen Ironman's that correspond to this feeling and experience. That's for another day. Today, I'll just try to finally begin my real recovery from the most recent Ironman, and do my best to take note of the <i>post-ironman nadir.</i></p>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-31921897526901853662022-05-08T23:24:00.000-07:002022-05-08T23:24:18.449-07:00Journey Back to the Ironman World Championship: Race Report for My Final Ironman<p> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Looking back to my childhood, for a variety of reasons, I never actively participated in team sports. First and foremost, I had asthma.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I think that my parents had concerns about my participation in sports. I probably also limited myself out of some fear of exacerbating my asthma. At the same time, I always loved sports.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I kept the statistics for my brother’s baseball teams.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I would throw the ball against the wall and play “games” by myself. I loved basketball.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I read the sports pages and knew all of the statistics.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">My dad had a brief attempt at running during the “running craze” of the 70’s.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I tried to run but got easily winded and never really gave it a go.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I was in medical school in 1982 when I saw the Wide World of Sports episode where Julie Moss crawled across the finish line at the Hawaii Ironman.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">It stayed in my head. When I began practicing as a geriatrician, I would tell my patients the value of exercise. I didn’t want to be one of those doctors who ‘do as they say, not as they do.’ I began swimming and biking and before long, running. By the time I did my first sprint triathlon in 1992, I already had the Hawaii Ironman in my head.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">In fact, it became my goal to do an Ironman when I turned 40. When 1999 came, despite having done several marathons, work and life precluded me from training for an Ironman.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">When 2009 came, and I turned fifty, I knew that it was time.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">As part of my training, I qualified for the Long Course World Championships in Perth, Australia, where I crashed on my bike and suffered fractures of my hip socket, pelvis and clavicle.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Six months later I was in the water for a mass start at the very first Ironman St. George.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I’ll never forget the excitement of the day, starting with Mike Reilly on the loudspeaker in</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">transition and then calling out,</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">“Michael Wasserman, You Are An Ironman,” at the end of a very long day (</span><a href="http://wassdoc.blogspot.com/2010/05/st-george-ironman-race-report.html" style="color: #954f72; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">http://wassdoc.blogspot.com/2010/05/st-george-ironman-race-report.html</a><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">). At the time, the 2010 Ironman St. George was one of the hardest Ironman’s ever. I came back in 2011 (</span><a href="http://wassdoc.blogspot.com/2011/05/ironman-st-george-race-report.html" style="color: #954f72; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">http://wassdoc.blogspot.com/2011/05/ironman-st-george-race-report.html</a><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">) and 2012, trying to continue to improve and challenge myself.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The 2012 race to this day is known as the most difficult Ironman race of all time (</span><a href="http://wassdoc.blogspot.com/2012/05/2012-ironman-st-george-race-report.html" style="color: #954f72; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">http://wassdoc.blogspot.com/2012/05/2012-ironman-st-george-race-report.html</a><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">).</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">I finally raced in Kona at the Ironman World Championships in 2019 as a Legacy athlete (having completed at least 12 Ironman races). It was a culmination that I thought would allow me to “retire” from Ironman competition. Two things happened. First, I had a really bad sinus infection and wasn’t able to see how I “stacked up” with the best in my age group. Second, they brought back Ironman St. George. I had to sign up! The pandemic not only postponed the race but changed my life completely. Over the last couple of years, I’ve become a stronger runner. So, when the 2022 Ironman St. George became the 2021 Ironman World Championship, it was “game on!” I'm ready!</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIzN9BkKqtJEmHuNT0rvuRtwlXgWhEtK_byCfaMgm3LCjRli0uRy-7Fm9UuxYvL4y4nePNH7NmWxy39bdT07qORoVAleXZ1Hzv3Z0Wuiv_4_rG6Z8ISgeVia3j_z9wPDUgKfzjtt7jwnu5rT_ofN1Wo7FmWVk0QVk9RPjN3ivnU5EyuT5Mis_EMpxh/s4032/IMG_9369.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIzN9BkKqtJEmHuNT0rvuRtwlXgWhEtK_byCfaMgm3LCjRli0uRy-7Fm9UuxYvL4y4nePNH7NmWxy39bdT07qORoVAleXZ1Hzv3Z0Wuiv_4_rG6Z8ISgeVia3j_z9wPDUgKfzjtt7jwnu5rT_ofN1Wo7FmWVk0QVk9RPjN3ivnU5EyuT5Mis_EMpxh/s320/IMG_9369.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">My race report and how I decided that this would be my last full Ironman follows.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Coming back to where it all started had a bit of a surreal feeling to it. Twelve years ago, almost to the day, I rode the bus to the Sand Hollow Reservoir and tried to “take in” everything about my first Ironman. As I rode the bus today, it was very different. Being my 16<sup>th</sup> Ironman, the bus ride, when there is one, has become an opportunity to chill and to get “my head in the game,” or to meet other athletes and chat. I sat next to a guy my age from the East Coast. He and his wife and braved a spring storm driving to Utah in their electric car. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">While there are always training tweaks that could have been done, I’ve been pretty pleased with my preparation for this race. My swim training had put me in as good of a place as I’ve been in for years, despite the fact that I really didn’t ramp up my swim volume until the last couple of months. Just a week before leaving I swam 5K nonstop at a comfortable pace (under 2 minutes/100 yards). My run training had been exemplary, and I was excited to see how it translated on race day. Ironically, while my run volume over the past six weeks had been less than I’d hoped to do, it still is more than my training volume before most of my previous Ironman races. Also, I really haven’t been concerned about “getting in” run miles, but rather making sure I run close to 10 miles or more on most of my runs. My recent half marathon results (one open, and the other as part of a half Ironman), had only served to boost my confidence. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">I had been concerned about a lack of bike volume, and a knee injury that began 7 weeks ago (and two weeks before the Oceanside 70.3) freaked me out until it didn’t. The reason it didn’t was that my bike volume in the final weeks before today was not only solid, but actually felt good. The injury seemed to be related to a strained adductor magnus, and I used KT tape to secure the muscle a couple of days prior to the race. Despite the fact that had still been sore and tender when I arrived in St. George, it seemed to be improving. My head was definitely in the right place as I arrived at Sand Hollow Reservoir. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">I immediately went to my bike and put my bottle with 1200 calories of nutrition on it. Then I found the port-a-potties with few lines. I laid down nearby to chill when I saw my coach, Tim, walk by (remarkable with over 3000 athletes). Tim sat down with me, and we chatted about what this race meant and what it didn’t mean. Twelve years after doing my first Ironman, and about to compete in my 16<sup>th</sup>, I’d often pondered why I did these (my wife certainly wonders the same thing). <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">When I first started doing Ironman, I think there were a combination of factors driving me. I felt like I needed the incentive of a race to get myself to train. Having a strong history of heart disease in my family, I felt that exercise was important. I also love sports and the idea of competing in a sport as in individual definitely appealed to me. I’ve never been particularly fast, so the endurance aspect of Ironman made sense. Moreover, it was a sport where you can continue to compete as you get older! I’m not sure how much I “enjoyed” training when I started to do these, but over the past few years I’ve realized how much I truly enjoy training. I often say it’s really about the journey. In some ways, the race is “icing on the cake.” In other ways, it’s actually an unnecessary pressure. My coach (who I’ve worked with for 17 years), and I, realized that we’re both in a very similar place. It made for some interesting thoughts as my day went on. Regardless, it was cool to race with Tim! Before I knew it, it was time to line up for the swim start. I poured some water down my wetsuit to help me acclimate to the cold water since we wouldn’t be allowed to get in the water in advance (this actually works).<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">I’d given a lot of thought to my swim strategy, starting with where to place myself. With 10 people starting together and going off every 10 seconds, two things were clear to me. First, in my age group, my swim pace would definitely be in the upper quartile, which meant that I could start close to the front. Granted, there are swimmers who are still considerably faster than me, so, starting to the far left would keep me safe and allow me a few minutes to work my way towards the buoy line, if I so chose. There would also be slower swimmers from the previous waves in front of me, which would mean navigating them as well, and so heading to the buoy line made the most sense. Obviously, the next wave or two would have faster swimmers catching up, but I calculated that wouldn’t happen until after the first turn buoy and that they would pass me anyway. Besides, there would always be the possibility of drafting off faster swimmers.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Before I knew it, I was in my planned spot on the far left, at the head of my age group. Five, four, three, two, one…and I was off! The water was cold, but I’m used to that, in fact, it felt both refreshing and exciting to get started! Over the first few minutes, I gradually make my way closer to the buoy line. I don’t want or need to have hand to hand combat, and really just want to enjoy the swim, maintain a constant pace and not burn any matches. My swim preparation for this Ironman has been exemplary, and I know that I can keep a solid, yet comfortable effort and pace. After about five minutes, I’m focused on my form and just enjoying the experience. Before I know it, I’m at the first turn buoy, which I swim closely to and head to my right. Shortly after, I’m passed by someone from the wave behind me in a Pearly Gold cap, which I expected. I focus on keeping along the buoy line, maintaining solid form, and keeping my elbows high….no getting punched in the head today! I think about 2012 and the craziness of that swim, and how this is just so nice. I get to the next two turn buoys and start heading back. I really don’t want to use any excess energy on the swim, but I also don’t want to waste time. My form is critical and I really focus on being streamlined in the water and having a good pull with each stroke. As I get close to the final turn buoy, I’m passed by a few people from the wave that started 10 minutes behind me, in Violet caps, I’m on track! The nice thing about the age group wave starts is that I really don’t have many people passing me. They really have to be amongst the fastest swimmers to catch me. I am passing slower people from the waves in front of me, but by this time, I’ve passed most of them that I’m going to pass. I make the final turn and now it’s about 800m to the swim finish. A handful of guys in Green and Silver caps pass me during this last stretch. I just pretend that I’m doing a long swim in the pool and that this time will go by quickly. I do a little extra kicking to get the blood flowing to my legs. As I get to the finish, I’m grateful that I didn’t have to navigate 5 foot swells. I’m out of the water, pulling down the top of my wetsuit and take advantage of the wetsuit strippers. I had planned to put on a mask for the transition tent but decide that I won’t be in there for too long, so I don’t. I’m actually able to comfortably jog to my bike bag, quickly sit down on a chair, put on my glasses, my headband, my aero cycling gloves and then my helmet. I secure the helmet on my head, put my wetsuit and goggles back in the bag, hand the bag to a volunteer and jog to my bike, stopping briefly to get some sunscreen slathered on me. I get my bike, which has my shoes attached to the pedals already, and make my way to the bike start. I put my right foot in my shoe, push off with my left foot and put it on top of my left shoe, pedal a few strokes before reaching down to put my left foot in the shoe. I secure both shoes and I’m off!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF2ms5WAn49BRHWWrvazYW3pEubXJyzVTFWMoSItIl3RFl0lENB6o4RN7jeg4hHr4YZzgHJ56YMok95ReT9MEpmG68ZVJUTjJvGNj9b3INO-dOW5q4rhibXglRkD2o1X2ZZ0HuayDdePvjNTa_WULwmE741vaQU4WBIhl-IT8xVe4cTMEi5uu4hWSX/s2778/IMG_9372.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="1284" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF2ms5WAn49BRHWWrvazYW3pEubXJyzVTFWMoSItIl3RFl0lENB6o4RN7jeg4hHr4YZzgHJ56YMok95ReT9MEpmG68ZVJUTjJvGNj9b3INO-dOW5q4rhibXglRkD2o1X2ZZ0HuayDdePvjNTa_WULwmE741vaQU4WBIhl-IT8xVe4cTMEi5uu4hWSX/s320/IMG_9372.jpg" width="148" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">My swim time was 1:16:46, my fastest Ironman swim in the last 7 years. 37<sup>th</sup> in my age group and 1,206<sup>th</sup>overall. My transition time was a very quick 6:38. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">The first couple of miles on the bike were just to get loose, before coming into a fast descent that went into the first climb of the day, starting with about a half of a mile at 6% grade, very similar to the hill that I jump on every day when I ride out of my neighborhood at home. I was prepared for the opportunity to carry some speed into this climb and cut the climb by about a third, before completing the remaining mile which was more of a false flat. The next several miles were flat, and I actually think I see my coach (after he passed me) at around Mile 10. Turns out it was him! However, I’m patient, knowing that trying to catch him would waste important energy. I’ve begun thinking about how good I felt on the swim, and I start thinking about my discussion with Tim before the race. I begin thinking it might make sense for this to be my last Ironman. I felt so good on the swim, and I was feeling good on the bike. I was doing another Ironman World Championship. There was something that began feeling right about St. George being both my first and last Ironman. On the way back towards the start, we hit the same climb in reverse near mile 15, this time climbing for a little over a mile at ~6% grade. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">As I neared the top of the climb, I rode through some beautiful red rocks on both sides of the road. We were riding on the left side during this section. I was feeling good and had been planning to enjoy the golf course off to the side. I never got the chance. As I was looking up the road, a shocking situation played out. I saw a cyclist coming towards me on the other side of the road, and next to him was a motorcycle carrying a photographer. The motorcycle was drifting towards the cyclist. I thought I heard him yell out to the motorcyclist as he tried to move away towards our lane. The motorcycle not only didn’t move away, but kept moving in on the cyclist, finally hitting him, and falling on him pushing them both into our lane. I tapped my breaks and slowed down a bit and was able to avoid hitting them. I briefly thought about stopping, but I was already twenty or thirty yards past them. I’d also seen them getting up as I passed, and I doubted that there was much that I could have done. I told myself to remember to tell someone at the finish about what I saw (but 13 hours later I forgot).<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">We would be passing by Sand Hollow Reservoir nearing an hour on the bike and reaching our third 1 mile, 5% climb just after passing the Reservoir. All of the climbing that I’d been doing during training paid off as these climbs were pretty routine, and I avoided pushing a high gear, keeping my legs spinning in order to save them for the later serious climbs during the latter part of the bike. The key to this portion of the course was patience. Too early to even consider “burning matches.” Turning onto Highway 9 for a short stretch before turning around and coming back to head towards St. George, beginning with a long gradual descent, came at a great time to recover and focus on holding some speed, before hitting the 2 mile, 3% false flat of State Street. It was really important here to not get too overzealous, and to stay within myself. There was just enough climb to tax the legs if I tried to maintain a fast pace on this stretch. Another short climb on Telegraph would come before a slightly longer climb on Washington Parkway and then the climb on the Buena Vista out and back. All of these were similar to the early climbs and my routine climbing route in my neighborhood, once again reminding me to stay within myself, maintain a good cadence and stay out of higher gears. It would be a long day on the bike and the real riding was yet to come! I also followed my new Ironman nutrition plan, avoiding any calories for the first 45 minutes. I learned this from listening to a Dave Scott YouTube video. I have suffered GI issues for many of my Ironman races, until using this approach in Kona. I hoped it would work again today.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGSVfnZ3E120_A5cHl4PsTuh7I5L4kv5XAU8ZruOGFDDxleTmX8-5SnfjE31m3C5LeH76et86X-qp3-9pnTRgqUW1qvYE7YJlU6zxHRQGRujhzWS3OX-VaD7GBdVMI9lkmxO-p_zVnafrXODGHHh_OsuWTUYnDFU_FlWUg3DSl5-53HUEvL163NkJW/s2001/IMG_0352.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2001" data-original-width="1125" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGSVfnZ3E120_A5cHl4PsTuh7I5L4kv5XAU8ZruOGFDDxleTmX8-5SnfjE31m3C5LeH76et86X-qp3-9pnTRgqUW1qvYE7YJlU6zxHRQGRujhzWS3OX-VaD7GBdVMI9lkmxO-p_zVnafrXODGHHh_OsuWTUYnDFU_FlWUg3DSl5-53HUEvL163NkJW/s320/IMG_0352.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Getting onto Red Hills Parkway was a reminder of the original Ironman St. George bike and run course, and the climb up was yet another 2 mile, 3% slog. Despite all of the climbing on this course, these 3% grades just require patience, and maintaining that patience is easy with the beautiful surroundings. Being in the moment is always the key to a successful Ironman. I remember being thankful on the original course not having to climb from the other direction, with its 4-8% grades, that I would soon be descending, right around the 50 mile mark. I had hoped to get to the halfway point on the bike right around 3 to 3 ¼ hours, which would come right after a short false flat climb past the entrance to Snow Canyon, which I’d be coming back to later for the final climb of the day. Headwinds, probably between 10 and 20 mph, had slowed me down, and I hit the 52 mile mark in 3 ¼ hours. Leaving the thought that I was going a little slower behind me, I took stock of the fact that I felt good, my legs weren’t tired and my hydration and nutritional efforts had left me prepared for the real bike race, which was about to start! <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">The original Ironman course essentially “started” here, with two loops up to Veyo. I was excited to only do the long gradual climb (1500 feet in 15 miles) once and then to have Snow Canyon as the final climb. Once again, the key was to enjoy the scenery and not get too caught up in the pace. The time will ultimately take care of itself, I think as I climb past Gunlock. A cow crosses the road in front of me. Fortunately, it continues and I don’t have to slow down too much. The time passes and before I know it, I’m turning right and going up “the Wall.” Compared to the final ramps of the Portero wall at home, this actually feels quite doable. I stand for a good part of the climb, but it’s over pretty quickly, leaving a short flat stretch that turns right at the Veyo Pie Shop. It’s such a shame that I can’t stop for pie! There’s one more climb before the long descent. I realize, though, that at this point, the majority of the remaining 30 miles is downhill! This is actually what I’ve been looking forward to. I’ll be able to recover prior to the climb up Snow Canyon, and I can even take that climb pretty seriously. At 4 miles with an average grade of 4.3%, not only doesn’t it scare me, but I’m actually looking forward to it! Seems crazy after nearly 100 miles, but mentally it has always seemed like the appropriately crazy way to view it! What I hadn’t taken into account was the 20 mph winds and the heat, which are slowing me down and sapping my energy.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">I’m tired, but my legs are holding up. I’ve kept up my hydration and nutrition, and while I’d planned to attack the climb up Snow Canyon, I’m slogging as I go up the climb. As planned, I take some moments to appreciate the beauty of one of my wife and I’s favorite places. As I near the top of the climb, there are actually more people walking their bikes than riding! Coming off the right turn back to 18, it’s all downhill to T2, and I don’t stress too much to get every second out of the descent. It’s much more important to get into T2 with a low heart rate and taking some opportunity to stretch out my legs and back a bit.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">As I get close to the bike finish, I reach down and take my feet out of my shoes, keeping them on top of the shoes. I decide not to execute a flying dismount, no reason to take any chances, and just come to a complete stop at the dismount line and get off my bike. I hand my bike to a volunteer, and after 7 ½ hours in the saddle, am glad to be off the bike. I do take a moment to put on my mask, knowing that I’ll be in the tent for a few minutes. I grab my run bag, sit down, and take off my helmet. I quickly slather some Vaseline on my feet, always a good idea, put on my running socks and slip on my HOKA Rocket X shoes. I put my race belt on and then put my helmet and socks in the bag, put on my hat, stand up, hand my bag to a volunteer, and, after about a 2 minute stop to pee, am ready for the run. I stop for some fluids and some more sunscreen. I put some Vaseline under my armpits (where I typically chafe), and I’m off to the run start. My transition time was 9:06. Solid.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">My bike time was 7:36:14, 65<sup>th</sup> in my age group, 1,881<sup>st</sup> overall. Nearly 15 miles an hour for 112 miles with 7500 feet of climbing in 90 degree temperatures and 20 mph winds. Lots to be proud of. I will acknowledge that while, trying to ignore how much the bike has sapped my energy, I had been fighting that fact since the climb up Snow Canyon, feeling pain in the bottom of both feet and recognizing it had already been a long day.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">My coach always says that the key to an Ironman is to swim easy, bike easy, and run easy, until it gets hard. That’s my goal. I’ve run this course nearly a year ago and am familiar with it. The first three miles are ~1-2% incline, which isn’t bad, but I take great pains not to push too hard. In fact, I start out by walking. There’s a steeper climb right near the start and after I turn left I try to run and realize it’s going to be a harder day than I planned. The primary reason is that my low back is tight, making running more challenging. I’m also “spent.” I start chatting with a younger athlete who tells me that he normally is competitive for a podium spot in his age group, but that he’s completely spent. I feel much better. I see my coach, nearing the finish of his first lap of the run and he tells me how hard the bike was. I’m actually encouraged to know that I’m not alone. I tell him that I’ll see him when he “catches me” later in the loop. I get through the first three miles maintaining a pace of around 14 minutes/mile, and now have about a three mile section with a 1-2% decline. I run, while being careful not to get too ahead of myself, while keeping close to a 10 minute/mile pace. There’s still a long way to go. Keep it easy, until it gets hard, but it’s already hard. I get to the turnaround, and I’ve been consistent. I know that I have about 3 miles of slight uphill followed by ~3 miles of downhill before getting back to the turnaround for the second lap. I alternate walking a running, mostly walking uphill to keep close to 14 minute/mile pace and then my downhill running (and walking now) pace is closer to 11 minutes to mile. I get to the half marathon point and am excited to know that I only have one more lap. I know I’ll finish and I share with fellow athletes how it’s an opportunity to “have a good time,” rather than worrying about achieving a “good time.” My pace continues to alternate between 14 minutes per mile on the uphills and 11 minutes per mile on the downhill sections. But I’m really feeling tired and my back continues to be tight. At mile 19 I start walking with another athlete who turns out to be a cardiologist from San Diego. He’s 40 years old and has done 20 Ironman’s for the “Fuck Cancer” philanthropy. We actually have a mutual friend. He’s also normally faster. I decide that this is a great opportunity to rest and relax and not worry about my time. We see athletes on the side of road puking. It’s truly carnage. This course has humbled a lot of people. My pace slows to about 17 minutes/mile for the next few miles as I decide to just enjoy the company of a fellow athlete. I actually manage to run mile 23-25 at around a 12 minute pace. Still, it’s hard. It’s windy. I’m tired. My back still hurts. So I walk until I get to the finishing chute, where, as always, I have wings and energy to the finish line waving my arms in the air to get the crowd to cheer. I stop at the finish line and raise my right hand showing four fingers to represent the four St. George Ironman’s that I’ve completed. There were only 26 people who completed the first three, and I’m sure there’s a lot fewer who have now completed all four.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">My run was 5:54:53, 48<sup>th</sup> in my age group, 1676<sup>th</sup> overall. 2,294 people finish the race, with nearly 3,000 starting. Another St. George Ironman with a high DNF (Do Not Finish) rate. My finishing time is 15:03:35, my slowest Ironman finish time on arguably the hardest course in the world. That puts me 53<sup>rd</sup> out of 90 men in my age group who finished (there were nearly 150 signed up, and probably closer to 110 who started). I’m 1,714<sup>th</sup> overall out of 2,294, keeping in mind that hundreds of people didn’t even finish (they’re not counted in the results). I’ve definitely acquitted myself well in the Ironman World Championship!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">My mind was made up early in the race, and it hasn’t changed at the end. Good result. Bad result. In between. I love the training. The race, the medals, aren’t why I do Ironman. The idea of swimming, biking and running based on how I feel on any given day, appeals to me. Ironman races also take a lot out of you. My wife reminds me that I get depressed after my races. She’s right. My coach made a great comment to me this morning, which was that the pressure of “having” to train because you have a race ahead, is an unnecessary distraction from the enjoyment of training. I get it! That same pressure also impedes one’s time for other things, including family, which is my number one priority. Furthermore, training builds you up. The training is every day. It’s the life I enjoy and want to continue to enjoy. It’s really what defines me now. Not only don’t I have anything to prove, I want to truly live my life in the moment. I also no longer have a need to “prove” my ability in an Ironman World Championship. At the age of 63, I just finished the hardest Ironman in the world for the fourth time! There isn’t a better time to step away from racing full Ironman’s. I look forward to training “in the moment” for the rest of my life. Afterall, I often say that Ironman is a metaphor for life. Maybe now I’ll say that life is a metaphor for Ironman.</p>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-66742030967593549772022-04-18T10:33:00.002-07:002022-04-18T10:33:49.099-07:00Journey Back to Kona Day 216: 13 Hours and 25 Minutes<p><i>Thirteen hours and twenty five minutes.</i> That's the average time it's taken me to finish each of my 15 Ironman races. My fastest was 11:31:59 at Chattanooga in 2014. My slowest was at Santa Rosa in 2018, which took 14 hours and 52 minutes, holding my Kona spot in 2019, all I had to do was finish. That was the year I hadn't trained, literally completing an Ironman on under 4 hours a week of training, and recovering from a cold to boot! Nine of my fifteen Ironman's have been completed in under thirteen hours. My first Ironman, Ironman St. George 2010, took me thirteen hours, eighteen minutes and twenty-six seconds. I was 50 years old at the time.</p><p>I will compete at Ironman World Championship in St. George in just under three weeks. I have a goal. Finish in under thirteen hours and 25 minutes. Considering that I'm now 63 years old and this is one of the hardest Ironman courses on the planet, that would be a tremendous accomplishment. My training has been good, albeit, not perfect, especially with my recent knee problem. That seems to have almost cleared up, which gives me about 10 days to sharpen my bike training. I can't be more pleased with how I'm entering this race from a swim and run perspective. My swimming is totally on track, and I anticipate having my best Ironman swim in years, although my only goal for the swim is to not go too hard. My bike training now totally necessitates that I don't push too hard. That's not a bad thing for any Ironman, especially one where the bulk of the climbing occurs in the last half of the bike! As always, the run will be what it will be, but I'm coming into this race with my best run fitness in years, perhaps ever. In fact, I've recently run my fastest "open" and half ironman half marathons in nearly a decade. My Ironman run PR could be in my sights. Ironically, it was set at St. George in 2012. </p><p>I used to create goals and blog about them, and I haven't done that in some time. I certainly know better than to stick too closely to goals for an Ironman, but I really feel like it's ok to put my goals out there for this race. It's a World Championship, and I'll be competing against the best in my age group. If I swim anywhere under 1 hour and 20 minutes I'll be happy. Interestingly enough, swim times do seem to drop once you hit the 60-64 age group. My swim is back on track and I'm swimming better than I have in years. I could swim as fast as 1:15 if conditions are good, but expect to be right around 1:20. </p><p>The bike is going to be a challenge. With nearly 7500 feet of climbing and a good chunk of it in the last fifty miles of the race, I can't expect too much. I'll be happy with anything under 7 hours and will be satisfied with anything close to that. If conditions are good and I'm feeling strong, 6 hours and 40 minutes is probably as good as I can do. Realistically, I won't be surprised by a 7:10 bike. Regardless, I need to leave enough energy for the run!</p><p>If I am having a fantastic day, I could start the run with 8 hours and 10 minutes already on the clock. More likely, it will be closer to 8 hours and 40 minutes. It really will be "all about the run!" The way I've been running, I'm cautiously optimistic about being able to run a 4 hour and 30 minute marathon, which would allow me to finish in under <i>thirteen hours and 25 minutes. </i>I think on the best of days, I could pull off a 4 hour and 15 minute marathon, and if I'm challenged, it could be as long as 5 hours. A great run could have me finishing the race in under 13 hours. </p><p>There it is. My goals are out there. Back to training...</p>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-38119687456928920902022-04-09T11:56:00.008-07:002022-04-09T11:56:54.131-07:00Journey Back to Kona Day 207: Following My Own Path<p>I have always been one to <i>follow my own path</i>. I realize that there are two aspects to this tendency. The first is as a leader. If I'm following my path as a leader, others will come along with me, if they so choose. The second way is just me as an individual. I can choose to follow my own path, regardless of the path others are choosing, with no intention of pulling people along with me.</p><p>A few years ago when I decided to take on the editing of a major textbook, I had some of my mentors downplay the value of it. I'm not sure why, but in the end, I chose to <i>follow my own path, </i>and I'm glad that I did. Perhaps it was as simple as the fact that my path and their paths had diverged, which is fine. I won't get into other psychological reasons, as they presume that I know how other people think and feel. </p><p>I've <i>followed my own path </i>pretty much my whole life. From the 3rd grade, where my teacher said that I was preoccupied with the war in Vietnam, to the 6th or 7th grade where my English teacher complained about my reading books that appealed to me, to high school, where I was just plain iconoclastic on a regular basis, <i>following my own path</i> has pretty much defined me. </p><p>As a leader, there is the complication that people following you may not feel like your path and theirs are the same. Yet, as a leader, you really have no choice, unless you decide that you want to vary from the direction that appeals to you, or are swayed by another path put forward. I've always been open to other ideas, and willing to listen to other approaches. Still, as a leader, if you successfully message your path, others will invariably follow you.</p><p>As an individual, knowing the path that you want to take is important. Obviously, there will be barriers along the way and differences of opinion from others around you if your path conflicts with theirs. Depending on the various paths, there doesn't have to be conflict, but that's a discussion for another blog. Suffice it to say, for my entire life, I've pretty much <i>followed my own path. </i>I think I'll choose to keep that mantra going.</p>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-69821595365213259412022-04-02T19:27:00.001-07:002022-04-02T19:27:08.856-07:00Journey Back to Kona Day 200: Painful, but Gratifying<p><span style="font-family: arial;">For a change, I didn't write my race report for the California 70.3 in advance, which has been my habit for many years. There were a multitude of reasons, not the least of which has been some knee pain that began three weeks ago during a 4 1/2 hour bike ride with a ton of climbing. I rested the knee for a week and rode again last weekend for an hour and the pain came back. I had my cleat adjusted and was hoping for the best today. Well, let me just say, hope springs eternal. But, I'll get to that later.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">For some reason my allergies really were acting up this week and I kept hoping that I hadn't come down with the cold that my grandson had brought home with him. The good news is that it seems like I've skirted the cold. With that said, we checked into our Airbnb and I didn't realize until the day after we checked in that the pillows on the couch were made of feather, to which I'm highly allergic. No wonder I felt miserable.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I woke up this morning around 3:30 am (an hour before my alarm), and realized that I was excited to get going to the race. I had actually done this race for the first time in 2004, prior to getting a coach and really the year that I decided to commit myself to triathlon training. My times that year were: Swim 37:53 T1 4:24 Bike 3:10:51 T2 2:29 Run 2:12:27 Finish 6:08:04. Today would be my 8th time racing in Oceanside, but my last race seemed like years ago, which it was, in 2015, when I finished in 5:37:01. Seven years later, at the age of 62, I was interested in seeing where I was. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">My swim has been coming back lately, and honestly, I'm swimming as well as I have in years. Today's swim would be the first time I did the beach start in Oceanside, and it was glorious! There were waves, boy were there waves! They kept coming. I'd dive under one and come up and the next one was on its way. I'd dive under that one, etc., etc. In some respects it was a little scary, but in another, it was fun! I was truly enjoying the swim when WHAM!, another athlete literally punched me in the side of the head. Now, I've been hit before (one year I got a blood lip at Oceanside), but this wasn't just any hit. Honestly, I felt like I was hit hard enough to almost knock me out. By far, the hardest I've ever been hit in the head. Fortunately, it didn't knock me out, and I just smiled and kept going. As I write this, however, my temple is definitely sore. Of note, I was avoiding other swimmers, but this person obviously wasn't avoiding me. They came up from behind and WHAM! Still, I stayed very comfortable, with a very solid swim stroke. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I came out of the water in about 38 minutes, which was actually close to my swim time 7 years ago. I could still use some open water swim lessons but I was really happy with my swim, and, I felt good enough to run to my bike. I took some extra time in transition putting on socks and my bike shoes, and almost forgot to put on my bib number (required to bike through Camp Pendleton). My transition time of nearly 7 minutes wasn't bad considering all of this. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">On to the bike. This would be the moment of truth. The first several miles felt really good, and I felt very solid and was putting out decent wattage without too much effort. And then the knee pain returned. It didn't take long, and I tried everything, including focusing on where my foot was pointed on the pedal. The rest of the bike became a game of sorts, with me trying not to make the pain worse, while continuing to put out reasonable wattage (which I actually did, maintaining an average wattage of ~155w, which should be close to my ironman wattage. Still, I couldn't push too hard, lest the pain increased. I actually did fairly well on the climbs, though I did find myself standing more in order to relieve the pain. At around Mile 40, I massaged a muscle in my inner thigh and the pain in my knee went away for several minutes! Unfortunately, it came back and I struggled to find the spot again. As I rode into transition, I wondered what would happen when I started running. I hadn't given it much thought until then, as there wasn't much I could have done.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I racked my bike, put on some aleve/menthol on my knee, took a little extra time putting on my compression socks and my running shoes, and took off, stopping for about a minute to pee before actually starting the run. The good news: no knee pain! I kept my heart rate around 145 for the first 7-8 miles and managed to keep ~8:50 running pace. I picked up the effort for the last 5-6 miles and ultimately finished with an 8:43 average pace. My heart rate settled in to the low 150's. It was hard, but I was really happy to negative split the run. When I finished, I was done!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">My age group was stacked! The best people in the country were racing today. Still, my run was right up there with many of them, except for the exceptional guys at the top of the age group. Now, I just need to figure out my bike position and deal with my knee pain. St. George is in 5 weeks.</span></p><p class="Default" style="border: none; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-80892165484754454232022-03-27T08:01:00.003-07:002022-03-27T08:01:43.088-07:00Journey Back to Kona Day 194: Back to Prioritizing<p>Multiple things on my brain today. Life priorities and training priorities. The training priorities have been complicated by left knee pain, which I believe that I can trace back to having my bike shoes adjusted when I got my bike fit dialed in some weeks ago. My first real long ride last weekend left me with some significant left knee pain. I rested it, it improved, and when I rode yesterday, it came back. Yuk! If there's one thing a triathlete hates, it's this type of pain. Pain from a long run is fine, but pain from a relatively short bike, where the rest of my legs felt fine, is frustrating.</p><p>That probably messed with my mind yesterday, which wasn't a good thing, as I was already pondering my life priorities again. I'm sure that I can look back at previous blogs and find many that address this complex issue. Too many things that matter to me. Not enough time in the day or week. Which ones do I choose. With a half ironman next week and an ironman on the very near horizon, that decision should be pretty simple. Just get through Ironman St. George and then come back to the priorities. That <i>should </i>be my path.</p><p>In the meantime, I can process a bit. Once again, this past week was a reminder of the clash of priorities. With my son-in-law out of town, we were helping with the grandkids. I absolutely love my time with my grandson and granddaughter, but chasing a two year old around all day can be more exhausting than doing a full ironman! In some ways, the timing with my knee injury might have been fortuitous, lest I would have pushed too hard with training to train through the injury. Again, no regrets. We can only take life one day at a time and deal with the issues that we are faced with on a daily basis. Ironman as a metaphor for life, stay in the moment. </p><p>Sometimes that concept is easier said than done, and injury-pain certainly messes with one's brain. It also doesn't <i>help</i> that my mind has been significantly blown over the past few weeks with the progress I've made on the advocacy front. I'm having the type of potential impact that I've always dreamed of. But, be careful what you wish for. That type of success is not only addictive, but also opens up a number of rabbit holes. Opportunities lead to more opportunities. This only opens up more chances for priority conflicts. And, so I'm <i>back to prioritizing.</i></p>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-4025331012089169702022-03-08T04:33:00.001-08:002022-03-08T04:33:06.098-08:00Journey Back to Kona Day 175: Ventura Half Marathon Race Report<p> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I’d been visualizing this race for a while.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I’ve done some half marathons in the last few years and most recently did one that I was very happy with, managing to run it in 1 hour and 44 minutes, which was still off my best time of 1:32 over a decade ago, but was pretty much the fastest I’d run in the years since.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">My run training has been off the charts good.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I’ve been putting in more miles on a regular basis and 10-14 mile runs have literally become commonplace for me.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">With a Half Ironman and then a Full Ironman coming up in the next couple of months, I didn’t want to do anything to hurt my training, but at the same time, I was intrigued by a couple of things.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">First, the course is literally all downhill (except for the first mile). The knowledge of this brought a couple of thoughts into play.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The first thought was how fast a pace I could maintain for a half marathon.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Knowing that my endurance is solid, but that I haven’t really focused on speed, I was intrigued.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">At the same time, I didn’t want to do any harm to myself. But that brought up the second point.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Running downhill for 13.1 miles would definitely give my legs a pounding, and with five weeks go before the Oceanside 70.3, it could provide an outstanding training stimulus. With that in mind, I knew that I’d listen to my body and do what I could on race day.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">I woke up early on race day and took care of all of my bathroom needs (or so I thought) before driving to Ventura, where I parked and got a bus to the start. I was ok with the bus, as everyone was still wearing masks (and it was still required). When we got to Ojai, I got my race bib and headed to the port-a-potties for one last stop. Not a moment too soon! While standing in line, I really had to go (like really had to go!). Fortunately, I was able to hold things long enough to complete my final preparation for the race. I managed to run 0.8 miles on the track to warm up and then made my way to the starting line. I had kept a long sleeved compression shirt on, as it was pretty cold out (low 40’s), and I took it off with a few minutes to go before the start. I wore gloves, otherwise, nothing special. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">We started on the track for a couple of hundred yards and I really focused on not going out too fast or too hard, keeping my heart rate close to 140 an letting it come up into the 150’s by the end of the first mile, which actually had a net elevation gain of 30 feet. Remarkably, my pace settled in at 7:40/mile, which I wholeheartedly accepted with the realization that it didn’t feel hard I got to the end of the first mile, which really was the start of the downhills. My time for the first mile was 7:40 (which adjusting for elevation change was equivalent to 7:34), my average heart rate was 137 and my maximum was 157. I was off to an excellent start. I had in my head the idea that I might be able to keep 7:40 pace, knowing that last summer I started a half marathon at that pace, but was only able to hold it for the first few miles, before slowing down considerably (especially at the end). On the other hand, I’d done another half in December and ended up holding an 8:00 pace for the entire race. So, 7:40 was a reasonably conservative start. The second mile was downhill, with a net loss of 82 feet. Again, I kept it comfortable, with an average heart rate of 150 and a maximum of 159. I got to the second mile marker with a time of 7:23 (7:46 adjusted for elevation change).<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjImn-1gfo4Nn5tbAwI53y_esecGbJSqNt7vdDzfzaNK8K-9R4Hj4uyP4Yrlyt9B61FPJ6aE9xctlkjhjHlTdi1yMQ3_6ZejOg_-oITyibfzgtk-ZQsWeZHUacl4Bedlb6t6sQxWVS1X_T-m6ZbriP4jWGvHtIuedOUiA5MAn2iqj2QcRUoBtIWtFzm=s960" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="639" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjImn-1gfo4Nn5tbAwI53y_esecGbJSqNt7vdDzfzaNK8K-9R4Hj4uyP4Yrlyt9B61FPJ6aE9xctlkjhjHlTdi1yMQ3_6ZejOg_-oITyibfzgtk-ZQsWeZHUacl4Bedlb6t6sQxWVS1X_T-m6ZbriP4jWGvHtIuedOUiA5MAn2iqj2QcRUoBtIWtFzm=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Things were getting interesting. I really had no clue how I would feel holding a 7:23 pace, but I was running downhill and I was still quite comfortable, so I just continued to go with it. It was still cool out, but I was definitely warmed up. I was also staying with some of the same runners at this point. I really wasn’t looking at my heart rate, and would occasionally look at my pace to see where I was. Mile 3 came along in 7:30 (adjusted 7:40), having only had a net loss of 36ft. My heartrate had come up to 154 with a maximum of 161. Of note, I’d been breathing comfortably hard every 4<sup>th</sup> step, which was perfectly according to plan. Mile 4 also only had 29 feet of descent and my time was 7:40 (adjusted 7:53), while my average heart rate climbed a bit to 160, and I actually managed to hit a heart rate of 168. At some point my breathing had switched to my routine “Tempo” breathing of every third step, but it really didn’t feel too hard. The grade also got a little steeper and Mile 5 ended up being 7:20 (adjusted 7:49) with a 108ft descent. My average heart rate only came up a little to 162, though I did touch up to 174 at times. The next two miles continued with pretty solid descents, and Mile 6 and 7 were completed in a blazing 7:17 (adjusted 7:53) and 7:27 (adjusted 7:50) with respective drops in elevation of 138 and 86ft, respectively. My average heart rate stayed right around 168-170, with a maximum of 174.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Five miles to go. At this point, I began switching my mindset from what was possible to what I needed to do to make it possible. I really bore down on my effort, while keeping my breathing the same, and really focused on maintaining my speed. Maintain that speed, I did, actually doing Miles 8-10 in 7:33, 7:32 and 7:32 (adjusted paces ~7:40)! The elevation drop for these three miles averaged around 35 feet and my heart rate actually came down to an average of 155. Three miles to go and my legs started feeling the impact (literally) of the downhill running. Fortunately, they only felt a little sore, although I definitely needed to focus to maintain my pace. Mile 11 pleasantly surprised me with 7:38 (adjusted 7:48) with what was now a routine 36ft descent (pretty small) and my heart rate began to come up again to an average of 160 with a maximum of 172. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjXQ0uz5ZHxm6FdmL_UveW5f6Vu-DDJd4A8gjTIgw84FLLJ235IoI3TN8Guplc6A7N32oU4DQg8vlcGoHunQwHH_eF8MKVQCXe1BlfEDBpx0qLLQ3sjwoKzw6U5F2KWJhWKmIsKMQeN8OiXrT1fL1iOxT0gP4AZ12yNmvpBCVDPz1GIckMlXYyQDLF-=s960" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="639" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjXQ0uz5ZHxm6FdmL_UveW5f6Vu-DDJd4A8gjTIgw84FLLJ235IoI3TN8Guplc6A7N32oU4DQg8vlcGoHunQwHH_eF8MKVQCXe1BlfEDBpx0qLLQ3sjwoKzw6U5F2KWJhWKmIsKMQeN8OiXrT1fL1iOxT0gP4AZ12yNmvpBCVDPz1GIckMlXYyQDLF-=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Holding my pace was everything I could do, and somehow, I managed to maintain my pace over Miles 12 and 13, finding myself completing these miles in 7:43 and 7:42 respectively (adjusted 7:51 and 7:52) all the while seeing my heart rate start to climb again to an average of 163 for Mile 12 and 168 for the final mile. As I turned toward the finish line, I sprinted as hard as I could, managing the final strides at a 7:22 pace and my heart rate ending up maximizing at 173. As I crossed the finish line, I knew that I’d given it my all. I found an area on the grass and lay down for a few minutes. I needed it. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgEDq0brOhOpuU9Ydl68NDZ4mCWejGJ6olkA4d80a0BLR3XB6XtmrUPLAT2PBJQDygtosgUGXZl_fchup8s48TnCs-PVJXyKnPKxd13NBFkF3xt7robfK1XAp8-YYMEnnsxZXkYAGYOYtHLgCgPnLdhc71hIgA9Z1cwrJMYiUEbV8NUE5OVEumTKSPN=s960" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="639" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgEDq0brOhOpuU9Ydl68NDZ4mCWejGJ6olkA4d80a0BLR3XB6XtmrUPLAT2PBJQDygtosgUGXZl_fchup8s48TnCs-PVJXyKnPKxd13NBFkF3xt7robfK1XAp8-YYMEnnsxZXkYAGYOYtHLgCgPnLdhc71hIgA9Z1cwrJMYiUEbV8NUE5OVEumTKSPN=s320" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjTGJjuAxooi_84O7MJY0f4eEC0vSYHG9PWIlgetJkkmi_m0sJYetSp4b0hBeo1vfTtjmSh3pitz6RC69HTobUBMbpPnD4m3kaYwKp4X2sQx9DYfbcPRcDd8TtQsoE_6MgfbXlq_Y_nJtPYzOv1OaIOUX_Z4Q4RVoqAPpJ8TFVuIO462ANoUALjEjTa=s960" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="639" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjTGJjuAxooi_84O7MJY0f4eEC0vSYHG9PWIlgetJkkmi_m0sJYetSp4b0hBeo1vfTtjmSh3pitz6RC69HTobUBMbpPnD4m3kaYwKp4X2sQx9DYfbcPRcDd8TtQsoE_6MgfbXlq_Y_nJtPYzOv1OaIOUX_Z4Q4RVoqAPpJ8TFVuIO462ANoUALjEjTa=s320" width="213" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">I felt somewhat sore later in the day, but the usual delayed onset muscle soreness was pretty mild the following day. I followed up my effort with two days of solid swimming before taking a day off and finally ran again on Thursday (four days later), with a hard 2 hour and 15 minute bike (including 10 minutes of all out efforts and a brutal 25 minute climb) followed by a comfortable 10 mile run that left my legs feeling a little sore and stiff. Friday was another swim and Saturday was a 12 mile run that was mostly comfortable except for a 10 minute uphill effort alternating between all out and hard every minute, resulting in a 1 minute PR up a steep ¾ mile climb halfway through my run. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Four weeks to go before the Oceanside 70.3. My swim fitness is where it needs to be. My run fitness is better than ever. I can complete a solid 56 mile bike ride, but could still put in some more volume in the coming weeks. I’m excited for Ironman St. George, and can only hope that I can hold together a solid marathon in May!<o:p></o:p></p>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-86571674337217565892022-02-16T07:17:00.000-08:002022-02-16T07:17:01.093-08:00Journey Back to Kona Day 155: Dreaming<p>I haven't blogged in 12 days, and my last blog was about needing an intervention. Last night I felt like I was up all night dreaming! I literally had a broad range of dreams that were incredibly vivid. In my last dream I was as soldier during WWII and I was with other American soldiers, and suddenly, I was running around a building and there were Nazi soldiers everywhere. I couldn't get away from them. I was about to shoot a man when I was captured and forced to sit down with a group of people. One of them was an old woman. She said something to me and I slapped her across the face. Suddenly, I apologized, and tried to explain that I didn't hit old women. Weird. I could probably try to remember the range of my dreams, but as I write this their already flowing back into the recesses of my brain. They were so real, and every time I woke up from one, it felt like I hadn't slept.</p><p>I kind of had that intervention. Somehow, I've been trying extra hard to take some semblance of control over my life again. I've been good about working out, to the extent that my fatigue levels have been rising. Two nights ago that reached a crescendo when my wife told me that I looked tired. That's always a sign that I'm fried. She also told me, after I mentioned this the next day, that I had been grumpy. Grumpy old man, that's not what I want to be! Nevertheless, that's my signal to rest, and yesterday was a pretty mellow day, although I did get in a 40 minute bike that included 5 two minute hard repeats up the 7% hill that runs up my neighborhood. According to my coach, older men need those VO2 workouts, and I'll particularly need them for the hilly St. George Ironman in May.</p><p>I did manage to do the best workout ever last week, pushing my granddaughter in a jogging stroller for 8 miles, and I'll say, 8 very hilly miles that included a 1 mile 6-8% climb. I followed that up with a 5 1/2 mile stroller run two days later that included the same climb. That was one of the reasons for my fatigue at the end of the week. If I'm going to be ready for my upcoming races, I'm going to need to keep up my training. However, that also means that I'm also going to need to to modulate and not let the physical and mental stresses get the best of me. </p><p>I'm someone who tends to remember my dreams, although I rarely, if ever, write them down right away. That might be an interesting experiment sometime. I wonder what I would learn. I bought a book over a year ago about dreams, started to read it and never finished. Always something more to learn in life. Always something to <i>dream about.</i></p>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-84499271478991998502022-02-04T20:47:00.005-08:002022-02-04T20:47:59.650-08:00Journey Back to Kona Day 143: I Need an Intervention<p>I've been desperately trying to find my balance, and regularly screwing it up. Today was a prime example. I'm no longer able to juggle all of the competing aspects of my life. I'm not sure that I ever have been, but I've convinced myself otherwise many times. I talk about how my family comes first, but I continually let work get in the way. What is really screwed up is that I'm retired! <i>I need an intervention.</i></p><p>I suppose calling yourself out for needing an intervention is much better than having the people who love you sit you down and telling you that you need one. I am going to need help. That's key. I have proven time and again that I am unable to do this by myself. Left to my own devices, I say yes to everything that comes my way. That's the irony of anyone suggesting that I put anything less than a full-time effort into my last job running a nursing home chain. I've never had a full-time job where I've put in even close to 40 hours a week! I've always put in a lot more. Now that I'm retired, I suppose that could explain why I'm floundering to find my proper balance. My time is essentially unlimited. That's why <i>I need an intervention!</i></p><p>I have an Ironman coming up, but have already realized that I can not, should not, and will not set any expectations. It would be great if I were prepared for it. It would also be great if I wasn't fully prepared, and just enjoyed the day and finished before the requisite 17 hour limit. I've never paced myself through an Ironman that way, this could be a first time. Imagine taking some extra time during transition (naw, that will probably never happen for me, it's not in my DNA, besides, it's wasted time)? More appropriate would be to take extra time hydrating and nourishing for the first half of the bike (or more), and during the first few miles of the run (or more). Taking time to recover from the impact of each discipline would go a long way towards finishing comfortably, and actually taking time to enjoy the landscape and the experience. This is definitely an option, one which will be dictated by what happens over the next 12 weeks. With that said, when all is said and done, Ironman should remain my healthy purpose, or rather my healthful purpose.</p><p>My "work" life has become a love:hate relationship. First, to be clear, I'm not actually "working." I'm retired! I work for purpose. That purpose has to do with helping others. But, for the last forty years that obsession has been to the detriment of my family life. At the age of 62, with a forty year anniversary coming up in May, it is longer healthy. It never was, but I managed. I can't manage any longer. Being a husband, a dad and a grandpa is too enjoyable to sacrifice. It's time. But, knowing how much I've been trying to get there myself over the past few years, it is clear that <i>I need an intervention.</i></p><p>But there are limits to purpose. Especially when it consumes every waking moment and detracts from the other things that bring you joy. I wish I could separate them, but I can not. It hasn't helped that we've been in the middle of a pandemic, and a quasi-dystopian world that has highlighted all of my expertise and skills. Purpose. Yeah, maybe there's a limit to purpose. That's why <i>I need an intervention.</i></p>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-24248634713402359422022-02-01T07:44:00.005-08:002022-02-01T07:44:42.924-08:00Journey Back to Kona Day 140: The Rubber Meets the Road13 weeks to Ironman St. George, which also happens to be a World Championship race. If I am going to have the best race possible, there is no longer any time to waste. It could be argued that I've already passed the point of no return, but I am rejecting that. Two years ago, I was far less prepared and fit, and was going to do the race around the same time. In fact, it was February 24, 2020, a week before the world changed. This time, I'm at a nadir of my physical fitness, and haven't been too far behind in terms of my mental fitness. But, and I still don't really know if this is true yet, now is the time. It's time for <i>the rubber to meet the road. </i><div><br /></div><div>If I'm truly going to be prepared in 13 weeks, it's time to go all in. That means training every day. That particularly means putting in lots of hours on my bike. And it means, continuing to put up the run numbers that I've grown accustomed to. And, yes, it means swimming.</div><div><br /></div><div>I started yesterday with my nearly 10 mile hilly run. I didn't push hard, but also didn't run too easily. That went well. Check. In the afternoon, I got on my bike for almost an hour and just rode for fun. That actually included some relatively hard efforts. That went well. Check. I'm anticipating getting in the pool before the week is over.</div><div><br /></div><div>The backstop to all of this is that it doesn't matter. I will not be defined by whether I'm fully prepared for St. George. In fact, I will not be defined by whether I even do the race! It's just another goal. I've had many goals in my life and I've accomplished many of the most difficult among them. If I let my goals define me, I'm not who I want to be. I just want to be me. Maybe, that's actually where <i>the rubber meets the road.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>The past week has been a struggle, but for that matter, so have the past six weeks. I've struggled to find my balance point, and in doing so, the motivation to train has been subsumed by other motivations. There's no right or wrong to which motivation should provide me my goals. I've hit a lot of other goals over the past few weeks. However, getting out of the bike yesterday was a reminder that I have unfinished business in St. George and that I still have my <i>Journey Back to Kona. </i>So, this week, <i>the rubber meets the road.</i></div>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-55409886001857828142022-01-29T13:25:00.002-08:002022-02-01T07:45:08.503-08:00Journey Back to Kona Day 137: Sliding BackwardsI've written a lot about the need to find balance, and I've truly been failing at it over the past few days. Heck, I've been failing at it for the past 6 weeks, ever since I allowed myself to not truly shut down during a short vacation to the mountains with my family. My obsession isn't going to change the world, if I haven't learned that in the last 2 years, I never will. Maybe that's the point. I haven't been very good about learning this lesson. In some ways, I just have a tendency to trade one obsession for another, although I've really tried to focus on my healthy obsessions instead. Again, I haven't really been succeeding as of late. So, all in all, I find myself <i>sliding backwards.</i><div><i><br /></i></div><div>It hasn't helped that my low back tightened up on me again a few days ago. That's always hard, as pain makes it hard to focus and easier to slide backwards into old habits. And that's where I find myself. <i>Sliding backwards.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>One of the crazy things that I haven't spent too much time thinking about is how close I was to being at peace nearly two years ago. I'd decided to sign up for Ironman St. George, although I probably wasn't in Ironman shape. I'd identified some projects to work on. I was starting to feel at peace. Then, the pandemic struck and my "worst" habits reared their head. I put worst into quotations because I've accomplished a ton over the past 2 years, but at what price? Many days are a struggle, and it's all too easy to just obsess for the entire day to avoid the reality of the impact of that same obsession. I understand the addictive nature of my obsession to help others. There is no doubt an adrenaline aspect to it, which creates all sorts of issues. I spike my adrenaline with my workouts, but the ongoing, all day, emotional stress and release of adrenaline definitely has an effect.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've been working at reading every morning, which I did today. I then stretch, which I did today. I then write, which I didn't do until now (the afternoon). I keep thinking about meditation, but I haven't done it. Maybe it's time to get back in that habit. I will continue to acknowledge that this thing called the internet is not good for someone with OCD. The ability to continuously look up information is great, but it's way too enabling. And, so here I am, trying to keep myself from <i>sliding backwards.</i></div>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-59298246803873635032022-01-28T11:29:00.002-08:002022-01-28T11:29:37.931-08:00Journey Back to Kona Day 136: Obsessed Again<p> My morning in a Tweet:</p><div class="page" title="Page 1"><div class="section" style="background-color: white;"><div class="layoutArea"><div class="column"><p><span style="font-family: ArialMT; font-size: 14pt;">I’ve spent the morning scouring CDC vaccination, booster, case & death data for NHs. CDC reports all rates by 1,000 resident weeks (even staff data). Peak </span><span style="color: #1da1f2; font-family: ArialMT; font-size: 14pt;">#COVID19 </span><span style="font-family: ArialMT; font-size: 14pt;">death rate among residents was 5.6 in December 2020. Nadir was 0.06 in late June 2021. We are now at 1.2.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">Peak death rate among staff was 0.06 deaths/1,000 resident weeks in late November, 2020. We are now at 0.02. Nadir was June/July 2021 at <0.01. Of note, peak staff death count was 69 individuals in one week in July 2020. Latest count is 26 in a week.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">Since July, 80+% NH residents have been vaccinated. Since mid-October, 85+%. Presently ~87%. Since November 1, 25+% boosted residents. Since December 5th, 53+%. Since January 2, 63+%. Now ~66%.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">Since July, 60+% of staff have been vaccinated. Since mid-October, 74+%. Since December 5, 80+%. Since November 1, 12+% boosted. Since December 5, 23+%. Since January 2, 29+%. Now ~32%.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">Why did I spend my morning scouring the data? Because I’m frustrated by the perceived lack of focus on NHs. Plus, I’m trying to make sense of our strategic plan. At the end of the day, I’m a geriatrician who cares about vulnerable older adults and their incredible caregivers.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">Interim conclusions: Vaccines & Boosters matter in NH residents. Death rate is 10x from nadir, 20% less than peak, but only 66% of residents are presently boosted. Vaccine & Boosters matter in NH staff. Death rate is ~4x above nadir, and ~1/3 from peak, but only 32% boosted.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">Nursing home residents and the staff that care for them in often old, poorly ventilated facilities are the proverbial canaries in the coal mine. Total deaths from Omicron continue to rise nationwide. Cases will subside, leaving 10’s of thousands more dead in its wake.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">It would be helpful if </span><span style="color: #1da1f2; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">@CDCgov </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">posted hospitalization and death rates by vaccination status. This would be particularly helpful in </span><span style="color: #1da1f2; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">#PALTC </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">settings. We still have limited data from ALFs and memory care facilities. </span><span style="color: #1da1f2; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">@AMDApaltc @CALTCM @AmerGeriatrics</span></p></div></div><img alt="page1image402334336" height="0.499065" src="blob:https://www.blogger.com/174c1c5d-d738-41e6-b504-5aae995ce730" width="102.737113" /> <img alt="page1image402332032" height="0.499065" src="blob:https://www.blogger.com/7603ff09-ccaf-4e6c-bbfb-1be1b9aad611" width="349.345166" /> <img alt="page1image402332416" height="0.998129" src="blob:https://www.blogger.com/32668e90-d782-4983-b68b-7cd8db6437e6" width="65.276080" /> <img alt="page1image402334144" height="0.499065" src="blob:https://www.blogger.com/7c87c393-43b4-4625-bb63-2fdaed5531e5" width="41.765462" /> <img alt="page1image402329152" height="0.499065" src="blob:https://www.blogger.com/34d58c96-3a55-48f3-a21c-499f589ec0b5" width="35.098272" /> <img alt="page1image402332224" height="0.499065" src="blob:https://www.blogger.com/4f169776-b9ae-48a4-89de-93d6ccfb324e" width="56.581440" /> <img alt="page1image402339328" height="0.499065" src="blob:https://www.blogger.com/8ea17503-8e9c-4203-b7f2-01f3a1afe2a9" width="46.662533" /><img alt="page1image402333952" height="0.499065" src="blob:https://www.blogger.com/842ceab4-eae5-4060-9860-b9607ad84285" width="71.483195" /></div></div><div class="page" title="Page 2"><div class="section" style="background-color: white;"><div class="layoutArea"><div class="column"><p><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">It would be helpful if </span><span style="color: #1da1f2; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">@WHCOVIDResponse </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">had a </span><span style="color: #1da1f2; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">#PALTC </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">“war room” manned by experts in </span><span style="color: #1da1f2; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">#Geriatrics</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">, LTC Medicine, ID, LTC operations & Public Health. With >640k older adult deaths & ~250k deaths in LTC, this should not be an afterthought. </span><span style="color: #1da1f2; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">@DorisMatsui https://matsui.house.gov/news/documentsingle.aspx? DocumentID=2021</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">Provisional death counts for week ending 1/15: 85+=2,240<br />75-84=2,239<br />65-74=1,919</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">55-64=1,248<br />45-54=541<br />Blacks & Hispanics continue to be significantly over represented among deaths.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">NH & community disparities are being “looked at,” meanwhile, more people of color continue to die. “Looking at” disparities is not enough. “Encouraging” vaccinations & boosters among NH residents & staff is not enough. </span><span style="color: #1da1f2; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">@CMSGov </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">should acknowledge we’ve fallen short.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">History will not look kindly on how we cared for older adults, particularly those of color, throughout the pandemic. It’s not time for blame, however, it’s time for action. After nearly 2 yrs, </span><span style="color: #1da1f2; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">@POTUS @WHCOVIDResponse @CMSGov @CDCgov @HHSGov @ASPRgov </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9pt;">need to focus on older adults.</span></p></div></div></div></div>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-38337864422821489192022-01-26T07:56:00.005-08:002022-01-26T07:56:50.979-08:00Journey Back to Kona Day 134: Cutting it Close<p>Fourteen weeks to Ironman St. George. I haven't been out on my bike for more than two hours since October. I haven't swam since October. That's cutting it close. However, my very first ironman was preceded by a bike accident which laid me up for nearly two months and set me back considerably with my training at the time. Ironically, it was the first Ironman St. George in 2010. My bike accident was at the end of October in Australia. I didn't start running until January, prior to which, I was cycling indoors and swimming with one arm. I guess that was <i>cutting it close.</i></p><p>There are two competing factors right now. The first is prioritizing my purposeful efforts. There's still a pandemic going on and I've found great purpose in fighting to protect vulnerable older adults. There's still a pandemic going on and I keep juggling the important purpose of being there for my family. There's still a pandemic going on and I definitely benefit from the purpose of training, which has the potential of keeping me balanced and healthy. Running has definitely been my savior over the past year and a half, and particularly over the past few months. But I am coming dangerously close to the 12 week mark that experience has shown to be critical. The last 12 weeks prior to an ironman are essential. It helps to go into those 12 weeks prepared. And so, I find myself <i>cutting it close.</i></p><p>I did get caught up considerably yesterday with my other purposeful efforts. That means I need to run today. I will continue to put running front and center. It's the core to ironman preparation and training. But the bike must follow. The bike takes time, and time has been something that I should have plenty of, but has turned out to be at a premium. At the end of the day, it's <i>only a race</i>. </p>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-43144360633808249132022-01-25T08:10:00.005-08:002022-01-25T08:10:41.614-08:00Journey Back to Kona Day 133: Why?<p>When I was a kid, my next door neighbor, who was a bit of an asshole, told me a story of a paper he had written in college. The topic was "Why?" His answer was succinct, "Why not." I thought it was clever at the time, but honestly, as I ponder my life and the struggles that I've been having, I realize that it doesn't address the question. There is no question and no doubt that I am <i>in my element</i> when I am focused on doing something purposeful. Perhaps that's the point. It's not about the specific purpose, or whether one has a specific purpose, but that what we do each day is purposeful. That concept certainly opens up a lot more doors and possibilities for how to live each day and how to focus.</p><p>I think it's all too easy to get caught up in the struggle of the moment. Which is ironic. My Ironman metaphor has always been to live in the moment. However, when that moment is stressful, dwelling on it provides no benefit. Yesterday was one of those days where I found myself caught up in a stressful moment, or series of moments, and I let it get me down. I suppose that means that I haven't truly accepted the meditative processes that I've tried to learn. When you're hit with something stressful, you <i>note it</i>, you don't dwell on it. You <i>accept </i>the feeling <i>at the moment, </i>but you don't start thinking about how it will impact the rest of your day. Perhaps I need to add meditation back to my morning routine of reading, stretching and writing?</p><p>It is also a fact that I have too many <i>whys</i>. On days like today I realize that I have projects that need to be caught up, emails that need to be answered, work that needs to be done. I also want to go out and run, but I recognize that not only takes up physical time, it ultimately impacts my mental time. I suppose that I have a finite amount of energy for my day, and that workouts use that time up in ways that make it more difficult to get the mental work done. </p><p>My mornings actually are conflicted. First, there is no question but that I start my day with a routine in order to get into the correct mindset. However, I then have a choice, do I get mental work done, or physical work. That choice impacts the rest of my day. I've been struggling to get my work responsibilities organized and completed. The stress of having things waiting to be done tends to pull me down. <i>Why? </i></p><p>I was going to run this morning, but I've already approved one textbook chapter, and I have one left. I also have a presentation to prepare for next week. And, I have a third presentation to prepare within the next two weeks. If I spend my day getting these done, I will be nearly caught up on my projects. At least for today. I also know that I'm feeling some pressure knowing that I have races coming in the months ahead. But, I've already promised myself that racing would not be an added stress to me. I know that I'm <i>cutting it close</i>, in terms of my preparation for finishing an ironman solidly. Sounds like the topic of tomorrow's blog.</p>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225680605356849690.post-47068665844120604982022-01-24T10:10:00.004-08:002022-01-24T10:10:51.770-08:00Journey Back to Kona Day 132: Priorities and Detours<p>I titled my blog for the past 132 days, "Journey Back to Kona." That's truly something that mattered to me 132 days ago. It still does. However, it's not the most important thing every day. I truly meant to jumpstart my training over the weekend, but other stresses, pressures and priorities got in the way. I managed to run 14 miles on Saturday, but was really exhausted afterwards. I continue to realize the physical exhaustion that comes from mental stress, which I've had impacting me from multiple directions. Today was going to be a day for riding my bike. For all I know, I still might, but again, I need to adjust my priorities and be prepared for detours. I continue to juggle a number of commitments and, when under other pressures, sometimes freeze up. Such is the nature of anxiety. When I look back, I recall when I first began having panic attacks, which I didn't realize at first. I'll never forget describing my symptoms to a cardiologist, and literally realizing my own panic attack diagnosis. To this day, I know that feeling and its various manifestations. The most important thing I can do to deal with it is to acknowledge my <i>priorities </i>and the fact that <i>detours </i>are inevitable.</p><p>I reread a book about Wilt Chamberlain and Bill Russell over the past several days. Books like this take my mind off of the other stresses and pressures that I've placed on myself, but they also remind me of my childhood, when I could never get enough sports. Reading about the 1969 Basketball championship, I literally returned to being 9 years old. The Lakers were <i>my </i>team. I'll always remember my disappointment when they lost to the Celtics in the seventh game. Those feelings returned as I read about the intrigue that went on during the end of that game. An intrigue that ultimately spanned decades in the relationships between the individuals involved in the game that very day. I've previously read a biography of Jerry West, and realized how much we have in common. A deep desire to help others, to want to be collaborative, but also to have an intensity and perfectionism to balance, is extraordinarily stressful on the human psyche. And so, I must once again come to grips with my <i>priorities and detours.</i></p><p>I keep saying that I'm going to cut down on my priorities, and then I keep adding to them. I continue to make excuses based on both opportunities and an inability to say no. On those occasions that I really focus on my training, I believe that I feel better, but when fatigue builds up, especially with the combination of physical and mental fatigue, my struggle heightens. </p><p>Reading something that isn't work related, such as the basketball book, is definitely the best way for me to begin my days. Writing is critical, and I've been improving on my habit of getting my blog written in the morning, such as I'm doing today. Stretching is a physical necessity. My physical activity levels have been a bit of feast or famine. That is probably something I need to work on. I've come to either work out for 2 hours, or not at all. There might be an in between. </p><p>My grandson told us yesterday that he'd been sad because he hadn't seen us over the past two weeks. We were staying away due to the Omicron variant and out of an abundance of caution. This damn pandemic has its tentacle in too many aspects of my life. I really haven't been able to avoid it or to separate myself from it. When work and family become intertwined, it's really difficult to separate them. But, I guess that's all part of my determining my <i>priorities and detours.</i> And so another day goes by. I was planning, and hoping to ride my bike. But, I have too many commitments that I've made. I need to clean them up first. That's what I'll do today.</p>Wassdochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15442937157694109226noreply@blogger.com0