Today is the 39th running of the Ironman World Championship. Every year under the first full moon in October the best triathletes in the world gather on the shores of the Big Island at the city of Kailua-Kona. Here an odyssey of 140.6 mile will begin at 6:30 a.m. local standard time. But for each of these athletes the journey began long before they step into the blue of the Pacific, a like journey that for me began no less then a decade earlier.
One year ago I was lucky enough to stand on the pier in Kona about to go into the water to begin what would be for me, an epic journey. Every athlete that day had a story and not one of those stories the same in any way other then the distance of the race itself. But for me my journey to Kona and her start line began in the early spring/late winter of 2006 as Bootsie and I started our official training program for the 2006 addition of the Ford Ironman Coeur d'Alene. Little did I know or could have I ever imagined this would lead to the start line in Kona in the fall of 2016. As I stood there looking out over the start line and the massive crowd beyond, Bootsie by my side, I took a moment. In that moment, that exact instant, I would be moved and changed forever.
Photo by James Richman
"There is nothing in the world like this moment. Thousands in anticipation of what they will do and what they will see. Every athlete is well aware of the magnitude of the moment. They are all prepared physically now it's a mental game."
Today in Kona for over 2400 athletes their lives will change in some manner as they all pursue a dream whatever that dream may be. This event, this spectacle, this inner battle with ones self is just to great not to effect each of them in some way.
At Kailua-Kona the Ironman World Championship and her course will provide challenges for each athlete, be them mental, physical or both. That's what this course provides and that's what makes this course so special. They will want to quit during that long period of time maybe a hundred, maybe a thousand times. But for reasons known only to the athletes themselves, they will keep going, with it in them. These athletes, the athletes that make up the 2017 running of the Ironman World Championship will simply keep going. They will keep going until they reach that finish line, their finish line, be that today in Kona or where ever their dreams may take them.
So I say good luck to each of these athletes. May today be all you ever hoped it would be, all you ever dreamed. Today we watch those lucky enough to have a dream so we can watch as those dreams come true. Live your dreams!
In a lot of ways frozen is a good thing. It helps in the preservation of food sources, it sparks new life by resetting plant growth for spring time and it can assist in recovery. It also makes for a pretty darn cute movie.
So lets talk about it, that word - Frozen. But what we should talk about are the things that I like about frozen.
Pizza - But only when Bootsie is not home or should I say I only have/get frozen pizza when she's not home. I like it best when placed on a pizza stone and cooked in the Traeger. So a paticular type of cooked pizza is what I like I guess. Hmmm... Could that mean I don't like frozen pizza - in the true sense of the word? But what I like is a Tombstone, Digiorno or Titino's brought to temperature, where the cheese has melted to a gooey mess and the pepperoni sizzles as if to call my name. But could this mean I don't like "frozen" pizza at all? I ponder.
Daiquiris- Plural. Raspberry please. But only when in season. Best consumed in the presences of loved ones while perched on the deck at a Priest Lake cabin after a long summer's day of doing next to nothing at all in an effort to hold down the dock as the world passes me by. A time to reflect and enjoy the simplest of things, that although always there, seem to escape my grasp. So maybe it's not the Daiquiris themselves, but maybe I like what they represents in all their frozen wonder.
Popsicles- Who didn't sit under the shade of a backyard evergreen enjoying your favorite flavor or as I knew them, my favorite color. The sticky liquid running down covering my hand to prove it's adhesive power when wiped in the grass and dirt.
Or better yet, running while waving a dime at the beloved Ice Cream Man. His choices endless in the eyes and mind of child.
A Mountain Meadow- I did not grow up engaging in outdoor winter sports other then bombing down a local hill on runner sleds at break neck speeds in an effort to spill other neighborhood kids by grabbing one of their runners from behind and pulling it crosswise. This sending the bundled teen spinning and crashing into what we hoped would be the soft powder lining the majority the chosen city street. Not always the case might I add, the powder that is, the crashes were inevitable. I, a scrawny teen where gravity when applied sent the older heavier sledders down the frozen streets at a much greater speed. But I'm not bitter. Yeah Yeah - I'm getting to the mountain meadow part but first I find it necessary to exercise a few childhood demons.
As I aged I would be introduced to winter mountain sports such as downhill snow skiing. Where a frozen slope is not my favorite by the way, again preferring powder. Winter mountain sports are phenomenal. I have spent many winters carving mountain slopes across the Northwest and Western Canada but when introduced to cross county skiing this is where I found serenity.
When cross country skiing in the backwoods and mountains in the Pacific Northwest it is inevitable that you will come upon a frozen meadow as you silently slide your way across the trails of a mountainside. It is here that I like to stop, to enjoy the beauty the good Lord provides and to sit in silences as nature plays out in front of me. Maybe a distant bird, deer or in this area, a moose are the only others enjoying the beauty. Them, not knowing they are part of the beauty. Me, the one granted the opportunity to share.
Panties - Yes that's right - panties - frozen. But only after an entire drawer of panties have been placed in the sink, for moisture, then carefully arranged in a colorful bouquet on the windshield of the owners car in the dead of night one mid January in a winter of my college years. Oh she earned it. And yes we showed early the next morning to watch. After readying herself for classes early that Monday morning, she would first curse when she saw it, our Michelangelo in frozen panties, but she then laughed as she knew the anticipation of what was to come was now over. She had been the ring leader in a lake cabin prank earlier that summer. I had chosen to wait for my revenge knowing the anticipation of something, anything, would be greater then the act itself. We stood watching as the owner of the car, a rainbow of panties frozen to her windshield, putting her defroster to the test as the entire apartment complex of college students now on their way to classes streamed past only to wonder. A crescendo of defrosted panties hitting the pavement as she carefully peeled from the windshield. Revenge was mine.
So - Frozen - I would imagine I will be back with things that I don't like - that are frozen.
On June 20, while in Coeur d'Alene, two days out from the 2008 Ford Ironman Coeur d'Alene, we take a walk around town. This is our second attempt at IMCDA and consistent with our previous visits, the people of Coeur d'Alene are exceedingly warm and friendly. Coeur d'Aleneians, I notice, appear remarkably content, relaxed and smart enough not to take life to seriously. By all appearances, they manage quite nicely without the DEFCON 4 level of stress the rest of America has successfully instilled into our most mundane of days.
From the town center, we walk up Tubs Hill where we can see kids playing America's pass time, climbing to a quick peak where we can get a view of the swim course and the lake beyond. Here we find ourselves concluding, "Uh, this works". We then cut past the ballpark and in front of The Coeur d'Alene Resort which like the rest of the city have been completely infused with Ironman.
"Life is a series of hellos and goodbyes. I'm afraid it's time for goodbye again."
On June 12th of this year, Ironman/the WTC and Coeur d'Alene's Chamber of Commerce announced they would be ending their working relationship for putting on a full distance Ironman in Coeur d'Alene Idaho each summer. The 2017 Ironman Coeur d'Alene would be the "Sunset" addition. This August will be the final running of IMCDA.
When I read Ironman Coeur d'Alene would be no more I was heartbroken. After all it is my hometown race and more importantly to me, it is my first love. We all, I would hope, know the special place in our hearts we hold our first love.
I get it. Ironman (Corp) is a for profit business and in business when the model no longer fits it's time to move on. Sadly, at least for me, this time has come. Although my head can appreciate why this is happening, my heart remains languishing in the past.
We, Bootsy and I, have had great opportunity to race several venues around the world. We have found other venues we love and those places will continue to pull us back. But Coeur d'Alene "was" different, my gold standard if you will. Outside of Kona, as it should be, Sherman Avenue is the finish that, for me, all other races have been held to. It is the finish line I have found myself returning to when in need of putting life's challenges in perspective. She (IMCDA) allows me to work through the thing I need to the most and has always provided me with growth opportunities be them within the arena of athletic pursuit or out.
I have been to every single one of the Ironman races held in Coeur d'Alene in some manner, be it racing, volunteering or just being a fan. She has been a constant in my summers for the past 14 years, but after this August, she will be gone. And she ain't comin' back.
There is absolutely no way I can race this year. Trust me I have considered it. But due to injury I cannot get myself to a place that would allow me to complete the distance. This haunts me day in and day out. It truly pains me - greatly. But ultimately, it comes down to respect, I could never disrespect her in that manner.
So what does one do when jilted by his first love? He visits her, be it just enough to say hello/goodbye. He continues in his admiration but from a distance. He reflects upon their time together while continuing to grow in the lessons learned both with her and without. He sheds a tear for the lose while reserving that very special spot in his heart for a love that will always remain long after she has gone.
I have had the opportunity to race Ironman Coeur d'Alene on 6 different occasions. Enclosed are brief snippets of writing from each of those races. I have never done an exercise like this. Upon reflection, I had absolutely no idea the struggles IMCDA has afforded me. My recollection of this race is of love and respect - only. Upon further examination of this group of writings from this particular race the injury, sickness and struggles have simply been washed away. I now move forward with a heart that is full, to express all the feelings of what I have become.
2006 Ironman Coeur d'Alene -
When Ironman came to Coeur d'Alene in 2003 I thought I would find the participants cut, lean and fit. Which I did but I also found the average athlete. This is where I fall in and this is what ultimately drew me to the start line.
Bootsy and I signed up for the 2006 addition of Ironman Coeur d'Alene only after deciding to run a marathon in 2004 and doing a half iron distance race in 2005. We wanted to complete those distances not only to build our confidence but also we knew if we did either of these races and hated the training or the racing then iron distance wouldn't be for us.
So there we were, signed up for this monster of a race. The only things we brought to this endeavor were some baseline fitness and a bunch of enthusiasm. Both qualities need for first time Ironman racing but as we would soon find out the learning curve is HUGE!
The 2006 Ironman Coeur d'Alene is one of my favorites mostly because it was our first and because I truly had no idea if I could complete the distance. And when I did.....It moved and changed me forever.
So I'm at home where the grass is long with neglect and the gaping holes in my domestic responsibilities are laughing at me. I'm up late trying to reason with the reality of Ironman. Finishers medal in hand.
We all do triathlon for different reasons. I can't really explain why I do them other then it is a part of who I am and what I have become over the past 10 years. I am not looking for the opportunity to run Boston or the chance to cross the finish line in Kona. So why? It may be more like therapy without cost. As triathletes very few truly understand us. We are a unique and odd group. Trying to tell a person who's closest thing to exercise might be mowing the lawn about Ironman is usually received with blank stares. But talk to another triathlete about it and they will listen intently wanting to know every detail right down to how many times you peed.
Ironman Coeur d'Alene is more than just a single day in June, it's a journey. One not only traveled by me but by all those close to me. So to you all I extend a very sincere and heart felt "Thank You!" I would have never started this journey without you. You were all there in your own and unique way, more then you will ever know, for every stroke of the swim, every turn of the pedal and every step of the marathon.
Thank you. Ironman Coeur d'Alene 2006 is a gift I will always treasure.
Note my nephew running on the far right. Love this shot.
Photo by Kelli Dahmen
Ironman Coeur d'Alene 2008 -
Sunday May 4th 2008 - The same as any other year, we ran Bloomsday. We were training through Bloomsday to use it as a fitness check and just a good opportunity to celebrate spring along with 60,000 of our closest friends. Needing more miles then the 12k upon completion of the race, we set out to run the course a second time. It was enjoyable for sure but...
Monday May 5th 2008 - I can barely walk due to the fact the my right achilles is completely fired up. Not good. Two doctors and P/T has me not running - at all - for the next six weeks as we work to get it to calm down and strength the afflicted area.
Two weeks prior to the race I was able to resume running but only up to 30 minutes twice a day. Eight weeks of run taper is not S.O.P. but what do you do?
As I stood in the sand the morning of the race waiting for the gun to fire turning 2400 of us loose in a mass swim start I was shaken for sure. But Bootsy was standing beside me, her fitness was solid, she assuring me I could in the very least cover the distance. As always, she was correct.
Coming in I knew the run was where I was going to struggle. As I see other athletes move past, somehow this doesn't seem to bother me. If the word applies in an Ironman, I am "enjoying" the run. Physically things are holding together much better then I could have ever asked. Now it's station to station because at this point everybody is in some level of hurt. I know if I just keep on keeping on I'm going to finish this thing.
Family work the aid station. Photo by Kelli Dahmen
Mile 20 - Creativity gets me to this point, now reality takes over. Everything hurts! I'm keeping the pain at bay with thoughts of Sherman Avenue and a strong finish. Stay focused on the finish. I'm trying to get any nutrition I can. Most stomachs are a bit sickly at this point and I adopt a "put it down there and hope it doesn't come back up" strategy.
Photo by Kelli Dahmen
The 26th. mile is a miracle mile. The pain slips away as I float toward the irresistible force that has drawn me to the start line. Friendly faces are everywhere but when I see my parents the emotion of the entire year is too great to contain. The tears of every emotion I have felt over the last mile, day and season are free flowing as for the first time all day you know you're going to finish this thing. People ask why your parents bring the tears? It's because parents just wants what's best for their children, they want to keep them safe but now on this day, all they want for me is this. Pick a stronger word then hope!
Photo by Kelli Dahmen
I look back now on my entire Ironman year, the highs and the low points of the season. I wanted it to be a steady rise to a proud charge to a finish line that was all mine. But as triathletes, we know that something such as this in never guaranteed. But reaching that little white line in the road, that magical place where I learn so much about life and humanity, this is my destination.
2009 Ironman Coeur d'Alene -
We learned a lot from our first two runnings of IMCDA but mostly we learned how to train and the key roll recovery and nutrition play in overall fitness. We also joined a local Tri club which afforded us the opportunity to train with people with a huge amount of experience. In other words we were beginning to put the pieces of the puzzle together.
After struggling to get to the start line on 08, I was ready to do whatever it took to not have that happen again and to lean on the experiences of my two prior races.
We trained hard, we trained smarter and with a new found level of confidence. This all adding up to a great day. My best day when judged solely by the clock. A new P.R. (personal record) that still stands to date... darn it.
There are parts of my life that each year I have felt compelled to share. This year for some reason, I have not. This has challenged me for some time now. In past years my writing has come with relative ease and has been based in athletic pursuits where I learn so much about life and what it offers. It took me a while to discover my disconnect.
We all have dreams. Have you ever touched a dream? This year in Coeur d'Alene, on Sherman Avenue, I did just that. I have pursued such a dream for many years, in many different forms and arenas of life. So when this dream was realized I naturally thought it would move something deep within me. It did!
I have had great opportunity and many miles to consider why I have been unable to transcribe my experiences at of such an event. The truth of the matter is - I'm keeping this one for myself. Selfish I know.
So many got me to and through this unexplainable experience. There are very few single days in our lives outside of a birth or a wedding that we will remember for a lifetime, thank you for being part of mine.
Let me take a moment to speak to each of these photos.
Photo by Kara Nelson
And it's time to ride the bike around for a bit. Where is Steve Anderson? I know he's out there. Now if only I could catch him. There was a short out and back section at the very end of what was the Hayden bike course. It was here in this final section of what turned out to be a very good ride for me, I almost, repeat almost, caught Steve. Steve is a far superior athlete and went on to crush me in the run but had I known I was closing (note the word closing. He also is a much better swimmer then I in a time when the swim was a mass start) I know would have gone harder in an effort to complete the catch.
Photo by Jayne Anderson
This photo was courtesy of another good friend. When racing IMCDA there are friendly faces everywhere which for me makes it very hard not to spend the entire day with a smile on my face.
Photo by Kelli Dahmen
This is one of my all time favorite race photos. It rates! Not because it's photographically superior but because in this photo, I'm about to receive aid from my sister. That's a cool moment in any Ironman but when things are at their best race wise and you're able to share it with a family member, actually given the opportunity to have my sister volunteer and share in my success on raceday or actually foster my success by give me aid, it only makes a P.R. that much sweeter!
Photo by Kelli Dahmen
It was cool, windy and wet as represented by the fact that I worn my arm warmers the entire race. But my family was there for the entire race, volunteering, cheering and chasing me around the run course. When that happens, even in a P.R. race you stop and thank them. It's part of the reason I continue to race, seeing them, having their support.
Photo by Kelli Dahmen
I just love this photo. If you look closely you can actually see me in the mix of racers. The finish line in an Ironman is such a blur, awash with noise and mostly just colors as you pass. Not a lot of detail is retained. So the fact this captures that moment I dream about all day and the clock as well, makes this another of my favorites.
The only Ironman race to date where I was actually waiting for this girl at the finish line. Maybe it will happen again someday through my fitness and a good day but I wouldn't hold my breath. (Yep, I beat her on the day. But don't tell Bootsy I mentioned it. It's not a big deal. No - really.)
2011 Ironman Coeur d'Alene -
The week leading up to and including the 2011 raceday I was sick. Like - lay in bed sick. I had the flu. The rub was not to let Bootsy know how sick I actually was. Obviously, when you have the flu you can't hide all the symptom but due to the fact that I'm a bit of a race week freakazoid some of the symptoms can be masked as race week nerves. Bootsy was on form in 2011 and ready to make a run at qualifying for Kona. Which she did by the way, finishing first in her age group. Not only finishing first but going away. But don't get me started on that or we will be here all day. Anyway - Bootsy need to stay focused on herself. My being sick would not help that but in fact hinder it. Nervous energy is energy used up. I didn't want any part of that so I did my best to fake it and in turn I have to wonder if I too were a bit fooled in the process. Things went reasonably well until about the 5 mile mark of the run where finally and not unexpectedly the wheels came off and I was forced to run/walk. It's was a great race in the end with Bootsy qualifying. On the run I would eventually find a friend who had crashed early in the bike but was toughing it out with a broken collarbone. I believe there may be a couple photos of the two of us walking hand in hand, supporting each other on a day that had not gone as planned.
As I sit now looking back, I learned a lot about myself out there. I've always said Ironman is about the journey and not the destination, and even with a sub pair race, ending with a 12:54 finish, I'm still going to have to standby that statement.
I learned that I need people, day in and day out - I need people. As much as I push them away, my people keep coming back, and for them and for that I am so grateful. Every corner, every turn on race day and in life - they are there - in person and in spirit.What an incredible blessing to me.
I also learned that making goals and holding yourself accountable are good things. No, they are great things, as hard as they are, as scary as they are. Some days we will achieve our goals, and some days we won't - we have all been there, haven't we?
But on a few singular special days, when we push ourselves past what we think is possible, those days we surprise ourselves most and those are the days we learn the most about who we really are and what we are truly made of. Those are the days that keep me moving forward and these days - well, in my opinion, those days are just about perfect!
I encourage anyone who wants to see what they are made of to try an Ironman. You will get a sense of who you truly are. This is Ironman Coeur d'Alene. What's your story?
Getting an update on Bootsy's race from her Father as I'm leaving T2. Yeah - she was on a good day. Photo by Kaarin Appel.
2013 Ironman Coeur d'Alene - In late winter/early spring of 2013 I suffered a mountain bike crash on the ice which left me with a lower back injury. An MRI reveled damage to L5 and as a result of my training was, well, tricky and/or suspect. I knew early in the year my race wouldn't go as planned so I shifted gears in an effort to "just participate" knowing I had Ironman Arizona in November and hoped I could show up to her start line in shape. So I suffered though. I take some pride in the fact and more importantly Bootsy had another good day and would return to Kona for her second time.
Recovering from an injury can be frustrating, even isolating. I have spent the spring and now most of the summer with a bit of a niggle in my lower back that has reduced the amount of training I have been able to do. The frustration of an injury during the race season can be a bit of a challenge.
I did get the honor of racing Ironman Coeur d'Alene in June. Going into the race I knew I was under trained but had no idea how much. I hoped to get to the start line at 65% of where I thought I should be on race morning. Not sure I got there.
Swimming is the disciple that has continued to fire up my back and as a result the bike was a struggle and the run was out right hard. This was by far the hardest race I have ever had the privilege of doing. But when racing IMCDA there is so much race day support. There are friendly faces at every turn.
I learned a lot from this years race and I take away a huge respect for the level of fitness I have brought to the start line at other IM races. I can only hope that this will never happen again and I will be able to arrive on race day with a high level of fitness.
Taking some time off after IMCDA I have been afforded the opportunity to be a race fan and pursue my "F-Dot". Bootsy is having another great season and finished first in her age group at IMCDA. She will be returning to Kona.
It was hot - very hot! No other way to say it. The heat ate me up a bit on the bike which left me walking the marathon. So glad to say I completed the race in this kind of heat. Walking a marathon, however, isn't something I would recommend without training to walk a marathon. This was an epic race from my vantage point. The oppressive heat made this race such a completely different animal where if you didn't stay on top of every detail the heat was waiting to bite.
Mile 21 - The Gallaghers have come back out on the run course to check on some of the racers, Bootsy in tow. Bootsy was kind enough to walk with me for a couple of miles and the company, although always good, was great. We had a chance to catch up about our days and reflect on what it is like to race inside an oven.
Mile 23 - I trade Bootsy for Nat who was on her mountain bike. Nat rode with me the remainder of the way in. There were times I am feeling so awful I wonder if I can make it the final miles but Nat talks me though it. Is having someone to talk with in the final miles of a 7 hour and 37 minute odyssey considered outside assistance? Probably. But at 10:30 at night and 16 hours and 23 minutes into the race, who is going to enforce it?
I give Nat a hug, thanking her for bringing me in as I turn down Sherman Avenue. The lights of the finish line and Mike Reilly's voice calling me home. A fellow competitor asks where we were supposed to go. I tell him we go straight down Sherman to the clock tower and the bright lights. "A finish on Sherman Avenue is what brought you here and it is what will bring you back."
I jog the final few hundred yards to the finishing shoot, giving high fives to anyone who would take one and they all were taking. I reveled in it, soaked up every possible second, every congratulations, every smile and every cheer.
In the final hour of any Ironman, Mike Reilly, the voice of Ironman, comes down from the announcers box to greet the athletes as they finish. As I approach Mike I look for a high five. Mike grabs my hand stopping me, looks me straight in the eye and saids those magic words "Craig Thorsen - You are an Ironman!"
Photo by Tricia Mack
Photo by James Richman
Photo by James Richman
So this August 27th I will say goodbye, we will officially breakup. Bootsy and I will spend the weekend in Couer d'Alene, volunteering, working with our sponsors, rooting for friends, and just being fans of a race we truly love.
It's no surprise that one feels pain when going through a breakup, but whether or not one suffers from this breakup is a choice that one makes. Pain is natural, but to make it something larger then it is, this is totally unnatural. Feel the pain, learn from it, and use it as a tool of growth so one can move forward and have better results as you go along. Decide today not to suffer and let the past remain the past no matter how much you love and respect her.
So June is rapidly approaching and the question has become....what now? Well for the most part, shoulder surgeries. My bike crash and challenges to get to and through Kona have been well documented but where does one go from there? Any other year the plan would have been to get right back on the horse, back to training. But this has not been any other year.
Bootsy and I had decided not to go long this year prior to the end of last season. We would take a break from full iron distance training and focus on just enjoying the training and the shorter 2 to 3 hour workouts instead of the 4 to 7 hour workouts that iron distance training demands. Bootsy had decided to make a run at a B.Q. (Boston marathon qualifier) but outside of that we would do what we enjoy most and that's training for mid distance events. Unfortunately Bootsy spent the better part of the spring injured, so an attempt at a B.Q. will have to wait.
This February 14th. I had surgery to repair a 100% tear of the post labrum in my left shoulder. Yep, happy Valentines Day Honey, you get a drooling, drowsy, narcotic laced bozo for a Valentine this year.
Fast forward six weeks as I'm sitting in my surgeons office receiving the news that I now have a frozen shoulder.
Frozen shoulder, or adhesive capsulitis, causes pain and stiffness in the shoulder. With time, the shoulder's mobility becomes limited and very hard to move.
Frozen shoulder occurs in about 2% of the general population. It most commonly affects people between the ages of 40 and 60, and occurs in women more often than men. So I am beating the odds per say and not in a good way.
Dr. Tycho Kersten has been great to work with through out this process. We worked through the details of a frozen joint as he put it in terms I could grasp. Basically no one knows why joints freeze or as he explained it "Frozen joints are like a big black box. We are not sure what makes up the box but we do know a few pieces that are in there." One of which is heredity.
Mike at B&B Physical Therapy is, in my opinion, one of the best therapists in the region. As we worked to rehab the shoulder post surgery I began to wonder how it was going. In hindsight Mike had begun to foreshadow the possibility of a frozen shoulder. It's not his place to make a diagnosis but it was becoming clear that he had begun to wonder if (or believe) we were headed down that road as he started to introduced me to the concept, explaining what others had gone through when afflicted with the issue.
One of the problems with a frozen joint and PT is you're making the joint mad by stretching it. Because of the discomfort or pain this creates I couldn't get off the narcotics. Six weeks on narcotics is no picnic especially for someone who doesn't like to be on them....at all! I don't like the narcotics. Outside of masking the pain, I don't like how they make me feel. And I most definitely do not like the side affects.
After about 10 days on the narcotic I wanted to be done. I tried to ween myself away from them, going to just Tylenol but I had next to no success. Because of the continued aggravation of the shoulder, my pain levels grew through the weekend and when I walked into Mikes office on Monday at 7:30 a.m. he took one look at me and knew something was wrong.
Chasing pain is a funny game. Once behind on the pain it takes a bit to catch up. And because I wasn't sleeping, my sleep pattern already a bit of a mess do to the fact with this type of surgery you are required to sleep in a recliner (not my favorite) I was on a very slippery slope.
Mike recommended a couple days off from work to try to get the shoulder to calm down and try to get some sleep. He would strongly suggested (or flat out tell me) if I didn't get back on the pain meds and get some sleep he would "suggest" sleeping aids, explaining in no uncertain terms that I simply could not heal without sleep and managing the pain was the only way to do so.
The entire process right out of the gate has been a challenge. The pain and discomfort along with trying to sleep in a recliner have led to a disrupted sleep pattern. Being monumentally tired for extended periods of time can lead to problems with perspective. Perspective is the area in which I have struggled the most.
The effects of sleep on negative mood. - Both correlational and experimental (yes, I work in a building with one of the premier sleep centers in the world. Here researchers actually bring people into a lab setting and keep them up all night for days on end… any volunteers?) evidence suggest that when people are sleep deprived, they feel more irritable, angry and hostile. Sleep loss is also associated with feeling more depressed. In addition, sleep deprivation seems to be associated with greater emotional reactivity, people who suffer from sleep loss are especially likely to react negatively when something doesn’t go well for them. Sleep loss leads to increased negative mood, and decreased ability to regulate anger. From my perspective, anger wasn't my primary issue but negative mood, that's certainly has been.
So what do the folks in the sleep center suggest other then the obvious? Try not to take on frustrating tasks, interact with irritating people, or generally engage in too much social interaction when you are very short on sleep. i.e., NOT a good time to argue with Bootsy about counter tops, style of range or tile color! Oh yeah, we had a major home remodel start February 20th. Not our choice in timing, it just played out that way.
The weight of this entire process has skewed my perspective from time to time. Not in a continues fashion, I have good day mixed with bad. Some of the bad days can be pretty dark, as shown in a following text with Bootsy from that point in time.
Bootsy - "How are you doing?"
My response - "I'm tired. I'm tired of the pain. I'm tired of the house. I'm tired of work. I'm tired of it all. I just feel like I don't want to do this anymore. I'm tired."
This representing what was hopefully one of the darkest days.
A diagnosis of a frozen shoulder sent me home to do nothing, no PT, no nothing. Just wait for the 3 month marker post surgery.
It's been so hard to be still. As an endurance athlete it's exceptionally hard to do so. Endurance athletes have trained themselves to want to go, go, go. But to be still in the fact that I was to go home and do nothing for an additional 6 weeks, except for watching the calendar, this was very challenging.
M.U.A. or Manipulation Under Anesthesia - When the progress in rehabilitation is slow, manipulation under anesthesia can be recommended. This means you are put to sleep with general anesthesia and a nerve block is administered. The doctor then stretches the shoulder joint. The manipulation stretches the shoulder joint capsule and breaks up the scar tissue. In most cases, the manipulation improves motion in the joint faster than allowing nature to take it's course.
This procedure has risks. There is a very slight chance the stretching can injure the network of nerves running to the arm. And there is a risk of fracturing the humerus.
"Family history and racial predilection as markers for genetic association, both of which indicate the presence of a genetic predisposition to frozen shoulder." In other words - it hereditary. So when one falls straight forward off his mountain bike and lands squarely on his chest with both arms outstretched, one not only tears the labrum in his left shoulder, he tears the labrum in his right shoulder as well.
The plan last February was to move forward with the labral repair in the right shoulder as soon as possible. An outline if all went well would have put me in a position to be having that surgery about now. In a perfect world I would have been recovered enough from both shoulders to maybe do Coeur d'Fondo this fall and/or Spokane's half marathon but that's all out the window now.
I asked Dr. Kersten how mentally prepared I should be for the second shoulder to freeze. He said "very". A loose outline for recovery could be three months for the M.U.A. before moving on to the right shoulder. If we were to head back down the same road with the right shoulder as we did with the left then it could be next March before moving past the right shoulder and next September before a return to the pool.
Bootsy and I have booked a trip to Tempe AZ for IMAZ this November. We will volunteer at one of our favorite venues. I had originally planned to sign up for IMAZ 2018 but that race for me is now in question. We will make a game day decision but my mental focus may need to shift to a return to iron distance racing at the 2019 edition of IMAZ instead. Maybe the 2018 IMAZ 70.3? Who knows and in lies the issue.
So have I earned the right to feel blue? Absolutely not! But the fact of the matter is I can get that way from time to times. Ultimately, I am learning to deal with the (chronic) pain and sleep loss with all the things that go along with them. The thing I haven't learned to do is to deal with the affect all of this is having on Bootsy. To watch her suffer in this too, that's what brings me tears. She has been asked to pick up all the slack and to deal with me in my current form, yet through it all she has never mentioned what is going on with her, not once. She has remained focused on my needs, our needs I guess and recovery. But I can see it in her and that's what hurts - a lot.
I do Bloomsday. For the past 29 years I have felt compelled to participate in the Lilac Bloomsday Run, a 12k run through the streets of Spokane. Bloomsday is one of the largest timed road races in the world so to say it's a bit of a spectacle may be a bit of an understatement.
This season has been and/or will be - a wash. After surgery this past February on my left shoulder for a labral tear, I have a frozen shoulder. A shoulder which will likely take another two procedures to correct. Once I have moved passed the left shoulder we will address the same injury in the right shoulder. Due to the fact that frozen joints are believed to be primarily hereditary there is a strong possibility of my right shoulder freezing as well. The time table could be next February for a recovery of full range of motion in both shoulders and next summer before a return to the pool.
With a frozen shoulder, even after the surgical sight has healed, training has been...well...challenging. I have been able to run maybe a couple times a week at most and to ride a couple times a month at best. Upon reflection, I realized I haven't taken this kind of time away from regular training or have I been this far out of shape since 2002. So without a regular training schedule I don't have a regular race schedule. Bloomsday was the only thing on my schedule at this point for the year - the entire year.
I considered walking this years race and had a couple offers to walk with groups but frankly, I didn't want to be on course for the 2 to 2.5 hours it takes to walk. Part of the fun of the run for me is partaking in the post race events, some of which includes a group lunch and stories of the day.
I have been starting in the Yellow group for a large part of my Bloomsday racing career. When running in Yellow the first 2 or 3 miles of the race can be tight, only breaking up after the first few hills of the course. When running in the Green group this was not the case.
Qualifying for Yellow allows you to start near the front of the race with like runners. Rules of the race are that you can move back in the race but not forward. My family were starting in Green which follows Yellow so I took the opportunity to move back.
I could immediately sense a different attitude among these racers as we arrived late-ish but walked right to the front of the Green group. Listening to and looking over the crowd there appeared a much more relaxed atmosphere then I had grown accustom to. These racers may have been more interested in the race experience then what the clock would revel. Or maybe they weren't as interested in the clock as say I have been in past years.
As we ran the first miles there was plenty of room, not my experience when running in with the Yellow. My plan was to run the flats and down hills and walk the up hills. Because my "training" has been limited at best, I would run without the pressure of a time goal. I would run when I felt like it and walking when I wanted. My shoulders had only allowed me to run for about 40 to 45 minutes in training before getting mad so I knew I would suffer in the final miles of this event.
Bloomsday has always been a celebration for me, a celebration of spring and the fact that I get to do this each year, this being my 29th consecutive Bloomsday. But I will admit there have been years where this race has been used as a training race. Those years traditionally came when training for Ironman Coeur d'Alene which until last year was held in the latter part of June. This meant the month of May was a huge building block. When racing in Yellow with a purpose beyond this race itself I was missing something. Something I didn't realize until this year.
Chugging down Sherman Avenue in the final stride of IMCDA is a monumental achievement, in my opinion. The finish on Sherman Avenue is one of the best places on earth, again, in my opinion. The enormity of it all, the village it takes to not only get you to the start line but through an Ironman day and ultimately to Sherman Avenue, it's something I will always cherish. But what I saw in those miles that stretch though the city streets of Spokane moved me.
I watched, I listened and I learned. Below are just a couple things I overheard while on course:
A mother to her 6 or 8 year old daughter - "This is an amazing accomplishment. When we finish we are going to get the largest bowl of ice cream you have ever had to celebrate our achievement."
As I ran past a group of Junior High kids - "I can't believe it. We're doing it. I can't believe we're already almost halfway there."
Doomsday Hill
The pride in the eyes of the young racers as they covered the miles of this years Bloomsday was in no way less then the pride I have felt when running down Sherman Avenue or though finisher shoot at Ironman Arizona or down Ali'i Drive. The fan fare, the miles covered in what is always a very long day at any full iron distance is nothing greater then and in some ways maybe less then what I experience at this years Bloomsday. This was their Ironman if you will and they were doing it with laughter, pride and joy. This is when I realized I was the one missing out. I was the one not fully engaging in the achievement of yet another Bloomsday victory.
So guess what I did? I too celebrated. I stopped to take pictures. I ate an Otter Pop on course. I danced and sang with the masses as we passed the many bands on course.
And I finished!
The finish line.
I realize now that at every race a few ounces of paint on the road is somebodies Everest. I had lost that with an inner focus, a focus on fitness and time. But once removed and with an attempt to view this event through the eyes of others, Bloomsday has once again touched my soul.
Many theories abound when it comes to social media and how it's supposed to work. Part of my social media package has been to maintain many different platforms, one of those platforms being this blog. As avenues for contact with a general audience shift to the hand held so better your chosen platforms. Blogs seem to be drifting as a platform with a society that in my opinion is moving to a bullet point based consumer. So then why chose to support a blog at all? Especially in my case where posts can get very lengthy and long winded, as represented here. To be honest the reason I continue to support this blog is largely for myself. I for the most part continue to choose this platform as a method of capturing memories - for myself. Before sponsors began to believe in me and my journey I chose private platforms. Once I moved to a public platform my writing style too would change. Public consumption is and should be approached differently then private. A chosen audience may be let behind the curtain a little more then the public.
One theory about blogging may be the need to post more then just race reports or a 100% race based product. It's hard for me to think this way and still produce a product I feel suitable for public consumption on this particular blog spot. A bit of growth is never a bad thing just maybe not in this particular post. The following may be a departure from a direct race based post but not a departure from triathlon, it's training and how it's lessons continue to shape who I am and the direction I chose to pursue.
In an effort to grow and learn from lessons of this season past I have attempted to boil it down. When you are given the opportunity for what should/could be the largest season of your triathlon career trying to reduce it to a few single moments that have shaped your season isn't as easy as it could/should be in other years.
One of the best moments from last season was watching with great pride as Bootsy qualified for Kona for her third time. Another key moment was my qualification and racing in Kona. These were monumental moments for both of us as individuals and as a couple. I couldn't have dreamed for such a scenario to play out.
Once these phenomenal opportunities are removed, what's left? What else can I point to as the moments that helped shape my season and carried the larger lessons? There where two seminal moments in the 2016 season for me. The first moment being injury unlike any I have ever experienced, the second was the loss of a training partner.
If there were a way to improve your chances for fitness success by 10, 20 or even 30% would this opportunity get your attention? How about a technique to make exercise more fun on a daily basis? A tool that automatically creates space and time in your schedule for run workouts? A proven way to help push you out the door, out of a rut or through a plateau?
It may all sound too good to be true, but countless endurance athletes, including myself, have found the right training partner can do all this and so much more.
Exercise partners provide a powerful combination of support, accountability, motivation and in some cases, a healthy competition. Although never one to take to the water and those little legs could have never powered a bike, they could and would however out sprint me across the park to the front porch of our home every time. Even in his latter years.
The emotion of grief may be triggered by the loss of something loved or as a result of a life circumstance. It could be believed that if we have effectively mourned a loss we will then achieve closure. The notion that one mourns a loss and then gets over it, to the extent that emotions about the loss are not triggered in the future, in my opinion, is a myth.
It's my belief that any personal loss, later and repeatedly, brings longing and sadness. As time passes, the intensity of feelings about the loss may lessen, we might also find ways to soothe or distract ourselves, this beginning the process of partially burying grief-related feelings through the process of creating new memories. But we may never get over the feeling of it being next to impossible: for me I have found it hard to erase emotional memory. Besides it's maybe not about achieving closure at all. Instead maybe I should attempt to figure out what I'm going to do when emotion of memories are later triggered.
My experience with the breed began in college. A lifetime friend had a Siberian Husky as a companion who traveled most places with him. Sasha was bright, beautiful and full of life. Throughout my college years I wondered if the day would come when I would bring a Siberian into my life with everything the breed has to offer.
In the early 2000's I had the opportunity to do some photography work for an international company who had bought the Carnation Corporation. Part of the Carnation brand at one point was a line of dog and cat foods. In development a line of dogs and cats were held. To keep in the tradition of this history, Nestles introduced three lines of dogs to be breed on the grounds, one of which were the Siberian Husky. These three breeds were cut from some of the best lines in the world and were available only to employees from around the globe.
When I placed my order for what would eventually become Butch, I was looking for some very explicit features starting with a male, the females are generally higher in intelligence and have been known as escape artists. I also sought the traditional black and white markings, piercing blue eyes and a reasonably low key temperament suitable to be a training partner and the companion I craved. The staff at Nestles were very professional in all aspects of the health of the breeds and furthering a world class line but they were also very thorough with the needs of all special requests so after 18 months Pavlov Butch Chinook was delivered.
Smile Butch
Those eyes got him out of a lot of sticky situations.
A Siberian is an athletic, intelligent breed that can be independent and challenging for a first-time dog owner. They are not know to be aggressive, do well with children, and will welcome everyone into their home - even intruders. The fact is that they tend to love everybody. Ordinarily your most extreme danger with a Siberian is being licked to death.
Siberians are a high-energy, gregarious breed that must have an occupation. They are a working dog bred for strenuous work hauling sleds in difficult terrain and weather conditions. A Siberian will demand attention and will get it one way or another. If not provided an occupation, they will find one, and you may not like the method chosen.
Siberian Huskies dig. If your lawn and flowers are the pride and joy of your life... I may caution you against this breed. Butch would dig holes to cool off in the summer and would dig what would appear to be cozy nests in the snow. It didn't matter snow or no snow Butch's instinct said, "Dig!!" Butch and I had few contentions through out our time together so in this case we would simple agree to disagree.
Butch was strong, stubborn, independent and rambunctious. Another way to say that may be Butch was powerful, persistent, smart and full of energy and stamina, desirable traits in a training partner, but in a house pet only if he were well trained. In time Butch became a polite and relatively calm house pet but only when met with companionship, training and exercise - lots of exercise.
We all have those days when we have no ambition to do what's best for ourselves and our goals. I was struggling to get back into the endurance world, this is when Butch entered my life.
Running long distances is what Butch was bred to do. This ability didn't go away when it wasn't part of his normal routine. Butch had a special way of getting the chosen off the couch and out the door.
There just would be no saying no. No matter the season, no mater the weather, he was going to get what he wanted and what he wanted was exercise, preferably a run. Butch loved doing anything with us especially if it were what he was bred for, it helped satisfy his natural desire to work and to be part of a pack.
Dogs shouldn't start running until their growth plates are closed. That meant we would wait until Butch was one or even two years old before we would begin any type of structured running. We worked with our vet and were given the green light to start running Butch at 18 months old.
So we were first time dog owners with a puppy with plenty of energy and the natural instinct to pull when on a leash or in a harness. We had seen plenty of example where a Siberian owner had failed to teach their puppy not to pull when walking. In many cases the argument could be made that the dog was walking the pet owner not the other way around as the pet dragged the owner around the neighborhood. We were warned of this early and made the decision this could not be in our case.
When faced with the task of training the instinct to pull out of a rambunctious high energy Siberian puppy lots of short-long walks are necessary. How this is done is when on the collar each time your puppy pulls or creates tension, what the puppy is looking for is tension on the collar against his neck, each time this would happen we would stop and sit. Eventually teaching the pet that tension meant a stop and sit or a diversion from the goal, a goal of covering distance through exercise. Butch and I had many long walks that would only cover the distance of around the block, each time he pulled we would stop until he was sitting along side of me. There were plenty of times we wouldn't take a step forward without Butch leaving the sit position only to start pulling again. We wouldn't cover much ground in the beginning but with time he would begin to learn tension means sit, no tension means freedom, freedom to move as one with whomever would take him out to be exercised.
Since Butch was brand new to running, we started with just a few minutes as few as five and at most as much as 15 minutes. It's a mistake thinking dogs are born with some sort of mysterious fitness. They're not. Their bodies need to adapt to exercise the same as a person's.
I loved running with Butch, his enthusiasm and sense of adventure always on full display. He would push for additional exercise on every run, only heat as a motivating factor to wrap it up. Butch would accompany us on 3 to 4 runs a week on average. We would eventually train him to run as far as 18 miles mostly on trails through Riverside State Park. We would carry a small collapsible water bowl so we could get him water along the way or we would pull over along the river for a short time to allow him to drink and cool standing waste deep. Days that were unseasonably warm we would leave him at home or just take him for a longer walk. It would always prove a challenge to get away from the house in running cloths on warmer days. It didn't take Butch long to figure out the difference between running and cycling cloths. If I were in running shoes I would have a Siberian stuck to my leg.
There would come a time when we would begin to ponder Butch's retirement from running. Because there are days when Bootsy needs to train in the early morning hours we would bring in another running partner as Butch approached his retirement years. We decided to bring in another breed and that's when Kailua came to live with us.
Two big dogs in our home was never something we would have considered if we were not in need of another training partner. Wanting to be sure Kai would be ready to pick up where Butch left off, we decided to bring her in when Butch reached the age of 10 and had begun to slow down. We understood the life expectancy for a Siberian is between 12-14 years so we would need time for Kai to mature into the running partner and companion we looked to move forward with.
My two favorite ladies.
As Butch's body began to slow his spirit did not. He would struggle when Kai would be harnessed for a run but he would not. I had a great deal of guilt when forced to leave him behind for the run portion of the workout. We would return post run and pick him up for a walk during the cool down portion.
Although it was best for Butch to retire as we could see his body had worn to the point where his spirit would carry him a little to far from time to time and we were left to watch as his aging body paid the price. My guilt when leaving Butch behind was based largely in the fact that I knew he felt deprived of the very thing he was bred to do but it was personal as well. Butch had been there for every step of my growth in the endurance world and I didn't want that to change - on a personal level. I moved up an age group last year now racing in the M 50-54 A.G. which by the way is a line in the sand of noticeable magnitude. I have to wonder if the opportunity to P.R. (Personal Record) is also beginning to dwindle. To stand by and watch Butch on the back side of his "arc of fitness", I would have to evaluate if this were a mirror image of mine. Never a bad idea to evaluate where you are in your endurance career from time to time but also never an easy exercise.
When Butch left us I was heart broken in the same way anyone would be with the lose of a long time companion. But there was something else for me in this case, something I wasn't completely prepared for. After all it wasn't a secret he would someday soon be gone, he was a large breed at the age of 13 for goodness sake. I however was surprised by how much emotion I had tied to his little wagon.
I get it Butch was "just a dog" and his only true fault was that his life was to short, but what he represented in my head, in my heart and as a partner in the my growth in the endurance world, this would take some evaluation.
In the few years leading up to Butch's arrival, I had gotten to a place where I had lost confidence in myself. The softball diamond became my outlet for my competitive spirit and for a while it had become my sanctuary. Although I was having some success on the diamond my drive to stay at the competitive local level had began to dwindle along with my confidence.
Be it right or wrong, sport has had a huge impact on how I view myself, how I define myself and that in turn affects my self esteem. This also has an affect on my confidence because confidence comes primarily from self esteem.
Sport brings goal setting, strength and structure. Without these I began to tear myself down and in the process lose confidence. It was reflected in the lose of passion for things away from sport, weight gain and in the fact that I began to look at only the things I didn't like about myself. Sport provided the avenue to once again embrace who I was and a to re-establish a missing confidence.
Butch helped begin the process of healing most of these issues as he pushed me back toward an old friend, toward a form of sport that is triathlon.
As Butch aged and his running health began to decline, I found myself re-examining the time in my life before his arrival and all things that brought disappointment in myself. So it would seem natural that I would link his companionship and drive to most of the good things I enjoy through sport.
Kia is a wonderful training partner and companion. I can rest easy when Bootsy steps out into the early morning air for a run with Kia by her side. But for as wonderful as it is to be out there losing ourselves in a run on the trails through the park, I often times find myself revisiting time spent with Butch as Kai and I cover the same ground covered with Butch by my side. Creating new memories with Kai is a welcome and enjoyable activity but to be honest there have been runs were I have been forced to stop and walk as I worked through the emotions and memories of runs with Butch. The need to work through this style of emotional memory is expected but there have been more then enough memories that continue to catch me off guard.
I have a longstanding tradition each Saturday in the fall of the year. Fall brings football season which in turn brings the ESPN product Gameday. I have for years been out of bed each Saturday by 5:45 a.m. in preparation for Gameday viewing, Butch at my feet as I sit in solitude for 3 hours of football zen.
This year at 5:45 a.m. on the much anticipated opening day of College Football I could't get out of bed knowing Butch wouldn't be at my feet. My heart just to heavy to carry forward in a tradition I completely revel in. It was a defining day as I eventually would make my way through something that was a complete blindside.
Emotional memories are all part of the process and some of it's moments keep surprising me. But I am also beginning to celebrate the memories as they sneak up on me. For example, this fall I was gifted with a weekend on the Grande Ronde River in pursuit of Sea Run Rainbow. As my fishing partner and I stepped into the clear cool water of one of our favorite spots on the river he mentioned rather matter-of-factly "The last time I took a fish in this hole Butch was with us". A great memory that brought a smile for both of us.
In the end, triathlon is a large part of my life because it is my chosen lifestyle, a lifestyle Bootsy and I continue to enjoy for all it gives us on a daily basis. Butch's roll in this lifestyle going forward will be largely unfulfilled as we move forward without him, Kai by our side. As I continue my growth in this lifestyle I will carry the lessons learned with him and from him but his presence and what he represented can never be replaced.
Butch was never much interested in family portraits.
I don't know, maybe one day we will chose to bring another Siberian into our lives. The joys of the breed have been a life long pursuit. But for now Butch has set the bar pretty high and any comparisons to that bar would be unfair to everyone involved.
"Until one has loved a dog, a part of one's sole remains unawakened" - Anatole France
