He Promised to Defend.

Today is Veterans Day. A day I choose to reflect and to honor all those who have promised to defend this great country. Each year I consider those who have "laid so costly a sacrifice upon the alter of freedom". Those who have fought and died on foreign soil while protecting my freedoms back home. But sadly enough, it never stops there.

I have many people in my life who are military veterans. My father proudly served in the US Navy. My uncle Raymond served in the Army and fought in Vietnam.

I grew up with an uncle I never really knew. Yes he was present at all the family gatherings, Christmas Eve, 4th of July picnics, those types of things. We never get to know anyone through simple presents but being present may be all he could offer, on the surface that is. Uncle Ray was in my view distant but loving. Not loving in a hug and a tassel of the hair but loving in an I've got your back kind of way. This is a love lost on a child but honored as an adult.

We all carry traits given to us by family members. Physical appearance from our parents and grandparents being an obvious one. I have many idiosyncrasies that manifest on an almost daily basis and when they do I turn around and look for my father. I wonder if a large portion of my personality can be directly linked to Ray's father, my grandfather. Which leaves me to wonder the roll Uncle Ray has always played within myself.

Raymond Dean Newman was born the fifth of six children to hard working parents in what could be considered a lower middle class home. In my mind Ray was a fun loving, hard driving kid. A Bruce Springsteen kind of upbringing. The characters in Springsteen songs not Springsteen himself. Was this only in the mind of a child one would wonder? You may have to ask my mom on that one. (Bring your Springsteen "albums" if you do.)

Enter the Vietnam War.

Ray enlisted in the Army, fought 18 months in Vietnam and after completing his tour a Raymond Newman, or a semblance there of, came home.

I would imagine most veterans of war experience, combat or none, a very long period of extended absence from comfort, security and family all while under the constant threat of attack and all the horrors of war they are then asked to live with. In my Uncle Ray's case I don't wonder about the short periods of intense violence I would think he endured, I wonder about the months and months of a slow drone of it all and a psychological beating he must have been subject to.

And then he came home. Everything was fine now right? Not really...

Ray never spoke of his experiences in Vietnam - at all. Never. Ever. Except one. It involved a cleaning lady that worked for them who proved to be North Vietnamese and what happened when a spy was exposed.

Raymond returned from a war in a time when no one said thank you and PTSD was something they were told would simply subside in time. He was one who was asked not only to fight battles in the jungles of Vietnam but back here at home as well.

Memories, images, smells, sounds, and feelings of traumatic events can "intrude" into the lives of individuals with PTSD. Sufferers may remain so captured by the memory of past horror that they have difficulty paying attention to the present. Some of those who return home just give up living. They start dying little by little and over time piece by piece.

I always admired my Uncle Ray from a distance or a distance when seen through the eyes of a child. As I have grown I see him less as "Running on the backstreet where he swore he'd live forever. Taking it on them backstreets together". I see him less as a character and more the man he truly was. But never less then a hero. I understand the word "hero" gets thrown around a lot these days but for a now adult child, this flawed and troubled human being always has been and always will be my often silent, often stoic, American hero.

So today Uncle Ray, I think of you. I reflect on the parts of you I carry in me and I say thank you for everything you gave.

"Don't Dream It's Over."

"I might become a passive stone that escapes in thinking instead of taking action." — Cynthia Kittler

I continue in the hope of getting back to an active lifestyle. To break free from a lifestyle I may not have completely chosen. This all while feeling underwhelmed by the idea of being still. Left to ponder the thought that things beyond my control may leave me on the outside looking in. When with all my heart I try to engage in the overwhelming preface: It’s not over.

I stood with others gathered at the a recent start line, a race I had long ago signed up for and choose to walk the shorter 5K instead of a half marathon DNS (Did Not Start). Here I watched as so many were living an active lifestyle. As I watched the overlying question became - What am I afraid of?

As much discomfort as my current situation and what it could mean, as much weight as I continue to put on the importance of a return to an active lifestyle and a start line of choice, as much fear as I may have of disappointing myself, I cannot continue in the belief that it is over.

Most are afraid of disappointment. I have fallen into the trap where I have told myself I’m not good at much other then what I do. I too can be terrified by change. As of late I have spent far to many hours convincing myself - it's over.

The only way I could ever be truly disappointed in myself is to not move forward, whatever it may look like. To not try. I must never fall into the belief that deep in the darkness my heart still sees everything I will never be. It's only over when I quit in the pursuit of what my heart holds.

We are all given our own path, like it or not. When that path leads to unchosen and/or uncharted waters it can allow for exploration of one's self. A period of time where everything is scrutinized. I have learned the sound of each rock and stone on this path. One of the lessons learned has been to embrace what others fear. It's very uncomfortable by the way, to examine something where in time each of us will be asked to do so. To be placed on a path of resistance or a path with far to few stones.

So the best thing I can do is to get back to a start line, whatever that may be. Even if my start line has been redefined. For in lies the truth. It may never be over as long as I choose to continue in the pursuit of what my heart desires.

"The Best Way to Get Something Done is to Begin".

When training and/or racing have been removed, what could be left to write about on a blog designed for adventures in and around triathlon? Maybe things such as weight gain, sleep loss, blood pressure, loss of fitness, alcohol consumption or middle of night reality checks of always changing mental strengths. Maybe the consideration of never getting back to racing at all or at least to a level that would be considered a success. These are the things I'm left with as I sit typing with one hand only because over the past year, in large part, one or the other arms have been in a sling and under rehabilitation. Currently my dominate hand is affected and because of this a one finger hunt and peck with what I might call my "Dumb Hand", much like almost everything in life right now because of it, takes twice as long.

Friends and acquaintances alike have asked: "How's your training? What's your next race?" To which I refuse clarifications, telling them that I'm focusing on other things in life right now, which is technically true despite a few serious omissions. Watching their confusion is selfishly far easier then hearing the insidious answer that lies between my ears. "I have been injured. It is unclear at this point but I am hoping to get back to training and racing again soon. So I don't know, maybe I will get back to racing at some point this year."

The competitive void has left me moody, frustrated and at times down right surly. Just ask Bootsy, she always speaks in honest truths instead of my oft-chosen convenient or half truths.

I am, of course, one who has decided to devote myself to a lifestyle that involves semi-regular bouts with injury. A place where you could be asked to pay dearly for the answers of your day. So being laid up as a result of multiple surgeries to both shoulders and forced by the sports gods into a bit of self-reflection could seem almost - natural, all in the effort to move past in any type of timely matter.

Training and racing provide me with more then simple fitness, they have taught me to better maintain focus on long term goals while finding safety in a world of constant risk and uncertainty. They have taught me to be mentally quiet. Training and racing have been my chosen avenue to mute emotion, while removing stimuli. They have taught me to simplify. Physical exhaustion can muffle doubt as well as certain types of fear. Whereas injury can muffle joy, inspiration and honest inward reflection. After years of finding protection from certain aspects of ones self as well as the outside world, living this lifestyle, it has felt safe. It at times has felt, what I would consider beautiful. But once removed I have felt somewhat bare. The feeling of lost in a lifestyle where the compass has been removed or at minimum distorted, is something I long to step beyond.

I long to be fit again. Fitness can provide a feeling of joy in my life that without has left me with the feeling of an unfulfilled journey. There have been times where I have felt as though I am merely a spectator in my own life. The frustration isn't in the fact that I can't achieve goals and dreams, it lies in the fact that I can't start chasing them. So maybe this is just part of my given journey, but it's a journey I must once again - guide.

I was struck by the contrast when comparing the heaviness expressed in the above portion with the lighter more goal focused arena where growth is the resounding theme, replacing suppression by circumstance.

There came a point when I realized I wanted a comeback to an iron distance start line - in the past. But how can this happen? There is only one way to do this and that would be to simply begin. Begin what I would consider a return to what was once my normalcy. 

-

While running the 2004 addition of the Portland Marathon, our first marathon, Bootsy and I were passed by a man juggling. That's right we were passed by a juggler - juggling - while running a marathon. Now juggling is impressive in an of itself but this guy ran past us at the 18th mile all while holding a conversation with a young lady which I could only surmise was his girlfriend. I hope I’m painting the picture for you here. If I were juggling while walking within the comfort of my own home, trust that all my mental faculties would be focused on not falling over something. But for this guy, the most difficult thing he was doing, was the thing he was taking for granted. I doubt I could walk and talk with the grace he exhibited while running and juggling. And the great thing is that he wasn’t trying to impress anyone. He was just trying to get to the same place as the rest of us that October day - the finish line. Perhaps he had run many marathons in the past and was looking for a new challenge. Or maybe he had lost a bet during an adult beverage fueled stop on the way home from a training run with his local running group. Or maybe it was a penitence to be payed for a girlfriend mess up. I don't know. Does it really matter?

Imagine being stressed. Now imagine being stressed while on a balance beam. See, suddenly you’re forced to put your stress aside and concentrate on keeping your teeth.

Sometimes the spectacular is cloaked in normalcy. For instance, the women I love and continue to date (I love the fact we still date) is the cutest and most adorable in the times when she isn’t trying to be. There’s something about someone just being that is fun to watch. Endearing even. 

So if normalcy is what I seek, then let us begin today, but I must remind myself that NOBODY gets through life unscathed. Nobody. Everyone has or will have a condition, disease, accident, injury or event in their lives that knocks them around a bit and sends their life spinning. It’s one of the prices we pay for the gift of living.

I should probably consider the word "normal" - "Don’t be normal. Be better than normal!" I haven’t been put into a box because of this; I just broken out of it. Armed with a unique perspective on how quickly life can change and how blessed we are to still be alive, the survivors of injury and like conditions/situations get to learn what many don’t learn until far later in life.

Live Your Dreams!

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!

Frozen - And the Likes.

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.

As The Sun Sets on Ironman Coeur d'Alene.

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.

Photo by Rene Guerrero

Photo by James Richman

2015 Ironman Coeur d'Alene -

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.

"Have I Earned the Right to Feel Blue?"

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.