Real Men of BAMFness: Al Erickson

The Olympic decathlon champion is often referred to as the best all around athlete in the world. It's the sort of sport that attracts men with an unbelievable array of talents. The explosiveness of a sprinter or hurdler, the endurance of a 1500m, and the technique of a pole vaulter or thrower. It's a sport that requires a diverse skillset, and for virtually all decathletes, it's the product of countless hours spent honing the skills in each sport. It's the such an eclectic spread of events, that it's helpful to start training early in life. Unless you are Al Erickson. In his case, he took up decathlon at the age of 77, after a career as an educator, including a 20 year stint as a professor at the University of Washington teaching wildlife sciences. He took up the sport in 2007, and he's been collecting trophies ever since. My favorite quote from the excellent HeraldNet article on Al is his statement about finishing what you start - every time, "if you don't have discipline, you take the easy way out." That's pretty much the summary of what it means to be a BAMF.

AE, you are a BAMF

Thanks to Greg W H for the link & recommendation

Real Men of BAMFness: Khai Lee

Total Mileage, errr... Kilometerage, from Vancouver, BC to St John's, NL: 6881.3km

That's far. In case you didn't realize it, it's really far. New York to Los Angeles is 4,490km. Bangor, ME to San Diego is a paltry 5,287km. Think about that - you drive all the way across the US, about as far as you can make it (let's be honest, there's nothing in Northern Maine), and you'd still have 1000 miles (1600km) to go. Now let's imagine you aren't driving. You are biking. And by biking, I mean pedaling, not riding your Harley Fatboy. If your name is Khai Lee, you don't have to imagine this, because you've just done it. That's right, my very good friend Khai Lee loaded up his Brodie touring bike, had a bowl of Wheaties, and rode himself across Canada. ALL of it. 6,881.3 (don't forget those 300m) kilometers. Khai has logged way more saddle time than most folks will in a year or even a lifetime. He has seen his homeland of 'ockey hair, Timmy Horton's, moose in a way that allowed him appreciate all of it's maple-leafy goodness... Impressive, eh?

KL, you are a BAMF.

Real Men of BAMFness: Charlie Wittmack

Over eleven months, The World Tri will cross thirteen countries while encountering the most treacherous conditions imaginable. The expedition begins with a 275-mile swim down the River Thames in England to the icy North Atlantic Sea and across the English Channel to France. From France, the expedition continues with a 9000-mile bicycle ride across Europe and Asia, passing over many of the world’s most rugged and remote mountain ranges, and crossing hundreds of miles of barren sand desert, before climbing over the Himalaya to the Indian Ocean and Calcutta. The triathlon concludes with a super-ultra 950-mile run from sea level at the Bay of Bengal, up into the Himalaya, to the top of the world and the summit of Mount Everest. - TheWorldTri.com

This is the task Charlie Wittmack has ahead of him. Normally, I like to reserve the title of BAMF for someone who actually achieves lofty goals, but having just begun this undertaking with a relatively quick 12 hour crossing of the English Channel, I figured Charlie could use a little luck to send him on his way. Even BAMFs need smiles from the gods now and again...

CW, you are a BAMF

Simply Stu Interview

I was lucky enough to be a guest on Simply Stu's Wickedly Cool Triathlon Podcast. You can download it at simplystu.libsyn.com. It's about 32min, which I apologize for, but I won't be offended if you turn me off. I won't even know!

SimplyStu interviews multiple Ironman Champion Jordan Rapp. Listen to the conversation about Jordan's comeback to racing, his knowledge of power, equipment, and training.

Plans For Ground Zero

"This morning, the City’s Landmark Preservation Commission unanimously voted not to extend landmark status to the building on Park Place where the mosque and community center are planned. The decision was based solely on the fact that there was little architectural significance to the building. But with or without landmark designation, there is nothing in the law that would prevent the owners from opening a mosque within the existing building. The simple fact is this building is private property, and the owners have a right to use the building as a house of worship."

"The government has no right whatsoever to deny that right – and if it were tried, the courts would almost certainly strike it down as a violation of the U.S. Constitution. Whatever you may think of the proposed mosque and community center, lost in the heat of the debate has been a basic question – should government attempt to deny private citizens the right to build a house of worship on private property based on their particular religion? That may happen in other countries, but we should never allow it to happen here. This nation was founded on the principle that the government must never choose between religions, or favor one over another." - NYC Mayor Michael Bloomberg

30 Something

For a long time it seemed to me that life was about to begin - Real Life.

But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first,

some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid.

At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life.

This perspective has helped me to see there is no way to happiness.

Happiness is the way.

So treasure every moment you have and remember that time waits for no one.

Happiness is a journey, not a destination!

Alfred D. Souza

In this case, the "something" part of "30 something" currently means three days. Though, in many ways, it's really the remarkable fact that it's been 130 days since I almost lost the chance to even be 30 at all that I really celebrated on July 28th. I won't claim that I celebrate it every day; I have not been transformed into the kind of person who rolls out of bed and proclaims my joy at simply breathing on that very day. But I think actually being faced with the sort of obstacle Souza talks about just as I felt my "real life" was about to begin has forced me to rethink things in the same way that Souza had to rethink things. I had finally reached my goal of winning an Ironman. I felt that I had "arrived" as a pro. Now that I was "here," things would actually "start." And in some ways, things seemed to be following that pattern. Abu Dhabi was a world class field, and I had not by best race but still a race that was good enough to be competitive.

I was - on that March day - executing the kind of ride that was appropriate for someone who had "arrived." But then, instead of the "real life" that I had planned on happening then happening, real - not quote-unquote real - life actually happened. Which means that something totally unexpected happened. For a long time - and still on some days - I felt that this was not the way that things were supposed to be. The debts had been paid. Time had been served. There was no unfinished business. And of course, now there are debts to be paid. More time was served, but there's still more time be served. And there is definitely unfinished business.

And I think it's finally started to dawn on me that this is life. Hopefully not so dramatic always, but that in general life this is what life is like. In the past year, since my 29th birthday, I won two Ironmans, got married, flew literally halfway around the globe for my first really international pro race, almost bought a house (several times), and had some other smaller personal challenges that now seem not quite so bad. Oh yeah, I also almost - almost - died. I'm hoping that in the next year, I can avoid the same amount of drama. But maybe I won't. Maybe I can't. Or maybe I will. And maybe I can. There's no way to know. And that's life. Welcome to the journey. Don't forget to pack your moose hat...

Real Men of BAMFness: Jens Voigt

Really, this whole series could be re-dubbed "Real Men of Voigtness," because Jens pretty much defines what it means to be a BAMF. But he may have exceeded his own infinite BAMFness on Stage 16 when, approximately a year removed from his crash in last year's TdF, he crashed again on a descent and broke his bike. He ended up borrowing a yellow junior's bike with toe clips and caught back up to the group riding that. Oh yeah, he has really bad road rash and likely a few broken ribs. I say likely because Jens doesn't want to get x-rays because he doesn't like the radiation and because they can't do anything to help him if his ribs are broken anyway. Oh yeah again, he's still planning on finishing in Paris. And he's still planning on setting some furious tempo for Andy Schleck.

JV, you are THE BAMF.

Complete Jens blog on the day at Bicycling.com

Rolling, Rolling, Rolling...

Keep movin', movin', movin',

Though they're disapprovin',

Keep them doggies movin' Rawhide!

Don't try to understand 'em,

Just rope and throw and grab 'em,

Soon we'll be living high and wide.

Boy my heart's calculatin'

My true love will be waitin', be waiting at the end of my ride.

I am, in my own opinion, the world's crappiest rehabber. I've done a pretty good job throughout my career of not getting injured, so I'm think I'm pretty good at that. I know how to train, recovery, and - usually - race. But rehab is pretty new to me. That last I really needed to rehab from an injury, I was rowing, it was through a desire to heal that I discovered triathlon as a way to take a break from rowing. And I'm still taking that break...

I don't really know how to do something. Generally, I just do it. I can't give you a thought process for kicking the crap out yourself for a TT. You just do it. Have a plan - most often provided by the coach - and then execute it. But rehab isn't really like that. The plan needs to be flexible. I will say that, finally, I've gotten over the hump of actually being ready to approach the whole process, and I've put myself back in the hands of my coach. For a while there, I just didn't know what I'd be able - physically or (more often) mentally - to do. I look back on the past three months, and I wish that I'd done a better job. I don't really know what that means. With training, I would know. It would mean getting the work done, focusing on what matters, training hard when it was time to train hard. But with rehab, I don't know what it means. I suppose I look at it like training, which it is and isn't. But I really don't know.

I was allowed to swim on April 29, but I didn't get in a pool until Monday May 10. Partly it was the rather large hole in my shoulder from extracting a popcorn size piece of glass, but really it was just a lot fear. My shoulder at that point wasn't really so cooperative. I thought I'd hop in and become the world's greatest kicker, until I realized that just holding a kickboard was hard enough on my shoulder. I found my way on and off to the pool. Some days, the disappointment of not being able to do what I wanted was more than I could bear.

I was allowed to run on June 10, and I ran that afternoon. I hammered my legs into the ground and 30min later I felt like someone had put my legs through a meat grinder. It was the hardest run I'd done in eons. I ran for eight days straight. About halfway through those eight days, my right knee - the one which took a major impact (most likely into my top tube) and which ended up sliced by the glass - started acting up. But I wasn't going to let running be taken away again. I couldn't. I'd waited so long to get it back. But I also hadn't really prepared myself to run again. I guess I didn't know how. For the past seven years, when I wanted to run, I just ran. Running was how I trained to run. But not anymore. So with the single most common affliction in orthopedic medicine - anterior knee pain - I gave up running not long after I felt like I finally had my life back.

Fortunately, about this time, my shoulder started to cooperate. I regained my range and my stroke. The nerve damage seems to be repairing relatively fast. I can swim and it feels reasonably good. I've started now - two months after I planned to start - focusing on my kicking. And my trips to the pool are things I look forward to know, instead of dreading as I did at first.

On June 26th, I got permission to ride my bike. But it sat in the corner - out of sight - because I was simply terrified to ride. But today, after being thwarted in my attempts to swim due to the holidays at one pool and repairs at another, and thwarted on yet another test run after 90 seconds of running, I decided that I had two choices. I could either do nothing - another day like those when I first left the hospital where walking from the couch to the refrigerator seemed like a task - and lose a little bit of my sanity. Or I could face my fears and ride. I chose the latter. Getting on the bike was the hardest part. As I rolled down the street, I almost turned around when I saw the first car. But I didn't. It was one of the loudest rides I'd ever been on. The sound of cars passing me seemed deafening. I would guess that I could tell you when a car was about to pass me 10x sooner than I could have on Mar 22. My ears were ringing. It was a constant din. But the fear faded as each pedal stroke felt more and more normal.

I believe now I have a reasonable plan for what training will mean. I will trust Michael to keep the reins tight, something which I could not do when I first was allowed to run - I needed it. Not to train, but to run, to be outside, to move freely. It was a dark day when I finally owned up that I had done too much. I felt quite stupid. I hadn't prepared. I hadn't listened. I'd done everything wrong. And I suppose that admitting that now is a bit of me trying to commit this lesson to permanency.

But I can swim and it's coming back faster than I expected. I hope the same will be true for riding. I said today for the first time that I might not race this year and really meant it. I hope that isn't true, but another dose of reality has made me realize that it might be.

I apologize for the somewhat distracted nature of this. I set out to say something, and then realized I didn't really know what. I rode my bike - which felt like a triumph - but it was really fear of another day of nothing that eventually won out over fear of riding, which makes me all too aware of the limits that I still have. It was the lesser of two evils - or fears - as the case may be. Not the greater of two desires.

There's a road ahead. And I guess I know that I'm gonna have to hike it. I suppose there was some hidden hope that I'd get to hitch a ride, but that ain't gonna happen. But I think I'm ready to do that. And I guess we'll see. There have been a lot of fits and starts. Two steps forward, three steps back, and three steps forward, three steps back, and two steps forward, one step back. But I guess I'd just like to take that one step forward. A lot of days, I think that'll have to be enough.

If this made any sense to anyone else, I'm glad. But if not, I guess it just means I'll have to write again sometime soon, and maybe that's no so bad either. There's something about it that makes it real. I cried this morning because I tried to run and it hurt. And then I had a few tears on the bike simply because I was able to ride and nothing hurt. Life is a funny thing. I guess we just gotta keep rolling.

Interview With IronBrandon

I recently did an interview with avid age-group triathlete and podcaster IronBrandon. My part of the show starts at about the 48min mark. You can listen to it on his site at:

http://ironbrandon.com/2010/06/ironbrandons-podcast-episode-99/

You can also find it in iTunes at:

http://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=275935699

Many thanks to Brandon for giving me opportunity to ramble to someone other than myself.

Real Women of BAMFness: Jamie Whitmore

My good friend and Slowtwitch editor-at-large Timothy Carlson wrote a four-part series on XTerra legend Jamie Whitmore, who was diagnosed cancer in late 2007. Timothy's remarkable chronicling of Jamie's journey is a gut-wrenching but also heart-warming and inspirational story of tenacity and survival. From the initial struggle to simply find an answer to her difficult decision not to be catheterized, Jamie's story is truly remarkable.

You can find each part of the story on Slowtwitch.com or by clicking here: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, and Part Four. Thank you to Timothy for taking the time to write these wonderful articles and an especially big thank you to Jamie for sharing. I cannot even imagine the sort of BAMFness that lives inside of her; it's the mother-lode.

JW, you are a BAMF