Keepin it Fresh - '10 The First Half

After the 50k in January I took some time to rest and enjoy the sweet things in life that I deprive myself of during the season (beer, candy, staying up past 11pm, Taco Bell etc.) But most importantly I took time to takemy mind away from the sport. Come February I was refreshed and mentally ready to get back into agrove. At times the Cleveland weather was a bummer but overall the month's training ended status quo.

March and April went by smooth too. I picked up some new training along the way. Occasionally I swam with the good people at Shaker Middle School Masters program, a nice way to step up my swimming form and put some variety to my stroke. Plus I need a better excuse to wake up at 4:45am a few times a week. I did a few circuit bike races in the spring too. Admittedly, not my usual style but I have to say I had a tons of fun during the series and it really helped to improve

my early season bike fitness. Most races I just sat in and tried not to get chewed up and spit out the back. Sometimes it worked, sometimes not. I did manage to win a preem on one lap in one race. A small victory, but a victory none-the-less. :)

To round out the spring I trained for and ran the Cleveland Half Marathon. Ready for the meat of the season to start I wanted to put my legs to the test and go for a PR. To start, training went

well. Coming off the 50k only a few months ago I had endurance on my side, the hard work was finding the lost leg speed. So the process took place just as any other. Naturally I had good workouts, bad workouts and just blah workouts leading up to the race. I was confident going in, even though I had an ambitious goal set for myself. Morning of the race there was no shortage of the typical "daze" I was ready to run hard. The family was out to support, friends all around both running and spectating and the weather was perfect.

Jody and Started together. We ran together for the first six miles or so. We were running very strong and fast and I honestly knew it was only a matter of time until he would drop me. He was super fit and going for a PR also. When he pulled away around mile seven I was stoked for him, he looked strong. I on the other hand was not feeling terrible but unable to keep the 6:30 pace we were clipping at. I slowed to a more sustainable 6:42ish pace and pushed on.

The finish was as inviting as any other and I was super happy to cross the line. 1:28:25, 6:45 pace. I thought I could/would have run a bit faster but was totally happy to have PR'ed. I gave it all the juice I had that day, that is for sure, so for an early season race, I was happy. Lots of

friends and family were hanging afterwards and it ended up being a great day.

Finishing the half marathon was important, because it meant the start of the multisport season. I had a full schedule: NEO Sprint Triathlon Kickoff at Clay's Park, Maumee Bay International, Steelhead 70.3, Revolution3 Half Distance, Ironman Florida. A full plate for sure but that is what I wanted.

The early season tune-up sprint race was just that, a tune up and an opportunity to get my triathlon legs back on. A small local race I was happy to be 5th overall and 1st in my age group, basically among friend.

I wanted to really have a go at the international distance at Maumee Bay. I have always felt this distance could suit me if I put a bit more effort into it. My coach and I decided to put that effort into it this year, fine tune the leg speed and see what I could pull off. A much tough day for sure but successful. I swam like crap, rode super hard and ran okay. Good enough for 12th overall, 3rd in my age group and a PR for the distance. It made me feel good to know that with some distance-specific training and focus I can excel at the shorter distance races. Definitely still room to improve (swim) but it was another great day of hearty racing among friends and

another successful early season race to gain fitness.

After Maumee Bay my focus was switched over to the longer stuff, Half-Iron and eventual Ironman. This included lots and lots of training and less racing for the meat of the summer. My sights were set on Steelhead and I wanted that race bad. I wanted a fair chance at Clearwater and I wanted to PR the distance. I knew these were within my abilities, but it would take big effort. For those reasons, the next few months I put my head down, woke up earlier, made plenty of sacrifices and trained harder than I have ever had in my life.

The Hangover - A Mind & Body Affair

It's been a week since I crossed the finish line of my first 50k trail race. I intentionally waited a week to write about it. I needed that time to allow my mind and body to recover. I needed that time to allow myself to reflect on the experience and draw some thoughtful conclusions on the day.

So here I am. For the most part fully recovered and anxious to get back to the training grind and ready to put some thoughts to paper. My mind doesn't remember the pain it was in a week ago. My legs do, but I like that. I call it the race hangover, a true mind and body experience...pain that lasts just long enough to evoke nightmares, but short enough to make you forget and go back for more.

As for the 50k, I was trained to run the distance, I had friends, family and my coach along side of me at the start, and I knew the terrain quite well. The weather definitely could have been worse. So walking into this thing I felt comfortable and the nerves were at an all time pre-race low. I think the general mood and atmosphere of an ultra trail event also spoke to my uncharacteristic race morning zen. A true tri geek that I am not would just about flip at the carefree, unstructured set up of these trail events. Personally, I like it, it's a bit of fresh air from the uptight, calculated, obsessive type A multisport environment that I am accustomed to. But that's neither here nor there.

The day started status quo. Running ridiculously slow and steady through the first several miles, it felt like any other trail run I had ever done. As the morning wore on general running pains settled in but so did I into a groove that felt sustainable. We were running together my coach and I, shoulder to shoulder we ran at the same pace through the half way point and beyond. It was an experience I had never had before but I liked it. We strategized together about pace and the trail conditions, we negotiated aid stations as a team and kept each other accountable for just about everything. As the miles wore on the teamwork became a bit one sided. I was doing much of the receiving and probably offering little aid, but it was all I had in me and I am sure he understood. His ultra experience far surpasses mine.

Other teammates came and went on the trails to run sections of the course with us. That help was huge, physically it was a perfect distraction from the pain. Not to mention the bond among teammates that were formed.

From somewhere around mile 23 to the finish, I was feeling it. I was feeling every uneven step forward. My body literally hurt from head to toe. It hurt when I ran and it hurt if I walked. My legs were in pain beyond pain, they were so numb they hurt and nothing relived them, not even stopping. Nutritionally I was on thin ice because of some non dramatic stomach issues a few hours earlier that lead me to ditch my traditional fueling strategy for flat Coke and fig cookies. It was makeshift but it was working. The Coke was giving me just enough sugar and caffeine to put my delirious mind into focus and kept me running. Coach kept me running too. We walked steep hills and all stairs but other than that we ran. We continued to run together into the late miles, step by step my body denied the pain. But the late miles are where it all began to make sense to me, where I learned about pain and just exactly what it was.

The pain was there full on. It was pain that didn't let go, give in, or fade. This pain transcended my body and seeped into my mind. Everything hurt. My blood hurt. I was pain. Pain was smeared all over the trail. Pain was realizing that this particular 50k course would be longer than 32 miles. (do the math) Pain were the steps I went up 3 earlier times that day but somehow were steeper and longer the last time. It was the trails that got hillier. The mud thicker and ice slicker. Pain is when I lost all balance. Pain was the final 13 minute mile and sitting at the finish thinking about what I just did. Pain was six hours, twenty nine minutes and fifty nine seconds of non stop running. Last Sunday I survived pain, kept running through the heart of pain and finally, a week later, it all makes sense.

It really was a simple lesson that I learned last Sunday. I learned about the mind and body dynamic. I learned that they talk to each other but are not always willing to listen to each other, and thats a good thing. Sunday I physically ran my body to it's breaking point. A point its been to before and knows well. I ran to the point that causes internal systems to shut down. Honestly, not much good comes from beyond this point and frankly it's not a good place to be. At this point the mind takes over for the body. It sends intense signals of pain to every cell of the body insisting that it aborts mission. Insisting the body stops. The mind, in all of its valor saves the body from total self destruction. What I learned was that pain is the minds friend. The mind likes pain. It uses pain to stop the body.

I am not sure how, when or why but on Sunday my body denied my mind. It ignored the pain signals, it became numb to the the mind's demands. My body proved my mind wrong and turned a deaf ear. So when everything hurt, and my mind was screaming to stop, my body just kept moving without any regard for itself. I simply just kept moving forward. Dangerous? Probably. A breakthrough in my ability to overcome my mind, pain and my limits? Absolutely.

What I learned Sunday is that your mind puts limits on the things that you can physically do. I think many of us convince ourselves that certain goals are unattainable. We tell ourselves that we have limits and that we are only capable of certain things to a certain limit. Our minds cage our dreams and shackle our aspirations. We limit ourselves out of fear of pain. Far too often we let our own minds completely dictate our limits. I learned Sunday that that is unacceptable for my body. I learned that if I leave my mind out of it, I can overcome anything. My body can achieve things its own mind doubted and never thought possible. I learned how much smarter my body is than pain. I can operate in the midst of thick, unrelenting pain. I learned that sometimes my mind is my worse enemy and that pain is an excuse.

Personally this dynamic of mind and body is complex and I can honestly say it has taken me 27 years and 32 some miles of January trails to figure it all out. But I can also say I am better off because of it. I am better off as an athlete and as a person with a professional career and life. I am better off because I know I can achieve things in life I never thought were possible. I know no limits of my own possibilities.

So as I sit here tonight, rested, pain free and eager to start my next journey I am happy because I am sitting here without any limits on myself. I know now that I don't know what I can't do. And thats a good feeling. I am happy to have found a healthy dose of the racing daze this January and even better to have learned a lesson about myself that I will take with me to many a race course in the future. Truthfully there are definitely things I probably can't do, but at least now I know, I have no idea what they are.

What do you think you can't do?

01

January is my favorite month. Especially in Ohio. I love January here because its bitter cold and hard. Ohio Januarys are tough months, they require thick skin. It's dark most of the day, its never above freezing and the moisture and wind glazes over the earth almost grinding life to a stand still. January is dead and helpless. The holidays are over and the cheer of the season is gone, there isn't much to look forward to because spring is still a winter away. It's January, now what?

As an athlete January is pivotal. It is a month to answer questions about yourself, about your grit. It's a month wanted to be used, how you use it will be reflected in the months to come.How will you answer the tough questions to bring it to life?

Is it a time to rest, relax and wait for the air to warm and snow to melt? Because after all, it's still winter. Do you convince yourself the season is so far off and there is plenty of time in the spring? Or do you embrace the month. Do you squeeze motivation from the desolate landscape and push yourself through the freeze. Sure, January is far off from race season, so do you use the time to build an even bigger base? Do you steel this time from the calendar and make it yours?

I love January because its a hard month. It's the first month and nothing comes easy, it sets the tone. You have to work hard for what you earn. January is blue collar. There is no glory this month, the workouts are not sexy.

So ask yourself how you will use January. How have you used it before? What are you willing to do to change? How bad do you want it later? It may seem a bit far out, but if you invest in your future in January and patiently stamp the time card day in and day out, your time will come...just not this month. So here's to January, the unsung month, when champions are made and no one notices.

I ran past the ski resort the other day...

Actually I ran past both Brandywine and Boston Mills Resorts on the towpath heading south. It was Christmas Eve I have to say it definitely brought back some good old memories. Not only that but it gave me a chance to reflect a bit on how my athletic career has changed over the past several years and how that has basically shaped my life.

I grew up less than 3 miles from the ski resort. But for all intents and purposes I grew up at the ski resort. Literally every winter day from the 3rd grade to senior year in high school my life was consumed by skiing. When could I ski next, with who (normally Jimi and Chad), where (normally Brandywine) and for how long. The early days also posed questions like how am I going to get there, what will I eat and how will I get home as late as possible (normally Mom, a Snickers Bar and Mom, respectively). I managed to get all the questions answered each year to make sure I kept skiing as much as possible. That was my life and I wouldn't have it another way.

So naturally as I got older the skiing became competitive, I was getting better and better and I was having more and more fun each year. Most winters I was able to tag along with Dad for a week in Colorado on his business trips, this provided me more opportunities to ski with some good kids and learn the latest trends in skiing so that I could really set the bar high when it was time to come back down to Ohio.

It was time to get a job in high school and skiing was still on the mind. Lucky for me one of Ohio's best ski specialty shops was about 2 minutes down the road from school. Even better the owner's son went to my school and naturally through skiing we became friends and coworkers. Over the course of several years I was lucky enough to have made the people at Buckeye Sports Center not just my employer, but my second home, my second family, my best friends, my girlfriends, and even more. We were a close knit group of people who all shared the same love for skiing. We made our livings skiing, we talked skiing, we read skiing books and magazines, we watched skiing movies, and in our free time we skied together. We had easy access to the worlds latest and best gear and the cheapest lift tickets across the country. We were a make shift winter family and skiing was our last name. My skiing life was becoming well rounded and the line between it and real life was getting frozen over.

BSC is a part of my life I hold dearly. From the friendships and family to learning the business of retail, Buckeye represents a certain part my life in the truest and purest sense. But all of that BSC love will have to wait for another time and blog...

Back to skiing. I was good. Really good, and getting better. Free skiing was just starting to become semi popular and myself and my friends were on the eastern forefront of what is now called the freestyle skiing revolution. In the winter I was competing as much as I could but it was tough to find freestyle events where skiers were allowed to enter, when we found them, we entered, and we won most of the time. In the summers I was going to camps across the county and doing quite well. As a result of all of this my skills, local popularity, and my head were growing year over year and I liked it.

Enter February 2005. The annual Surge (remember that stuff?) Big Air Competition at Brandywine Ski Resort. Now in the hierarchy of important events this one ranked pretty low being a very small local event in the middle of customer appreciation weekend at the resort. It didn't get me points or standings and I don't even think it was a USSA sanctioned event. None the less this event was big for me. It was on my "home court" with all my friends and family there most years.

It was a sunny Sunday afternoon and the 25ft or so table top they built was actually respectable for Ohio. The snow was soft and fast. This was going to be a whole lot of fun...and easy I remember thinking.

The competition format was easy. Everyone jumps twice, 3 judges (all my friends) score you on amplitude, style, and landing. Take your best score of the 2 jumps. My randomly assigned number that afternoon happened to be 747. Fitting, I remember thinking, because my friend Jimi and I had a pretty solid reputation around the resort for jumping MUCH higher than anyone around. We were also the reigning champs in this event for the past 3 years. Jimi wasn't there this day. He was attending a funeral of a close friend of ours grandfather, most of my friends were at the funeral. I should have been at the funeral too.

I have to say I will never forget for the rest of my life the calmness I felt standing in the start box waiting for the sign to go. The sound of some friends shouting out my number, the cowbells ringing and my last name and number getting the call for the go-ahead. I remember approaching the jump as usual in a quasi tuck position trying to gain as much speed as possible. I remember leaving the ground. Then I remember something going wrong. Way wrong. I was high in the air and it was silent.

After performing some variation of a twisting flipping upside down inside out something or another, I came down hard, perpendicular to the pitch line. The impact almost took me to the ground but I fought to stay upright, one ski ejected because of the force. I over shot the landing pretty significantly and landed flat from about 30ft up. It wasn't dramatic and probably just really sloppy looking. I remember gathering my ski and feeling embarrassed. I had a hard time getting it back on and getting down the rest of the hill. When I finally got down a reporter from The Plain Dealer walked up to me and asked if she could ask me a few questions about freestyle skiing and this event. Sure, why not. Talking to the reporter was the first time I really experienced the stinging pain in my right knee. It hurt like hell but I was keeping cool as we spoke. When we were done talking I hopped back on the chair lift and back up to the start line.

Because of the large number of participants it would be a while until my final attempt. So I gingerly skied over to a pack of friends sitting and watching on the side of the hill near the jump. One was a ski patroller. When I skied up to her I remember her asking me what happened up there, it wasn't like me. I told her I didn't know but that I heard my knee pop when I landed and that it hurt really bad. She rolled up my ski pant, grabbed a rubber glove from her medical kit and stuffed it with ice. She said it looked swollen, to keep the ice on it and whatever i do, DON'T JUMP AGAIN, this little event was not worth it. It wasn't that bad, I remember thinking as she skied off.

I am here to tell you, had I listened to her that day, my athletic career would not be what it is or isn't today. But of course I ignored her, jumped again and this time managed to completely blow out my right knee upon "landing". My knee had completely exploded from the inside. Even though I executed the jump properly in the air my semi weakened injured knee could not take the impact of landing again and completely gave out on me. My whole body smashed to the snow. After what seemed like hours I was loaded onto a sled and was taken (by my friend) off the side of the hill and into the medical hut. I remember asking the ski patrollers as they were getting me on the back board if this meant that I disqualified. They laughed...I wasn't joking. Once in the medical hut the pain set in, it was the most concentrated and intense feeling I had ever experienced in my life. I will never forget the look on my dad's face when the doctor told him the damage.

What happened from there is less important. But what I like to tell people is that it really wasn't that big of a deal. Just a few trips to the hospital, several MRI's and X-Rays over the course of 3 months. A knee reconstruction surgery at 19 years old, several months on a couch, more in PT, missed school, strained friendships, plenty of finger pointing, a plastic trophy (I actually still won on my first jump) a custom made thigh to ankle ski brace, buckets of tears and pain killers, and most importantly the experience of listening to a doctor tell me I would never competitively ski again. Not to mention enough alone time on a couch to come face to face depression, doubt, regret, attempted prescription drug abuse, my parents, medical bills and the reality of dealing with a life and body changing injury.

My skiing life hit a brick wall hard and fast that day in February. And my real life was staring me in the face. The good life I knew from age 9 was over. What the hell was I going to do now, I remember thinking.

Fast forward a year or so. Healed emotionally and physically I was back in college. John Carroll. I had just transferred from a school in Buffalo, New York that I went to right out of high school. It was a good move to transfer. The only reason I went there was because I had a chance to ski on the Holiday Valley Ski Team and I needed to be close to the resort. Out of high school I chose my college based on skiing without ever seeing the school or campus. Maybe I wasn't healed completely, denial is a bitch. The injury prevented me from skiing at a high level and the team never panned out for me. So after a two years in Buffalo I moved home to Cleveland and focused on something other than skiing for once in my life...graduating college.

I can honestly say I don't remember why, but that spring I signed up for the Cleveland Marathon 10k. My dad took me to the expo. I stayed up all night the night before with nerves and ran the race in a pair of sweat pants and a tee shirt. I remember sprinting to the line trying to finish under an hour. For the first time since my accident I felt a rush that equaled what I felt on the slopes. It was different in a way, but a similar feeling of being alive rushed through my body as I pushed though the line. I couldn't believe it.

Crossing the finish I was exhausted, but something about the experience was addicting. This running thing, I remember thinking, it's tough, but I kinda like it...

A Christmas Comeback

All of the gifts are opened and the family is hanging around the house playing with all the new goods. Mom is already at the stove prepping the coming feast. I am sitting here on the couch, still in my pj's just sort of relaxing and thinking about this past year. But more importantly thinking about how much I am anticipating 2010. I am normally not one to contemplate the passing years much but after spending the last good hour paging through a book my sister gave me, I couldn't help but to think things though.

Lance Armstrong's The Comeback 2.0 is something impressive. But before I get into it I must admit two things: 1. I like Lance, don't love him, I respect him as an endurance athlete authority and cancer fighting champion. But I'm not obsessive, this book is the first piece of Livestrong paraphernalia I have ever owned. 2. The book is more of a photo journal than story book, meaning its words are few as the pictures tell most of the story's. The pictures are pretty vivid and awfully insightful into the private life of such a "superstar".

None the less the book's chronicles of Lance's 2009 has left me to put some good thought into what 2009 was for me and what I hope to see 2010 pan out to look like. But mostly 2010. I cant wait for it. I guess because of the perspective of the book I look forward to 2010 from an athletic view. I am sitting here coffee in hand, warm, cozy and full of Christmas contentment. But inside I am ready for the 2010 to be hear. I am ready to do the things I did not in 2009. And I can't wait to feel the push and pain I will conflict upon my body. To put in the hours I didn't in the past.

Lance's book proved to me that every year should be better than the next and that it is never too late to peak. It made me anxious to put in the real work and to not fear anything, or anyone. It gave me confidence. Maybe I am just a decade late in feeling the Armstrong effect but I have to admit it is in full force as I sit here quietly with my family. Because inside the fire is lit, its hot and it's burning a flame with the power of a thousand suns.

I never thought I would have such a cliche source of motivation but I have to say I don't mind it. Although he has transcended endurance sports and has become a household name among the most nonathletic, I am proud to be inspired by the best. Because as much as you might dislike his popularity, or continue to question his cleanliness I contend that he is the poster child for our fringe sport and quite frankly one of the best to ever live. So why fight it?

With all that being said, Lance isn't my hero and I probably won't sport the little yellow bracelet but I do respect the guy as an athlete and beyond. I respect his drive, his focus, his expectancy for the win, and his down to earth approach to fame, and to be honest I respect his business sense. Not to mention his determination to cure the most lethal disease in the world.

So as I leave 2009 behind and look forward to 2010, as of right now I have to one person to thank for the motivation. I have to say It's rather unexpected, a bit cliche, but when it comes down to it, quite invited. See you in "10".

Don't Forget The 50k...The Triathlon Daze

I am running my first 50k trail race on January 17th. I guess it will act as my first official race of the 2010 campaign. A bit earlier than usual but there will be a considerable gap of time between it and the next one. In all reality I will treat it more like an off season adventure than an in season race. And here in lies the problem. This will serves as longest single run I will have ever embarked on. I plan to finish in a reasonable time and I know it is going to really beat me up mentally and physically. Further more my coach from Madison, WI is flying in to hit the trails with me. You would think a race with those accolades would warrant a bit more attention than I am giving it.

Don't get me wrong, I am training consistently, training long and going through all the motions to make sure I toe the line prepared. But the things is, well, I just don't care too much about it. I mean, I guess I am excited, looking forward to the challenge, maybe, but the focus, the eye of the tiger, the relentless drive, it's not there. It's not even close to there. It's like I am intentionally disrespecting the 31 some miles of relentless CVNP trails that plan on kicking my ass for 5+ hours in 6 weeks. And I don't care. I am not scared, anxious, nervous, psyced, nothing...I am emotionally flat lined about this very long and testing race and I can not figure out why.

So here I am running my favorite trails daily, and as the cold winter forest trots past my glazed eyes my brain is dreaming. It's dreaming of sweaty and humid summer days on the pavement, of mass swim starts and running off the bike. It's dreaming about the podium and hammering on down in the bars. About 59 min 40k's and 39 min 10ks, about splits and transitions. My mind is dreaming about better days, warmer days, race daze.

So I realize, the truth is, I only really ever care about one thing. Racing triathlon fast and hard. It's what drives me, it's what focuses me, it's what I am meant to do. These trails, this 50k although challenging and brutal, they are not my motivation, they will not push me. But triathlon will. I get up for triathlon, and frankly that's about it.

So the trails this winter are long and cold but they will serve their purpose by letting me dream. They will force me to prepare for and respect them in January but for now they will allow me to dream about my lust for triathlon. Their lasting miles will force me to my limits this winter but as they do, they will serve as the setting for my dreams to unfold, and patients to run thin. They will serve as a place for me to learn, that I just don't love the pain of another race like I do triathlon.

So here is to careless winter patients and relentless desire for triathlon.

Welcome to DeJulius Blog. Chronicles of hard triathlon racing and the thrill of barely remembering it. I call that the race daze.