Tales of Mice and (Iron)men

So I’m getting to the point where my swimming is getting good enough to attend what’s called CIC swim at my gym.  The initials stand for something cute that some brainac marketing person came up with, but I call it an ass whooping with a fancy acronym.  It’s billed as something easier than Masters but still tough – um yes - I’d definitely say that it was.

Ironically enough, CIC swim is taught by my Tri coach, who incidentally is a 7 time ironman finisher (including Kona twice and Escape from Alcatraz once). Don’t ask me why, but I PAY Jene’ good money to kick my ass.  Actually kick is too nice a word – obliterate is more appropriate. 

So the morning goes something like this: I show up at about 5:45 to do a few warmup laps. 6:00am: Jene’ shows up and gets us moving.  200 yard warmup (wait wasn’t I already warmed up?), followed by something insane she calls ladders.  Ladders are a lovely mathematical torture of swimming a solid 300 yards, then 200, then 100 with measly 20 second breaks between the sets.  Mind you, she’s taking it easy on me – she’s making the rest of the more seasoned triatletes in our group do even more.  As the hour progresses, its drills, sprints, more drills and finally the elusive cool down.

When I finally get out of the pool at 7:00, I’m a ball of quivering Jell-O and notice that I’m sweating as I’m drying myself off – um, I thought you couldn’t sweat in water?  I feel like a total looser until one of the other triatletes in my group walks over and says “Hey….good job Marcus.  Nice workout!  You know when I first started training back in January I could barely swim.”  I thank Jeff and smile.  Perhaps there’s hope for me yet.

Of Races Won and Lost

Ok, so there’s no prayer of me ever winning a race, but hey, the title was kind of catchy.  What I’m speaking of is of course the Sunday’s Oklahoma City Half Marathon.  I definitely didn’t win and didn’t loose either, but came in right at the middle of the pack.  While I had hopes of a massive PR going into the race, I was humbled very quickly by the weather.  The conditions were, to quote Robin Williams, “hot and shitty with crappy to come”.  Temps in the high 70’s at the start and humidity in the low 80% would have made for a great day to sit on the beach and sip margaritas but not to run a race.  When I was sweating like the piggy that I had for lunch by mile 2, I knew it was gong to be a bad day.  To make matters worse, it was windy – really windy. 

I pushed hard, but by mile 9 I was tired, hot, windblown and dehydrated. I pushed, but when I found myself working hard to maintain an 11:00 pace into the wind, I just gave up.  Mentally I was toast…my goal wasn’t a PR, but the free cheeseburger that I prayed that the gods of Hardee’s would be providing to the finishers.  To make a long story short, I was discouraged, demoralized and kind of pissed when I crossed the finish line.   I should have been able to nail this race!

I stayed pretty pissed until today.  Eladio (aka the Runner’s Edge sage) sent out a post mortem email of the race.  I’ll spare you the details, but basically I wasn’t alone.  Apparently the average time was 10 mins slower this year than last (when conditions were decent).  Anecdotal reports that I got from all my friends that ran the race confirmed that. With that new knowledge I actually felt better about my performance on Sunday. 

If I can pull any positive from the otherwise crappy experience, it was that I need to start training myself mentally if I’m ever going to get good at this tri thing.  During the race I found myself destroying myself mentally even though my body still had plenty left to give.  Once my mind was out of it, the heart went, then the legs and finally the race.  That book that Rianman recommended that I read about mental training for triathlons – yup – its on the coffee table waiting for me.  Guess what I’m off to do after I publish this puppy?

Stupid is as Stupid Does

Yup, I'm an idiot. More than an idiot - I'm just incredibly stupid and irresponsible. 

So I'm down here in Oklahoma City getting ready to run the half.  No biggie, no stress. I've done this a million times before. You just register, show up, pick up your number, grab your goodie bag, fill said bag with crap, hydrate, stuff face with pasta, run, get more crap at finish line, stretch out and head home.  Same basic procedure I've done countless times.

That being the case, I'm now a pro at the out of town race thing.  I follow the same procedure every time:

1. Check with wife to make sure race doesn't correspond with any important anniversary/birthday/dinner - check
   
2. Reserve hotel room - check
   
3. Book flight (if necessary) - check
   
4. Book rental car (if necessary) - check
   
5. Register for race - CRAP!  Forgot to take care of that little detail.
   

No worries! When I did OKC three years ago, it wasn't that big of a race and they were still accepting registration at the expo.  Being the good little runner that I am, I check their site and see that you can still register in person the day before the race. Cool!  So I'll just suck it up and pay $80 to run a half marathon at the last minute.  Stupid, but hey, I'm not too bright, so I'll do it.

So I, grab the wife, hop in the car and head to OKC only to find out when I enter the expo that the half is sold out.  CRAP!  I've driven 5 hours.  What do I do now?

Do I punt, and head home to KC? No.  Too shameful.

Do I run the race in stealth mode?  No.  Too stupid.  Its probably an offence up there with doping in the Tour or roids in baseball.  Nope. Ain't going to risk it.

Find an event rep and beg, plead, cry?  Nope.  Its not manly to grovel or cry.

Pay $110 for the last minute registration for the full and only run the half.  Done. Pride intact, wallet lighter and charity happier. 

Yup.  I just paid $110 to run a flipping half marathon!  Like I said, stupid is as stupid does.  

Its a Big Race Weekend Out There!

So this is evidently a big week for road races.  Most of my friends in Runner's Edge will be running in one of three biggies:  Nashville, Oklahoma City or our hometown favorite, the Trolley Run.  Tomorrow morning, I'm making the trek south to run in OKC.  Thankfully, my marathon running days are over*, so I'm just doing the half down there.  I made a conscious decision last summer that after running 5 marathons, I wanted to switch to halfs as my longest race distance and thus be able to focus on doing Tri's. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy doing fulls, I just wanted a new challenge (the tri's) and I also wanted to get faster (the halfs).  Isn't my reasoning cool?  I get to do less running, I get to go faster and I get to spend less time in the hot sun. Sounds like the perfect compromise to me!

The OKC half was my first half marathon three years ago, so I'm looking forward to running it on Sunday morning to see what I have in me.  Because I'm not doing the full, I should literally be done and chomping on my burger at the finish line before 9:00 am (God and Hardee's  continued sponsorship willing!).  Gone are the days of me running in the hot sun at noon, hitting the wall at 22 and dreaming/drooling for a nice cold beer and greasy burger for the last 10 miles.  To that I say a hardy "Yippee!"   Wait, I'll be in Oklahoma, so shouldn't it be "YEEE HAW!"?

Good luck to my fellow Runner's Edgers wherever you are! Kick butt, take names!  Here's to many potential PRs this weekend!

*Being a male, I reserve to change my mind for any and/or all reasons at any time.  Running the 26.2 miles of an Ironman will count as a marathon, but will not constitute a changed mind.

Tapering

So I'm tapering this week in preparation for OKC.  Tapering, for those of you out there in the Blogosphere that haven't been around endurance athletes, is that week or weeks before a a race were you cut down on your training and basically prepare your body for the upcoming race.  Some might call it relaxing, but I, the Engerizer Bunny, consider it to be a small little slice of hell. If I were just tapering one sport (the running) it wouldn't be that bad, but I have to slow all of my tri training down.   So I can't do hard pool workouts and I can't spin hard!  BTW:  Eladio, if you're reading this...my dog Cooper is writing my blog today and Marcus is in no way involved and loves tapering and takes it incredibly seriously.  OK, so I probably should enjoy this time thinking of it as a small deposit towards a potential PR in OKC.   All the same, I have to say I don't like it - what the heck do I do with all of this time that I now have?  OK I'm done ranting...actually Cooper's done ranting.  Woof!

So Why am I Doing This?

I’m insane. No, not Unibomber insane, but I'm just one notch above crazy. I’m really weird in that I’m not comfortable just doing nothing. I must always be doing something. If you want to torture me, put me on a couch and make me watch TV for hours on end. I will go insane; just ask my wife to tell you the knee fracture story. Don’t get me wrong, I don't have ADHD, I just like to do stuff. I remodel stuff, I tear apart stuff, I build stuff, I repair stuff, I run, I bike, I swim, I dive, I travel, I photograph, I cook like a madman – I do anything but stand still. One of my girlfriends way back when called me the Energizer Bunny. When I first heard that, I thought to myself , “I’m not pink and fluffy nor do I wear Ray-Bans while playing a drum, but I do keep going and going and going. Hey, I like that – nice analogy! Thanks, unidentified ex-girlfriend!”

I thought the cure to my restlessness and boredom would be cycling: Did a Century – check. How about running a really long distance? Did a half marathon – check. How about running an insane distance? Did a marathon – 5 of them.- check multiple times. How about running a race while wearing a lab coat and nerdy glasses? Ran the Bay to Breakers in San Francisco – check. Now I’m bored again and in search of a new challenge – what will it be this time?

Enter Rian Sanders – mild mannered software sales dude with a secret passion for sports that torture. He’s not only a triathlete, he’s an Ironman. So one day Rian and I are drinking a few beers and we start talking tri’s. I listen intently and wonder if I too, could be a member of this insane club. I don’t know if he saw the glimmer in my eye, but I’m guessing that he knew that he had another one hooked. I did my first baby tri a few months after that conversation - the Lifetime Fitness Indoor Tri and absoluty loved it. He once again got the sale. Rian, damn you're good! But remember this - I place all blame on you for my entry into this sport. If my wife gets pissed at me for buying a $4000 tri bike, I'm giving her your number.

I Got a Race Coming Up

So I’ve got a race coming up this weekend. Unfortunately it’s not a tri – still too early in the season for that – it’s a half marathon. This is my second time doing the Oklahoma City Memorial race. OKC was my very first half marathon and it still holds a special place in my heart. Basically the race is a memorial to the people that lost their lives in the bombing of the Murrah Federal Building back in 1995. Before you start making off color Fresno jokes, OKC is actually a pretty cool little city. It has gorgeous neighborhoods, one of my favorite mom and pop Italian restaurants and one of the best German Grocery Stores in the Midwest.

At this point in the season, I feel really good and I’m hoping for a half marathon PR. When I ran it back in 2006, I did it in 2:32:03. I’m hoping to cut a good chunk off of that time. As races go, this one is pretty damn cool. Its dead flat except one or two freeway overpasses, goes through some incredibly scenic old neighborhoods, has great crowd support AND here’s the best part - since Hardee’s is a sponsor, you get either a cheeseburger or a breakfast sandwich at the finish! When I say you get a burger, it’s not a coupon for said burger, but a greasy hunk of seared animal flesh that you can devour in the finishers chute! Think of it…you run a few miles, cross the finish line, wave to the wife, get some water, perhaps a chunk of fruit and wolf down a small piece of greasy heaven. Damn I love this race!

Who's Lurch?

Lurch's real name is Marcus Zehnder.

I was born in San Francisco - you know that city on the Left Coast where all of the nuts go?  Mom and dad were immigrants from Europe...mom from Germany and Dad from Switzerland.  Having parents from a foreign country is kind of cool.  I got to eat really cool food growing up, I was more well  traveled than your average adult by the time I was 10, I got to speak two languages from birth and I was able to teach my parents the English language on occasion.  I mean,  how cool is it to be a 5th grader and be able to correct your parents when they speak English?

I grew up in a neighborhood in San Francisco's west side - for all of you Kansas Cityians, think Brookside houses on a hill perpetually in the fog.  Cold, windy, wet, dreary but kind of cool nonetheless.  We played football on the streets, played basketball in an old schoolyard and played baseball in our cramped yard (and broke every window on the back of our house in the process).  My best friend was a guy named Johnny Onken.  Johnny and I were buds - we did everything together - played sports, saw movies, played video games, watched TV, basically all the stuff that two red blooded American kids do to stay out of trouble.  Johnny died of leukemia when I was in 6th grade.  Incredibly sad, I know, but he was the inspiration for me to start participating in endurance athletics.  

Like Kansas City, schools in San Francisco suck.  My parents saved their money and sent both my brother Thomas and I to private school.  Yup, stoplight red sweaters, white shirts and grey cords - that was me.  I played soccer (and sucked), I played basketball (and sucked) and I got really good grades (yup, I was kind of a nerd). When I moved onto high school, I was still a nerd.  At St. Ignatius (SI for those in the know), my nerdiness was a good thing. I kicked butt in class,  but I still sucked at all things athletic. My freshman year, I ran track - blissfully thinking that by  coming from the same gene pool as my athletic brother I would have some innate athletic ability that just needed to be uncovered.  Um...nope. I still sucked.  I was the guy at the back of the pack that got yelled at by my coach.  For the longest time I thought that the words "Get your ass up there" were part of my name.  Yup, I was a crappy runner.

Fast forward to adulthood:  I had done the adult thing and moved to the suburbs, bought the house and lived the boring life of singledom in bedroom community about 20 miles east of San Francisco.  Since I wasn't married and didn't have a serious girlfriend and I was done remodeling my house, I decided I needed a hobby, so I took up cycling.  I bought a road bike, clipped myself in and started pedaling.  After a few days of dodging cars and being fearful of becoming a very large piece of roadkill, I got the hang of it and really got into the sport.  I rode most days after work, I rode every Saturday, I hung out with my cycling buddies, I finally found a sport that I was good at. I was the cool dude on the bike.

Fast forward a few more years:  Its 2003.  I'm engaged to my now wife Christy and we move to Kansas City.  We finally get settled into the new house on Halloween.  Between tearing out walls and rebuilding our house, I get antsy and feel like I need something to do.  Since its colder than hell outside, I know that I can't ride, so I go to our local running emporium and spy a flyer for a running club called Runner's Edge. I pick it up, give it a quick read and think - "Hey, running!  That sounds like fun -  I'll meet some new people, I'll get into shape AND I can do it in winter!"  Yup, that was it, that flyer was the catalyst to becoming a runner and ultimately becoming a triathlete. 

They Call Me Lurch

Lurch does a Tri.  Kinda catchy huh?  

So, why Lurch?  Lurch was a a name given to me in high school by a buddy of mine named Dave Tognotti  At first I thought that it was in reference to my keen athletic prowess  on the track - you know - that final lurch of energy needed for that last jump in the triple jump. No, it was in reference to Lurch of Addams Family fame.  You know - the tall, bumbling, kind of misshapen guy that talked in grunts rather than full sentences.  Um...Dave, I don't think that was a compliment. No matter, that's its a cap or not, it kind of stuck. I also sucked at track, so it definitly wasn't a reference to my athletic prowess.

So why the in depth discussion of Lurch and how I got the nickname in high school?  When Blogger made me specify a name for my blog, I racked my brain for a few seconds and that's what I came up with.  I know, its kind of odd, but hey, I'm a tall, uncoordinated guy that occasionally speaks in grunts rather than full sentences.  Either way the moniker fits and I kind of like it - besides isn't it a catchy name for a blog? 

OK, enough babbling about the name - this blog is the story of Lurch (aka Marcus Zehnder) in his quest to become a triathlete.  I've never done a blog before, but the way I figure it, this might be a good thing to occupy my time when I'm not in the pool, on the bike or out running (should I also add "at the massage therapist's office, at the chiropractor or at the orthopedist's office?" - lets hope not).  I view this thing as a kind of verbal play by play of my quest to be a triathlete.   So, if you're bored at work and want something humerus/sad/pathetic to read - read my blog - it might give you a good laugh.