Over the Hill Again

The Goat took a long break after the marathon, if it can even be categorized as a break.  In additon to playing nurse maid to me after my deviated septum surgery, he also played Mr. Mom to six.  Add to that college scout, moving man, dog ambulance, cook, clean up specialist, dog burial survices, and puppy rescue services.

To say the least, over a month long marathon has been going on behind the scenes, and the Ironman is still on the menu.  It's a lot ot eat, even for the Goat.  Judging from the list above, goats eat everything, obviously.

Snow on Utah Hill wasn't enough to stop the Goat from going over the hill again.  He beat me to Mesquite by about three hours and waited it out in his road biker clothes, not usually seen in those parts of the country.  I told him it could be dangerous.  :)  Of course, my best friend heard of a lone biker spotted within the city limits and wondered if it was the Goat.

I picked him up, and we took porta-puppy, the only surviving Bulldog, in his Paris Hilton puppy bag to dinner with us.  The Goat was hungry after a 50+ ride in the cold.  Feliz Navidad, Bahhhhh.  :)

St. George Marathon 09

Fall whispered quietly in the chilly darkness that summer was gone, but this didn’t affect the Goat as he put on a few layers of clothes and headed out for a “fun” 26.2 mile run. He hopped on a shuttle bus that drove him to the starting point of the race. Bon fires kept everyone warm until it was time to start. It sounded like his favorite pre-race surprise. His second favorite not so surprising pre-race memory involved the lovely forests. The port a potty shortages resulted in long lines and runners exploring the forest in search of pine cones. The Goat had no major complaints. He was prepared like a good boy scout.

The Goat was on a steady pace and ahead of schedule until the last five miles when he began to refer to himself as “one hurting unit.” The first thing he wanted to tell me was that he finished the race seven minutes slower than he had planned. He had calculated that he would qualify for the Boston Marathon if he stayed on schedule. He attributed this to his weight loss and not enough time to rebuild his muscles yet. “Next time,” he said.

I tried not to hurt myself as I imagined running 26.2 miles in 3:38. “That could take me two days!” I said, making sure that he knew 3:38 was amazing. “Maybe you and your sister can do it next year.” He suggested. “I get tired driving my car 26.2 miles. How many days will they give me?” I asked, laughing. Honestly, my brain has a hard time computing the distance. I admire it, but I’m not sure it would be for me. I know the old cliché says that if you can’t beat them then join them; well I certainly can’t beat him, not at this.

The Goat went and got a massage that afternoon and took it easy for a few days, plotting out his “next” mountain to climb. Good job Goat!

http://www.stgeorgemarathon.com/

She-Wolf Comes out of Closet

It was a long awaited event. The “She-Wolf” finally gathered up the courage to debut in her first triathlon. Her fear ravaged her in the weeks preceeding the Kokopelli. We didn’t think she had the guts, and maybe, just maybe, telling her such a thing proved motivational for her. She showed up ready to prove that wolves have guts just like goats.

It was a beautiful and peaceful morning when we arrived at Sandhollow Reservoir. The sun had not yet risen, but its glow began to grace the water. There was something magical about to occur, or so we thought. We set up our transition and pulled on our wet suits. We giggled our way down to the water where She-Wolf began to howl, “WE ARE GOING TO WIN!” Of course we both laughed more than we were before, knowing this was far from the truth. But then again, what is the definition of winning when you accomplish something you were so afraid of you didn’t think you possibly could? Winning is fulfilling a dream, an accomplishment, and in this case crossing the finish line alive.

The swim began, and of course the She-Wolf described it as mating season of carp floundering in the water, over crowded and quite slippery. Each buoy smiled upon us as evidence that we were indeed moving forward inspite of the lack of turbulance. Steady and slow we paced until we arrived at the boat ramp excited to see our flip flops were waiting for us. We slipped them on and headed up to the bike transition.

She-Wolf thought bike transition was a place for primping, and I had to remind her that we needed to put down the make up and get going. No, really, she didn’t bring make up, but it sounded good. We crossed the transition mat into the bike portion and began the ride. The first small incline the She-Wolf asked, “Is this the big hill?” Of course she knew it wasn’t, but we both laughed. We made it to the big hill, crossed the cattle guard and climbed without incident. All was well. We made it to the turn around and headed back down the hill.

“Kaboooooooom……….squeak……shoosh…..” was all we heard, and we came to a quick stop. I was afraid it was her tire at first, thinking she would be traumatized for life. Then I realized it was my back tire. I flipped my bike over and changed out the flat, got it aired back up and thought we were ready to go again. That’s when we saw the tube bulging out a pea sized hole in my tire. Not only had my tube exploded, but my tire was shredding. At that point I realized there was nothing else I could do to get my tire fixed. The second tube quickly exploded through the hole in the tire. I looked at She-Wolf and told her she would have to go on without me. Her sad wolf eyes looked as if they would cry at any moment. “You can do it. Go ahead, and I will meet you at the run portion.” Off she went down the hill, and I knew her self motivation would pick up in honor of the “idea” we had for this day all the while hating the shredded bike tire that ended the race for me.

There were a couple of volunteers at the cattle guard, and one was really sweet . He tried to get me picked up since walking all the way back in my bike shoes and cleats was not an option. He could tell I was totally disappointed, and he kept offering up entertainment to make things easier. I have to admit, it was a bit comical all the while disappointing. The cattle guard back flip was pretty cool, but the stink bug experiment was not on my list of favorites. The emergency truck said they could not pick me up for a half hour. I was quite annoyed with that news since that truck was going up and down the course the entire time we were riding before. It was blowing diesel exhaust in our faces the entire time, and we were complaining to each other about it. It was even on the cattle guard when we went up the hill, and we had to cross the cattle guard next to it. Then when I needed a ride to transition with my shredded tire, the truck couldn’t come get me for half hour. I was sad.

They finally came and got me, and by then I knew it was too late to do anything else. I just wanted to go home at that point. To make matters worse, the guy said, “Give me your timing chip. You are disqualified because I gave you a ride.” Duh. I already knew I was done, but did he have to say it like that? The Goat snapped a picture of me getting my bike out of the back of the truck, and he didn’t realize what I’d just been through when he recommended for me to go finish the run. The race was basically over, and my motivation was gone so I declined.

We headed down to the finish to cheer on the She-Wolf. Every single woman wearing blue regardless of size, shape, or color that the Goat saw, he automatically thought it was her! In fact, her ran up to the podium and told them to make a big deal of her when she crossed the finish line. I kept yelling to him that it wasn’t her, and he couldn’t hear me. So when the lady in blue came up the announcer kept yelling at her and calling her She-Wolf, and it most certainly was not the She-Wolf!!! Later the She-Wolf said she could hear the announcer from down on the trail in the desert and was wondering if he could see her all the way out there. When she came running in, she looked like she could do a repeat of the entire race. She was smiling and did not appear to be suffering at all. The Goat ran to the podium again and said, “This is the real She-Wolf!” And it was.

The She-Wolf accomplished something she was very afraid of for a long time. She was so excited to prove to herself that she could actually do a triathlon. She kissed her medal, and said she could do another one but not that day.

It was pedicures and massages after that. Then the lil sista arrived. That Goat became a professional “Nanny Goat” for the evening, and it was good.

Lake Las Vegas Triathlon

The Goat was aching to try out the new Cervelo in its debut triathlon. Sure enough his creativity flourished once again as he planned a “weekend” getaway around a race. I couldn’t complain. The accommodations were beautiful. http://www.lakelasvegas.com/accommodations_hyatt.asp

The sprint wasn’t enough for him. He had to sign up for the long course, a 0.96 Mile Swim, 25.25 Mile Bike, 5.9 Mile Run. http://www.sunsetracing.com/events/lake-las-vegas-tri When I got down to the race course the sprint racers were making the transition from swim to bike. The Goat was long gone on the long course. I figured I had some time before he came in on the bike. I was immediately proven wrong. After only about 5-6 long course bikers had come in, the Goat totally caught me off guard. There he was zooming by, and all I had time for was a tail shot. I figured he had to be flying on the new bike to be that far up in the pack. It was really exciting to see him so far ahead.

I hurried down to the ramp by transition, but unfortunately pictures must be taken with the lens cap off. I fired myself as the Goat paparazzi that day. I walked down to the village and waited for the finishers to cross the mat. Cow bells were abundant. I found my place up on a wall next to a tree and snagged a video clip of the finish. Yay!

The Goat was a bit frustrated when he finished. Apparently some of the helpers on the course, mostly kids, directed the first runners out on a golf course instead of in the direction of the true race course. He said he ran around an extra ten minutes in the wrong place before he figured out they sent him in the wrong direction. He still took 3rd place in his age group, but he could have shaved off a good ten minutes if he’d stayed on course.

Overall, the Goat was very satisfied with the "pretty" and "fast" new bike.

Bicycle Polygamy

Bicycle Polygamy

The relationship began as lust on the internet. He saw something amazing. He wanted to experience the ride it could provide him. He pursued the dream even if others did not agree or understand. It was what he wanted. He clicked the mouse and waited.

The old model, an ancient Trek, was apparently due for an upgrade. I thought the Goat would dump her when he got the new model, but he just could not part with her. All the various excuses for keeping her around to add to his growing bike gear collection seemed predictable. “I need the heavy bike for training. Maybe I will set her up on the bike trainer in my classroom and ride during breaks. This old bike and I have a bond, a special relationship. We’ve been through a lot together.” So his “love” for the old girl was just too strong to let her go when the new one came along. A Cervelo P2C Dura Ace compared to the dinosaur Trek seemed no comparison, but apparently the “lust” has not yet grown into that type of “love.”

I didn’t think it was safe to buy a road bike on the internet, but apparently if you know what you are doing you can get a perfect bike for a perfect price. The Goat knew the precise measurements for the bike he needed to fit his 6’4” frame and ended up being the biggest bike frame he could get. After careful research and deciding he wanted a “Triathlon AKA Time Trial Bike,” he found her on ebay with only about 100 miles of use. The price was right, and it was the bike he’d been searching for. He made arrangements for Sunset Cycles http://sunset-cycles.com/ to assemble the bike and provide the professional bike fit. His excitement was evident each day that he checked the UPS tracking number to see where it was.

The day of the bike fit was like the Garden of Love for the Goat. He was like a little kid on Christmas morning. After the adjustments were made and the bike was ready to go, he had to take a practice loop in the parking lot. Of course that was not enough for the Goat.

His first trial ride of the new girl was the forty-four mile Veyo loop. The Goat has become familiar with this route and has done it many times now. One thing he had not expected was a car full of teenagers to hang out the window trying to grab him, not once, but on two different occasions. I was not excited to hear this, and wondered about a new purpose for the mace we got when a mountain lion was removed just blocks away from the bike trails we use frequently. Apparently, it’s a cool thing to try and kill people by grabbing them on bikes if your cerebral cortex is not fully developed. I was wondering if the Goat’s was developed when he told me he made a max speed of 46.8 miles per hour on the new Cerveza, I mean Cervelo.

Congratulations on the new partner. May you have many happy years together with safe and happy rides, and may you avoid and/or ignore teenagers who want you to fall off. It’s a beautiful bike. I would have picked it just for the color. I give it my stamp of approval minus the 46.8 mph.

Metric Century

What is a metric century? It’s not a measurement of the Goat’s childhood Angus Bull named “Century.” Instead, in a partially less smelly definition, it is a bike ride that consists of 62 miles. One hundred kilometers equals 62 miles; thus the birth of the term “metric century” is born.

The Goat decided to partake of a metric century plus a few more, disguised by the costume of a “family hike” at Zion National Park. It’s amazing how creative this man becomes when drenched in drool from the potential of sweating and experiencing bodily pain. He said to give him about three hours before I drove out to pick him up. Of course, I gave him more than he asked for as always, but his time planning is usually quite accurate. He called from a coffee shop in Springdale, saying he felt great and was ready for a “hike.”

The ride to Zion was not enough for him. He had to go up the canyon and back down to make it a cool 65 mile ride. He experienced some neck pain and did not know why and later attributed it to the new helmet he had never worn before.

I found him snoozing by the river with his face caked in salt AKA dried sweat. We went to the apple orchards and let the kids pick some fresh apples while he cleaned up and changed out of his bike gear. We headed up into the park and did a couple small hikes totaling about 2 ½ miles. The river was nice and cool and everyone enjoyed wading through it, everyone except for the Goat because he didn’t want to get his trail shoes wet. He did it anyway, and they dried out just fine.

The “metric” breakdown of the Goat’s activity consists of a few critical milestones. His weight has dropped down more than 40 pounds since his high point. He is enjoying the new old wardrobe. His custom orthotics arrived and are still in the trial stages of approval or denial. He has mastered some stretching that has greatly improved the Plantar Fasciitis. It appears to be in almost complete remission. He is trail running approximately 27 miles a week and plans to increase that within the next three weeks in preparation for the St. George Marathon. http://www.stgeorgemarathon.com/ It appears that the Goat is well on his way to achieving his goals.

Utah Half Ironman-Flesh Colored Speedos & Such

Goats have one hoof filled with removable lead. They like to keep the lead in the hoof for driving purposes. I am a back seat police woman. Lead hoof or no lead hoof, the speed limit shall be followed! The Goat is always pushing the bar to see what he can get away with or how high or fast or strong he can go. He can’t help it. It’s a result of the machine in him.

The car was loaded with bags of Hammer Gel, pretzels, bagels, salty water, and his bike graced the entire back and one folded down seat of my Honda Pilot, except for one large comfy car seat with one adorable boy in it. The Goat made it to packet pick up in time and headed straight for a pasta dinner. He went straight to sleep after that. It was pretty exciting.

He left the hotel in the wee hours of the morning to set up for the race. He came back and picked us up a little while later. Dawn was still attempting to awaken the day. We quickly realized that this was no normal summer morning. The freezing wind was blowing the buoys over in the water, and drops of rain and hail fell randomly in between rumbles of thunder. I was freezing just standing there watching the water without any intention of getting in it! It felt like winter.

After a delay to make sure there was no lightening close by, the officials decided to let the race begin in spite of the inclement weather. Since an even bigger storm was on the way, they figured the sooner the race began the better. The swim was cut in half from 1.2 to .6 miles to save time as well as to keep things safe. In years prior athletes drowned in the lake when the wind came up and created enormous waves. This time, they held the swim portion of the race in the harbor with some protection from the ravages of the open water waves, but there were definitely still waves from the wind. http://archive.deseretnews.com/archive/918699/Death-mars-triathlon.html

I could see the huge waves outside the harbor crashing over the protective wall and knew it had to be bad even though it wasn’t in the roughest or open water. There were still pretty big waves crashing in the faces of the swimmers as they struggled to keep swimming and catch air instead of an inhalation of water.

The flesh colored Speedo can be viewed in this video below!! :)

The Goat prevailed. He came out of the slippery ramp just fine and was so fast in transition to his bike that all I got was a tail shot as he left on his bike. Back to the car I went to get warm. It was so cold, and it started to down pour! A 56 mile bike ride in the rain did not sound appealing to me. I tried not to think of the slippery road or how cold it had to be out there.
Soon my sister and nephew came to help paparazzi the Goat. We waited until cyclists starting coming through transition, and we headed over hoping the rain would take a break or better yet a vacation. A few snap shots in action, and the Goat was on his way to the 13.1 mile run, looking up beat and ready to seal the deal.
My sister and I hung out and waited a while longer then took our place by the finish line to wait for the Goat. I told my sister he would probably come across while we were distracted. Right after I said that the comical relief character pranced across the finish line in what appeared to be his birthday suit! Yes, we got a bit distracted trying to make sight of fabric that was indeed there, just hard to see. Just as we turned to check for Goat, there he was! We hurried and practiced our best paparazzi moves as he proudly crossed the finish line after 5 hours 32 minutes.
During his post race interview, he, or course, critiqued his performance, but soulfully said, “I FINISHED!” And we were all very proud! Good job, Goat! http://www.active.com/page/Event_Details.htm?event_id=1489310&assetId=f04be0c7-183f-48b2-8ecd-e73adf01447c

Tropical Training

Most people go to a tropical paradise to relax but not the Goat. Sandy soft beaches, blue ocean waters, majestic view points, and vividly colored tropical flowers might be enough to fully captivate most travelers. But for the Goat, these are simply perks that embrace his addiction for sweat and muscle pain brought on by pushing his body to do things some motorized vehicles cannot do. The Goat is 75% machine and 25% goat-man.

It was a bit painful and choking hazard to swallow the Goat’s justification for his month in the tropics. Two of it with “his” and two of it with “mine” and “ours” seemed to make some sense at the same time as being senseless. It was his plan, and although I had some “issues” with all the arrangements, I coped to the best of my abilities. Unlike the Goat, I am 100% woman and 0% machine or goat-man. This can result in polar opposite perspectives. My weeks taking care of kids and dogs on the mainland while he was across the Pacific enjoying the tropics were “strange.”

He, of course, developed a dedicated workout routine consisting of daily runs between 5-18 miles, strenuous hikes from 4-8 miles, and he did the Bay Swim with his 17 year old son, who got a medal for his age division. By the time “his” left the island and “mine” and “ours” arrived the Goat was quite established in his sweating routine. I started washing his socks immediately! White had been replaced with red dyed dirt socks. Sexy. We added the regular push the stroller walk 2-3 miles a day to what he was already doing. It was nice to leave reality and go on island time for a while.

We took the girls and baby boy on a couple pretty tough hikes. http://www.dayhiker.com/directory/hawaii_nopali.htm One was 4 miles round trip and the other 8 miles round trip, both on steep, rocky trails on the Na Pali Coast. The shorter of the hikes ended at the beach, and on a different day the longer hike ended at a beautiful waterfall in the jungle. I packed our 15 month old baby boy on my back for all the hikes in an Ergo Baby Carrier I bought in Hanalei @ Kokonut Kids. http://kokonutkidskauai.com/home.html It worked like a charm! Comfortable and functional, and even if the Goat was a non believer in the beginning by the end of both hikes he was sold on it! http://www.ergobabycarrier.com/ The Goat was quite the excellent scout on these hikes! He was patient and nice to all of us and helped us all through the steep and slippery places. Occasionally grumpy/opinionated daughter #1 age fourteen even got too far ahead once, and we thought she was lost in the jungle! The Goat had to go running the trails searching for her. All turned out just fine in the end.The trip was a lot of fun, and once again I do not know how he wriggled his way shifting gears through all the obstacles, but he somehow did and always does using approved and/or unapproved methods. Bahhhhh. Mahalo Goat.

Goatology 101

“Goats are extremely curious and intelligent. They are easily trained to pull carts and walk on leads. They are also known for escaping their pens. Goats will test fences, either intentionally or simply because they are handy to climb on. If any of the fencing can be spread, pushed over or down, or otherwise be overcome, the goats will escape. Being very intelligent, once a weakness in the fence has been exploited, it will be repeatedly exploited until they determine it can no longer be overcome. Goats are very coordinated and can climb and hold their balance in the most precarious places. Goats are also widely known for their ability to climb trees, although the tree generally has to be on somewhat of an angle.” (Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Domestic_goat)

Not sure I can get him to pull my cart or walk on my lead, but I do know for sure that he will test every fence there is to be tested. For example, why is he growing a goat beard?

Some slightly sick humor for a very sick goat, literally. The 24 hour flu bug swept through our house pounding each victim hard. It traveled through youngest to oldest including guests and oddly skipped me, at least for now. The last and biggest victim, the goat, took it the hardest. I am glad to say that he appears to be on the mend after sweating out a sea of something disgusting. Not exactly how I anticipated spending the past ten days, but I’m glad it’s coming to an end, finally. Hallelujah! Vacation ASAP.

Goativations

Now that I am learning to co-exist with my competitive parts biting me for not being able to take the goat down in all things, I decided to suck it up and join him at his game. He is, after all, a great coach when it comes right down to it, helping me to reach beyond my fears and literally TRI.

A few months ago The Goat signed us up for the Utah Summer Games Triathlon @ Sandhollow Reservoir. I thought by the time the race day came around I would have enlisted at least one family member or friend to join me in this quest. I tried my best but was unable to find one single willing participant. I had survived and finished this event three years prior, but for some reason I felt more afraid of it this time. Perhaps the fact that about twenty people had told me no way and acted like I was insane when I invited them to join me, began to eat at me. When I came down with the flu four days before the race, had a baby not sleeping much at all, had a pool full of puppies in my living room, not to mention other assorted chaos, I began to agree with all my friends and family, that maybe I was indeed, out of my freaking mind.

When The Goat became concerned that he was not feeling well, and I was sick, and the race was coming up in a few days, I started to write it off, thinking maybe we would not do it at all. But as the time grew closer, things began to clear up, and The Goat’s encouragement and confidence came back to the playing field. “Your mom is coming all the way down here to babysit, and now you aren’t going to do it? Are you going to go to your family BBQ and tell them you backed out at the last minute? You’ve been riding your bike a lot pulling the Burley; you can do it. I spent $70 for you to do that race!” He baaahhhed………like a Billy Goat.

I tried to control the anxiety, but it was driving me crazy. I couldn’t sleep the night before. When the morning came and we had to leave @ 5:30AM, I felt like puking, not because I was sick but because I was so nervous. The Goat was laughing at me and tried to tell me a silly old story, but I couldn’t hear it. I just stared into the dawn wondering how in the hell I could feel so messed up inside over something I really did want to finish. That’s when I looked at him and asked him, “Why do you like to do this?!!” He said, “I need a source of motivation to work out and get in good shape.” And I said…. “So if you didn’t require a specific source of motivation to work out daily, would you still want to do this?” He said….”Maybe I wouldn’t.” Then I said….”Do you like PAIN?” He said…. “I guess I do.” And I said… “Well, I can help you out with that one.” At this point of the morning I had forgotten that feeling that comes after finishing a triathlon. My fear had taken away my memories.

Once we got to the reservoir, The Goat said he wanted to wait for me after the swim and do the big hill and run with me, but I told him no way. He did that last time, and I did not like him doing that at all. I told him to stay with the guy pack and I would do it myself in the girl pack. I meant it. For once, he listened to me, and in the end did a great job, winning 2nd in his age division!

Once I got in the water and started the swim, I realized I wasn’t afraid anymore and I just stayed calm and steady through each milestone. I wasn’t going fast for sure, but I never stopped swimming the .25 mile. When I got to my bike and put on my bike shoes and helmet and took off, I felt great. I even found out I can go over a cattle guard on a road bike if I have to. I almost panicked when I saw there was no board over it on the way up the big hill, but I had no time to hesitate unless I wanted to crash and I didn’t. My easy gear kept popping out on the big hill, and I ultimately had to hold it down to make it stop. It was sprinkling rain the whole 14 miles, and it was actually really nice except a little slippery. After I made it off the bike and changed into my running shoes, I realized I felt fine and knew for sure I would finish without any problems, steady and slow, but consistent and paced. That’s where The Goat greeted me and wanted to run the 3 miles with me, and I let him for few minutes before I told him to go back and rest and I’d finish this one out myself and see him afterwards. He snagged a kiss and said “Good job.” I found a slow steady pace next to another lady, and we plodded along and didn’t stop running until after we crossed the finish line. And of course, there was The Goat snapping a picture with his camera phone, cheering me on, telling me good job.

It was a wonderful feeling to not succumb to the fear that held me in its clenches just hours earlier. I had a rush of energy that consumed me even after a 2 hour work out. It was at this time that I remembered why I wanted to do the race, and I felt content with myself for not giving up and for allowing myself the chance to prove my freak out fears wrong. The Goat announced to me that he had just found out he had won a medal, and he said he didn’t even expect it. He was called up and got his medal, and as a whole the overcast day was nothing but sun shine. It was great! My bike even waited until after the race to get a flat tire! Amazing!

So, this post is a lot about me and my experience doing the USG triathlon, but it’s really about The Goat because without his coaching and encouragement the fear monsters would have eaten me. Good job Goat! You did a great job @ the race, and you did a great job reminding me I have to at least TRI !

Let this inspire all those who have been eaten by the fear monsters. :)

Over the Hill

It has been a long term and chronic request for me to drive to the finish point of this ride and pick up the pieces. I have to admit that the thought of it made me nervous, and the part about picking up the pieces was my wild imagination working over time. It is, afterall, a forty mile ride on a slim shoulder of a lonely desert highway that could pass itself off as Death Valley, gracing U2's Joshua Tree Album. The picture from the album (above) was shot in Death Valley but could be a twin to parts of Utah Hill. My oldest daughter keeps telling me that these areas are not conducive to human life. Maybe true in places like this one, but the goat went over the hill anyway. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Joshua_Tree

I found him at the grave yard with my aunt and uncle after he got off the Death Valley clone highway. He was alive and well, ready to hit the seafood buffet, and we did.

Total Immersion, Sexy Strassburg Socks and Such

Total immersion may sound like a religious way to wash off sins, but in this case it’s a bible about washing off old swim habits with new, more effective swimming strategies. Even goats can swim fast and easy using the secrets in this book. The Goat says it is required reading for all Olympic Swim Coaches. To say the least, he is a believer and is attempting the transition to the Total Immersion methods to work smarter instead of harder.

Instead of splashing, struggling, and working so hard to swim fast and hard, this book emphasizes the importance of moving naturally like a fish instead of like a barge. It teaches swimmers how to swim “down-hill” instead of dragging the bottom half of the body. It focuses on rotating the entire body back and forth instead of just turning the head when coming up for air. The other emphasis is stretching and making the body as tall as possible, gliding with the head lower under the water to create a sense of “swimming down-hill.”

http://www.totalimmersion.net/

A finely tuned body is always sexy, but some of the things it takes to get those results may be anything but sexy. The Strassburg Sock, for example, may be a wonderful and simple treatment for Plantar Fasciitis, but not exactly a recipe for Mc Lovin’. Apparently, turning up the stretching of the foot in this position with the aid of this incredibly sexy little girl stocking, can help with Plantar Fasciitis recovery time, even for a giant Billy Goat. Apparently, periodically wearing this elegant sock to bed or around the house while relaxing is the method of choice.

http://www.thesock.com/

The Goat has been using orthotics prescribed by the Podiatrist, and he says they have taken a lot of the stress of the ligament and decreased his pain. He went for a run yesterday and again today and says it feels better. The nerve of this guy telling me I have OCD because I can't handle crumbs on the floors or bad smells coming up from the basement. After seeing the training schedule he typed and saved as an excel file for the next year, I am going to find him a shirt that says Mr. OCD!

Every Road has its Thorn

Every road does have its thorn. We are lured by the beauty, tranquility, possibility, and adventure they lead us to regardless of the pain and/or suffering they may bring us. Did anything beautiful or rewarding ever come without a price tag of some sort? The important thing to consider is that we choose our own road, a sort of unspoken agreement with ourselves that we hold nobody else liable for our choices. And if by chance the road we have taken is filled with more thorns than beautiful journeys, we can always take a new one next time. It’s not the end of the road because the end is always the beginning.

A man who is used to the flat effortless bike rides of Florida must be reawakened with the magnificent variety the Southwest has to offer. The mother lode of great biking trails exists right here under our feet. It’s amazing how accessible, safe, and available these great bike paths are. Many of them are right in the middle of nature filled with wildlife, plants, and free of the hustle and bustle sounds of a city. The therapeutic refuge is top notch.

These trails are my sanctuary, but for the goat it is not enough. He always needs more, something bigger, something better, and something he can put more miles onto. Yesterday he took off on about a forty mile bike ride. Where the trails ended he began. Carrying a driver’s license, debit card, and my phone number might sound like a great idea in case of an emergency. But what happens when he loses it somewhere between here and there? Luckily, no chipmunks ate it, and he found it later when he took a drive looking for it.

The main obstacle of this post, aside from the lost pieces of plastic, truly is thorns. The Southwest is filled with them. They can put a quick end to road bike tires in a flash. Try getting one while pulling forty pounds of Burley and baby and then finding out that the goat “borrowed” your last replacement tube. It was a nice walk back in my cleats. At least I had covers. But the goat has had many more flats than me. He is the expert flat repair king. He has been searching for an insert or protection of some sort to decrease this annoying occurrence. The last one he had was more than annoying. It was dangerous since his front tire blew out while he was at high speeds. His wheel slid out from under him, and he barely avoided an ugly crash.

Apparently, the goat has found the potential cure. He found some bicycle tire liners at the bike shop. It’s made by Mr. Tuffy. http://www.bikepro.com/products/tubes/tubes-tuffy.html Now we just have to put them in the tires and see if it’s a cure.

Man vs Foot Pain

The Billy Goat is off to a rough start, fighting the battle of trying not to "hoof" it. His foot pain has increased with his increase of running. The Podiatrist has recommended an MRI to rule out a stress fracture that may not be visible in the x-rays.
The cure for a stress fracture would be approximately three weeks in a cast to immobilize the bone and allow it to heal properly, but this is yet to be confirmed. Telling the goat to stay off his foot is like telling a dog not to sniff other dogs.
The primary diagnosis is still Plantar Fasciitis. His training has been swimming and cycling as he tries to give the foot a white flag in this war of man vs foot.
http://www.rehabtoracing.com/Injuries.php#plantar
Most people probably don't think much about the importance of a good running shoe unless they experience a reason that triggers a more detailed investigation. It was a bit confusing trying to figure out which shoes are for which type of feet and/or running style. It turns out the type of running shoe someone needs really has a lot to do with foot arch or lack of arch as well as how the foot plants upon impact. This link below explains it.
The goat has no complaints about the Brooks GTS, except for a dirty diaper that was inserted as a joke. Hmmm.... I wonder who did that? I just got the Asics Gel Stive 2, and they feel great. But I almost got the wrong shoes because they looked nice. :) The maximum stability shoe is not for everyone. Some of them are very expensive and not necessary for someone without special foot issues. My old theory that anything silver and blue is wonderful is now shot to pieces. :)http://www.aapsm.org/selectingshoes.html
This link lists recommended running shoes and the various types of support they provide.
http://www.aapsm.org/runshoe.html#motion

Plantar Fasciitis

It turns out that the Billy Goat's recurring Plantar Fasciitis, brought on several years ago while playing with the kiddies at his school, is chomping at the bit. No battle or journey was ever properly fulfilled without pain, right? I'm sure this is one he could do without.

http://www.sportsinjuryclinic.net/cybertherapist/front/foot/plantarfaciitis.htm

The injury is very common, and the only real cure for it is time and a great deal of stretching. It is only affected when he runs a lot; which is his favorite part of the body terrorizing Ironman Triplets. He has been to a local sport's medicine doctor, who gave him various stretches to do daily along with gel heel inserts. Neither of these has helped much, but then again he confesses to not being diligent with the stretches. Perhaps more commitment in stretching this tight structure will improve it. He wants to find another sport's med doctor with more suggestions.

On a side note, we found out we are expecting again......................................................! Our beautiful Bully, Harley Quin, is sporting her expectant mom to be wardrobe like the celebrity she is. :) Ruff. Ruff. This will, no doubt, aid the Billy Goat in his quest to run with the big dogs. :)

In the Beginning

In the beginning this man had just completed the Florida Ironman Triathlon 2004. This race consists of a 2.4 mile open water ocean swim, 112 mile bike ride, and last but certainly not least a 26.2 mile run. This race had been built upon by many triathlons over the course of a year's time. Sounds like a nice way to unwind. Not.

http://www.ironmanflorida.com/

Most of us cannot imagine the endurance it takes to push the body to accomplish such a brutal task. It took him 11 hours at age 43 weighing in at 197 pounds on a 6'4" frame. That was four years ago. Since then he has retired from his career as a Naval Officer/diver/instructor, been pregnant and given birth adding those natural extra pounds, become addicted to dreams of being Jack Bower with hours of watching 24, started a new career teaching in a 4th grade and later special ed high school classroom all day, endured my not so gourmet cooking in addition to my not cooking at all, had two litters of puppies, wrangled and managed living with six kids, and managed to keep a sense of humor through it all. To say the least his days of hardcore training have diminished over time. The new workout has gradually become a walk with our baby and me, a short bike ride, an occasional adventure hiking over the red mountain, or a quick run here and there. He has gone from Ironman to Pillsbury Dough Man with a 45 pound weight gain over the past four years. No, it is not my cooking. I repeat; it is not my cooking.

I never really noticed he was any different than before. I guess when you live with someone you don't see them gaining weight right in front of your face. When I started trying to lose my baby weight after our son was born, he started to realize the pregnancy had affected him beyond the heart burn too. He gained more weight than I did! His morning sickness was not as severe as mine, but apparently his cravings were.

We jumped on the "let's please not be fat" wagon. His quest for motivation was and is different than mine. He said he needed something lurking in the distance to motivate him into getting back into shape. I believe that to some degree, at least for him, but I also believe the man thrives on this type of thing. He is an all or nothing kind of guy. There really is no happy medium with him. He takes me on hikes that he says are two miles that turn into eight. His limits don't stop with easy once he gets going. I have to slap him around and bring him back to my reality sometimes. "Mr. Bill, we've got a baby in a backpack hiking these trails. We've got to go home now!!!" He is a mountain goat, die hard, suck it up, don't stop kind of person. It's beautiful but also exhausting sometimes.

Back to the beginning. May 2010 will welcome the first ever St. George, Utah Ironman Race. This is the beginning of the journey back to the Ironman. Go Billygoat. :)

http://ironman.com/events/ironman/st.george