PHOTOS TAKEN DURING TODAY'S WALK

It's not like I always have time to snap pictures while running and biking, but today was so beautiful outdoors that the temptation to slow down and smell the roses, or hibiscuses,  was too great.

This truly is a Shangri-La.

In case anyone is wondering, the half ironman training is coming along really well - despite the warmer temperature. 

   

LET THE TRAINING BEGIN

After taking one week to rest from last week’s Olympic distance triathlon, and after completing three subsequent weight machine workouts, it’s time to buckle down and begin eighteen weeks or less of half ironman training. I’m thinking that twelve weeks will suffice, but most of the online training schedules say eighteen to twenty weeks. I’ll more than likely opt for the shorter one.

This morning’s extreme weather prevented me from venturing outdoors for my first scheduled swim and later a bike workout in the county park. Training schedules are like that, you never know when adjustments must be made. One good thing about having a gym membership is that it will basically eliminate missed workouts due to inclement weather.

In the place of swimming and biking, I peddled fifteen miles in one hour on one of the fitness center’s stationary bikes – the ones that are used for those loud, brutal spinning classes. I then ran/walked three miles on a treadmill. I wish I could have swam in the pool instead of running and walking, mainly because running and walking come easy to me, but at least I got in a workout that was every bit as equal to a moderate speed, half-mile swim.

Quite frankly, and I don’t say this boastfully, I feel that I’m already prepared for the half ironman’s 1.2 mile swim and 13.1 run. But I do need some serious work with the biking, mainly training my rear end to sit on a tiny bike seat mile after mile, hour after hour, without grimacing too much. Biking, then, will be my main focus during the next few weeks of training.

OLYMPIC DISTANCE TRIATHLON

At this stage of my life, I do whatever I do simply to enjoy whatever it is that I do, and I probably do more than the average retired, timeworn bear.

Many moons ago, too many to count, for the most part I ceased doing anything physical for speed, recognition or grandeur. Although at times, out of necessity, I have found myself racing against an event clock. I can truthfully say that I now participate in physical challenges simply because doing them makes me happy. And isn’t happiness an important measure of success? It is mine!

Taking on and meeting a physical challenge also fools me into thinking that I’m younger than my current 68 years and 7 months. It’s a comforting denial?

Having said that, please allow me to tell you, dear loyal reader, about my very first neighborhood Olympic-distance triathlon – not to be confused with a sanctioned event where literally hundreds of well-tuned, fit bodies are fighting for space and speed.

Despite the inclement weather, which included driving rain, wind and thunder accompanied by an occasional lightning bolt, I thoroughly enjoyed moving my body 31.99 miles - or for you readers that live outside the United States, 51.5 kilometers.

The three-discipline, self-generated event began in our condo’s 60 ft. swimming pool an hour and a half after my planned starting time. The delay was due to the threat of lightning. Lightning and swimming, as everyone knows, is not a good mix, whether you’re in a lake or in a confined swimming pool.

With my lovely wife sitting in a lawn chair at one end of the pool marking down my laps on a sticky pad, and occasionally yelling in my water-clogged ears how many laps I completed, I managed the .93 mile distance in just over 44 minutes. Being as though yesterday was the third time in two years that I dived into a swimming pool, or any body of water for that matter, I was overly pleased with the clock time. In truth, I felt like I could have doubled the distance with little effort.

Transitioning from swimming to biking in a matter of minutes, I began my 24.86-mile bike ride the moment I exited our community’s guard gate. Moving very slowly on the sidewalk, being timed by my wrist GPS gadget, my initial destination was the entrance of CB Smith Park 7/10ths of a mile from our guard gate. After slowly crossing busy Flamingo Road, once inside the park I was able to pick up my speed without fear of running into barrier walls, scrubs or pedestrians.

With only one lap completed in the park, with fourteen more to go, the rain and the wind began brutalizing my otherwise semi-pleasurable ride. I say pleasurable, but near the end my legs were certainly tired from one hour and 53 minutes of constant pedaling. Not once did I lift my aching butt off the bike’s narrow seat.

Touching on the weather one more time, I would much rather bike in the rain than bike in the intense heat of summer. There was undeniably a silver lining in those rain clouds.

After completing the bike discipline and then lifting the racing bike on my shoulder and placing it upstairs on our front porch, Janet joined me on the last leg of the triathlon beginning at the base of our stairway, after first resetting the GPS to time our 6.2-mile sidewalk voyage. I despise walking and running on sidewalks, but I wanted no more of CB Smith Park on that day.

Numb and tired from the long bike ride, it felt like my legs were barely moving. Accustomed to having the pavement and landscape move rapidly by when biking, I was certain that my race-walk pace was well below my usual 15 minute pace. But when Jan began yelling at me that she couldn’t keep up, I knew then that my relative movement perception was slightly distorted.

Like I said, I hate walking and running on sidewalks, especially sidewalks that are wet and slippery from the day’s rain. Some areas of the sidewalk were dangerously slippery from the green mold that had formed from previous rains.

Focusing more on Janet’s safety over my own, I found myself continually glancing back at her. Not wanting her to fall too far behind, four or five times I actually ran back to her allowing the extremely accurate GPS to determine my walking and running distance. That’s one thing nice about employing a GPS, it isn’t necessary to follow a predetermined, point to point course.

Twice around our three-mile block and then some made up the 6.2 mile course. And I have to tell you, I was one happy camper when the GPS finally read 6.20 miles at a reasonable finishing time of 1:28. I was happy, tired and hungry! One pre-race protein bar and two subsequent GU’s were barely enough to get me through my very first Olympic distance triathlon.

It’s now time to increase my distances and begin training for a half ironman, focusing more on the biking than the other two disciplines.

SWIM, BIKE AND RUN

Thirteen miles on the bike! Check! Over three miles race-walking! Check! Three-eighths of a mile swimming! Check! All three disciplines were completed in an acceptable time frame – not record breaking – but fast enough to call my first 2010 mock sprint triathlon a good endurance workout.

Being forced to cross-train because of an arthritic knee, I can’t come up with any better training routine than mock triathlons. I use the term “mock” because I’m not actually participating in a listed, sanctioned event. The distances are the same, but mock triathlons lack rivalry and you’re not being kicked in the head by other swimmers. Mock triathlons are what they are, training sessions or pretend triathlons.

This year, unlike past years, I will work my way up to the half ironman distances. I’m determined and focused like never before. Seventeen months from now when I reach the young age of 70, I want to be able to complete a half ironman – even if it’s just a neighborhood, simulated half ironman.

The 1.2 miles of swimming will not be a problem, nor will the 13.1 miles of running or race-walking. The most difficult discipline for me will be the biking. Whenever a narrow bike seat duels the prostate for 56 grueling miles, the bike seat will always come out the winner.

FIVE MILES AND 36 CENTS RICHER

Monday, the day after Easter, was a profitable day.

Let me begin by saying that the lowly penny gets no respect. None whatsoever! They never have. Okay, maybe during the 1930’s depression did they gather some respect, but that was only because people were desperate and they were not necessarily being respectful. And even then I’m betting that numerous pennies remained lost and lonely in the streets, gutters, alley ways, sidewalks, as well as the cracks and crevices of most floors, porches and steps. This is a sad but true commentary of one of our lessor valued American coins – the lowly copper penny – or whatever it is they are made of.

Anyway, the day after Easter, after all the eggs were found and most of the Easter bunnies eaten, and after the county park had been cleared of Saturday’s triathlon paraphernalia, Jan and I ventured across the main thoroughfare into CB Smith Park for a five-mile walk, albeit a slow casual walk at times.

We did manage some speed walking, maybe three miles worth. We also zig zagged in and around the parking areas looking closely for lost coins. Not particularly coins made of copper, but any coin or coins that may have fallen out of someone’s pocket when exiting or entering their vehicle.

We found five pennies when entering the park. More precisely, we found the pennies at the base of the most frequently used toll booth. There are three lanes leading into the park with each lane having its own toll booth.

As silly as it may sound, this is something that we do from time to time to pass the time. And we reasoned that with all the triathlon goings on and Easter celebrations taking place in the park the previous two days, surely there was a fortune to be found Monday morning.

To be honest, our luck ran amuck while zig-zagging through the parking areas, but we did strike it rich around the park’s toll booth – the word rich being used in a relative manner.

Finding only five single pennies during our hurried entry, we promised ourselves that we would exit the park much slower than how we entered.

After completely striking out inside the park, we kept that promise, finding six more pennies near the other two toll booths, along with a weathered quarter that looked like it had been wedged in a road crevice since the stone ages.

Even though it was trodden and battered, the silver quarter made its way into the back pocket of my Race Ready running shorts keeping good company with its copper cousins.

Now walking at a rapid pace, heading home, I excitedly listened to the jingle of the coins.

Happy and fruitful for our efforts, we continued on our way completing our walk inside the security gates of our tropical-themed, South Florida community.

Five pennies entering the park, six pennies and one quarter exiting the park, that adds up to 36 cents that we didn’t have before our Monday walk. I call that a good day - financially and aerobically.

And the best part of the day was listening to our oversized piggy bank thanking us for the delicious Easter meal.