If you can keep your head....

My father was a great man. You hear that kind of statement from bias offspring all the time. However, remove my bias and those who had contact with him have expressed this same notion, without hesitation or doubt. The confirmation that this brings swells your pride in the parent 10 fold. Of course you have idolized this man for decades, but you think it's only you, perhaps. You don't see the man that interacts with others whilst you aren't around. The father a child comes to know is the same man as others see, but you get a little deeper insight. A less vulnerable man, confident in unequivocally being himself around his children. Naturally, when anyone leaves their natural environs of home we put up barriers to ensure we are protected from the outside looking in to ourselves. When this occurs, one does not always get a full picture of a man. Thus, when a parent is continually described as a great man or woman over and above this fact, a child can simply marvel and fill with pride at how their father was seen by those foreign to them.

This was my father, who sadly passed away this Christmas holiday, long before I was ready for him to leave. He never failed to drive me forward in everything I was to do, as he, albeit from afar, continued to be my litmus test for every challenge presented to me. Competitive to the core, he ran along side me in two of my iron distances races in the last few years, spurring me on. He knew when nothing was needed to be said, yet that inherited competitive spirit shone through and forced him to express words of encouragement as he trotted by me on continual loops of Nice or Henley.

It's the knowing look that I will miss the most. The  ability to simply communicate via DNA inheritance. When he was very ill in the last days of his life this was exemplified. He simply looked at me from his bed, unable to verbalize what he wanted to say, using simply a thumbs up and a look that said "everything will be ok". That's all I needed to know that, despite the great sadness I felt, everything would be ok. I even saw him saying "if you can keep your head...." a line from my favorite poem recited to me continually by dad and by his father to him. It's the words I have on all my water bottles when I race. Some smile wrily when they inquire as to what is written when I'm setting up my transition. However, the look he gave me that day, a mixture of reassurance, encouragement and fatigue, will always flash at me now, whenever I find myself in a challenging situation, be it in the water, on the bike, out on the run or walking through my life. That look and poem will be there helping me forward.

The sadness will slowly subside, but the drive to achieve his lofty life standards will drive me until my day comes. Of that I am sure. For that I will be eternally grateful. A great inheritance to bestow on me. I hope I live up to it.

Perhaps during an iron distance race this year I will find out.

Good luck to us all!

Fatties and Frenchies

Fatties

I love a good fatty. A fat tire bike that is. The crisp winter cold has been beckoning me for some time now. First it beckoned in the form of skis. Then Snowshoes. Now, fat tire bike riding. The premise originates from the wider and softer the more stable on slippy, unwelcoming ground the tire will be. 

There was always a mystery behind these iron clad, not a piece of skin showing types that intrepidly set out in the depths of winter  to ride along with the falling snow. That kind of uniqueness appeals to me. It's one of the elements of Ironman that draws me in and keeps me coming back. 

Coincidently, one of my weaker disciplines in triathlon is the painstakingly obvious element of riding that bloody bike. I do enjoy riding a lot. I just don't enjoy being behind everyone. Something that has been repeated a multitude of times with me in earshot is that in order to become a more proficient cyclist one must diversify the type of bike one rides. Cue mountain bikes, or variations of that. Summers in Minnesota lend themselves to warmth and cycling as far as you have time for. Winters, on the other hand, lend themselves to efficient use of time outside. Fat tire bikes allow that to happen, giving one the ability to surf along the snow ridden surfaces, without too much speed so as to freeze your sweat instantaneously. 

Enter stage left winter and the gift giving holiday of Christmas and low and behold, thanks to some fine family members, I am now the proud owner of one of those winter riding steads. Admittedly, I did assemble this aluminum beast, so it will require a lot of tweaking and tightening to improve the ride and quieten down all the scratching and screeching, but for a first ride it was fantastic. It was cold, undecided whether to rain or snow, wet and desolate. Not many a sole outside braving the elements. The solitude of the ride, similar to how one heads out in the summer, deep in to the country roads with only the odd car passing by. Now, the boundaries will be tested come the sub-zero days. A wise purchase of some windproof pants should be in order.  Perhaps some goggles too. However, that day will be welcomed with open and heavily thermally clad arms. I can't wait to get on to the frozen lakes and really have some fun and even improve my shoddy bike handling.

Frenchies

The other element that seems to have arisen is something that lends itself to the dreaming season. Constitution has gone and signed up for Ironman Texas, which has subsequently sold out. No offense Texas, but doing an ironman race and spending the entire roads on the roads of Houston is minimally appealing at best, so I wasn't too depressed by that race being unavailable. However, then Napoleon went and signed up for Ironman Coeur d'Alene (suspiciously spelt). This would be a race I "had my eye on" for the future. Not that I'm so competitive, but that bugger, by starting this one, would sneak ahead of me by one, to make a total of four ironman. Now, I'm not driven by this kind of competition, but allowing any frenchman to surpass me is unthinkable :). The races I had on my list to complete in the future, whenever that may be, were Ironman Mont Tremblant, Challenge Roth and Ironman Coeur D'Alene (still suspiciously spelt). Therefore, I find myself, yet again, contemplating whether or not to contemplate entering the fourth iron distance race of my life. There will be discussions. There will be deliberations. But watch this space to see if I'm foolish enough to take another crack at it.

If I was such an ignoramus as to do it again, I would experiment with my training. I think a five day a week training attempt, with a 6 bonus day time permitting would be an interesting test. Also, only completing the prescribed training if my body allows it. If not, being strong enough to realize a shorter version may be the best option this time and complete the longer one later. Elements of this type of training have snuck their way in to my psyche recently and had been planned to be experimented later in my distinctly amateur career. However, 2015 is going to be a mentally challenging year. Perhaps training for another iron distance race would help with that.

Good luck to us all!