Road Trip, Kartchner Caverns and the Commodores

With the house empty of females, Mighty Mo and I decided to road trip down south this weekend to Kartchner Caverns in Benson, AZ. Such a great story, two Cavers go down a sinkhole on the side of a mountain and find the greatest cave system in the state. They then decide to protect it for over a decade while exploring its massive depths. Rightly fearing that their find was becoming too public they negotiated a secret deal with the state park department and the legislature to fund turning it into the only fully wheelchair accessible cave system in the country opening in 1999.

Okay, I am going to make an admission here. I am a huge fan of National and State parks. I am. I was even a National Park Service Ranger/Historian for a short period of time. So any chance I get to visit our parks system I do. Of course it seems the ones closest are the ones most easily missed, and the Casa Grande Ruins National Monument was one such location.

On the way to Kartchner we pulled in so I could stamp my NP passport book. While looking around and having a decent time, Mighty Mo was surprised that many of the books on his shelf and at school were here. Then of his own accord he asked about the passport book and the stamps and stickers and asked for one of his own. Sniff, sniff, I was so proud of him when he stamped his first park into the book.

Kartchner Caverns is very impressive for a state park. It was certainly nicer than many of the National Parks I have been too. I was lucky in one regard. I was told emphatically to reserve tickets as soon as possible which was perfect as we were greeted with a sign that read, "All tours sold out."

As we approached the cave entrance with the group, Mighty Mo looked at me and said, "Daddy, my legs are scared." I took his hand and we entered the first of many pressure doors that keep the cave sealed. The next time I looked at him closely, we were into the first hall and his fear was replaced with awe.

The tour is between 90-120 minutes. While driving home I often wondered if it was a dream. Is it possible that my eyes held the wonders before them this very day? These are not rocks. To merely call it a geological formation is trite. It was beautiful. Amazing to see such wonder. And that two cavers and the Kartchner family took such great care of their find. True stewardship.

Mighty Mo could not have been happier with the trip. He loved the cave. He loved the 'exploring', seeing new things. He traveled very well. He clutched his new passport book all day and using the map and the picture of different parks in the book, I can tell there will be many more road trips to come.

Its not enough to exist. I am going to live.

High Points: Silly Mountain

Yes its name is Silly Mountain, located off the US-60 just east of Apache Junction. I have driven past this trail head many times, most recently this very day on my way out to our team cycling route.

I can only speak for myself on this, but I often drive past hills/mountains/etc and desire to get to its peak. On the way back from a great 21 mile rolling hill route, I pulled over and decided to bag this one.

As I stepped over the entrance gate, I asked a returning hiker, "How do I get up there, sir?" Pointing to the summit above. After consulting his trail guide and deciding on the southern route, off I went along the Brittlebrush trail. A very well developed desert trail with the typical stones sticking out of the ground, I jogged a decent pace toward the Old Mine Trail which connects me to the High Point trail, a short, decent scramble to the top.

As families coming down politely moved aside as ran up, one mother asked me, "Are you a fireman?"

"No ma'am, Ironman," the response spewing from my lips organically. At that moment, I did not have a year of recovery, I was bricking a 21 mile hilly bike with a magnificent trail run up virgin (to me) trail known only as Silly Mountain.

Reaching the summit took less than 15 minutes. It was a perfect route for my expectations. After a few photos, chugs of water, and wonderful veiw to catch my breath, off I went back to the world and responsibilities.

Now when I drive past Silly Mountain I can point and say, "Been there, done that," and love the moment once again.

There's treasure everywhere.

Standard Cycling Phrases

I don't often copy/paste but this is just to humorous and its the first time I have seen it. I got it from my buddy Danny and of course all the standard credit and adoration for the author.

---The meaning of common cycling statements---

"There's a small bump just ahead."

Translation: It's a six mile 8% grade that peaks at 14% at the top.

And I'm on a compact crank set. See you at the top.

"It's going to be a mellow ride 'cause it's Thanksgiving."

Translation: He actually said this as we pulled into the parking lot

and joined up with guys from Rock Racing and Toyota United for what was,

for me, a hellishly hard ride.

"You're riding pretty well, want to pick up the pace?"

Translation: I can't believe I've gone this slow just so your tired ass

can keep up. The first time someone passes us, I'm outta here and

I'll meet you back at the car.

"I'm out of shape"
Translation: I ride 400 miles a week and haven't missed a day since the Ford administration. I replace my 11-tooth cog more often than you wash your shorts. My body fat percentage is lower than your mortgage rate.

"I'm not into competition. I'm just riding to stay in shape"
Translation: I will attack until you collapse in the gutter, babbling and whimpering. I will win the line sprint if I have to force you into oncoming traffic. I will crest this hill first if I have to grab your seat post and spray energy drink in your eyes.

"I'm on my beater bike"
Translation: I had this baby custom-made in Tuscany using composites blessed by the Pope. I took it to a wind tunnel and it disappeared. It weighs less than a fart and costs more than a divorce.

"It's not that hilly"
Translation: This climb lasts longer than a presidential campaign. Be careful on the steep sections or you'll fall over -- backward. You have a 39x23 low gear? Here's the name of my knee surgeon.

"This is a no-drop ride"
Translation: I'll need an article of your clothing for the search-and- rescue dogs.

"It's not that far"
Translation: Bring your passport

AND THE EVER POPULAR CLASSIC – "IT'S ABOUT A 3 HOUR TOUR":

Translation: Check on your life insurance policy and leave a parting note to your loved ones.

The Healing Grounds

I know that my life completely changed on 9/11. In no small part 9/11 made me commit to triathlon after decades of being a gym rat, body builder or workaholic. I realized that I could no longer spend ten hours a week enjoying my fitness pursuits indoors and had to move outside. I realized that our lives are far to short and I did not appreciate the wonders of this world enough. It changed my mindset, my nutrition and my fitness goals. I was moving to slow and not living a life of purpose, vision and direction, though I had done much in it already.

While most in the media will mention this day's significance only in passing at the top and bottom of the hour I will spend time at the Tempe Healing Grounds. I will also ignore the arm chair generals who will second guess whether this or that course of action was best and what that meant for the country. Instead I will focus on almost 3,000 flags.

Each 3'x5' flag stands on a white eight foot pole. Each flag has the name and information of a person who died in the attacks. I will be overwhelmed at the loss of life. I will sniffle and I will well up, holding back the tears. Maybe not being so successful at it. I will make it impossible to ignore the families that are without husbands, wives, moms, dads, children, or siblings. These people suffered tremendous pain. I will do my part to shoulder that burden if but for an hour or two.

Take time today to think about how different your family would be if you suddenly were not in it. Think for a moment about your place in life. Consider what you really want to do or be in life, better spouse, athletic pursuit, business opportunity, volunteerism. Then do it. It may take years but take that path.

My path today will wind through 3,000 flags. Outdoors, where the sun will shine and I will give thanks that since September 11, 2001, I have moved so much closer to the richer, fuller life that I wanted.

A New Shiny Thing: Vibram Five Finger Shoes

I fell in love with Vibram in the Army. It is a company that makes soles for combat boots. If you have never been in the military or worn those types of boots they are also very common in civilian application for hiking boots and multi-use shoes. They are very well known for comfort and shock absorption.

Vibram now has its own 'shoe' called the Five Finger. Time Magazine called it one of the best inventions of 2007.

Look pretty weird, huh? Its essentially a glove for the feet with the soles laser cut so that there is the full and natural movement of a bare foot. They fit like a second skin and the bottoms have a very tactile, sticky feel to them.

The primary applications are for kayaking, boating, yoga, instances where bare feet are natural. It has been 'co-opted' by barefoot runners who need just a little bit more than zero protection. If this shoe actually catches on with the public, the Nike Free will drop off the face of the earth by the end of the year.

There are four versions. The Classic is a model without a strap over the foot. This first model was made for yoga and boating situations. When feedback came in that people where using them outdoors they felt like they would slip off when crossing streams so the Flow and KSO (Keep Stuff Out) models came on line. I purchased the Sprint which works for all the above applications plus appeals to runners. Only color available to me was Pearl and Orange which is fine by me but really wanted the Olive Drab military looking version. The Red version below is a bit boisterous for me. Screams, athletes foot.

I got them because I enjoy being barefoot but have tender feet. Walking outside barefoot is really not something I can do without pain. I own slippers and crocs and sandals but I think shower shoes are a terribly gross fashion statement outside the house and crocs can be really hot in the summer. Also none of those are very secure to the foot and I like to know that if I have to run or react quickly I can do so without losing my footwear. My intended purpose is to use them around pre/post endurance training and races; to & from swim workouts, before and after my rides and runs. I will also use them in the gym; the natural movement of the shoe will allow me to recruit more bio-mechanical feedback into my functional training. Of course use around the house is a foregone conclusion.

Because the shoe is not heel heavy, the wearer will walk naturally, therefore run naturally on the ball or mid foot right out of the box. For those people trying to overcome a heel strike or longer stride, this shoe would fit right in to the training regime. I think Chi or Pose runners will enjoy these the most. As someone who last year finally overcame his heel strike running style, I can say that I am a better runner now by far.

I spoke with someone who wore them for two days going through the Air and Space Museum in DC and loved them. However they are not meant to be a fully functional shoe for being on your feet all day and your body will need to adjust to them. To begin most toes are not be used to being individually sleeved and separated compared to the mitten like sock. The ankles and calves will take time to adjust to a new structural environments because the rigidity is missing but the all out force is not.

They're pretty goofy looking too. I have worn them out and get constant feedback on them. People ask if they can take pictures. Driving feels like its done barefoot. Climbing stairs is a much more tactile sensation. I can feel every rock or edge that would have had me yelping or acting like I was walking on eggs but don't suffer any of the slowness or pain I did before.

My advice is that if you are looking for a camp shoe, boating shoe, house shoe, part time exercise shoe and want to eschew the common running shoe or the trashy flip flop, try to find these. Go online first. They run in European sizes and from my experience and research they run a size lower than normal shoe wear. If you have a longer second toe (mutant) and seriously interested in trying them, some forums will have feedback on that 'condition' (mutant).

Have Fun.

Healing old pains

Monday was a really great day for me. My godfather is in town for a week helping my mom help my dad recover from a neck surgery. Mo was already there so Mistress and I stayed for a steak dinner. Mistress bbq'd steak and I bought desert. Worked out for them and us since the a/c is still out at our place.

I came home around midnight and putz'd around for a few moments with the dog and surfing cable and caught the last few minutes of United 93 about the September 11th hijacking. I have avoided any movie about 9/11, the live feed I watched and the subsequent replys of WTC coming down are more than I need for the rest of my life. It is still so raw for me, believe it or not.

I think I have mentioned in the past that that day changed the paradigm of my life in fundamental ways.

In September 2001, I had not had sugar or caffeine for over five years. I was a powerlifter weighing 225 pounds and starting a diet for a body building show I was doing around Thanksgiving. On the 11th, a Tuesday, I was several days into a fishing trip in Montana with my dad and godfather and couple other guys. I had just toured Little Bighorn as part of a historical military exercise and was staying at a military base in Helena on the 10th and 11th.

I was trying to get the gang out the door, it must have been a bit after 7am and we were dawdling. I went to turn off the tv and Bryant Gumbel came on with a special announcement saying a plane had hit the WTC. I called everyone in and thought out loud that it must have been a plane malfunction. Something similar had happened not long back.

As a camera showed the plumes coming from the building, I saw the second plane in the background. I knew then and I don't know how that this was something much more than pilot error. We all stood agape as the second plane hit the WTC in real time. Man.

I remember sitting down and saying, "My life will never be the same." I then asked my godfather for a cup of coffee and a candy bar. My demand was almost as unnerving as the tv, I had been eating nothing but chicken breasts and ground beef for four days as part of my contest diet. I had relented to a few beers on the river but unmoved with taunts of sugar and espresso, up till that minute. Everyone knew how long I'd been off those items and to drink two cups of coffee and three candy bars was profound. Needless to say we sat there for about an hour. I could have sat there all day and would have if at home. But we decided that it was best to let the process play out and console ourselves by fishing.

I realized that day on the river that my life was too much time spent in the gym. Between work and workouts I spent between 80-85 hours a week in a gym environment. Even the running I had done outdoors became a treadmill chore because of the desert heat. Mentally I dropped out of the bodybuilding contest. How could I be so vain at that moment? I decided I couldn't exercise in a gym any longer and thats the spark that turned me back towards my dreams of competing in endurance events, eventually triathlons. I also decided my life needed more variety and I added carbohydrates back into it. I went from 80% protein to a 40/30/30 plan, denying myself nothing with moderation.

By the end of the day, we had to drop my dad off at a state level military meeting, he was the third highest ranking officer in the state. By the end of the week, my brother was gone for a year, as a member of the first guard unit called to service in the GWOT. The fishing trip ended with my godfather and I saluting my father as he lifted off a tarmac in a heavily armed gunship to prepare his soldiers for the unknown. I flew out, trying to explain to the guards in the airport that hemostats to pull out fish hooks were not dangerous and should be allowed on the plane. They were.

I didn't have a son then. I had been married for quite a while and had a business that had started a few years earlier but I was ready to go back into the service. I looked into it but they didn't want me at the time. I had been out five years and that was too long for them at my age and job ability, Infantry officers are a dime a dozen.

With the changes I made to my diet and exercise and stress, I lost fifty pounds getting the anger out of me at what had happened to my country and the politics that came after. I was preparing my body for the combat I felt would be placed on me, but the call never came, even when I called them.

With all things the pain lessoned and I put on some much needed weight. Mistress changed too. She had been adamantly opposed to kids but less than a year later she was pregnant. I think I can blame 9/11 for her change too. I sometimes selfishly wonder 'What If' that day never happened. Would I be a father? Would I have done an Ironman? Would I have the balance in my life with work and nutrition that I did not have then?

Watching just twenty minutes of United 93 pulled this out me just now. I do not think I can watch it all, yet. I have a "9/11" CD of saved videos, images and articles from the internet that I saved for my son. To show him what really happened as opposed to the revisionist views that I knew he would be taught in school. I don't want to forget, nor think I ever will. People remember where they were when Kennedy was shot, or when Challenger exploded. I remember 9/11 just as clearly.

Thanks for reading something I had to get out of me before bed.

Activism?

I came home tired last night to an exaggerated Mighty Mo proclaiming loudly in the kitchen to Mistress and the dog that at school, "Pokie Bugs are dying and we have to build hospitals to save them!" By the obvious look on the dog and the mom, this 5 year old (on April 24th) had been on his soap box for quite some time on the issue. Quite literally since he has a step-up box to reach the counter.

I scooped him up for his shower and he went at it with me, pledging all the money from his piggy bank and all the loose change on the counter tops. He reminded me that, "A Mann protects the weak." (part of his prayers)

From my questions I have found out that Pokie Bugs are:

• Not class pets
• They are outside by the fence on the playground
• They are dying!!!!!!
• When they die they become bones and skin
• Mistress and I absolute had to to stop their dying by building Pokie Bug hospitals.

Mistress called me this morning to let me know she has witnessed the graveyard of Pokie Bugs. They are not really bugs, their some kind of weed and as the weather heats up they are releasing their spores, turning brown and dying. The husk and stalk are the skin and bones.

Mistress took the opportunity to tell him that they are not bugs but plants and when they die they are sending seeds to grow somewhere else. This seems to have made him feel better now that he can use his money for toys and not hospitals.

No son you don't have to use your money for building hospitals, mommy and daddy are doing that for you already. You just keep that imagination going and keep your nose to the bugs.

Does this look lonely?

The sad fact is that my base training is ramped up harder than most half iron plans right now. But I have big goals for next year and I can't wait for the season to start. But first the sowing, then then the reaping. And as all good farmers know, the seeds are growing long before they pop through the loamy earth.

I am one of the slower swimmers in my tri club. Let me put that in perspective for a moment. I am on pace to swim a 82 minute Ironman and I finish in the back of the pack with my peers who all pace about an hour five. I really don't have any problems with my swimming right now...as long as its wet suit legal. Thats another story.

Lately I have been swimming for an hour in open water or about 3000 yards. Most of my pals are swimming 2000 in about 30 minutes. So its a lot of time spent by myself in water, usually I try to get in the water 30 minutes earlier so we all finish together. When that doesn't happen or someone else is staying in, one of the team will spot from the steel bridge that we swim under and has perfect viewing of the entire swim course.

Ken took this picture of me swimming late as he guarded me from the bridge one night. I think it's a beautiful picture of a beautiful place, but it only emphasizes my sense of loneliness now that I am deep into the biggest training program of my triathlon career. I look at it and see just me. Alone. Happy but alone.

I usually arrive an hour or more early to all our events to get in extra miles of whatever practice where having. But that is the sacrifice one must make to accomplish big dreams. It's the training that I do when others are not around that is going to get me where I want to go, though I would never want to give up the camaraderie I have with my team.
Its also sort of a metaphor of my blogging. While my daily posts have not slacked much, my daily reading has and that causes me to feel as alone as I do in my swims. I am happy, but alone. Reading the success and struggle of my good friends is as much a part of my life as any swim, bike or run.

Mt. Lemmon trip

Well there was some great and some not so great doings on the Aztriclub trip to ride Mt. Lemmon. We got out of Phoenix on time but due to a rare early morning rain storm our drive time was significantly longer.

We decided before riding that we'd go to Tri Sport's headquarters and see what they claim is the largest tri store in the world. We were all very unimpressed and quite frankly severely disappointed. Perhaps they are a force online but Tribe Multisport in Scottsdale, my store, is infinitely more impressive is size, vibe and personnel.

Due to time constraints we decided to start two miles up the mountain and ride two hours; each turning around where we were at when 4:30 struck, catching the rest on the next morning. Let me just say that I turned around at 1 hour completely knackered. Perhaps it was the 10 mile run the day before, or already being up 12 hours and driving for six, or maybe I was just not far enough into base training to attempt such a climb at altitude so soon. I got to the point where my rpms for 5 minutes were below 35 and another two minutes below 30. I was sort of just waiting to fall over. While I felt fine for the most part, my legs were simply lead. Whatever the reason its never fun to be the only person to turn back in the group.

Everyone else did really well.

When we got back to the camp, I tried to start the fire with the most rudimentary tools possible. Starting off with dry tinder, some moss and my Light My Fire firesteel. I didn't count on five very hungry and tired triathletes clambering for fire and food and to start flicking matches into my fire pile. Their 3 minute timeline, got counted as far as Jeff and Andy could reach for packets of match sticks. I ended up using my lighter but the prep work was spectacular and given a few more minutes feel pretty confident I would have got it going.
I did get some photo's of my sleep set up, the hammock and tarp. Good set up, I was very warm the entire time and pretty comfortable all things considered. The main detraction is that I am a side sleeper and being forced onto my back without the ability to move my legs and body kept my sleep level at the most minimum. Add to that my already stunted sleep pattern in unfamiliar places, so although my eyes were closed and I know I slept it was not recuperative in the least and heard almost every snore and carried voice in the area all night long.

I have this meditative trick of counting backwards from 100 to clear my mind. I start over each time I go from counting down numbers to a thought that pops in. I must have restarted forty times, reaching zero perhaps twice.

Waking up the next morning, we were all quite tired. No one really got any good sleep but who said camping was about restful nights sleep. The rest all slept in a decent size family tent but the snoring, uneven surface, the issue of moving over men to got take a leak outside and just being outside to sleep at all, caused a lack of rest that night.

We decide that instead of unpacking the bikes we would go into town get a good meal and head home.

We all had a great time. The evening spent around the campfire drinking beer and hearing new stories and repeating old. Teasing and pushing buttons in the way chums do. While I thought selfishly and sheepishly that I would be derided for turning around, I don't think it even came up except for my own self-deprecation. If that is because my team mates know that I have been busting my ass training for three straight weeks or because they know that even good people have bad days, or whatever, deep down I was thankful they respected my failure to complete the ride.

To use my new favorite term, That'll Happen.

Sights

One of the amazing things about living where I do in the valley is that I am only minutes away from such diverse environments. I have often shown pictures of my runs in slot canyons, swims in Canyon Lake, cycling in the desert, I have not as of yet shown you the farming areas.

We have a great community south of the Valley called Queen Creek. While urban sprawl is encroaching on this tranquil part of town there are still many high quality roads that travel through rural areas.

Todays 2 hour ride took me past a couple hundred acres of new corn crop sprouting for harvest. Camera phones do such a disservice to roadside photos. The stalks are about two feet tall. I am hoping that come October I might be able to clutch a firm tasty ear of corn as some quick energy during the ride.

Dodge, Duck and Dodge

The return of the Haboob. This was fairly big news last night here in the valley of the sun, but other than some grit in my teeth while sitting in my jacuzzi, all I saw was some high altitude electrical discharge. To bad.

Apparently some areas in the valley picked up some great rain but my area was cloudless. Funny how storms work. One part of town gets hammered, others nary a breeze.

A bad back has been putting a dent in my training. Its hard to run and sit on the bike. Hoping I can get past this soon. Its all due to vacation and the sitting in a car, walking around and then sleeping in strange beds.

Haboob: The picture

Pictures speak louder than dictionary's. Since most of you have never heard of or seen a haboob, I thought I would cull some pictures from online that are good depictions. The top photo looks to be the middle east but the bottom two are from Phoenix.

When monsoon season actually comes to town, which is an considered an actual seasonal change like some regions moving into 'summer' or 'autumn', these can come several times a week or maybe just once or twice a year. During monsoon these haboobs moving at 30-50 mph are followed by terrific thunder and lightening storms and up to two inches of rain within just a couple hours. A complete and utter deluge of water.

Phoenix does not have so much a series of gutters as a network of greenbelts and waterways created to move this massive amount of water to the Salt River. During and after monsoons the possibilities of flash flooding occurring in residential areas is very real.

Last season our block was hit by a microburst, which is a hurricane occurring in the middle of the storm with tornado's very possible. Mistress and Mo had to watch our backyard and neighborhood be torn apart, cactus and trees falling over, roofs being ripped, all without power, while I was sitting in a bar with Jeff ten miles away eating boneless hot wings wondering if I would ever get to see a good storm that season. Didn't rain a drop where we were at. Mistress did call and tell me to stay put since the storm was so bad.

Enough about the weather. I think it pretty cool stuff. Enjoy the photos.

Riding the desert

When I first moved to Arizona I hated it. I came from Seattle, The Emerald City, so called because it rains almost every single day keeping everything green. It might rain 10 or 12 days a year in Phoenix though most of those rains come and go in just a few hours. After almost a decade I really like living here. I am used to the heat and the desert while it doesn't photograph well (especially from a camera phone) does have a certain quality about it that is peaceful.

It makes me thankful that from my house, I can ride only a few miles and be completely alone or as alone as one can be on a seldom busy highway to no where. This year I would like to include more pictures of the places I train, Canyon Lake, Tortilla Flats, The mythical Bee Line (IMAZ course) and Tempe Town Lake.

For a guy that actually likes to take pictures, I certainly have been remiss recording my own environment.