I debated about whether or not to put up a "my story" post that would end up over in the "about me" tab of my blog but recently I've had alot of folks ask me about how I got to where I am...
So...about me...
I'm not an athlete...I want to be one. Growing up, I was that skinny
little dork kid who was in chorus, played piano, was in the band, read
everything I could get my hands on and was in theater. Or as I like to
call it, completely invisible to any of the cool kids and ALL of the
girls.
My sophomore year of high school I found the football team and the
weight room. I was taken aback at how I could see change, in the mirror
as I got stronger...and as I got noticed. My parents bought me my first
bike (a
Giant RS940 which I held onto into my late 20's and I still regret
selling) then too. Cycling offered up a whole new world to me. I didn't
have to be dependent on anyone, it was just me and the bike. It was then
that I fell in love with cycling. I joined a local cycling club and
then got involved in the local racing scene. I showed promise as a young
cyclist and had aspirations of becoming the next Bernard Hinault or
Laurent Fignon (look 'em up and remember I am French after all) and
later Greg Lemond but my parents thought an education and a "stable" job
were more
important life pursuits. Enter the Army and college.
Being physically fit was a staple in being a successful Airborne Ranger
Infantryman but to be honest it killed all my desire to race on weekends
or for fun. My life was more about training specifically for the kind
of torture a soldier's
life brings than trying to get miles as a
"runner". One of my roommates however was a long distance runner and and
of course talked me
into going out on a few long runs with him which got me thinking about
running long distances. But then my Battalion Commander threw out the
"marathon challenge" to see who could ramp up their training to run the
inaugural Atlanta Marathon. A challenge? Um, ya...I'm in. That first
marathon was an experience and I dragged myself to a 4hr finish. That
kind of lit the fire for wanting to run and sure there was a stretch in
there where I jammed in a few marathons and triathlons but I never took
it seriously or
trained that way. Not to mention, due to my "have to be better than
everybody" attitude led to a number of serious injuries and surgeries
that always required my doing some type of rehab
from injury so I never really got to
enjoy running or cycling.
Due to a career ending injury (a misdiagnosed broken ankle, originally
called a severe sprain, that I continued to train and run on for months
until I killed the bone tissue) my time as a Soldier came to an abrupt
end. Now, because of an active lifestyle and quick recovery
time, I could (and did) eat anything I wanted. I LOVE food. My mom is a
great
French cook and my father (a dyed in the wool Georgia boy who could give
Paula Dean a run for her money) introduced me to chocolate and butter.
Which to be honest, is the staple to making any recipe better. However,
the lengthy recovery from the ankle in addition to my continued eating
like it was the Apocalypse, led to me throwing on the pounds. And...the
additional pounds aggravated the pain I'd been suffering in my lower
back for a couple years. It got so bad that I had difficulty getting out
of bed on my own. That resulted in trips back the docs for x-rays, MRIs
and analysis...which, led to my finding out that the pain I'd been
feeling all this time was due an undiagnosed broken back and pelvis (L4,
L5 and S1) that had healed incorrectly. Now, I have a lot of people
tell
me they have no idea how I could've dealt with that but let me tell you
that, a: I have a high tolerance for pain and b: (and most importantly)
there is no such thing as being pain free when your job is to be an
Infantrymen. That job makes you do things to your body that it was never
meant to do...and that results in pain..daily and often. But you're
taught to "suck it up and drive on". I mean where else are you expected
to throw yourself out of an airplane, strike the ground at roughly 22
feet per second, wearing in excess of 100 pounds of gear and then walk
under that load for 6-10 miles, to THEN attack the enemy?
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| My impression of a weeble-wobble |
I got depressed. My level of activity was was next to nothing, my
personal life was going to crap and my job, post Army, wasn't
particularly fulfilling. I turned to the one thing I did love,
food...any and all of it...which led me to balloon up to 245 pounds with
a 38
inch waist. My increased size made me feel terrible about myself. There
is only one picture that shows me at my heaviest (I put it up here to
prove I was that size) and that's because I had no idea it was being
taken. I was so ashamed of myself that I would either step out of or
completely refuse to be in photographs! To add insult to injury (or the
reverse I guess), the extra weight made it even more difficult for me to
get around. The docs were telling me that I should look into walking
with a cane or consider getting my back fuzed. I had to get cortisone
shots to help with the back pain. I couldn't believe where I'd ended up.
I was
the "I can do anything", "No Fear" guy and now I'm just another old fat
guy!
That led me to some doing some research into my options and getting in
touch with some great doctors which included my favorite that told me
"well, if you weren't so fat, you're back wouldn't hurt so much. You
could spend time in the gym strengthening your core and that would help
support your spinal column. You're too young and if you fuze your spine now, you're
likely to have to continue it over time." You know what? He was
absolutely right and that was just the kind of kick in the butt I needed. Unfortunately I went about my weight loss all wrong
with a routine of ephedrine, a restricted calorie diet and excessive
amounts of working out. I shrank to 158 pounds. That weight, on my 5'10"
frame made me look like gaunt. Ya, I was thin and relatively pain free
but I was nowhere near healthy nor living a healthy life. And of course,
led me to falling off the wagon and start putting weight back on
again...swelling back up to 198 pounds. Sure, I was down from the 245
but I was still overweight and looked like crap...and the cycle started
all over again.
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| Photo from a recent race, weighing 170lbs |
So, I took a deep breath and focused on getting in shape the "right
way". It just so happened that my best friend was getting into running
and wanted my help in her training and then running a local 5k. I now
had a goal on the wall and a training plan ensued. I think we trained
for somewhere around a month leading up to the race and I have to admit,
finishing that race, exhausted, drenched in sweat and salt and being
ecstatic to finish under my goal time was one of the most fulfilling
moments of my life. I had a time mark on the wall that I could build on.
That same year I
won entry to the Chicago Triathlon (I still need to share that story)
through Polar, the best heart rate monitors on the planet and to
which I owe so much (still need to share that story too) and I was
hooked. That re-lit my competitive fire and I got into training and
racing full bore. I now average 20 plus races a year (check out the
race resume
tab) and haven't looked back. I take great pride that people now
refer to me as the "crazy, fit guy". By no means do I look like I want
or race to the level I'd like (ya, there's blog post coming for that
too) but I can appreciate how far I've come and what I've accomplished. I
have not arrived arrived here easily however. The past 2 years of
training and
racing have been peppered with poor training decisions, injury and self
doubt (I am REALLY great at the self doubt part) but I work at it
everyday because I'm nowhere near figuring out the right formula for me.
I fight my own demons about my weight, my
build and my performance on a regular basis. But...at the end of the day
its not about the failures, but the success and that's what you have to
focus on to continue growing as an athlete and a person.
I hope to make "Fueled by Iron" a place to talk honestly about my
experiences with training, racing and trying out new gear en route to my
ultimate goal of competing in an Ironman Triathlon. I really do
believe that a positive outlook and never say die attitude can lead you
to be successful in any endeavor and I hope my journey and story here
will help motivate others to get off the couch to not only become active
but competitive too. There are 3 mantras that I use as constant
motivation to get me through training, racing and life: "That which does
not kill us, makes us stronger" (soon to be a tattoo on me), "Be smart
enough to know you're stupid" you need to realize what you don't know
and ask for help, "There's only two ways to finish a race: crossing the
finish line or being carried out on stretcher" and "You can throw up
when its over". Look, if I can drag
my fat, broken, old self out to train and race...SO CAN YOU!
Sadly I have to caveat everything I say lest people who know
me or read this blog think I hold them to the same standard as I do
myself. That couldn't be farther from the truth. I am my own worst
critic and as such I only criticize myself. I have no idea what other have to
deal with/overcome in their lives/training/racing so it would be ridiculous of me to pass ANY type of
judgement on their performance. I also have the unrealistic thought that anytime I line up
for a race, that I have the potential to place or at least run a
"respectable" time.
