Here we are in the sunny South and the e-mails start again. If you don’t want to be on the mailing list any more click here . Nothing happened? OK, try clicking here . Nothing happened again? I don’t know anything about computers, but brother Bob tells me that clicking those spots will probably redirect all my daily junk e-mails for cialis, viagra, and growing special parts of your body 3 inches to your e-mail. Sorry!

We had a good trip down after the first morning. When we left it was raining really hard and then we got into fog in northern Indiana. Luckily we weren’t involved in any pile-ups like happened in Lansing. We stopped for the night in Dalton, Georgia. We wanted to stay in a Fairfield Inn next to the Cracker Barrel restaurant so we could just walk over, but when they saw our car packed to the hilt with two bicycles and other outdoor paraphernalia (is that spelled right), they told us they were sold out. As we left I heard them whispering something about Ma and Pa Kettle (too old for most of you to understand).

I had worn a long-sleeved t-shirt and levis the second day and it was hot in the car. The temp was in the low 80s. We stopped at a Perkins restaurant and half the old guys (yes, older than me) had jackets on. When I get to that point, I’ll know I’m realy old. It was around 2:30 so I wasn’t sure whether all the older people were there for a late lunch or were there for the “early bird” dinner.

We must have dragged the cold weather down with us. The day after we got here it rained all day and turned colder. The wind has been blowing around 15 mph ever since.

Took the new bike out for a ride on Saturday. It was an easy 20 mile out and back. I averaged 21+ mph on the way South and around 14- mph on the way back. My butt got sore from the new seat at mile 9. By mile 13 I was standing every 3 or 4 minutes. When we got back, picture Jean standing over me with one foot on my right butt cheek pulling that seat out of my @%#&. On second thought, don’t picture it. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

Better sign off. We’re headed off to Clermont to look around and ride the new and improved bike route. An one want to do the Great Floridian this year?

Ta Ta as always,

Just (Warmer But Not Hot) Jack

 I suppose most of you thought that last week’s race report was the last e-mail you would receive from me for a while. Not so! I wanted to send this one for a couple of reasons. One was to correct an error in the details. I had said that the photographer taking the pictures of the famed underpants run in Madison was Bill Bradley. Actually it was Larry Etter. Bill and Nancy were just getting to the motel in Madison and having their own underpants run, but let’s not go there.

Larry was too embarrassed to do the underpants run so he said he would take the pictures. The next thing I knew he had stripped down to his “tighty-whities”. That way he could feel like he was running half naked down the streets of Madison without the fear of pictures being plastered all over the walls of Delton-Kellogg Middle School or pictures showing up on the news when he runs for political office.

The second reason was to report on the “recovery swim” I did on the 19^th with 600 other insane people and my sane son, Matt. It’s called The Tiburon Mile. It’s an open water swim from Angel Island to Tiburon in San Francisco Bay. Before you get too concerned, there were very few sharks sighted, and the water temperature was a balmy 62 degrees. It started out raining like cats and dogs before the race. No, Becky, I don’t know what kind of dogs…it’s just an expression. The race officials hadn’t planned on rain since this was the first in about four months. As Matt and I registered, the race officials were dry under a tent and we were standing directly under the edge of the tent in the run-off.

I had one slight pre-race setback. The night before the race I wanted to get everything set so I could just get up in the morning and go out the door. I looked everywhere at the Bed and Breakfast and I couldn’t find my swim suit (since I got home I’ve found it on the bedroom door handle at the cottage). Matt said he and all the other surfers go “commando” (naked as a Jaybird) under their wetsuits. I could have since I wouldn’t be removing the wetsuit immediately after I got out of the water, but my mind drifted back to the famed chafing incident at The Great Buckeye Challenge Half Ironman, so I wore my underwear. No, not the tighty whities again…my black designer briefs.

Matt and I had a blast with his partner Tonya and dog Drew as support crew. We talked with a couple on the ferry on the way to Angel Island and talked with a few people on the beach before the swim started. As I looked around, it reminded me of a triathlon start. Most of the people were extremely fit. There were a few that looked like me, but most were members of college swim teams, high school swim teams and masters swim groups. There were world class open water swimmers and some Olympic medal winners. The winner received a prize of $25,000 and, no, it wasn’t me.

The race is to benefit the Special Olympics and this year over $200,000 was raised. While we stood on the beach at Angel Island, the crowd of swimmers split with an aisleway down the middle. Several Special Olympians with pink swim caps were introduced, walked down the steps to the beach and through the crowd receiving high-fives all the way. One young man stood at the top of the stairs with his hands raised and bowed to the crowd, walked to the bottom of the stairs and bowed again. It was very touching.

After I finished and was waiting on the docks for Matt, I overheard a couple of guys in their mid-thirties talking as they walked by. One guy said something about looking to the side in the water and seeing one of the pink hats so he speeded up since he didn’t want to get beat by “one of them”. I thought to myself, I probably would have slowed down a little. The race was only important to me to be swimming with my son. The finish time meant nothing to me and may have meant everything to the mentally challenged athlete.

As I rode back on the plane yesterday, my thoughts drifted back to that comment. Before I dropped into that smug “holier than thou” attitude about how I would have handled the situation, I looked back at the number of times I have helped/befriended/talked with anyone who is mentally challenged. My current batting average is .000 for life. Thank God for those who do.

As in triathlon, I was I the middle range of my age group. It was a nautical mile and my time was 34:39. So, what’s a nautical mile you ask (well, maybe one of you…the rest don’t care)? A nautical mile is a distance on the earth’s surface of 6,080 feet, which is equal to one minute of latitude at the earth’s equator. That’s 1.1515 land miles in case you need it for a Jeopardy Quiz.  Matt came in a couple of minutes after me and was complaining of being beat by a 57 year old geezer. Actually, he was happy with his swim and knew that I had trained for 24 weeks for twice the distance. Besides, kids don’t call their own parents geezers, do they?

As in the Walker tradition, Matt and I spent the day before the race finalizing our training by brewing a batch of beer. Also in the Walker tradition, since we didn’t drink alcohol before the race…it has a tendency to dehydrate…we followed up the event with a trip to a brew pub for some post-race recovery drink. That followed by a short nap and a trip to Tommy’s Mexican Restaurant for margaritas and dinner, and we were properly recovered.

As a final note, yes, I was at the San Francisco Giants game last Friday night when Barry Bonds hit his 700th home run and, no, I didn’t catch the ball.

So this is the last of the e-mails for a while. I get lots of notes saying that you have enjoyed the weekly updates and I have enjoyed writing them even more. I know my sense of humor is “out there” sometimes, they are full of “inside’ stories that only those involved understand, and my presentation skills are awkward, but now most of you know me better than I know myself. Besides, I never intend to be published, and I don’t have to turn these papers in to an English teacher (although I’m sure Mrs. Youngs is spinning in her grave…there I go again with an “inside” reference that only Hastings townies understand).

Thank you again for your support and encouragement during my recovery from “The Wreck of ’03”. It surely helped keep that demon at bay.

Just (Now What Do I Do After The Sunday Long Run?) Jack

P.S. Keep Elaine in your prayers!

 Here it is down to the last 7 days before the big race (well, it’s big to me anyway), and I’m not nervous yet. As I’ve said before, I’m looking forward to the fun part. I missed it last year and feel like the race owes me a good time.

I did my last long run today (it really wasn’t long, only 6 miles…short compared to the 18 mile Sunday a few weeks back) and a 2-3 hour HR#2 bike ride yesterday followed by a 2 mile run. Bill and I decided to ride together and Larry was going to go too, but got waylaid with school activities.

It didn’t seem to be Bill’s day. First, we were going to meet at KCC, park in the parking lot, and do the Wayland loop. When we got there, they were sealcoating the lot, so we drove to our house on Green Street. Bill had pumped his tires before the ride and had a flat on the back. He tried to pump it with his tire pump, blew a seal on that, so he started out with a repair job in the driveway using Jean’s pump.

We got on the road late and Bill had taped his mouth shut with duct tape so he wouldn’t say something dumb and make the Sunday e-mail column for the umpteenth time. We got to the spot on M-179 where Bill, Larry and I had seen the beaver that got hit by a car some weeks back. Bill was riding behind me, so I turned my head and innocently said “Watch out for beavers”. Bill had taken the tape off by then so he could breathe, and said “You’re not baiting me into saying anything!”. I really hadn’t intended to, but I saw the reasoning behind his reaction and got a little chuckle out of his comment.

It wasn’t five minutes later, when we were riding up the short hill just past Patterson, and Bill said, “There’s a hot chick behind us, but I’ll bet she’s married”. Jean had taken off about 25 minutes before we did, so Bill assumed he saw her in his rear view mirror. I turned and saw a rider quite a distance back, so we slowed and waited for the rider to catch up.

I caught the approach out of the corner of my eye so I turned and smiled at who I thought was going to be Jean. It turned out to be a pretty good sized guy that looked something like Randall Bertrand who said “Where are you guys headed?”. I told him we were doing a loop through Wayland and stifled a laugh. When Bill heard his voice, I could see his head drop and hear him say “Damn!!”.

Now Bill tells me he made a mistake thinking it was Jean, but I think he was trying to bait me into saying something cute like, “Hey, you want to _ _ _ _ ?”. You’ve heard the true stories about Bill before. You be the judge.

This is the last e-mail I plan to send out until after the race. I know you will all be thinking of me on race day. So next Sunday, at around 8:45 CDT, say a little prayer so I make it past that demon on McCoy Road. I plan to be extra careful which may slow me down some, but hopefully will help me make it through in one piece. Jean will have my cell phone, and may be relaying race reports. You can also follow the race on http://www.ironmanlive.com/ and see how John, Larry and I are doing. Remember, this race isn’t just about me. John Hopkins and Larry Etter are in the best shape I’ve ever seen them in and have worked as hard or harder than me. I expect they will be at the finish line sipping Margaritas long before I get done.

I will be thinking of all of you (with +- 7 hours on the bike, you have lots of time to fill). When I don’t feel like I can take one more step on the run, I’ll expect you to will me the strength to not give up.

Just (Don’t Fall Off The Bike) Jack

 It’s Summerfest weekend in Hastings and the weather has been rainy, so I have decided to adjust my schedule accordingly. Everyone knows I follow instructions to the letter, so those of you that just fainted probably think I still have lasting effects from the wreck that have caused me to hallucinate, but I’ll explain.

Saturday on the schedule is long bike day. For me it was to be a 3 1/2 to 4 1/2 hour HR#2-3 ride, a little faster than race pace, and a good time to finalize nutrition plans for the race. Sunday morning is usually our group run. But the weather was rainy on Saturday and some of the Trilanders were running in the 10K race. So I decided to do my Sunday run on Saturday and do the long bike today. Now today is rainy, windy and cold.

So here’s the plan. I already did today’s run yesterday but, with weather conditions the way they are, it’s not good enough to have a meaningful long ride. So I’ll do Tuesday’s turbo trainer bike workout today with a short transition run after. I’ll do tomorrow’s swim using Wednesday’s swim workout. Since I have a hospital board meeting on Tuesday, I’ll do the Thursday track workout early in the morning, and then do Monday’s swim workout on Wednesday. Thursday I’ll replace the normal track day I will have already done Tuesday with today’s long bike and will work on the final plan of what to eat and when to eat it during the race. Friday is a scheduled day off (it’s taper week, you know) and then Saturday I’ll be back on schedule with my last long bike ride (2-3 hour HR#2) before the race. Make sense?

Today is the last day of the Olympics, so now I don’t know what I’ll watch on TV. The political ads are driving me more nuts than I already am, I’m getting a little tired of the controversy over Paul Hamm’s gold medal, and I’ve just about had it with the diving expert’s criticism of every single flaw in every single dive. If she knows that much about it she should be on the diving board rather than talking into a microphone with the benefit of slow motion instant replay.

Some of Jean seems to be rubbing off on Becky since they have spent so much time together lately. We were watching a short clip of one of the basketball games in the Olympics when she asked what the term “PITS IN PAINT” meant. Apparently her eyes aren’t as good as they used to be. The graphic was “PTS IN PAINT” and refers to how many points were made from near the basket in the painted part of the floor between the foul lines and the end line. I told her they counted the player’s armpits, then divided by two to see how many players were in the painted part of the floor. Unlike Jean, she didn’t believe me.

At 7AM there were 336 hours to go until the start of the race. It’s funny how fast 168 hours has flown by since last week. It seems like 168 minutes to me. I’m getting anxious for the whole race experience to start. Maybe I’ve built it up too much in my own mind, but I want to recapture all the hype and excitement I missed last year.

I sent a question to the “Ask the Coaches” forum at my training website about whether or not there is an underpants run at Ironman Wisconsin. There is one at the Hawaii Ironman, and I thought I saw something about one at Ironman Canada in one of the other questions and answers. For those of you that don’t know what this is, the Thursday before the big Saturday race, those who want to participate meet in front of a restaurant on Alii Drive in Kona wearing white underwear and do a short fun-type race (more like a parade). The rules follow as copied directly from one of the e-mails in the “Ask the Coaches” archives:

1. Any version of men’s white “mommy underwear” (also known as tighty whities, y-fronts, briefs, etc.) is permitted. Good sources include Duofold’s performance briefs made with Coolmax Alta or any variety of cotton three-packs available at Wal-Mart and other fine stores.
2. No boxers, long underwear, or stylish Euro-bikini briefs permitted.
3. Route must be completed by running, walking, or crawling. Heart rate monitors, black or argyle socks, bad hats, and earrings are optional.
4. While this event is considered a “moderately paced parade” rather than a “race”, pacing strategies are up to the participant.
5. No awards will be presented.
6. No aid stations will be provided.
7. Other rules to be decided as issues arise.
8. Rules committee (Tim Morris, Slice, Huddle, and Roch Frey) reserve the right to make things up as they go along.
9. All are welcome regardless of age, species (dog’s welcome), gender, race, religious beliefs and/or nationality.

I won’t say I’ve never done this before, but it wasn’t at 8AM, I was much younger then, and it wasn’t without the influence of alcohol.

Ta Ta ’til the Sunday before race day,

Just (Confused But Happy) Jack

P.S. I understand Pat Purgiel took a tumble on the bike and ended up with a cracked helmet, a head injury, and a night in the hospital. I though everyone learned from my experience not to do that. When I bumped my head, it made me talkative. I wonder if Pat’s bumping his head made him quiet. We’ll see.

 As of 7AM this morning there were 504 hours to the start of “The Big One” but who’s counting? This is the time I get in the panic mode. It’s not fear, but concern that something is going to go wrong (an injury, a bike wreck, a bike mechanical problem that can’t be fixed, and on and on) and I won’t be able to do the race after all these weeks of training.

I’m told that last weekend was to be the inaugural Lansing Legislator Half Ironman. After waiting until 10 AM for dense fog to lift the Half was canceled and anyone who had signed up was forced to do an Olympic length race if they wanted to do anything at all. No refunds. We all know that when we sign up for races. So instead of doing a 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike and 13.1 mile run like they trained for, the racers did a .93 mile (1.5K) swim, 24.8 mile (40K) bike, and a 6.2  mile (10K) run. Bummer. That’s another one of my fears.

This past Wednesday I decided to swim in the pool to work on form and do some sprints. I also had a 7AM committee meeting at the hospital so it worked out better for me than going out to the lake. Wrong!! I didn’t wear my nose clip (I haven’t worn it in the lake for some time) and my sinuses got really inflamed from the chlorine. I have been sneezing and stuffed up ever since. I finally had to leave the house and go out to the lake before Jean asked me for the 50th time if I wanted to use her prescription nose spray (that’s illegal isn’t it?).

Jean came into the fitness center at around 6:20 and said she had driven out to Algonquin to swim, but it was so foggy she turned around at the store and came back to the pool. I understand that Bill, Eric and Becky swam anyway. Here’s the story as I was told, I think. Eric swam 4 lengths, showered and headed for work. The fog was so dense that he missed a turn at Hammond and Willits Roads and rolled his car. He wasn’t hurt but the car was totaled. Bill continued to swim until the fog, which had been hovering above the lake, dropped to the surface so it was impossible to see.

Becky started swimming back from Mark’s place which is across from Diane’s, swam around in circles and ended up back at Mark’s on the other side of the lake. It was impossible to see well enough to swim back to Diane’s so she started walking. In the meantime, Bill had finished swimming, gotten dressed, and went back down to the water to make sure Becky made it in OK. After several minutes Bill started to become very worried and thought about borrowing Diane’s Jet Ski and going to look for Becky. He was just about to go when he heard SLOSH! SLOSH! SLOSH! coming from the direction of the store. In a couple of minutes along came Becky, walking along the shoreline all the way from the other side of the lake.

I know the details aren’t exactly right, but that’s the gist of the story. The way rumors go, one could imagine that after Eric left, Bill and Becky were alone in the water, their actions shielded by fog. They decided to swim without wetsuits, got carried away, lost track of time and that’s why Becky was late for work. Bill’s wife is out of town and Becky is single. Hmmmm! You be the judge. I’m dumb enough to believe the fog story even though we all know that all three of them are smart enough not to swim in the fog when you can’t see where you are going and anyone in a boat couldn’t see you either.

Since this is a recovery week for me, the bike was a 2 1/2 to 3 1/2 hour HR#1 easy ride. I didn’t feel comfortable in the aerobars until around the halfway point. I know I’ve become a real wimp when it comes to bike weather. 52 degrees at the lake was too cold to start out early so I waited until 11AM. By then there was lots of traffic which made the ride from the lake up Norris Road to Chief Noonday Road exciting.

I was riding the last stretch of woods between Yankee Springs Road and Gun Lake Road and had just dropped to the aerobars when I heard a noise that scared the heck out of me. Most of you haven’t hunted deer, but those of you that have know the sound of a buck when he catches wind of a person and is startled. It’s like the combination of the blow from a snot rocket and an exhale in the TB ward at the VA hospital. A strong exhale through the nose with a distinctive wheeze mixed in. Well, I heard that sound followed by thundering hooves and I was petrified that the deer would run out in front of me, I would slam into the side of it, and, as they say, “…it would be all over but the shouting”. Of course he didn’t and here I am to tell about it, but I thought I may have to change my bike shorts.

I went West to Bradley and turned South on A-45 for the first time. I rode that down to 124th Avenue, turned back East through the metropolis of Shelbyville, and ended up at Gun Lake at the Allegan County boat launch. While going down A-45 I caught sight of an animal running inside a fenced area. The fence was wood and was about five feet high. I could see the back bobbing up and down so I thought at first it was a pony. It turned out to be a huge dog. He got to the end of the yard, stood up at the fence and took a bite out of one of the fence slats. Splinters flew everywhere and he spit out a big chunk of wood. He had that look in his eyes that seemed to say “I wish that was your leg”. Even though the road was flat, I was immediately in heart rate 3-4.

I don’t care how hard you try. No one can ride Lindsay Road from North to South up the big hill and keep the ride in HR#1. I was on the high side of 3 and pushing 4. After the hill is a slight downhill and then another small hill. I pushed up the hill to see what I had left in my legs and felt the bike bouncing. It took me about 300 yards before I realized my bike doesn’t have shock absorbers and shouldn’t bounce. I kept hearing this awful sound and thought my head bracket was loose or my bottom bracket (on the bike, not my bottom) had gone bad. I turned on Pine Lake Road and went halfway to Norris Road before I thought to look at the tires. Of course the back one was almost flat. It had air, but from a start of 116 pounds it was probably down to 35 or 40.

I hate changing tires on the road and it always seems to be the back one, so you take the wheel off and let the chain lay in the sand and road grit. It took just a few minutes and I was back on it riding the last 20 minutes home. I’m never comfortable after a tire change because I fear that I missed whatever caused the flat in the first place so my new tube will also probably go. Then I’m down to no spares and what do I do then? It’s not fun being paranoid. Maybe I should stop thinking that way and learn to “go with the flow”.

Just (Paranoid and Definitely Insane) Jack

 With the race four weeks from last Sunday, it seems wrong to take a long weekend off but I did. Mid-August is our annual trip the Upper Peninsula to see friends. The trip becomes a gambling (8 casino stops and I don’t gamble) and golf adventure(Friday, Saturday and Sunday at three different courses and I played my last golf on last year’s trip) followed by too much eating (that part I did).

I don’t have anything against gambling for those who enjoy it, but I don’t have fun doing it. I guess it’s the “thrifty” part of me that knows how hard I worked to make it in the first place that I don’t enjoy losing it. But each year I buy KENO tickets. Most years it is $10 worth; this year it was $20. I won $4 so I lost $16 and that’s enough for me. Two or three years ago I won $1,500 on a $2 KENO ticket so I figure I’m still playing on their money for 147 more years.

This year, when we played golf at the Casino at Watersmeet (home of the Nimrods-anyone see the nationwide TV commercial?), we got $3 off the Friday night buffet which we were going to eat anyway, and a $5 match coupon. With the match coupon you give them $5 and they give you a $10 roll of quarters. I still have the roll of quarters so, technically, I’m only down $8 (the $16 from KENO minus the $3 food savings minus the $5 they gave me over what I gave them in quarters).

Ron Lewis, one of the friends on the trip, says my math is all wrong. When you gamble and bet $10, the money is no longer yours. It’s on the table so it belongs to the casino. If you get $2 dollars back, you’re not “down” $8, you’ve won $2. If I don’t understand that I’ll never be a gambler. I do understand it, but I don’t see it that way and I’ll never be a gambler.

So the question is, if I don’t gamble and don’t play golf, why do I go on this trip at all? The answer goes back to why we do most things and that is family and friends. From these trips we have stories and memories you can’t buy. One of the guys that used to go on this trip died a few years ago, and it’s on these trips that we remember the stories and “bring him back” for a time.

Couple that with the fact that a 12 mile loop of my Sunday 15 miler was from one lake to another 6 miles away on the Michigan Wisconsin border through a desolate state forest. In the entire two hours I saw three cars and they all waved like they knew me. The peace and serenity that run brought me couldn’t be duplicated here. 

So on the training front, Thursday was a travel day there (Iron River in the U.P. is around 500 miles away), I ran 9 miles Friday, took Saturday off for golf, casino and a trip to Houghton, ran 15 miles Sunday, and Monday was a travel day back. Three days of rest in five days sounds like too much. But in the Q & A section of my training website, others have asked the question about the same type of break for weddings, business trips, family vacations, etc. and the coaches have said it probably does more good than harm. Some people need the physical recovery time, some the mental recovery time, and some still have to work to make a living.

So I’m ready to go back at it. I missed a 6-7 hour long bike and wasn’t in the water at all. The lake we stayed at was chilly and the night-time temp got down around 38 so I was happy to not get wet. The coaches say not to try and make up what you lost, but get right back into the groove. Since this is a recovery week, and I’ve already recovered, I will probably substitute last weekend’s schedule with this weekend (yes, the coaches say that’s OK) with a little longer bike but not a longer run.

It’s less than four weeks to go until the “Big Race” and I’m still not in panic mode.

Just (At Peace With The World) Jack