Ben Collins

A Typical Day in the Life of Ben Collins: Through the Eyes of Aaron Scheidies 

You all have read Ben Collin’s stories and accounts of his life. Well, I have been hanging around and training with him for the past weeks and I think I can give a pretty good account of what a typical day in the life of Ben Collins is really like.

Ben normally gets up around 6:30am and has a bowl of cereal, grabs about ten clif bars and a handful of quarters from his parents change bag before walking to catch the bus. As he is nearing t he bus stop he will undoubtedly see a bus coming and thinks it’s his 372 bus to University of Washington. He starts running and yelling for it to wait but to his dismay it’s the 312 to Downtown, and he has just held up a bus load of people. This mistake happens every morning. Once on the bus, Ben gets out his newest prized possession, his iPhone and starts listening to music to get motivated for his morning swim. One would think he would be listening to the likes of classics from Green Day, Metalica or Bon Jovi but this is not the case. Ben has his own genre [KEXP is a great radio station. -bc]. If I knew any of the songs on his play list I would tell you but none of them ring a bell, it’s like the b-side tracks from bands that never made it out of the garage. At 7:30am Ben arrives at the UW IMA. He normally takes 2-3 trips to the John in the morning before even beginning his swim. This is probably due to the amount of green leafy vegetables he takes in but I am not sure. He walks into the pool area and I am sure the lifeguards are eyeing him just wondering if he is going to get into a tussle with any of the other swimmers or potentially with the Pool Man. The story of the Pool Man has already been discussed on previous BC blogs but is definitely a must-read for humor. His most recent encounter was with a rather hairy man that probably shouldn’t be swimming in the fast lane but does so every morning. [In short, I asked the man to please stay a little farther to the right and he responded with some four letter words and a complaint to the pool management - bc]

Ben typically swims 5,000yds every day and pretty much laps everyone in the pool every 200yds or less no matter their speed. Ben loves his butterfly so on his recovery days he typically does more than half his workout butterfly. The others in the pool also love it when he swims butterfly because then they get to work on their ocean swimming simulation. He creates some pretty good chop with his dolphin kick. Following swimming Ben will have a Cliff Bar  in the shower and then go into the locker room to get changed. Ben has two lockers rather than one like everyone else because he claims to have too much stuff! [fins, paddles, running shoes and bike shoes do not fit in one little cubby locker! - bc] He puts on a K Swiss get-up and then heads up to the IMA Rec Office where Carrie, his boss, works. He cooks his oats in the small kitchenette using a random plastic bowl that is borrowed by many. The kitchenette has no table so Ben just sits on the floor. Others in the office walk by and look in as they pass and wonder who the random kid on the floor is and how he got into the kitchen.

After eating a full bowl of oats Ben gets sleepy and sometimes he asks to open his boss’s office so he can take a nap under her desk before she gets in. If he does this he normally sleeps until she comes into work (1hr) and then wakes up because she needs someplace to put her feet. Disgruntled from the rude awakening, Ben then gets ready to ride his bike. He teaches spin class at 12 but normally likes to ride for 2 hours so he starts spinning at 11am. For the first hour he listens to that same unknown genre that definitely does not pump me up, but I guess whatever gets you going you should roll with. The first spin class he tried to play his own music, and the class hated it, so now he plays mainly top 40 from the past decade and throws in just a few fillers from his own library. One day he had to change his play list a bit on the fly because some of his songs had inappropriate lyrics for a university class that he somehow didn’t catch:  “F- this and Kiss my ***”.  After 1hr Ben takes another Clif Bar. He likes the Maple Nut ones the best. Then his class comes in and he becomes very social and talkative. This is somewhat like a new Ben but it only lasts for the 12-1pm hour and then he goes back to the more reserved and witty BC.

At 1pm Ben changes from his biking clothes and then gets ready to run. At this point he has already worked out for 3 1/2hrs. I think he has yet another Clif Bar at this point but I am not totally sure because I kind of lose count at this point. When asked what his run will be today BC replies with, “Victor says I gotta run 8 miles today.” With his blue and yellow K-Swiss Keahou’s on to match the rest of his completely K-Swizzled outfit, Ben then goes out for his run. He also always wears his Garmin and HR monitor. I’m not sure what Ben would do on a run without his beloved  Garmin. Victor says he has to stay in his heart rate range, so throughout the run he keeps checking his watch to see his HR. When I run with Ben, he shouts out the mile times that his watch automatically records. He doesn’t seem to care how fast they are, just whether I’m pushing him over his maximum allowable HR. One day we were running up a long hill near campus, Ben yells “that was an 8 minute mile, but my HR is a few beats too high, can we slow down”. No Ben, we can’t go slower or it wouldn’t even be called jogging.

Upon his return to the IMA, Ben normally goes up to Carrie’s office once again but this time not for a nap. Instead, he shares with her what is on his mind for that day and explains any pool dilemmas he has gotten himself into earlier in the day. He does this until Carrie says she has too much work to do to listen to him anymore. At this point he gets his stuff from his locker and has a Clif Builder Bar. It’s about 2:30pm and Ben has to run to make it on time to a physical therapy appt for his knee (which is recovering very well). He typically goes into his PT appointment sweaty, which I am sure, his PT loves. At his PT clinic he is not known as Ben Collins but rather “K Swiss”. While doing his exercises you hear, “K Swiss make sure you are engaging those glute muscles.”

From his PT appt he typically buys a burrito from Qdoba and boards the bus back home. At about 5:30pm he eats an early dinner before going to a Biochemistry class at North Seattle that he is not even enrolled in. Evidently, they  messed up on his enrollment and it’s too late to enroll so he is not officially in the class [I’m waiting on a petition]. Ben still goes to class though and does at least some of the readings and homework. He always comes back with stories of one particular student in the class who thinks she knows it all and feels she needs to share it with the rest of the class. It will be interesting when the first test comes around and the teacher attempts to enter Ben’s score into the computer.

Ben returns home from his class around 8pm just in time for his second dinner that is ready to be eaten thanks to his dad, Robert. Ben tries to eat as many greens such as mustard greens, arugala  or chard as he can. He even puts greens in his Lasagna. As he eats, his dog Teisha (who is 14yrs old) is sprawled out on the floor. Most of the time Teisha knows when there is food being eaten but since her vision and hearing aren’t great and her mobility is limited she often is just passed out in the middle of the floor. Also, while eating, Ruth Anne (Ben’s mom) comes out from her office wearing at least 2-3 pieces of Ben’s K Swiss clothing. She asks how his day went to which Ben will say something like, “That’s where that sweatshirt is. I have been looking for that for like a week.” Ruth Ann typically responds with, “Ben you need to have K Swiss send some size 9 shoes for me.” While this is all going on and while eating Ben is playing around in some way shape or form with his iPhone.

[Here’s Aaron & Carrie eating my mustard green infested lasagna. Aaron doesn’t like the greens nearly as much as me -bc]

At about 9pm, Ben goes up to his room and talk on the phone for… Long enough -  I can’t give an accurate guess on this one, but he does it with those stupid white iPhone headphones on, so nobody that walks in knows if he’s listening to music or talking to somebody on the phone [why does everyone feel the need to walk into my room anyway? – bc]. While doing this he checks his email to see the workouts Victor has sent him for the next day. He also writes some of his “usually sarcastic” blogs that you have all read or you wouldn’t be reading this one. He logs his training hours that have been approaching 30hrs the last few weeks. He then gets ready to go to bed so  he can repeat it all again the next day. Normally Ben goes to bed about 10:00pm, but I am pretty sure I’ve heard him still talking on the phone close to midnight [a wise man once told me, “girls are trouble”. But I didn’t listen. - bc].

Thanks for the recap Aaron. You forgot to mention my yoga class, where I fall asleep and start snoring because it’s at the end of the day and I’m too tired to focus for another hour.  Or how we do such classic exercises as “the sideways zombie walk” and the “flamingo with poor balance” in the weight room after swimming in our matching K-Swiss apparel, while all the die-hard iron lifters look at us like we’re totally nuts. That’s my favorite part of the day.

Last year I posted my friend Peggy McDowell-Cramer’s race report from Kona. I was pretty sure last year that nobody could every do more ironman races than she had done (without being completely insane like Chet the Jet), but this year she did another full Ironman in New Zealand, and went to Vancouver for the Age Group World Championships (where she didn’t even say hello to me because she had to get to wedding in LA the same afternoon), and still had the energy to finish of her season with her 13th Ironman, and 8th time racing in Kona. She’s 67.

Let that soak in for a minute.

…[Left is Peggy in the Team US outfit. I took the picture off Slowtwitch]

Here’s her race report (Click here for the finish video at 16 hours 56 minutes 27 seconds):

  a pretty hard day, that’s for sure.       it was very satisfying to finish it, before the cutoff, and, of course, stop running.    we had adverse environmental conditions in two-thirds of the race, and that tends to take its toll.
    the swim started out just fine, but the water felt different at a couple of points—just harder to swim—so i gathered we were in some swell action.  i had that confirmed when i got out and saw the time, which was seven minutes slower than last year.  i did have a very quick transition (bike clothes are under the speed suit for swimming), so i still felt hopeful starting the bike.  the small spur of road that starts the bike portion is lined with people yelling …much akin to the finish chute…and it tends to be an encouragement no matter how fast or slow one is.
  the first part of the bike went well enough, and continued to do so until out on the queen K highway a stretch, when we were hit with a pretty strong headwind.  this made up for the past few years which had relatively mild conditions.  it was normally hot (in the mid-80s):  i dont’ think i’m a very good judge of temperatures in the heat of battle.  i take a bottle of water at each aid station and squirt it through the vents in my helmet; and even if i don’t feel like i need it, it always makes me feel much better.   
     the wind factor is slowing and annoying when it’s in my face/head-on,  but that’s less harrowing than the last 18 miles to the turn-around (and back).  good thing i reminded myself of it the week
before.  it was windy. i asked about the velocity afterward and heard one report of mid-30s.  i think that was a low-ball estimate.  it’s wearing, as i’m nervous i’ll lose control and go over, of course, so
it’s a real tension producer for that stretch.  i was thrilled to get out of it.  i was hoping that the headwind we had would be a wonderful tailwind the last 30+ miles, but that didn’t pan out, either.  it was more of a side wind, and that left things at the usual place: do what you can.  all in all, i’m a stronger biker than last year, so was still pretty pleased with my time.
    the end of the bike is a valet service affair, so all one needs to do is get off and start running into the transition area.  i’m already out and on top of my shoes, then swing my right leg up and over the saddle as i’m braking to the dismount line, then put that foot down and start running, letting go of my bike.  and the bike catcher does whatever he’s supposed to do—i don’t look.  but as all of this transpired, some woman volunteer there apparently thought something was amiss, or that i was in trouble or whatever….she called out something to the effect that i shouldn’t worry.  ?????  i told her i wasn’t worried.
   the transition tent has volunteers and i always ask for a helper as soon as i enter the tent.   that went well.  then i take the bag in my hand (gotten from the rack, by #), empty it at my feet, and tell the helper what i want, in what order.  she wasn’t particularly fast or adroit, as she got each thing somewhat wrong, but as i was taking off my bike shirt and accepting my run shirt, my left hamstring went into a take-this! cramp.  as i was moving this way and that, trying to find just how it would be stretched out and quit, an abdominal started to cramp.  this disrupted our conversation a good deal, but engaged a massage volunteer who offered to massage my hamstring.  i thought i was better off moving forward, one way or the next, so declined, got my shirt on, got my shorts on, sat down, greased my toes, socks and shoes on, and made a hasty exit.
   the run start was pretty good, as things go, and i saw many friends racing and spectating/cheering, so it was a fairly upbeat time.  we do a little over five miles out alii drive, which is usually one big sauna, and it wasn’t as bad this year.  there are structures on both sides of most of the road, even though the ocean is one of the sides, and there are a lot of trees, so it’s extremely humid.   i still douse myself with water at each mile/aid station.  i used ice more this year, to undetermined effect.  i put some down my front a few times. held some in each hand sometimes, and used a big hunk to ice my face here and there.  it’s still hot.  it’s still a real slog.
    i was, as aforementioned, better on the bike this year, but my run completely fell apart and was a sorry shuffle.  or worse.  i’m tempted, on this monday after the saturday race, to say it was an
embarrassment.  however, it’s the IM, anything can happen, and it’s all good if you’re still moving forward on your own steam, and hit the line before midnight.  and i did.  but it was pretty close.
   the finish line on alii drive is wild, and this year was more electric and overwhelming than ever before.  announcer mike reilly said the same last night at the awards banquet.  actually, he said that before running a film clip of late night finishers, which had several seconds of my own happy arrival.  i sort of get teary and gooey just thinking about it, so suffice it to say that it was overwhelming.  when i stopped i had mike on my left and two photographers in front of me.  then i hugged mike, and immediately got grabbed by three other friends, before being taken by my catchers.  and then i needed them because i was very unstable.  after going forward for so long, any side to side movements are very unsteady, and i’m reduced to a stagger without leaning on my catchers.  but they are there for that purpose, take you to get your finisher’s shirt and medal, give you water, see if you’ll eat pizza or cake, and help you go up the two steps to have your finisher’s picture taken.  as for the cake, i saw that and told them, flat out, that it looked simply disgusting.  after more than 17 hours of ingesting only things ending in   ose  i was pretty repelled by the thought of sugar anything. 
    an l.a. tri club couple met me at the finish line, too, and they very nicely helped me get my bike and walked the blocks over to my condo with me, and—here’s the great part—carried my bike up to my third floor unit.  i was wondering how i was going to feel doing that, and ..god lives and intervenes in human affairs…i didn’t have to do it.  then i got clean.  ate a little protein.  and got out flat.
    sunday started just fine, with a great time at church, then seeing friends, packing, etc.  a bunch of us got to the dinner line early (so we wouldn’t be part of the radio ministry/actually could see something), so that was a very good time to see more people and socialize. 
     ironman puts on some entertainment, film clips, as mentioned, and winds up with the awards, age groupers first.  as this started it began to sprinkle.  and then rain.  and then the theatrics started.  a complete mess and scene ensued.  some of us got under the tables, many headed for the small space under a couple of canopies over the food serving area and, naturally, didn’t all fit.  there was a strip under the tables that was dry, which is where i sat, but with the downpour that became a lake, so my long dress was all wet in the back.  i and others came out when the rain abated somewhat, and held folding chairs over our heads.  this might look odd for a person to do, but there was a sea of wet souls doing it, and it looked like something from a comedy movie.  at last it was time for our age group to go up, waiting to go on stage for awards, so the chair was out and we just stood in the rain.  this year each of the five award winners in each AG got a braided lei, a umeke bowl with the appropriately engraved brass plate on it, a ti leaf lei inside it, and a watch.  when we walked off stage my friend and i turned our bowls upside down and found they’d been almost a quarter full of rain.     from there we watched the pro women get their awards (hasty), and the poor men didn’t even get that much since the sound system had now gone out.  it was over, we splashed the two blocks to the condo, stripped, put on a beach towel, and wrung out lots and lots of water before putting the clothes in the dryer. 
   so, a wet, but quite good end to a wonderful finish line end of a very tough race.  just living that finish and having that throng of people simply wishing me well and enjoying the end with me is huge. maybe more than that.
peggy

Thank you Peggy.

Peggy McDowell-Cramer sent me an email a couple days ago. Whenever I see her name in my inbox I get excited. Like before Alcatraz I was whining about my fear of sharks in the bay. Peggy sent me a note that said:

ben, drop the shark thoughts.   just race, keeping in mind how you want to do each leg thereof.
   i had a sailing mishap (rudder broke, dumped me) in the bay 40 years ago this july 31/august 1.  went over in the middle, directly out from the sf airport.  boat then sank.  i swam for about 15 hours.  never felt a fish.  thought about sharks only once, doubted sincerely that they came into the non-interesting bay, and forced myself not to think of it again.
peggy

Seriously, how can you argue with somebody who comes loaded with stories like that? This week it was Peggy’s race report from the 2008 ITU World Championships in Vancouver, Canada (home of the ITU). She was one of the unlucky few to have made the trip to Vancouver, only to suffer freezing conditions and poor race planning. Peggy is a tough girl, so when she complains it’s not whining, it’s just the way it is.

This is a long one, so I’ll make sure I keep my posts short and sweet the next few days to give everyone time to read it. A big thanks to Peggy for letting me post this. It strays far from her usual tone, so I would encourage you to read some of her previous letters to really appreciate this author. Here it is:

short version:  it stank.             longer version below.
     i just did the world triathlon championships in vacouver, b.c. june 7.  it was my 14th, and was, by leagues, the worst.  that’s some distinction.  there is currently a lot of discussion going on about it on a tri forum or two, and the happy result would be some changes in how these races are run.  we’ll see.
      many of us had uneasy feelings going into this race, and that was due to miserable communication and the astronomical cost this time.  the guilty parties at that time were the international federation which controls these races, and then our own u.s. federation, to a lesser degree.  later, it was race management which mismanaged things.
     i got to vancouver wednesday, with my race coming up saturday morning.  it was an ok day, but far from balmy.  vancouver was going through what they called unseasonably bad weather: cold and rainy. it started raining thursday, slacked off after early morning saturday….although the wind then kicked up….and came back sunday, and with real vigor monday.  there were races going on all of those days except the last.  the temperature was in the 40s and 50s, with the water 12C and 11.8C, according to the papers.  so, 54f-ish?  i’d done a really cold, short swim in a short tri the saturday before, up at pt. mugu/oxnard.  the water is always cold there in august, and it was brain-freeze cold this time, considerably colder than vancouver, and everyone swam in it without a complaint.
     things were so spread out in this city that it was difficult to get from A to B, and especially with big-city no-parking problems.  the actual race was in the utterly fabulous stanley park on the far part of the west end.  it was, by and large, closed off for all of the days of racing.  but registration was in the center.  this was how the whole thing went: you must do XYZ, but you can’t get there, but it has to be done by this time.  and so it went.   the u.s. team  hotel was downtown, maybe 1.4 miles away from the start of the race activity.  the rain, of course, added to the problems of ability and willingness to get around.
     thursday was, per usual, to be the team picture, then the parade and opening ceremonies, then the dinner, which was close to two miles away.  but the rain gave the organizers pause…and they cancelled parade plus the ceremonies.  our team did go ahead with the outdoor picture in the rain.  and we got over to the aquarium for the dinner however we best could.  i had my bike at my motel, and a bunch of time, so i just hoofed it from the hotel.   at this point we got the best part of the whole week: the aquarium and dinner. 
     the set-up was spread out, to handle the numbers, but it also meant we didn’t get to connect with too many others, as would have happened if we’d all been in the same room at the same time.  that said, they did a great job, food and show.  they put drinks at the front door.  then we walked through some exhibits, then downstairs to the salad course.  many tables were put out between the walls of tanks, so we watched the dolphins while we had salad, sat and talked, watched other things, talked, sat, and generally enjoyed it.  these big animals are trained for daytime shows, so they are plenty happy to swim close to the glass walls and do their tricks.   from there we went outside and saw really delightful otters, lots more, then back downstairs for the main course….and the whales.  they have four beluga whales and i was transfixed.  i’ve never seen a whale like that…..perfectly white….and they were wonderful.  i can’t even recall what we saw in the dessert room, but mostly recall the magnificent whales.  it was just delightful.
    friday was a full day, too.  getting things ready, getting parked, biking to the hotel for the team meeting, then back to the church for the worship service i was doing.  it was a big, old, downtown church.  vancouver has a big, old crime problem, so we had to have someone stationed at the door, to keep vagrants out, let worshipers in.  it was somewhat of a downer, although the actual worship time was fine.  then change clothes again and go over to the transition area to check in my bike.  this is an enjoyable time since you then get to run into people, meet new ones, and generally be social.  and take lots of pictures.  the T area was billed as being .6 mile from the start, but i believe that was a bit short.  lots and lots of walking.  actually, the line to get checked in was so long that i took that opportunity to bike the  6 mile bike loop (4 of them on race day).  it had been closed for races the other days, or it was too late and/or rainy to bike.  as for the swim—i thought i’d just wait for race day, do a warm-up, then cope with it. 
    race day was rainy when i left my motel, but that somewhat abated by the time i arrived at the race site.  it was in the 40s at first, but warmed up a bit as the day wore on.  my wave was the last of the women’s to go off, scheduled for 8:15am.  they usually alternate waves of men and women, but this time it was all women, then all men.   they had some kayaks out for guiding and pulling in people who gave up due to the cold.  the shorter races in previous days had had a longer swim than advertised, but they decided to cut ours to 1000m (from 1.5k)—which is to say, they kept the same course.   the walk from the T area to swim start was the same .6(+) and it was cold, even with a wetsuit on, so i put grocery bags on my feet, secured at the ankles with rubber bands, and was relatively happy with the warmth provided. by now the rain was gone, but the wind had really gotten on a roll, and there were whitecaps on the water.  not waves, just whitecaps.  i was trying to see how the prior waves were going from the start to the first turn buoy, to see how the drift would be.  it just seemed to be a case of fighting against the wind going out, then having it at the left as they headed south. i got in to warm up and found the water pretty choppy and uneven, but not more than that.  then i got in line to go into the holding pen for our wave.  and waited.  and waited. 
     the temporary wait, due to not enough kayaks and not being able to handle things (rescue someone, tip over…) led to the officials herding us back inside a big tent very close to where we were standing.  it was full.  it was here that my endurance got a severe test.  it was cold.  there was no room.  most of us sat down on the grass (inside the tent) to wait out whatever the future was to be (1.5 hours, in actuality).  a woman sat to my right, somewhat behind me.  she’d been next to me outside, shivering and doing so with a running commentary (primarily self-referencing), and holding onto me.  once we made a move to go inside, i made a valiant effort to put space between us.  it was not to be.  she was right behind me again, holding on to me.  some other wonderful woman, alongside her, slowly and sweetly explained that she would burn up valuable energy by shivering, to breathe deeply and slowly, and so on.  i’m very sorry to relate that the advice was not taken.  killing people really looks bad when you’re a minister, so i sucked it up and said nothing.  
     at long last we were told that they’d cancelled the swim, were replacing it with a 3k run!!!!!!, to walk back down to the bikes (hurry), and get ready.  i was furious.  i can understand incompetence (reason for the boat trouble), i can understand cancelling the swim, but replacing it with something out of the blue?????  they jimmied up the extra 3k on the already byzantine run course, and reaped the ensuing congestion mess.   there is a method of starting people off on the bikes at 5 second intervals, and it would have worked much better than what they threw at us.  it was so crazy and impromptu (even after two other days of races there) it left you wondering if you’d get off the bike and be told there would be a javelin throw event before the 10k run.
    all of the men had to do the no-swim-extra-run thing, and the congestion on the bike, due to it being four laps, was pretty hairy.  i didn’t get hit, didn’t crash, and consider myself very successful.  the run was yet more crowded, and a good time had by next to none.
     after the race we were led into another big tent, which had food and drink.   i stayed there a while, then made my way, again, to the T area to get my bike.  there is some deal of picking up and packing up to this part of things, and it took some time before i was set to pedal a couple of miles to where my car sat.  but from there it was smooth sailing over to where my motel was, to get clean, and get back into town for a team usa party that evening.  this was an informal affair with minimal food, but it was, at the least, most of us together in the same room, able to see one another.    
   the next day friend donna smyers came to meet me, and we ventured out in an effort to squeeze some enjoyment out of vancouver.  we went up the hill to the capilano suspension bridge park.  sort of touristy, but history fairly well done.  i actually went over (and back—no other way out) this bridge, which is some 230 feet over the water below.  i cannot believe i did it.  i am not ok with high up/nothing underneath you things.  but it had a long history, all sorts of people doing it, and had high sides on it.  there are huge trees in this place, quite old, and another feature is a series of walkways in and above the treetops.     after this stop we went further up to grouse mountain (a ski area in winter, maybe) and hiked up a half mile or so, seeing a wolf in a pen en route. 
   that night there was the awards dinner, held at the ice hockey stadium on the edge of town.  but that was late information.  my printed stuff said it was across a bridge, south, so i cruised that geography for quite a while before heading back to where it really was.  the food was very good, and we ate in the arena, so there was a place to sit, but people were so spread out it was hard to find someone you knew.  once i found two usa friends i just sat down and stayed.  then two more came, so i ended up seeing four people i knew.    once the awards were handed out they pulled out a band and had planned for people to dance the night away.  but by then people were so disenchanted that the crowd evaporated and i with them.
      next year, worlds will be on australia’s gold coast (just above brisbane), the beginning of september.  i got all of their literature and read it on the plane home, to pull myself out of the mood gutter.  it’s pretty certain those aussies will have a swim, come what may.  with plenty of lifeguards out on surfboards, which don’t tip over.  i’ll look forward to that.
peggy

[I've put a lot of thought into how I can appropriately introduce my friend Brandon Basso. There's the basic "bio data" (a term used by our Indian friends at Columbia. Apparently their parents did not think our bio data was sufficient for their daughters): 5'11" 145 pounds, blond, blue eyes, grew up on Long Island (and can't wait to move back east)... None of that really describes him. He's unique, but then I guess you have to be if you graduated in engineering with a minor in English, worked on the Mars Rover, then went back to school for a PhD in Control Theory (translate that as robotics).

Brandon is the kind of guy you can't be mad at. I'm not sure if it's because he's genuinely an honest and nice person, or if it's because he speaks with inflections that make every sentence sound like a question (it's hard to take offense when someone criticizes you through questions: I feel like this would go faster if you were a little less lazy?). Forget it, the Sugar Bowl was a sufficient intro, so I'll turn it back over to Brandon. -ben]

I met Ben in undergrad because we both played a sport and were in mechanical engineering—a pretty rare combination. Ben will not agree with this comparison. I was on the crew team for one year and then decided I did not enjoy waking up at 5am every day to splash around on Harlem River. For this I am forever known as a “quitter”. Being labeled as such should be familiar to anyone who knows Ben and once did something that you no longer do.

I’m now in engineering grad school at Berkeley, and am on the club triathlon team. Good thing engineers, as Loren pointed out to me, don’t have social lives. I spend the majority of my free time training and catching up on Lost episodes now that it’s free online. I guess I could have started any sport when I moved out here—I’ve always been into running, I like soccer and a few other team sports, but triathlon caught me. Triathlon - a sport that constantly strives to eat all of your time, money, and social life, while, in return, making you feel mediocre at three sports rather than decent at just one - was probably not the most practical choice. But I was bitten by the bug, the glitz of the sport, cool looking fast bikes, and the deep-seeded human desire to wear lycra for as many hours as possible in a day.

To all of you out there who do this crazy sport while juggling school, work, family, my hat is off to you. We’ve all had to make some significant sacrifices; I’ve been stuck on season 2 of Lost all semester. So to make life work I’ve had to adopt some guerrilla time management skills.

My day really starts the night before. I put a water bottle next to my bed, lest I wake up with a headache and have to walk all the way to the bathroom to get a drink. I’ve also taken to putting a box of granola on my night stand for reasons I will explain. If I can get 6-7 hours of sleep, I’m pretty golden for working out the next day at 7:00. Alarm #1 goes off at around 6:30. This is the alarm next to my bed—a mere warning shot across the nose of my day. I will hit snooze at least 5 times, unless I have alarm #2 (my cell phone) across my room. It goes off around 6:45 and I am forced to get up or listen to all of “Heaven is a Place on Earth”, possibly the most abrasive thing to hear at that hour. Here’s where the box of granola comes in. I invariably will sit, maybe lie back down, but I force myself to start eating so I don’t have to run on an entirely empty stomach. I admit, I have woken up at 10am with granola up my nose, but it’s pretty rare.

So after a little water and granola I’m out the door. The problem with morning runs in Berkley is that they pretty much always involve going uphill. The other problem is the people of Berkeley. They don’t know how to walk, anywhere, anytime. Without fail I will run up behind two or more people completely blockading the sidewalk. I will give a firm “ahem!” and slap my feet a bit harder as I approach. At best, the morning fitness walkers will move from their stable, blockading pattern, to a chaotic one, making it even more difficult to pass; at worst they will continue to sip their Peet’s coffee, remaining oblivious. This kind of frightens me because I feel like it translates to their driving as well—another thing the people here seem to have difficulty mastering.

Now I typically spend the first half of the run thinking about nothing in particular, but if there is anything they’ve learned how to do well, it’s multitasking. I’m not saying I’m like the people at the gym who study on the exercise bike, or pretend to study while checking people out. I just like to keep the momentum going once I get back home, so I think about what I need to pack - will I be working out later? If so, should I make an extra PB&J (remember, I have no money)? Do I have any early meetings? Will I need to wear more than jeans and a t-shirt? Will there be any free food on campus (remember, I am cheap)? There is nothing that kills my spirit more than packing a lunch and eating it, only to find there was a career fair or town hall meeting with free pizza.

As soon as I get back home, I will make coffee, start undressing, and put toast in the toaster for my sandwich at the same time. Shower, shave, back to sandwich making/eating breakfast/listening to NPR/having a semi coherent conversation with Deena and Zoe, my roommates. It’s a good thing all these activities require different portions of my brain, but sometimes I overload myself and give Deena my toast when she asks me when I’m coming home, or for some reason, put a banana where I keep my razor and put my razor in the fruit bowl.

Like other readers of this blog, I bike commute every day. I tell people this is to offset my (or their) carbon footprint—major bonus points in Berkeley. I really do it because I don’t have a car. My bike is a 1980’s Cannondale black lightning. It actually says black lightning on one of the chain stays, I kid you not. This was about 75% of my reason for buying it, as well as my intolerance for wasting precious time walking to campus, or even worse, waiting for the AC Transit bus, which has neither a schedule nor a notion of the very foundation of public transit—moving lots of people from A to B. For this reason, riding to campus is one of my favorite parts of the day; it makes me feel as if I’ve stolen back time that Berkeley has tried hard to waste for me. While some fellow bike commuters may be preoccupied with defeating other commuters, I’ve moved on to beating busses. This is actually not that hard because they stop every other block, but I still derive immense satisfaction from beating the very system put in place to make commuting more efficient for people. Take that Berkeley.

In addition to putting to shame the poor excuse for a transit system, I also get in a bit of bike practice. I’ll cut turns like I’m in the break of a big-deal crit. I get into my drops and sprint to make lights. I do track stands, and quite well. This is also a great time to get in some drill work—stomps, high cadence, one leg, etc. It’s a good thing that a lot of people in Berkeley walk around talking to themselves or playing imaginary instruments, otherwise pedaling with one foot might seem odd. I think I just about fit in.

So when I get to my office, I’m usually pretty sweaty. My lab-mates are use to this, and don’t ask questions anymore, they just judge quietly. Before they even get a chance to say good morning, I’m out the door again, probably late, with both pant legs still rolled up. I have actually gone entire days, 9-5, without taking the precious few seconds to roll my pant legs down and avoid looking like a fixed-gear riding, chrome messenger bag wearing hipster.

One very vital part of my day, and anyone’s day, is eating. Anyone working out more than once in 24 hours knows how important it is to eat well, and at the right times. People who vales their friends and R&R will take time for a proper sit-down lunch and dinner—I don’t. Some days I will do 100% of my eating while walking to and from class. On less busy days I’ll eat in my happy little cubicle. I even once had an entire meal of GU (I was desperate and short on digestion time). Rubbermaid should sponsor me; I probably have 90% of my meals out of Tupperware. But that’s ok; I don’t miss relaxing meals too much. The satisfaction gained from knowing that I saved a half hour by shoveling-down cold leftover pasta and a bag of tuna far outweighs the cost. By the way, did you know it comes in bags now?—a lot easier to open than a can.

So clearly my life is being held together by Tupperware and coffee. It’s also being held together by two remote bases of operation: my desk and my gym locker. My desk has enough supplies to sustain me for 10 days. Granola bars, water, extra clothes, it’s all there. I also have one of those stretch cords which I take out every now and again to get in some swim strength work. I think all of this stuff sometimes makes my lab-mates wonder—“Brandon, why do you have a pair of boxers, a granola bar, and surgical tubing in your desk drawer?” –It makes a lot of sense once I explain it all. My gym locker is pretty much the same story, just with shampoo and deodorant. Both of these locations are extremely important, because there is nothing worse than forgetting something and having to bike all the way back home and all the way back.

One would think that with such efficiency, I would be entitled to some serious downtime. This is not the case. I just find more and more places to cut the fat out of my day. It’s a vicious vicious cycle. And let me tell you, once you have your first GU dinner, ingesting 400 calories in mere seconds, its a slippery slope to similar activities: eating entire meals on the bike, stretching while in meetings, composing entire stories in your head while on a run, and writing them down with sweat dripping all over the keyboard, while simultaneously replying to emails from the person expecting those stories – who is exactly the type of person who should empathize with the author of the aforementioned hypothetical stories – but who can’t understand that I’m busy sometimes.

I’m sitting at home today taking a practice MCAT, which means I have nothing to write about. Instead, I am going to show you a preview of the treat I have in store for tomorrow. My friend Brandon Basso, who is a graduate student in mechanical engineering at Cal, wrote an article about time management. It’s long, so I instead of writing a long intro when I post it tomorrow, I’m going to post an email I received from Brandon about a year ago. It explains a lot. -Ben

So you guys might find this story funny.  I’m a pretty big coffee drinker but since i moved to my new place about two months ago, i hadn’t had a single good cup of coffee.  Every time i tried to make one, it would start out tasting ok but then would get really salty and gross.  I had cleaned out my coffee maker and at first thought that I may have left some soap inside.  So i completely disassembled it and cleaned it again–no luck, still salty coffee.  This was bothering me so much that one morning ( I have to teach Matlab discussion every day at 8am) i actually threw my coffee cup at the sidewalk, and yelled something like "[not appropriate for ben's blog]"–i was pissed.  So the next logical thing to assume was that an oxide had formed on the inside of my stainless steel coffee urn and was reacting with the coffee.  This is plausible because coffee is acidic –> reactive, and it would explaining the time delay in the salty taste since reactions take time.  So i cleaned my cup out as well, but no luck, so i resigned myself to drinking salty coffee for the past few weeks.  Last weekend i was home making some breakfast with my roommates.  Just as I was spooning some sugar into my coffee cup, Deena commented, "you put salt in your coffee?"  yes folks, salt in my coffee.  I almost never stir, its just not my style, so this explains the time element.  I had in fact gone through 1 pound of coffee and a crap load of salt.  I actually went through so much salt that i distinctly remember Deena commenting about a month ago, "we really go thought a lot of salt" to which i replied "hmmm, never seen the salt."  Let this be a lesson to you all: don’t stay in school, you get stupider.  on the plus side I’ve rediscovered good coffee and have switched to brown sugar, just to be sure.

Today’s story is written by Columbia University Swimming Captain, Henning Fog (pronounced foeg, with a long O). Henning came to Columbia when I was a senior, and was the fattest freshman, by far. There were rumors of his frequent (several times a week) trips to Burger King, hearty servings of fries at the dining hall, and passion for the Golden Arches.

In the water, his noticeably buoyant butt seemed to protrude from the water, and his stroke technique looked like he was fighting to keep a flock of crows from nesting on his torso.

He was also the fastest freshman.

A few months after joining the team, Henning had become toned, and Coach Jim Bolster’s stroke work (which involves a broom stick and a lot of pain) seemed to be paying off. He was one of just two freshman to be on the Championships team at EISL championships in 2005.

Outside the pool, Henning was a film student, and had among the highest GPA’s on the team. To describe his personality, I would say Henning was significantly toward the board game end of the spectrum (rather than the stay up all night drinking and chasing coeds end), and I had him pegged him for a pacifist.

After graduating I didn’t hear much from Henning until this January when I was fortunate enough to spend a few days with the Columbia  Swim Team on the Big Island of Hawaii. Henning was all smiles on the pool deck, but sounded somewhat eager to move on from his athletic career. His perspective adds some contrast to the usual viewpoints seen in athlete blogs.

I retired this week at the tender age of 21. After countless (well, ten) years of struggle, emotional turmoil, and weight fluctuation that would make even Jenny Craig blush, it was finally time to embrace an easier approach to life. Unlike my AARP card-holding counterparts, though, I’m not moving to Florida; just out of the pool. You see… I’m done swimming. For real. My career as a competitive swimmer has come to an end, and I couldn’t be happier. For starters, my hair is growing back; never again will I have to question my masculinity as I shave my legs. What else am I thrilled to leave behind?

• the early mornings
• the double practices
• the (often crippling) self-doubt
• the chlorine stench
• the split ends

Nevermore, nevermore.

Civilian life is great. It’s been a weird couple of days, though, outside the pool. On a superficial level this post-championship week is no different than any other year – I stay up later than usual, eat worse than I have all season, and generally treat my body like a rag doll – but mentally… spiritually… it’s a whole new world. In losing what has been such a constant in my life for so long, I find the need to redefine myself. My first inclination is to join a gang (Latin Kings?) and start selling drugs to school-kids, but I’ll sleep on it. Lord knows I’d be an awful drug dealer.

For a long time now, swimming has comprised a major part of my identity. Certainly a major part of my schedule – in season, I’d say I averaged one water-logged day every week – but more than that a major piece of the “who is Henning Fog” puzzle. Not that I’ve accepted this willingly. On more than one occasion I’ve brought out my “student-athlete vs. student who happens to participate in athletics” argument, defending at length my position as merely a well-rounded student and not a stupid jock. It should be noted that no one ever really accused me of the latter. In other instances I’ve tried to downplay my involvement with the sport, hiding it from people as though it were a badge of shame. I once dated a girl who had no idea I swam. To be fair, she wasn’t a very curious person.

The clear light of retirement makes it easier to see that for all my problems with labels (and girls, clearly), there was never anything wrong with the life I chose. Everyone has something they do, anyway. And for everything else I filled my time with – movies, writing, meaningless sex – none of it ever struck as deep a chord as the sport of swimming. I recognize now, without regret or resentment, that yes, I was a swimmer. Am a swimmer?

Like I said, I’m done with the sport. No more meets; no post-collegiate delusions of glory*. Time to get fat. I realized the other day, though, that even at 305 gorgeous pounds… I’ll still be a swimmer. Not in swimmer-shape, but still a swimmer. It’s sort of a part of me now; it’s sort of who I am. The experience is different for everyone, I know, but I think there are some basic plots and patterns we can all agree on: the sense of community, of shared pain; that lovely feeling of superiority to other sports; the speedo. However lame, each of these things has defined (and will continue to define) us as people. Swimming is like a more spiritual version of the Mafia – once you’re in, you’re in. No escape. Shit.

Henning Fog

* I suppose it’s funny that I’m writing this on a blog dedicated to the continuing athletic lifestyle when I’m advocating so ardently against it. I’ll say this: people like Ben should keep going. People with talent. The wannabees and hangers-on need to find a mirror, though – pronto – and reassess their lives. Who are they kidding? But that’s another blog post…

I had a plan for a post of my own for today. Actually, I was hoping Brian could share how exactly he managed to break his wrist and end up owing me $85, but he can’t type (or ride a bike over railroad tracks, apparently). Last night, while my wrist ached with empathy pains, I baked cookies for Brian and Marijana (who read a book to relieve her apathy pains). He owes me money and I’m baking him cookies. See how good a friend I am?

This morning at the track I had yet another encounters with Klepto the Crow (a battle that I have yet to win), but all that is not nearly as interesting as the E-novel Aaron Scheidies finally finished writing.

The big new of the morning, however, is that Aaron posted his epic account of an the seven days surrounding our race in Dallas. It’s a long read, but rather humorous. I’ll stop here so you have more time to read his blog.

As much as I love guest writers, tomorrow I’m going back to writing my own stuff for a bit. I want to write about how awesome my swim workouts have been lately, and why that has me furious.

[This is the third and final of a series of posts by Peggy McDowell-Cramer (Be sure to check out #1 and #2). She's a masters triathlete from Santa Monica, and a pretty cool person to hang out with. While I was off trying to kill a blind kid, Peggy was taking on her seventh Ironman World Championship. If you take the athlete's time and divide it by age, Peggy kicked Macca's butt. Read on to hear about the power of Red-Bull, and how hairy legs can get the job done. -Ben]

The last of the days before IMH are a mix of activity and enforced non-activity, but both lead to one wanting to just get on with it. And this year was the same. Thursday’s the busiest, so it’s a no training day. I went to the masters women’s breakfast and from there it was to the expo to see friend Hillary Biscay as the featured pro at a booth, and to connect with her parents. We’d met years ago when she and our Hillary were in a swim meet together and we discovered some mutual friends, etc. We not only reconnected again, but the aunt/sister was connected into other Atherton friends of mine. Small world.
After doing race preparation things I went to the IM worship service, held at the Kona church I go to, and this year it was a packed house. From there it was a short walk over to the King Kam hotel for the pasta party. This latter involves entertainment: Hawaiian in the beginning, then IM stuff. After it was over and new this year, was the competitors’ briefing. I guess separate meetings didn’t draw enough people, so they thought they’d capitalize on a captive audience.
Friday: Swim and the espresso boat was in much closer. After the swim I ran into old swimming friend Karen sing, who works with wetsuit companies. She suddenly asked me if I wanted to try her trisuit (aka skin suit), a prototype she had with her, and she was there to oversee such suits on a number of pro racers Zoot (the company) sponsors. I really had to think. The cardinal rule is: nothing new for the race. But I’d been thinking about them, since they were all over. They’re sleeveless, non-floating slick material, legs to above the knees, zip up the back, and worn over whatever you’re going to have on for the race. I decided to try it out and accepted the offer of a loan. I amazed myself. Continue Reading »

I heard more from Peggy McDowell-Cramer. I asked for clarrification on how strong the “S” was when she said she had done IronmanS. “How many times? 6 times for kona, this is #7. It’ll be #11 total: 3 IMNZ, and 1 Florida.” Wow. I don’t even know how to respond to that, so here’s Peggy’s latest report from Kona.

Things have definitely come alive by Tuesday night, as most competitors are here. We just had the parade of nations, which ends up at the Expo Village, and that signals the official start of the activities. Since Kailua-Kona is a small little town, it’s pretty crowded.

I started Monday off with the usual swim and then got the ART people to work on my tight shoulders and neck. This group has a specific massage technique which is, in short, to push on a knot until it gives up. The practitioners do this for free each morning of the week, 15 minutes per person. They put up their massage tables under a huge canopy right at the pier, so the swim first and massage second routine is fairly standard. I’ve had wonderful ones, very normal, but today’s draw was a wannabe hepcat. He did loosen a couple of knots, so I can hardly complain.

During the day I did some modest workout things in the heat and visited an open house by a nutritional company (Hammer Gel). It was at a beach house 4 miles south of town and the company owner and family put it on just for the athletes….and so it was very much like just visiting friends. There’s something similar, I think, by another gel company the day after the race, at another rented house close to the first one. I’m not sure how I feel about those: thanks; thanks and I really ought to buy a bunch of your stuff now; thanks and I feel like a mooch because I probably won’t buy anything…….who knows?

Last night, per notice, I went over to the Iron Gents soiree at the King Kam hotel, which is at the pier/start/finish of the race/registration/etc. There were probably around 50 people there. I knew several, got to meet some I’d long heard about. It was a nice, fairly low-key event.

Today’s early morning swim had a fun factor added in because the fellow who has a Kona coffee company got a boat with an outrigger boom on it, went 1/2 a mile out from shore, and had iced espresso for us. You swam up to the boat, hung onto the boom as someone fixed your cup with or without cream and sugar, gave the cup back when done, then swam off. To sight on it they had an orange sail with appropriate wording on it, and it was an entertaining event. They’ll be out there the next two days, too. After the swim, registration opened and it was pretty much a breeze this year, which means quicker and more efficient. More along the lines of expecting competitors to be sentient and literate, so not much going through everything verbally with us.

From there it was off to riding the first part of the bike. It’s only about 7 miles long, but winds around town, with an out and back section going south, and I wanted to see how I wanted to do the gearing. During this venture I was reminded that my shoe cleats had developed a truly intolerable squeak. …both of them…which had driven me crazy on Saturday’s long ride. Fortunately there was a bike shop set up right at the King Kam hotel site and it took just one drop of oil in each cleat (total: 2 drops) to make life good again.

With the bike shop was the whole IM retail store and this year it had a notable difference: no posted prices. There’s nerve! The whole IM merchandising end of life is the subject of a good deal of athlete sarcasm (which apparently hurts sales not one iota), and this year’s top candidates for rolled eyeballs are the following: mattresses, and a Christmas tree ornament-ball with the mighty M-dot logo and some wording. I searched around and found the latter was to be had for $12.

The parade this afternoon was nice, and I got to meet more Americans while waiting for it to get going. We end up at the Expo’s opening, which is sort of entertaining in its own way. It’s a series of open tents with vendors, IM qualifier race reps, a stage with various rotating speakers, and a good deal of whatnot, and the mattresses were there. I tried out the medium and firm ones. As for me, I’m headed for the one right here in my condo, right now!

All remains well,
Peggy

In 2006 I was in Kansas City for my first USAT Age Group Nationals. I had just found out the hard way that about 90% of the 1500 athletes who come to that event all think they should register within the first hour of an 8 hour registration period. The line was long, and I knew nobody in it. I’m not sure what started the conversation, but about half way through the line I was talking to the woman behind me about her son that lives in Honolulu, and how hard it is to be a Northern California person living in Santa Monica. That woman was Peggy McDowell-Cramer a masters athlete who boasts that most of her competition is dead, and therefor just finishing practically guarantees her a spot on the podium. Since we met 15 months ago, I have had the pleasure of seeing Peggy at plenty of USAT events. When she’s not focused on taking down her dying competitors, she organizes non-denominational services the night before races, and claims her “real job” is “preaching, at the Welsh Presby. church in L.A.”.

This week Peggy is in Kona getting ready for a 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, and 26.2 mile run. She read my post about the ISM Adamo and wrote me let me know she was one of the crazies (I was shocked to learn that she’s actually done IM-Kona several times). Last year I was in Kona for the Ironman World Championships, but since I can’t be there this year, I’m letting Peggy do the reporting. This week is the pre-race report, and next week we’ll have part 2: post-race.

Peggy’s the one on my right.

It’s a quiet Sunday night here in Kona, and a good time to start a report. I arrived here Thursday afternoon along with my bike and suitcase, which seemed to be a good start, considering my Hamburg saga [baggage trouble... it happens - ben]
Getting settled was pretty quick and easy, as was putting my bike together. That’s a happy report, as it doesn’t always go that way. A run up to the grocery store took care of food, I got the computer/phone plug thing arranged, and all was well.
I went for a long swim Friday morning and there were plenty of others out there, too, although nothing compared to what it’ll be, say, tomorrow and after. There are always fish underneath, but not too many colorful ones on this morning. I was nearly back in when, right underneath me, came 8 bottlenose dolphins, one a baby. They were big enough that it was plenty surprising. not overly alarming as they were swimming fairly swiftly in the opposite direction, but close enough for me to think that (1) a little farther away would be fine, and (2) ask myself: are you nuts? This is entirely wonderful, and furthermore, people pay lots to see something like this, this close. Continue Reading »