New SIAC Poster
Boy, This Race Was A Real Pisser!
During my Sunday long runs with the Staten Island Athletic Club, our masters captain Gus noticed I finished each run with a noticeable layer of thick salt across my forehead. “Josh, you gotta hydrate more before, during and after your long runs”, was his response. Keeping this in mind, I made sure I took his advice when I ran The 2013 Brooklyn Half Marathon. The day before, I loaded up on several glassfuls of water. The morning of the race, I had a big cup of coffee, then a few more cupfuls of H20. I think I was hydrated enough and ready for the race.
We were in our start corrals and just moments away from the start of the race. I was looking for an available port-o-potty, but they were all occupied. I decide to hold it in; how bad can that be?
I was bent on breaking my pr (personal record) of 1:41:13 for this race. I’ve run many times with my friend Jennifer, a dedicated runner who has been continually improving in her running since I first met her several years ago. Jen and I planned on starting and finishing together.
The race starts. After running with Jen for the first seven miles and filling up on even more water at each water station throughout the race, the urge to urinate is growing in me. Jen tells me to go ahead of her since my pace was picking up, so I start pulling away from her. I am now on Ocean Parkway, a flat, wide thoroughfare going through the heart of Brooklyn. As the miles pass and my speed increases, the need to urinate increases. At Mile 10, it becomes unbearable. I decide that the only way I can finish the rest of the race comfortably is to get rid of all the urine. But stopping to pee was out of the question; I wanted to save as much time as possible in this race so I can give myself a chance to break my pr, for even seconds count. My bladder was in pain holding back the floodwaters, so I decided to urinate in my running shorts. The only problem was that I couldn’t do it. I was conditioned since childhood not to pee in my pants. I had to mentally motivate myself to pee. Like a pathetic cheerleader awkwardly chanting things like, “Josh, you can do it!”, and “Pee! Pee! Pee!”, I was determined to achieve success in this matter. After much self-motivation, the floodgates opened up and a giant sense of relief filled my being. “Hallelujah! Now I can focus on finishing this race!”, I thought to myself. And thank the Lord that I was wearing black running shorts. I looked at other runners to see if they noticed my ‘situation’, but they were all in their own little world focused on getting their race done.
After relieving myself, I was able to focus on increasing my pace, for I was bent on breaking my pr. The last few miles were my fastest, especially Mile 12. I crossed the finish line on the Coney Island Boardwalk with a new pr of 1:40:08; over a minute faster than my previous half marathon record.
Boy, this race was a real pisser!
The Soda Controversy: A Personal Success Story
Over 20 years ago, the City of New York implemented an AIDS curriculum in all public schools as a way to control the AIDS epidemic. Teachers taught age-appropriate AIDS lessons from kindergarten through the 6th grade. After that, junior high and high school teachers continued teaching AIDS awareness and prevention lessons through their respective health classes.
While AIDS is still a widespread problem today, another epidemic that has been rapidly growing throughout the United States is obesity. This is a silent epidemic due to the pervasiveness and widespread availability of soda throughout every corner of society. I applaud Mayor Bloomberg for trying to pass legislation that sets limits on the size of soft drinks, for people addicted to soda will buy whatever size is available even if it means increasing their likelihood of diabetes and other health complications related to the overconsumption of sugar. Bloomberg’s soda legislation was ultimately shot down, and as a result, soda as a health issue will continue. I believe that like the AIDS lessons from 20 years ago, the most effective way to control the overconsumption of soda is through education. As a preschool teacher, I would like to share with you a personal success story that supports this.
Over the past 11 years, I’ve been teaching nutrition lessons to the children in my classroom. Two years ago, I began to dedicate more of my teaching time to nutrition, for I knew that the things that I teach these children now will have a positive impact on society as they get older. I began to keep things very real with my students, saying things like “McDonalds, Burger King and Wendys is bad for you. Tell your parents not to bring you there anymore”. I even brought a 2-liter bottle of soda into the classroom and had the children pour out the contents of the entire bottle into the toilet, loudly chanting,”Goodbye soda. We don’t want you anymore!”. While appearing extreme, I knew that these activities would leave a lasting impression in these kid’s heads, which will make them more conscious about the food and drink choices they will make as they get older.
Goodbye soda! We don’t want you anymore!
About a year and a half ago, a new child named Christopher entered my class. He was an unassuming and quiet child, but little did I know that he would become my biggest cheerleader in the field of nutrition and the extent of his education would eventually go far beyond the classroom. As I did my thing teaching proper nutrition and condemning junk food and soda through my vivid demonstrations, Christopher would just sit there, listen and watch. A year later when it was time to discuss his progress with his mother, I was shocked to hear the following from her:
Christopher does not drink soda anymore; he drinks water. In fact, nobody in our house drinks soda anymore because Christopher told us that, “Josh said that soda is bad for you”. His big brother gave up soda and lost 15 pounds. I gave up soda and lost 15 pounds and his father gave up soda and lost 35 pounds. Christopher will not let us bring him to McDonalds anymore; he makes me cook a lot of vegetables for him now because, “Josh said that McDonalds is bad for you and vegetables are good for you. His grandmother who lives in Mexico has diabetes. Christopher told her that he eats healthy now so he won’t get sick.
Christopher is just one success story to show how education can affect change for a healthier society. I believe that if all public school teachers were given a mandated nutrition curriculum to follow like the AIDS curriculum of 20 years ago, soda sizes will naturally get smaller simply because our society will be educated enough to know better.
Christopher and his parents celebrating his fourth birthday in my classroom.
This’ll be the day that I die
In the world of background acting, there are many scenes where background is hired to play nondescript characters. Those who play these roles are barely recognizable on screen if at all. A higher level that many actors working background strive for is the featured background role. For these roles, the background actor may play the featured doorman, limo driver, hot dog stand guy, police officer, and an assortment of other characters that may stand out in a scene. On any given episode of a crime drama like Law & Order: SVU, there is always the dead guy role. He’s the guy who gets murdered somewhere near the beginning of the show. The cops then have to spend the rest of the show trying to solve the mystery of who killed him. Many actors die trying to get this role. I was the one who actually got it. Here’s my story…
Last December, I submitted a headshot of myself for the dead guy role through a popular actors website called castingnetworks.com. Not reading the fine print, I sent them a regular clothed photo of myself. Later on in the day, I received an email from them stating that they needed me to send them two specific photos; one frontside of me topless and the other one of my backside exposing exactly one inch of my butt crack. Such a weird request, but that’s often the nature of show business, and there’s always a valid reason for these requests no matter how crazy they sound. I realized that if I act fast and give them the photos they asked for, I would increase my chances of getting this role, for how many actors can send half-naked back and frontside photos of themselves so quickly? My daughter was home, so I had her take the photos of me. When I turned around to have my backside shot, I pulled my pants down just enough to expose approximately one inch of my butt crack. My daughter was surprised and immediately asked me why I just did that, with which I replied, “Because it’s for a TV show and they wanted me to show them one inch of my butt crack”. She responded, “Okay, but when this show goes on the air, do not tell ANY of my friends that you will be on it, okay!?”. I told her not to worry.
After the pics were taken and emailed to the casting director, not five minutes go by and I get a call from them telling me that I am going to play the dead guy on the show. I got the role and I had my daughter to thank!
On the day of the shoot, I was sent to the wardrobe trailer. Since I was hired specifically to play a victim of a murder-rape, they wanted me to appear naked in the scene, so the wardrobe people gave me nude-colored underwear they referred to as “modesty wear”. In the scene, I was to wear only that to make it seem as though I was completely naked. The scene was in a seedy hotel room in Midtown Manhattan. The assistants bound my left wrist with a man’s necktie tied to the bedpost while my right wrist was bound by a belt to the right bedpost. A rag was jammed into my mouth to really dramatize the brutality of the scene. A technician came in with what looked like three pools of blood of different sizes. The pools were made out of solidified acrylic; they were hard and flat as pancakes, but they still appeared wet. The technician put one of the pools on the carpet beneath where my head would hang down over the edge of the bed to make it appear that blood dripped out of my head to the floor below.
Due to the network censors, a man’s ass cheeks cannot be shown on network TV, but they do allow for exactly one inch of his crack to show on screen (And two inches if you are a woman. Don’t ask me why). Because of this rule, the set dresser had to cover my naked ass with a bedsheet. Interestingly, he took pains to make sure to expose only one inch of my crack.
Here I am waiting for the cops to come to my rescue. Oh wait, it’s too late.
The actress starring on the show, Mariska Hargitay, came in with her co-star to prepare for the scene with me. Mariska came to me and said, “So you’re the murder of the day, huh? Nice to meet you”. I responded with an awkward smile.
My character was Mr. Dunleavy, a corporate big-wig with a nasty secret: he liked to visit gay clubs and discreetly have kinky sex with men. Only the guy who picked him up had a thing against closeted men masquerading as straight guys. He ended up killing me during our sexcapade on the hotel room bed with blood dripping down my head (it’s really a mixture of corn syrup and other stuff).
In the scene, Mariska knocks on the door of my hotel room. When there was no answer, the hotel manager opens the door where she comes rushing in with her gun pointed towards me. Only I’m lying face-down lifeless at the edge of the bed. She then reaches down towards me to check my pulse, and after a moment or two, replies to her partner, “He’s gone!”.
What many of you don’t know is that Mariska is a very funny lady. After one of the takes was done, she continued to improvise her role by whispering in my ear, “I always loved you!”. She continued to engage in other on-set shenanigans to break up the tension and monotony of the shoot.
Actress Mariska Hargitay checking my pulse and declaring me dead.
The above scene was filmed in several takes. During the filming, as soon as the director yelled “Action!”, I took a deep breath of air and held my breath for the duration of the scene which lasted for a good 60-90 seconds. The reason I did this is that since I was playing dead, I did not want my lungs to move during the scene. I had to lie completely motionless in every sense of the word. Keeping this in mind, I literally felt like I was going for a long underwater swim and not coming up until the director cut action of the scene. As soon as he cut the scene, I gasped for air again. The further challenge for me was that I had to breathe through a rag that was jammed in my mouth.
During one of the takes, I could clearly hear the director ask the cameraman, “Make sure you get the crack!” I knew exactly what he meant and repeatedly pondered why I am here to begin with.
When all the takes were done with and the cameraman went to “check the gates”, I was relieved to know that my scene was done. The rag was gently taken out of my mouth and the belt and tie were removed from my wrists. I was able to put on a workout outfit to keep me warm until I got back to holding where my real clothes were. The makeup guy removed the fake blood that was caked on my forehead.
I went home with the satisfaction in knowing that the character I played was a key element to the plot of the episode. I think I killed that role!
A Year In Review: 2012
While 2012 came and went, it was a year of many firsts. I started the year off doing Bikram Yoga, something that someone suggested I do over 25 years ago to help me with my running. In the Spring, we visited an archery range in Brooklyn and we each took our turns shooting arrows. I learned that archery teaches you to focus and is a great way to relieve stress.
Also during the Spring, I finally decided to join AFTRA, which at the time was the television actors union. Just a few weeks later, AFTRA merged with SAG (Screen Actors Guild), which made me an automatic member of SAG-AFTRA. I now get the benefit of making more money when I work on a background acting gig. While background work can be tedious, it can also be fun and a great escape from routines of life. Below is a photo from the film Winter’s Tale where I played a New York pedestrian from 1916.
During the summer, my children and I went surfing at a surf school at Rockaway Beach, Queens. Hunter and I could not stay on the surfboard without falling off, but Emma learned to master it rather quickly. While we looked cool standing on our surfboards in the photo below, once we were in the water, it was a different story.
In August, we went to the Bahamas for the first time and experienced the once-in-a-lifetime chance to hug and kiss a dolphin. This was also the first time we ever visited the Caribbean.
During the Fall, I brought the family to an avant-garde, industrial-style fashion show in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, which was a funky experience for all of us.
After the devastation caused by Hurricane Sandy, I helped clear the hiking trails with my children in Staten Island. That is when I learned how to operate a chainsaw for the first time in my life.
Weeks later, we saw the United States Women’s Gymnastics Team perform at Barclay’s Center. We also visited a temporary art exhibit by the sculptor Tatzu Nishi at Columbus Circle in Manhattan.
At the beginning of the year, Hunter had written down a resolution to run both the Brooklyn Triple Crown and Staten Island Triple Crown race series. He kept to his goal and ran in all six races for both series. He won awards for his age category in the process.
Hunter has also become an accomplished pianist for his age. He is continually learning new songs all the time and has even composed some original music.
Emma continues to excel in her gymnastics class and can now do full splits, somersaults and flips. She has become very creative in using many different kinds of media and through YouTube videos, she has learned how to form and shape polymer clay into virtually any design she can think of. She also has learned how to solve the Rubik’s Cube and can solve it in less than two minutes.
Making or breaking a family
DISCLAIMER: There are many complex reasons why a couple gets divorced. This is just one of them.
The relationship between a man and a woman can evolve into a beautiful thing. From the beginning when they exchange phone numbers to their first date, their first kiss, their first intimate relationship and the first time they both unanimously declare, “I love you”, to the realization that they are “made for each other”, a relationship can blossom into a meaningful life together.
As the years go by and they get married and have children, their relationship gets transferred through their mutual love for their children. In a sense, all the firsts that they previously experienced in their lives without children begins anew, this time with experiencing their children’s first steps, their first word and their first set of teeth.
Within the next several years, there seems to be a natural phenomenon that occurs where the mother’s love for her children goes full-throttle while her love and interest for her husband begins to wane, continuing on a downward spiral. This might be a part of Mother Nature’s plan, for among many species of life in the World, it is the female who predominantly cares for her young while the male disappears from the family unit, content that he had done his job in helping to propagate the species and nothing more. In lower life forms such as birds, snakes, cats and dogs, this setup seems to be the best plan for nature. However, being that humans have the unique capability to experience very complex emotions, feelings and needs, this plan often destroys the family structure, creates feelings of sadness, longing and despair among its family members, particularly from the husband, and rarely works to anyone’s benefit.
It can be said that when every member in a family is happy, the family as a whole can be happy. I have spoken to many male friends who have told me how, without provocation, their wives had gradually lost interest in them after having children. I believe that there is something inherently wrong with this scenario, especially if the husband is a good provider, good person, caring parent, and a loving husband. I am not talking about those jerky dead-beat dads who want nothing to do with their family and are the cause for a family break-up; I am talking about husbands who care and love their wife and children. These husbands will often ask themselves, “What did I do wrong?” Many young men who get married unwittingly will enter this situation. In my confidential discussions with many of my married male friends, their neglect from their wives often leads them to see other women on the side. This is another phenomenon of the human condition, for nature abhors a vacuum. Feelings of sadness and neglect and longing to be needed by the wife does not make for a happy husband, which interferes with the rest of the family being completely happy. A disconnect begins to happen where the father often feels like the “odd man out” and no longer a needed part of the family unit. This is the point where many men leave the relationship, creating despair in the children by tearing the family apart. The only one who really “wins” is the mother who gets to fulfill her inexorable need to be both mother AND father, or superparent.
The above pattern does not always happen with all married couples; there are also many relationships that are successful and we can all learn from them if we just focus on what makes them successful. If a mother puts her mind to it, she can compartmentalize her role with her husband and her role with her children. She can create an internal dialogue with thoughts like, “My children need me and I am giving them the love, attention, support and nutritional needs that they require. They are happy because they are getting all that they need right now. I can now focus some of my attention on my husband. He does not need as much attention as them, but I realize that he does need some at times. My children need him to be a part of the family just as much as they need me; for they love both of us unconditionally and expect us to be together. As a married couple, each of us have strengths and weaknesses, and working together, we can really make for a successful happy family. Alone, it won’t be the same. We are both team players and we must work together to make this family work.”
A husband and a wife each have the power to make or break a marriage. It is up to the both of them to have the resolve and determination to make their marriage work, and thus, to keep the family together. We owe it to our children and to ourselves.
Bikram Yoga
I finally took advice that was given to me long ago while running cross-country track back during my Hunter College days. I wanted to run my races faster and my coach at the time suggested that I take up yoga. Well, 25 years later, I finally took his advice and began my very first yoga class just recently. But this wasn’t any ordinary yoga; it was Bikram Yoga. In Bikram Yoga, your body is subjected to 26 difficult postures for 90 minutes while in a room heated to 105 degrees. The heat is intended to soften up all the muscles in the body to make it that much easier and quicker to assume all the postures without injury.
Being a runner for the past 29 years with a tight body and very little flexibility, I knew that my first yoga class would not be a walk in the park. Regardless, since I’m a long-distance runner with four marathons under my belt and a high threshold for pain, I figured that I can go the distance and finish an entire 90-minute session, pain and all.
Just moments before class began, I looked around and noticed a sea of about 30 women in hot, sweaty form-fitting outfits all around me. “Boy, I think I’m gonna like this class”, I thought to myself. As the instructor began the session by telling everyone to assume the first posture and describing in detail exactly what to do, everyone like clockwork mimicked her every command. I followed her first command with this cocky thought: this is no big deal. After all, celebrities like Ashton Kutcher, Lady Gaga, Charles Barkley, Madonna and David Beckham all are practitioners of this kind of yoga.
Boy, was I wrong! About 10 minutes into the 90-minute session, parts of me were being stretched, bent, and twisted in ways that seemed to defy the laws of nature, or so I thought. The instructor, you see, while we were being stretched in very unnatural and painful ways taking on such poses as the Awkward Pose and the Twisted Spine pose, explained how going beyond what we thought was possible would make us stronger, more flexible, and healthier. According to Wikipedia, Bikram Yoga “…stimulates and restores health to every muscle, joint, and organ of the body” by making the blood flood in a more efficient way to all areas of the body. It’s a yoga that’s so thorough and deep-reaching inside the human body that it purports to even stretch the lungs for a greater oxygen capacity.
After about 15 minutes into our session, our yoga instructor excitedly uttered the phrase, “Okay, party time!”. Contrary to what you may think, there was no party to be had from these words; this was just her perverted way of giving us just enough free time to take a swig of water from our water bottles, and nothing more. If this was party time, then going back to hell was only moments away.
As time went on during the class and as I tried desperately to stretch my requested body parts in unfathomable ways by following the instructor’s sadistic requests, my mind at times became borderline delirious as the blood rushed through out. My pain threshold was tested to its limits, but ultimately it weathered the storm and helped me get through the full 90-minute torture-fest. During the ordeal, I sweated like a pig. But it was a good sweat; a sweat that made me feel in no uncertain terms like a new man. For a moment, as I looked at my stomach in the mirror, I even thought I saw a 6-pack emerge underneath all that belly fat.
In the last 15-20 minutes of class, the instructor told us to assume the Shavasana Pose on several occasions where we simply had to lie flat on our backs and do nothing at all except breathe. This word comes from the ancient Sanskrit meaning “Dead Man’s Pose”. At this point, I looked forward to playing a dead man as much as possible.
I felt like I almost died during my first Bikram class. But since you are obviously reading this blog entry, I am still alive…. and well…. and feeling great.
After completing my first class, the old adage came to mind: whatever doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger. This class made me feel stronger, more flexible, healthier and even more spiritual. I am a new man because of Bikram Yoga.
Polar Bear Plunge
As I get older and more daring in life, things that I once thought were crazy are crazy no more. One of these things was being a participant in the 2012 Coney Island Polar Bear Plunge, held on the first day of every new year. Last year I participated in my first plunge and had a great experience, but I did it alone that day. This time I invited members of my running club. There were nine of us who were willing to anoint our bodies into the icy-cold goodness of the Atlantic Ocean. As insane and traumatic as this may sound, it is important to describe what one goes through during the entire process of entering the water and becoming a Polar Bear.
At exactly 1:00PM, the “race” into the ocean officially begins. With equal amounts of fear, trepidation and excitement, I, along with hundreds of other people throughout the New York area begin a mad dash straight towards the ocean. In the midst of this frantic run, there are hundreds of spectators, cameramen and photographers taking pictures of everyone. Finally, I make it into the ocean. My feet feel the cold first, feeling like a jolt of icy-cold energy about to begin its rapid ascent through my entire body. For some reason, a huge smile forms on my face and this is happening to everyone else around me. Instead of becoming fearful, everyone begins to become giddy from the freezing sensation we are all experiencing. The icy-cold sensation becomes a drug, and we want more of it.
The absolute, overwhelming and encompassing feeling of coldness around every part of my body awakens my brain and makes me think about the meaning of life at a level that I’ve never felt before. It is at this moment that I have an epiphany about life itself. I am on top of the World.
On a physical level, consider drinking a strong cup of Starbucks coffee; now multiply that ten-fold and that is how awake you feel when submerged in 40-degree water.
After going through the above experience and my epiphany the whole of two minutes, I make sure that I totally submerge myself, head and all, underwater, for this is the only way one can be a true Polar Bear. After doing this deed, both of my feet feel numb, so I SLOWLY start heading back towards the shore. If anything, the one difficult part of the whole Polar Bear experience is the freezing of the feet. Since your feet are extremities and have a lot of capillaries, the coldness one feels there can be quite discomforting. According to the Polar Bear Club Rules, you have to enter, get completely submerged, then immediately leave the water. This rule was no problem for me to follow.
After making it out of the water alive and well, I find my friends and we joyfully high-five one another. We each get certificates stating that we “Did it!”, thereby making our admittance into the Polar Bear Club official.
I am now a certified Polar Bear!
P.S. According to the Polar Bear Club website, no one has ever died from doing a plunge.
From left: Mark, Courtney, Steve, Me, Darin and Katie.
The Badass 6-Hour Mountain Bike Endurance Race
PART I: TRAINING DAY
In another six days, I will be participating in a 6-hour mountain bike endurance race at Wolfe’s Pond Park in Staten Island. I am excited about this race for several reasons. I’ve been a runner for most of my life and I’ve run tons of road races, so this race will be novel for me since I never competed in a mountain biking race before. I am a seasoned long-distance runner, so I am very curious to see how my body can handle going the distance atop a mountain bike. Also, I never participated in a timed race before; it was always a distance-based race. I want to test my limits of physical endurance to see how long my body can last riding for six hours on the trails. For me, this will be a marathon on wheels.
In preparation for the race, today I did a 3-hour training ride on the trails at Wolfe’s Pond Park. The bad part of this training was that it was raining all morning, so the trails were muddy and slippery. This proved to be very dangerous for me. The Wolfe’s Pond trails have a lot of exposed tree roots and I learned very quickly the right and wrong way to deal with these roots. I fell off my bike several times; in one very nasty fall, my bike stopped in its tracks and I flew off the seat and my head crashed onto the ground, then my bike fell on top of me (very similar to the photo above). After seeing that no bones were broken, I continued on with my ride.
When my watch counted down from 3 hours to zero, my training was over. I was able to cover 15 miles at an average pace of 5 miles per hour; not bad considering the wet and dangerous conditions of the trails. I also burned over 3,000 calories in the process.
I am glad that I had the chance today to train, for it made me come up a bunch of safety and racing hints and techniques to help make the actual race easier to bear. Here is a checklist of things that I will do on Race Day:
- Wear protective eyewear. Overgrown foliage can poke you in the eyes while riding.
- Wear a long-sleeved technical shirt to protect my arms against overgrown thorn bushes.
- When encountering exposed roots, ride across them in a perpendicular fashion, NOT parallel.
- Apply wet lubricant to the bike chain to waterproof it (there will be a water challenge or two).
- Wear bike gloves.
- Bring 2-3 inner tubes in case you get a flat along the way.
- Fatigue will start setting in after riding for a few hours. When this happens, I should attempt any trail challenges very carefully so as not to hurt myself.
- If you are wearing a gps watch during the race, have it set to ‘Bike’ mode and set it so it will have a 6-hour countdown. That way, at any point in the race, you will know exactly how much time you have left for the end of the race.
I think I am ready for this race. Now all I can do is wait.
PART II: RACE DAY
Saturday, May 21, 2011
It’s race day and I arrive early at Wolfe’s Pond Park, the place that I will soon get to know very intimately. One of the first people I meet there is my friend Steve, who will be volunteering for this race. Steve will be manually tabulating all the laps that each cyclist completes as they pass by him through Base Camp. Once I get my bike and supply bag out of the car, I walk into the woods towards Base Camp. Base Camp is the start and finish of the race. It is where the digital countdown clock will be to remind all the riders how much time they have left to the end of the race. Base Camp is where we’ll all be passing by each time we finish yet another 2.61-mile loop. It’s also the place for all riders to recharge, refuel, catch their breath, pray and fix any bike issues such as flat tires and loose chains.
When I reached the main tent, Matt Lebow, the mastermind behind this race, greeted me with a big ear-to-ear grin as he does with everyone. That grin is not just a grin from a man with a great positive attitude about life; that grin told me what I was in store for today, for Matt seems to enjoy watching participants suffer through punishing challenges in his races. That grin was a masochistic one and it was a sign of things to come. Since I arrived early and had some time on my hands, I checked out the various “skills park” challenges that were set up the night before, for this was not simply a bike trail race through the woods, but rather a race to see how well one can control and manipulate one’s bike without getting killed in the process. This was a technical race. There were two huge teeter-totters along the course. Upon finishing a lap, one had to ride up, then down each teeter-totter. The first teeter-totter was easy; the second one was built much higher and narrower; every time I did a test run on it, I almost killed myself. This is when I decided that my racing strategy would be to not kill myself, for my daughter’s 11th birthday party was the next day and she would be let down if her party was cancelled due to me dying.
It had rained incessantly over the past several days and I knew that this could only be a bad omen for today’s race. The thought of riding through tons of mud out there on the course was constantly bearing down on my mind, for a mountain bike rider has to exert a LOT more energy just to keep their bike moving ever-so-slowly through the mud, and I would have to do this for six hours! My mind already switched into Survival Mode and thought about the options on how I can obtain the energy needed for the ordeal that was about to unfold. I found out later that Matt went to great lengths over the past several days to sweep, rake away, and cover up with leaves as much water and mud as possible along the race route.
It was 10:00AM and the race was officially ready to begin. 3… 2…. 1…., and we’re off! All the bikers begin riding, the clock begins it’s countdown, and we all start entering the trails. As soon as we make our first left turn, there’s already the first man-made challenge: the mini-mountain obstacle. This apparatus consisted of a steep wooden ramp that went up several feet at a 45-degree angle, then back down. All the bikers had to generate enough momentum with their bikes in order to gain the speed necessary to scale this ramp. Otherwise your bike would fall back down backwards. I made it up this challenge successfully, but the thought of having to repeat this challenge many more times over 6 hours was a little bothersome to me, especially as fatigue set in. We also had to ride our bikes along wooden bridges; any false move on those bridges, we would fall into the rocky stream below.
MUD, MUD, MUD (AND MORE MUD)
Bearing in mind all the days of rain in the proceeding several days, it was inevitable to find mud along this course, even with Matt’s help in cleaning it up. It’s just that MUCH of the course had mud throughout. I soon realized that today’s race was going to be a totally different animal; it was going to be a mud race; a race of Man vs. Mud, and I was going to beat the crap out of this mud, or so I thought.
If today’s race were a Kevin Costner film, it would be called “Mudworld: The Search For Dry Land”, for dry land was hard to come by today. Regardless, I was still able to finish the first 2.61-mile loop in 24:10. At this rate, I was going to keep to my original goal of 5 miles per hour, or 30 miles by the end of the race. So far, so good.
FLATS ‘R US
After completing two laps in 59 minutes and thus keeping to my pacing goal of 5 miles per hour, I began to get cocky. This was a perfect time for a little humbleness and humility to set in, which was given to me on a silver platter via a flat tire. Only I got the flat a mile away from Base Camp in the middle of the woods. I decided to run with my bike, for running was my forte, plus I wouldn’t have to change a flat tire in the middle of nowhere. As I was running while pushing my bike, I ran right by two CERT volunteers. They were part of a group of volunteers strategically planted throughout the course to help the mountain bikers with anything from a boo-boo on their legs, an amputation, a flat tire, or anything in between. Running by two CERT volunteers along the trail, they asked me if everything was okay and I told them, “It’s just a flat tire”. I decided to continue running until I reached Base Camp where I can have access to the tools and personnel necessary to fix the flat. Seeing me running into Base Camp while pushing my bike must have been an interesting sight to see.
POETRY IN MOTION
Besides the man-made challenges such as the teeter-totter and mini-mountain, there were also a ton of natural challenges. On several parts of the course, we had to ride our bikes straight through rocky streams. This proved to be very nerve-wracking for me, for the combination of scattered stones and water made riding through this mixture very scary and unpredictable. In one stream, my front tire got wedged in a bunch of rocks, then the rear end of the bike flew up into the air, and my body and bike fell directly on top of a bunch of rocks in the stream. The photo below only caught the beginnings of this event; you will have to use your imagination to picture how it all looked moments later.
Additionally, Matt warned us all about a part of the course by Acme Lake. There were a few parts of this course that came dangerously close to the edge of the lake; Matt warned us to be very careful with a caveat that there were no water rescue teams here today to save us in case we fall in. Here is one of those areas:
FLAT TIRE: PARTS II, III, AND IV
Just when the mud became a major distraction during this race, a more sinister hindrance made itself known and showed me no mercy: another flat tire! Getting a flat tire during a bike race was even more upsetting than dealing with the mud, for at least my bike was moving during my mud-capades. Getting a flat in the middle of the woods was annoying on many levels; you were stuck, and just standing there wasn’t going to help get anything done. First, you had to make sure that you were not blocking the course, for much of it was single-track and out of respect for the other riders, you wanted to make sure you were not in their way. So sometimes, I had to run with my bike to an area wide enough for bikers to get by. Once that was done, I immediately removed my tire with a quick-release lever, unscrewed the air cap and the screw that held the punctured tube onto the rim, then remove the old tube from the tire. Then, and most importantly, I had to very carefully scan the entire inside of the tire with my fingers feeling around for the culprit that was responsible for puncturing my tire. If I didn’t remove this culprit, I would immediately get another flat, so it was essential that I succeed in this step. For most of the flats in today’s race, the culprits seemed to be thorns. This was to happen several more times throughout the race, and I had to change these tires with caked-on mud no less.
THE FINAL LOOP (OR SO I THOUGHT)
I was now 4 hours and 18 minutes into the race and I had just completed 18.27 miles. By now, three bikers competing with me in the solo category couldn’t take it anymore and quit. While I felt bad for them, I now had three less competitors to worry about, which renewed my excitement for the rest of this mudventure. I now had completed seven loops. My original plan was to ride non-stop throughout this race, but in reality, every time I completed yet another loop and entered Base Camp, I was so tired from my latest Mud Run that I had to take a 5-10-minute rest. My friends Steve and Amy were there to support me, which really made a big difference for my psyche and well-being. Every time I entered Base Camp after completing another lap, Steve and Amy were my pit-stop crew, serving me water, power gels, energy drinks, and even a hamburger that came straight off the grill. I once asked Amy for aspirin which she gladly bought at a nearby store and gave it to me at the completion of my next lap. I was so exhausted, yet so determined to push myself to the very end. I became a ravenous animal and devoured whatever was given to me, for I remembered the 3,000 calories that I burned last week when I trained on these trails for three hours. Since today’s race was twice as long, I am guessing that I burned at least 6,000 calories.
I began my eighth lap with a plan of completing two more after that. Little did I know that this lap would be my longest and most physically and mentally agonizing lap of the whole race. I am a runner for over 27 years and runners primarily use their calf muscles more than their quadriceps. The reverse is true for bikers. Prior to this race, my quads had only a handful of training rides, and never did I ever ride a bike for a full six hours. Throughout this race so far, I have been pushing my quads to their limits, especially when I had to pedal through the mud and up steep hills. Halfway through my eighth lap, the most painful thing that I ever experienced in my life happened to me: EXTREME lactic acid buildup in my quads, also known as cramps. Lactic acid is a by-product of non-stop working out without rest. Some kind of naturally-occurring acid in the body builds up in pockets around the muscles and if the activity level is not decreased at this time, localized pain flares up in those areas where the acid is. Up to this point, my mind was so focused on getting the miles in as quickly as possible, I treated my body as if it were a machine. The pain in my quads was so unbearable, I jumped off my bike, threw it on the ground and tightly wrapped my hands around a tree. I punched and squeezed my legs hoping that this would help dissipate the lactic acid that filled them up to a boiling point. The sensation in both my quads was that of two bombs about to explode and intense pressure in my legs made it feel like they both were literally about to explode. After standing there for about 5 minutes or so, the pain subsided to a low enough point for me to continue riding. But I could no longer ride fast, for the lactic acid levels in both my legs were still very high. I had to ride slow enough to prevent another flare up, which happened to me a few more times during this lap. Just when my legs felt good enough to use again, Flat #5 reared it’s ugly head. Luckily, I got this flat at a clearing where two CERT volunteers were ready, willing and able to help me. One was a man; he was joking around with me trying to lighten up my situation. He kept on begging me to bring him a hamburger during my next loop around, which I thought was funny. The other volunteer was a middle-aged woman who helped find me a bunch of napkins so that I can clean all the mud that was caked around my flat tire. She was a godsend, for her motivating conversation while I was struggling to change my tire helped me get through this ordeal. After about a dozen minutes of tire-changing hell, I was off to complete this loop, still making sure that I controlled my speed to avoid any further lactic acid flare-ups. Finally, I got back to Base Camp feeling as though I’ve been to Hell and back. I completed this lap at the 5 hour and 19-minute mark. This agonizing lap took me over an hour to complete!!!
I was so spent both mentally and physically at this point that when I saw Steve and Amy, I told them that it was over for me regardless of how much time was still left to the race.
THE TERMINATOR: I’LL BE BACK!!!
I now had eight laps under my belt, or a total of 20.88 miles. After that last Lap From Hell, I was ready to call it a day. As far as I was concerned, it was over. I asked Steve, who was tabulating the laps, how much of a distance I was from 3rd to 4th place, for if I was way ahead of the 4th place biker, it wouldn’t make much sense for me to continue biking in my condition. But when Steve checked the lap table, he noticed that I was neck-and-neck with the 3rd place guy. We both had 20.88 miles under our belts. At this moment, I switched myself into Terminator Mode. I said to myself that I must do another lap no matter what it takes to make sure that I finish in 3rd place. I threw all my feelings about my leg cramps, flat tires and mud out the window and I was now bent on finishing one more lap even if I had to run it. I was now the freakin’ Terminator and I was ready to tell them, “I’ll be back!!!”. This was no longer a 6-hour endurance race for me; it now became a 2.61-mile race to the finish and I was programmed to finish it by the end of the sixth hour no matter what.
After I told Steve and Amy my plans, she told me, “You really are a bad ass!”. I guess I am living up to the name of this race, for a renewed sense of vigor took control of me and I was hell-bent on getting the job done. My strategy for this final lap was simple: when I was on top of a hill, take advantage of gravity and ride down it like a bat out of hell. When I came to level land, pedal slowly to avoid lactic acid flare-ups and when I came to an uphill, run with my bike up that hill. Using this strategy paid off; I completed this final lap with the clock reading 5:52 and only eight minutes left to the end of the race.
When everything was said and done, I ended up earning the third place medal at the awards ceremony. The race started with seven men competing in the solo category. Three men dropped out halfway through the race. I ended up completing 23.4 miles going an average of 3.9 miles per hour with the ordeal of having five flat tires throughout the race. I was tired, hurt, muddy, cut up, beat up and in need of a serious hot shower. I didn’t get to sleep until midnight that night due to all the energy drinks I consumed that day. And I finished the race alive. My daughter will not get mad at me now knowing that her birthday party would be in full-swing the next day.
I am now an official card-carrying Bad Ass.
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