He Is A Dreamer

This is Kent.  The guy I goofed around with as a teenager.  The kid that laughed a lot, and always had a smile on his face.  We swam together for three years at Westwood High School.  Well, Kent swam, I trailed.  But we had some great times back on then.  

A few years ago I crossed paths with Kent again as we both had joined the same masters swim team.  Mesa Aquatics Club had been reborn as the premiere masters team in Arizona.  With a beautiful new pool facility and the finest coaches around, Paul and Laura Smith, MAC was a swimmers paradise.  

With bed head and whiffs of chlorine in the air, we would arrive only half awake to dive into the cool waters of Kino Pool each morning to get our suffer fest on with Paul and Laura, who challenged our limits and improved our performance.  

While most of the swimmers had something "little" like Ironman on their mind, Kent put himself into a different category.  He was a distance swimmer: a rare breed seen swimming in sub 60-degree waters without wetsuits, cutting a path through the oceans and large bodies of water around the world.  

It was shortly after Kent joined MAC that he swam his first mammoth swim, the 21-mile Catalina Challenge.  The swim started off Catalina Island and Kent touched the shores of Palos Verdes, California in an amazing time of 10 hours 46 minutes.  He made the swim look relatively easy back in September of 2011. 

Suddenly his focus became a little more prestigious.  The pinnacle goal of the distance swimmer is the English Channel.  Kent applied to swim there, and while waiting for his approval, swam the 28.5 Manhattan Island Marathon Swim in June 2012.  

Two swims down out of the elite Triple Crown of Swimming, Kent finally was approved to give his English Channel dream a try in August 2013.  How does one prepare for a mind-numbing swim like this?  Kent organized several  distance swim in Arizona's lakes.  He also sat in a horse trough filled with 70 pounds of ice for an hour.  Crazy talk.  

His efforts paid off.  On August 1, Kent successfully completed the English Channel swim in a speedy 11 hours and 22 minutes.  His recap for the East Valley Tribune:  

Swimmers are given a 10-day window to make the trek across the English Channel. Weather is ever changing. Currents can be fierce.  Nicholas and his wife, Candice, traveled to England at the end of July to meet the pilot of the boat he hired to follow him during the crossing.

“Some go over and the weather is never good and they go home,” Nicholas said.

For six straight mornings, Nicholas made his way to the beach, swimming in the water, waiting for the right opportunity.

“You meet people from all over the world on the beach. I met a swimmer from China, one from Chile, an Irish swimmer. It’s a big international flavor waiting on the beach in Dover to get ready for the swim,” he said.

The seventh day looked promising. But one hiccup kept Nicholas’ swim from starting on time: He’d left his passport in his hotel room.

“You cross into French waters and theoretically you can be pulled over by border patrol for a passport check,” he said.

Candice make a quick dash to the hotel for the passports and Nicholas’ boat pilot gave him the go-ahead after the delay with one warning: “Now, you’re just going to have to swim faster.”

He did just that: 11 hours and 22 minutes later, Nicholas landed just south of Wissant Beach in France.

“I had read so many stories about how treacherous it is and how difficult and how many people don’t make it and some made pretty negative comments about their English Channel experience. I just did not experience that. It was a positive swim,” he said.

Upon reaching the French beach, he was greeted by a British relay team that finished just ahead of him.

“Each of them came over and shook my hand,” he said.

Swimming is a family event in the Nicholas household. Kent credits his wife for her support in the and out of the water.

“My wife is a huge part of my swim. There’s not an open water swimmer out there that does these types of swims alone. I can’t tell you what a big support she’s been, not just training, but going on the boat and taking the seasickness medicine,” he said. “She’s a huge part of my success and being able to accomplish these things. I could not do these swims without her.”

Nicholas grew up in Mesa, was a lifeguard at Rhodes Junior High School and still swims with the Mesa Aquatics Club.

His 13-year-old daughter and 11-year-old son often travel with the family during Nicholas’ open water swims. His son, a swimmer himself, plans to swim Alcatraz Island to San Francisco next year.

“Swimming has really brought my family closer together,” he said.

Uphill Battles

Single Track for Days

It's happened again... I've fallen in love with the mountains of Utah.  The trails, the vistas, the summer nights - there is so much to love about this beautiful state.

Four weeks in Park City renewed my desire to mountain bike and hike the endless trails that weave through my "backyard".  Just out my door is the Mid Mountain Trail, a 26-mile single track path that meanders through the Deer Valley Ski Resort and on to Park City Mountain Resort.  The trail maintains a rolling 8,000 foot elevation and winds its way through aspen trees, pines, scrub oak and wildflowers. Along one summit of the path is a park bench that faces out toward the amazing views of the Uintas and down onto the PCMR alpine slides and historic Main Street below.  It feels like you're on top of the world.

The view from the park bench on Mid Mountain Trail

My ventures out onto the trail were mostly solo, which is fine by me.  I don't slow anyone down and can go at my own pace.  I'm not the best mountain biker on the trails, so I have to periodically stop, get off my bike, and push it around a tight corner or down a hairpin turn.

As I was riding one afternoon, I started grumbling to myself about all the hazards on the trail.  There are exposed roots and tree stumps.  There are sharp, dangerous rocks that jut out like razors ready to puncture a tire.  There are uneven paths that are filled with broken rocks that would throw even the pros off balance.  "Why are there so many rough spots on the trail?" I thought.  "This is horrible!"

But then I rounded a corner and found myself overlooking the most beautiful vista I had ever seen.  I could see the peaks of Timpanogos in the distance and the lush green mountains of Little Cottonwood Canyon in the foreground.  The wildflowers were in abundance - vibrant purples and yellows.  Red berries dotted the grassy hills all around me.  Overhead the billowy clouds floated along in the lightest shade of blue.  And the world seemed perfect.

The journey up to that view was difficult.  I was sweaty and tired.  I had ridden up and past those treacherous hazards - and the reward was this amazing scene in front of me.  I could see Heber and Midway down the mountain.  To my left were the big wind block panels at the top of Bald Mountain in Park City.  And faintly in the air, the music of a Deer Valley concert was tinkling in my ears.

I knew not everyone could make it to this overlook.  It was not an easy journey.  If the trail had been soft, comfortable forgiving dirt all the way up, it would have been crowded with cyclists and hikers.  But in this quiet moment, it was just me in the most beautiful place I could imagine.  It wasn't luck that got me to this place.  It was work!

In life, it's those who put forth a dedicated effort of hard work that reap the greatest results.  You can't sail through life and expect to be handed the view from the top.  No one's personal path is easy.  Yes, you can take the chair lift up to the top of the mountain.  But you'll miss the small things along the way: the colors, the animals, the waterfalls, the feel of the trees enveloping you in their surroundings.

Choose to go uphill.  Choose to work for something you think is unattainable.  Chances are you'll get there and surprise yourself.  You're stronger than you think you are.  Your amazing view awaits and it may just change your life.

And I promise you --  it's worth it.

Century Ride Ramblings and Insights

Training for LOTOJA has kept me on the bike and off the ole blog for quite awhile.  In an effort to build mileage and time in the saddle, my weekends have been packed with 100 plus mile rides.  Confession:  I am really scared about LOTOJA.  I've never ridden 206 mile in one day, or even in two days!  I'm nervous about all of it.

The good news is,  I'm learning.  Those hours I spend hugging the shoulder of highway on my bike leave plenty of time for me to gain wisdom and insight into what it takes to ride a double century in one day.  Here are a few of my observations:

 1.  DZnuts Bliss  What a FIND!  BUY this stuff, USE this stuff, anytime you are going out on a ride.  This chamois cream will provide protection and comfort on all your "lady parts".  Men, DZnuts is equally perfect for you.  I generously apply DZ directly onto the chamois of my cycling shorts, especially coating the seams that may rub as I repeatedly pedal.  I also use the cream post-ride in case I feel any potential saddle sores forming -- so I stay ahead of the game.  Thank you, David Zabriske for making such a wonderful product.  I only wish it came in industrial size tubs.

2.  Traffic.  I've noticed that cars and trucks on the scenic byways and mountain roads comes in packs.  Rarely is just one car alone on the open road.  So be aware that when one passes you, there are probably others right behind them.  Keep your core engaged and your arms and hands comfortably snug on the handlebars.  No need to have a death grip on your bike when a semi roars by.  Just hold secure with your hands and keep your legs moving - that will help you keep your balance if the wind shifts while you are riding.  Same goes for the downhill descents.  Loosen your grip, lower your center of gravity, and race down the mountain at a speed YOU are comfortable with.

3.  Roctane!  For me, chewing bars and waffles on the long rides is, well, not enjoyable.  I've sort of fallen in love with the Roctane products by GU.  They are designed for longer and more intensive rides with more caffeine in each packet.  I find these little 100 calorie packs give me a little wake up call when I need it.  They're also way easier for me to eat then fighting the wrapper of a bar and trying to swallow it down with a gulp of water.  Roctanes are easy to ingest and quick to take effect.  I like all the flavors and haven't had a bad one yet.


4.  And last but not least, keep your nutrition in check.  What I mean is, don't forget to eat!  Thirty minutes or an hour come pretty quickly when you are focused on the road in front of you.  Don't fall behind on calorie intake.  You're going to eat a lot on long rides.  Be prepared.  Pack more than you'll need.  You'll appreciate the choices you have when a GU sounds bad but a ProBar is just the ticket.  Plan to fuel throughout the entire ride.  If you've ever bonked before, it's not a pretty picture.  And nutrition is the key to helping you cross the line with energy and a smile on your face!

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I Saw A Man Die Today

I saw a man die today.

There's no easy way to say it.  And I'm struggling with emotions and conflicting feelings and goals and dreams and plans.  And fear.

My husband and two great friends had ascended the peak of Mt. Lemmon, the beautiful mountain outside of Tucson, Arizona on what was to be the hottest day of 2013 thus far.  We had prepared our bikes, got plenty of sleep and planned our nutrition to get the maximum benefits from this ride - a training day for the upcoming LOTOJA Classic in September.  Due to the extreme heat advisory, we chose to start our trek up the mountain at 5am, avoiding the inferno-like scorching temps, and into the mild weather of 8000 ft. high-desert forest.

If you've never ridden to the top of Mt. Lemmon, here's a quick synopsis: you start at the base of the dry oven-baked cactus foothills of the Catalina Mountains, and climb your way up to the amazing cool breezes, majestic views, and pines trees via a 26-mile winding two-lane highway. The road passes various campsites, trailheads and even a ski center at the summit -- the southernmost ski resort in the US. The road is designated a National Scenic Byway, one of only 100 in the country.

So it was, of course, a treat and a haul to ride up.  And after more than three long hours of climbing, we had reached the summit, enjoyed a cool beverage and a Payday candy bar, and were ready to face the white-knuckle descent that lay ahead of us.

Neither of us gals were excited or looking forward to the quick and scary downhill journey.  The road home requires balance, coordination, intense focus and  confidence in one's bike and one's abilities.  Other bikers whiz past on their own rocket descents, all while sharing the road with cars, motorcycles and pedestrians.  It's a dicey combination.

At mile 17 of my heart pounding downhill journey, I was finally feeling confident and rewarding myself somewhat with a little less force on the brakes and a little more wind in my hair, when I happened upon a horrific scene.  Off to my left, just around a wide curve, a cyclist lay on his back, surrounded by four other cyclists off their bikes.  He had obviously lost control of his bike and careened across the road and into the side of the mountain.  He lay flat and still, eyes closed, not breathing, his bike 10 feet away, in a crumpled pile of spokes and metal.

I stopped and got off my bike, shaking in fear and dread while those who had witnessed the crash started CPR and worked tirelessly performing compressions.   The cyclists took turns pumping his chest and as cars passed, a nurse jumped out to offer help and another man on a bike rode up and ran to the scene to help, as well.  Hikers came off the trails to assist.  Cars who passed drove up to find cell service.  And after about 15 minutes, a sheriff's vehicle pulled in and turned on his lights.  He radioed for help.  And tried to clear the area.

The four of us, stunned from this turn of events, now mounted our bikes to clear the area and the road.  We started downhill and passed an emergency vehicle racing up the canyon road - lights blazing and flashing, whipping it's way around cars to help the victim.

Me?  I started praying.  For the man, his family, my family, my friend's family, everyone I loved.  Let him be okay.  Let ME be okay.  Let me GET OFF THIS MOUNTAIN SAFE.  I prayed for the next 11 miles for everything to be alright.

As I sit here today, I'm wondering what I take from this.  Is cycling too dangerous?  Should I live in fear?  Was this a SIGN?  I've received tons of positive FB messages but one stands out from a friend and triathlete Bev Crupi: "I know this could happen to anyone, however, it reminds me of the serenity prayer!  God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."

Today I will accept this tragedy.  And send my thoughts and prayers to his loved ones.  And try to finish my training for LOTOJA.  My heart is heavy.  I can't change my love for the bike, but I will for sure change the risky rides and dangerous routes that tempt my soul to conquer.  I will resolves to slow down (though I'm already slow) for safety, not tempt fate for the sake of a PR and remember -- riding is for fun.

Fun.  Remember that.

When it stops being fun, its just not worth it.

Matthew

Confession:  I was nervous.  I got a call last month from a mom with a special request.  "I have a child who I'd like you to teach.  I'd like him to do private lessons."

"Well ma'am, I'm done teaching for the year.  I don't do private lessons and I can't help you," I said.  I was not interested heading back out to the pool in the hottest months of the summer.  I typically teach in April and May, preparing kids before the swimming season begins and before the Arizona temperatures hit 100-plus degrees on a daily basis.

"You come highly recommended and I'd really like you to teach him.  He's a little different.  He's got a symptom called dwarfism.  His  arms are a little bit longer than a normal child and his legs are a little bit shorter.  I'm not sure how he will do in the water.  Will you teach him?"

In all my years of teaching kids to swim, I had never got a request like this.  I wasn't sure if I was up to the task.  I didn't know what this boy's limitations were.  Could I really get him to swim?

But how can you turn down a call from a pleading mother like that?

And so I said yes.

Four year old Matthew came bounding into my backyard all smiles and happiness.  He was a giggler.
 I immediately knew I was going to love him.  Because of his smallness, I first expected him to be uncomfortable and scared of the water, like many of the two-year-olds who come to me.  But Matthew was ready to swim.

With his four-year-old mind and eagerness to learn, he picked up my swimming cues in the first lesson.  And he progressed quickly over the next two weeks.  I got him to jump, to dive, to float and to swim.  I got him to love the water.

But Matthew taught me more than I ever taught him.  Matthew taught me to embrace others with differences that may, at first, make one uncomfortable.  He taught me that being a little bit different in appearance doesn't make one different in ability or desire to learn.  He taught me that his "disability" is only an opportunity to open one's minds and to change the way we think.

My heart is overflowing with love for this little person.  He brings joy to me and to others around him.  He is the sunshine of my summer.  I hope I have many more years to work with Matthew.

He still has a lot to teach me.