Rev3 Maine

I love this race! Of the dozens of triathlons I've done the past few years, none compares to the beauty of this course. A breathtaking ocean swim at sunrise, a 56 mile ride that feels like it's a weave through gorgeous New England postcards, and a half-marathon run that's flat, fast, and beautiful. I'm not sure how Rev3 found this course but it's a real gem, a diamond, as perfect as a half-ironman course could hope to be.


Last year, Rev3 Maine was my maiden voyage into the long course format. I followed a training plan to prepare for the big step up from Olympic (32 miles) to the half-iron (70.3 miles) format. I was scared, and not very confident that I'd reach the finish line. I struggled to sleep the night prior, stressing about how far out in the ocean I'd be swimming, the danger of a 1.2 mile ocean swim and the hours of cycling and running that would follow, but I pulled it off with a respectable time of 5:40. Shockingly, I won the silver in my age group, but there were only 7 competitors in my division last year. Not many guys my age are crazy enough to do these races.

The finish line in any race is a natural high; the finish line at a 70.3 mile 5+ hour race is at a whole new level. There is no doubt that you've done something special, which takes immense dedication and focus. The tougher the challenge, the more fulfilling it is.

With newfound confidence I signed up for more half-iron distance races. I started 2013 with two difficult halfs - Quassy and Norwalk. The former is downright cruel - a nonstop parade of high-grade hills that will punish any competitor relentlessly. Norwalk was not much easier and I went in too heavy and poorly trained. My times in both were depressing - 6:19 and 6:03. I started to think that age had begun to catch up with me and I'd never beat my inaugural time - downhill from here old man.

2013 has been a very tough year for me. Lots of major changes in my life and difficult personal challenges. I took advantage of a few weeks between jobs to train relentlessly, hoping to possibly get back near my Maine performance by the end of the season. I dropped weight, increased my miles in all sports and headed up to Old Orchard Beach hoping that I could halt the age slide that athletes face.

The water was a frigid 60 degrees when the horn sounded. As I entered the water and looked far into the ocean at the farthest turn buoy, I wasn't confident. "Holy shit this is a long swim...damn it's cold out here" It seemed to go on forever. It never warmed up. The sight of swimmers from later wave passing me along the way added to the dismay and dropped my confidence. I kept telling myself to stay focused, that I'd get through it. "Just finish what you started, even if your time sucks. Don't quit."

When I finally got on the bike, everything changed. I was passing other athletes in bunches and felt great! As a slow swimmer, the bike split always feels like I've been set free from a cage and can finally fly. I finished the bike split at a 20.4 mph pace over 56 miles of hills. I moved up in my division from 13th to 6th during the bike split. Perhaps I might be able to end close to the 5:40 time after all.

Second transition was quick and I was out for the run. That's always been my strength and today was no different. The challenge is to keep running, not run out of gas and walk. I felt stronger as the miles passed in the half-marathon. My nutrition plan of water, bananas and Coke kept me moving at a steady pace. The beautiful shaded running course didn't hurt either. I glanced at my watch and saw that I was tracking to blow through my prior best time, by over 10 minutes. I crossed the finish line at 5:29. My half-marathon run was at an 8:42 pace,  four minutes faster than last year. How the hell did I pull that off?

Long races like these are adventures. Your mind is consumed start to finish with your racing goals and the emotional challenges that you're facing in life at that very moment. It's an intense internal therapy session coupled with a physical challenge unlike any other. It's a very lonely yet rewarding experience where your mind and emotions work equally as hard as your legs, lungs, heart, and arms. It's full throttle on every dimension.

The time that you cross the finish line is wholly unpredictable and the demons that your emotions wrestle with for over five hours are there waiting for you at the finish line. Unfortunately, for me they're the only ones waiting at these race finish lines, hence the emotional challenge. You may have a great race and beat your time, but your demons may still win the war. But you battle on and appreciate what you've just completed. You feel rewarded that you reached another difficult goal. It leaves you motivated for the next challenge, the next battle with other competitors, your physical abilities, and your emotional ghosts.

It's an indescribable high, unlike any other in life...and fantastic therapy!

The unique voice of Mr. Manzarek

Ray Manzarek left us yesterday. Ray has a special place in music history. He had a unique and uncommon voice in a very understated way. In many ways he was the sound of the Doors. Swap out Krieger or Densmore and the sound is different, but it's still the Doors. Swap out Jim Morrison or Ray Manzarek, and it's just another band. It's no longer the Doors without those two. Jim got the headlines but Ray made the sound of that band with his perfect foundation for Jim's velvet voice. Remove Ray from behind Morrison, and I don't think Jim commands the same place in history.

Ray sounded like no other keyboardist. And frankly, no other keyboardist ever adopted his sound or approach. It's rare that someone that unique and popular does not inspire imitation like Wakeman, Jan Hammer, Jon Lord, Keith Emerson, Chick, McCoy, Herbie and others did. He was a bit like Herbie Nichols or Dominico Scarlatti - a very different voice in his time...appreciated, but rarely imitated and not stylisticaly influential like his peers. His individuality was unquestionable, he copied nobody and had the rarest of gifts - the ability to speak authentically from within.

Manzarek was the epitome of excellence in accompaniment. He "got it" when it came to making the lead voice sound great. He kept his foundation fresh but never got in the way. Like Hendrix, he made his instrument sound different and went places that others never even thought of. Check out the energy he provides in Touch Me, behind Curtis Amy's sax solo. Also listen to how he weaves a harpsichord behind Morrison's vocals. Who else would conceive of that color in a rock tune?

Who else would go on national TV with his keyboards half disassembled so that he could tweak them if necessary to get the perfect sound? Ray's gift was making the band and soloist sound amazing. His goals were clear, and he accomplished them with rare consistency.

Listen to his high-speed vibrato Rhodes mood setting in Riders on the Storm. Without Ray, it's just another tune. With Ray, it's an all time classic. His solo on that tune demonstrates a unique authenticity in both the rock and jazz idioms. Others tried hard to crossover between the two music forms. Ray just went there naturally, without exposing a bias towards one or the other.

Check out how he sets Whiskey Bar up with a polka feel, complete with an accordion/harpsichord tonality to support Morrison's playful lyric. It's hip and very courageous. Like Stevie Wonder's Village Ghetto Land, Ray introduces a sonic pallet that should be out of place for the tune and the musical idiom, but he makes it sound completely at home and natural. Again, take Ray out and...just another tune. Add Ray and it's magic!

Ray was also unique in his ability to cover the baselines with his trusty Rhodes Piano Bass. Left hand bass was unheard of in rock keyboard circles, still is to this day. But Ray covered it perfectly for his entire career.  His time and feel were perfect and the groove was always solid, alive, but never intrusive.

Ray left behind a great legacy and I would expect his influence, and the appreciation for his rare gifts, to increase over time. As a musician, I envy his natural ability to speak from a different place...as Ray and nobody else. And his courage to take the music to places that others never imagined. Most of all, I respect his sensibilities to do this while also supporting one of the great vocalists of his time, never in the way, but always enhancing that voice. Morrison would never be Morrison without Ray. I get that, and I suspect many others will in the years ahead.

The Finish Line

The tougher the goal, the more fulfilling it is to reach it. Goals drive us to reach new heights. As Thomas Jefferson said "Nothing can stop the man with the right mental attitude from achieving his goal."

Running a marathon is among the toughest goals I've reached for in recent years.  26.2 miles is a very long distance to travel by foot. Occasionally I will track that distance in my car for perspective - New Haven to Weston, CT for example - and it seems like forever....in the car.

The legendary runner Bill Rodgers won both the NYC and prestigious Boston Marathons, four times each. This was his perspective - "The marathon can humble you."

I'm a late entry into this game. I attempted my very first marathon at the age of 56, in St. Croix, where the heat and humidity bake runners. I signed up for the half, felt good and figured that I'd give the full marathon a shot. I remember about 16 miles in, realizing that I was going to figure out a way to get this thing done. I crossed the finish line in 4:08 and I was hooked! No goal had felt more distant prior, which made it feel that much more rewarding to achieve it.

Most runners are winding down their running careers by age 56 but I was just getting started. I figured you never really know what you're capable of doing until you give it a shot. In the words of the great Michelangelo “The greatest danger for most of us is not that our aim is too high and we miss it, but that it is too low and we reach it.”

My obsession with the marathon has led me to run several over the past two years leading to my 10th in Miami yesterday. However this one  didn't seem to be in the cards after a string of issues derailed my training. Early in January I got a high fever from pneumonia, got delirious, blacked out and fell which created a bloody hole in my head and sent me to the hospital ER to get treated. This all dropped my lung capacity and stopped my training for over two weeks. When I finally got back on the road I quickly suffered a bad ankle sprain and ligament damage a quarter mile into a 15k race that I continued to run through leading to a foot that I could barely walk on, let alone do a marathon with. The marathon was just a week away and I doubted that I would be in position to participate.

Enter Dr. Andrew Rice, my podiatrist. Like me, he loves to run. He also recognizes that guys my age, also his age, don't have a lot of miles left in the tank. "Run while you still can" he's told me repeatedly. He connected my goal with my ankle condition and rushed me into a week of physical therapy which reduced the swelling and got me to the start line without pain. They don't come any better than Dr. Rice!

I started the race not knowing how far I could go. I had visions of dropping out after a few miles, or flipping over to the half-marathon finish line and calling it a day. I kept fearing that the ankle would swell at any  moment or I would just run out of lung capacity and have to stop. But I pressed on. I ran slow, and had to stop and walk a few times due to my lung capacity, but I made it. The sight of that finish line at 4:14 was as beautiful a site as I've ever seen in a race.

While in Miami, I also met legendary marathon runner Bart Yasso. Bart is also around my age and he offered a quote that drove me through those 26.2 miles yesterday. "There will come a day when I can no longer run a marathon....but today is not that day."

I must have repeated that phrase 20 times during the race. It got me to the finish line and I hope it gets me to a few more. Thanks, Dr. Rice. Thanks, Bart Yasso.