GymSkinZ Inspirational Post - Tribute to Ironman Canada

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GymSkinZ Triathlon / Multisports PodCast

Time for the questions

Right now you've all entered the taper. Perhaps you've been at this a few
months, perhaps you've been at this a few years. For some of you this is
your first IM, for others, a long-overdue welcome back to a race that few
can match.

You've been following your schedule to the letter. You've been piling on
the mileage, piling up the laundry, and getting a set of tan lines that will
take until November to erase. Long rides were followed by long runs, which both were preceded by long swims, all of which were followed by recovery naps that were longer than you slept for any given night during college.

You ran in the snow.
You rode in the rain.
You ran in the heat.
You ran in the cold.

You went out when others stayed home.
You rode the trainer when others pulled the covers over their heads.

You have survived the Darwinian progression that is an Ironman summer, and now the hardest days are behind you. Like a climber in the Tour de France coming over the summit of the penultimate climb on an alpine stage, you've already covered so much ground...there's just one more climb to go. You shift up, you take a drink, you zip up the jersey; the descent lays before you...and it will be a fast one.

Time that used to be filled with never-ending work will now be filling with
silent muscles, taking their final, well-earned rest. While this taper is
something your body desperately needs, Your mind, cast off to the background for so very long, will start to speak to you.

It won't be pretty.

It will bring up thoughts of doubt, pain, hunger, thirst, failure, and loss.
It will give you reasons why you aren't ready. It will try and make one
last stand to stop you, because your brain doesn't know what the body
already does. Your body knows the truth:

You are ready.

Your brain won't believe it. It will use the taper to convince you that
this is foolish - that there is too much that can go wrong.

You are ready.

Finishing an Ironman is never an accident. It's the result of dedication,
focus, hard work, and belief that all the long runs in January, long rides
in April, and long swims every damn weekend will be worth it.
It comes from getting on the bike, day in, day out.
It comes from long, solo runs. From that first long run where you wondered, "How will I ever be ready?" to the last long run where you smiled to yourself with one mile to go...knowing that you'd found the answer.

It is worth it. Now that you're at the taper, you know it will be worth it.
The workload becomes less. The body winds up and prepares, and you just need to quiet your worried mind. Not easy, but you can do it.

You are ready.

You will walk into the lagoon on August 27th with 2200 other wide-open sets of eyes. You will look upon the sea of humanity, and know that you belong. You'll feel the chill of the water crawl into your wetsuit, and shiver like everyone else, but smile because the day you have waited for, for so VERY long is finally here.

The bagpipers will walk across the beach. Steve King will ask you to sing
along. You will.

You will tear up in your goggles. Everyone does.

The helicopters will roar overhead.
The splashing will surround you.
The starting horn will go off...

You'll stop thinking about Ironman, because you're now racing one.

The swim will be long - it's long for everyone, but you'll make it. You'll
watch as the Penticton Lakeside Hotel grows and grows, and soon you'll hear the end. You'll come up the beach and head for the wetsuit strippers.
Three people will get that sucker off before you know what's happening, then you'll head for the bike.

In the shadows on Main Street you'll spin out of town - the voices, the
cowbells, and the curb-to-curb chalk giving you a hero's sendoff. You won't wipe the smile off your face for miles as you whisk along the lakeside, past fully stocked, silent aid stations for the run to come.

You'll spin up McLean Creak Road. You'll roll down towards Osoyoos, past the vineyards glowing in the morning sun. You'll settle down to your race. The crowds will spread out on the road. You'll soon be on your bike, eating your food on your schedule, controlling your Ironman.

Richter Pass will come. Everyone talks about it, but it's really nothing.
You'll know this halfway up, as you're breathing easy and climbing smoothly. Look to your right. Look how high you're climbing. Look at all the bikes below, still making their way there. You're ahead of them. All of them. You'll climb over Richter, and descend to the valley below. You'll ride the rollers, one at a time. You'll start to feel that morning sun turn to
afternoon sun. It's warmer now. Maybe it's hot. Maybe you're not feeling
so good now. You'll keep riding. You'll keep drinking. You'll keep moving.
After all, this is just a long training day with valet parking and catering,
right?

You'll put the rollers behind you. You'll head into the Cawston out and
back. You'll put on your game face, fighting the urge to feel down as you
ride the wrong way for what seems like hours. 10 miles in, you reach
special needs, fuel up, and head out.

By now it'll be hot. You'll be tired. Doubts will fight for your focus.
Everyone struggles here. You've been on that bike for a few hours, and
stopping would be nice, but you won't - not here. Not today. You'll ride
on leaving Cawston behind you and head for the final showdown at Yellow
Lake.

You'll grind the false flats to the climb. You'll know you're almost there.
You'll fight for every inch of road. You'll make the turn towards the
summit as the valley walls close in for the kill, and put your head down.
The crowd will come back to you here - the cars are always waiting to cross the summit, and you'll soon be surrounded in the glorious noise that is the final climb of Ironman Canada. Let their energy push you. Let them see
your eyes. Smile when they cheer for you

- your body will get just that little bit lighter.

Grind.
Fight.
Suffer.
Persevere.
Summit.

Just like that, you'll be descending. 12 miles to go, and no climbing left.
You'll plunge down the road, swooping from corner to corner, chaining
together the turns, tucking on the straights, letting your legs recover for
the run to come - soon! You'll roll back into town - you'll see people
running out. You'll think to yourself, "Wasn't I just here?" The noise
will grow. The chalk dust will hang in the air - you're back in Penticton,
with only 26.2 miles to go. You'll relax a little bit, knowing that even if
you get a flat tire or something breaks here, you can run the damn bike into
T2.

You'll roll into transition. 100 volunteers will fight for your bike.
You'll give it up and not look back. You'll have your bag handed to you,
and into the tent you'll go. You'll change. You'll load up your pockets,
and open the door to the last long run of your Ironman summer - the one that counts.

You'll take that first step of a thousand...and you'll smile. You'll know
that the bike won't let you down now - the race is down to your own two
feet. The same crowd that cheered for you in the shadows of the morning
will cheer for you in the brilliant sunshine of a Penticton summer Sunday.
High-five people on the way out. Smile. Enjoy it. This is what you've
worked for all year long. That first mile will feel great. So will the second.
By mile 3, you probably won't feel so good.

That's okay. You knew it couldn't all be that easy. You'll settle down
just like you did on the bike, and get down to your pace. You'll see the
leaders coming back the other way. Some will look great - some won't. You might feel great, you might not. No matter how you feel, don't panic - this is the part of the day where whatever you're feeling, you can be sure it
won't last.

You'll keep moving. You'll keep drinking. You'll keep eating. Maybe
you'll be right on plan - maybe you won't. If you're ahead of schedule,
don't worry - believe. If you're behind, don't panic - roll with it.
Everyone comes up with a brilliant race plan for Ironman, and then everyone has to deal with the reality that planning for something like Ironman is like trying to land a man on the moon. By remote control. Blindfolded.

How you react to the changes in your plan will dictate your day. Don't
waste energy worrying about things - just do what you have to when you have to, and keep moving. Keep eating. Keep drinking. Just don't sit down - don't EVER sit down.

You'll make it to halfway at OK Falls. You'll load up on special needs.
Some of what you packed will look good, some won't. Eat what looks good, toss the rest. Keep moving. Start looking for people you know. Cheer for people you don't. You're headed in - they're not. They want to be where you are, just like you wanted to be when you saw all those fast people headed into town. Share some energy - you'll get it right back.

Run if you can.
Walk if you have to.
Just keep moving.

The miles will drag on. The brilliant Penticton sunshine will yawn, and
head for the mountains behind the bike course...behind that last downhill
you flew down all those hours ago. You'll be coming up to those aid
stations you passed when you started the bike...fully alive with people,
music, and chicken soup. TAKE THE SOUP. Keep moving.

You'll soon only have a few miles to go. You'll start to believe that
you're going to make it. You'll start to imagine how good it's going to
feel when you get there. Let those feelings drive you on. When your legs
just don't want to move anymore, think about what it's going to be like when someone catches you...puts a medal over your head...

...all you have to do is get there.

You'll start to hear town. People you can't see in the twilight will cheer
for you. They'll call out your name. Smile and thank them. They were
there when you left on the bike, and when you came back, when you left on
the run, and now when you've come back.

You'll enter town. You'll start to realize that the day is almost over.
You'll be exhausted, wiped out, barely able to run a 10-minute mile (if
you're lucky), but you'll ask yourself, "Where did the whole day go?"
You'll be standing on the edge of two feelings - the desire to finally stop,
and the desire to take these last moments and make them last as long as
possible.

You'll hit mile 25. You'll turn onto Lakeside Drive. Your Ironman Canada
will have 1.2 miles - just 2KM left in it.

You'll run. You'll find your legs. You'll fly. You won't know how, but
you will run. You'll make the turn in front of the Sicamous in the dark,
and head for home. The lights will grow brighter, brighter, and brighter.
Soon you'll be able to hear the music again. This time, it'll be for keeps.

You'll listen for Steve King. Soon they'll see you. Soon, everyone will see you.

You'll run towards the lights, between the fences, and into the nightsun made just for you.

They'll say your name.
You'll keep running.
Nothing will hurt.
The moment will be yours - for one moment, the entire world will be looking at you and only you.

You'll break the tape. The flash will go off.

You'll stop. You'll finally stop. Your legs will wobble their last, and
suddenly...be capable of nothing more.

Someone will catch you.
You'll lean into them.

It will suddenly hit you.
You will be an Ironman.

You are ready.


*Subaru Ironman Canada is the oldest Ironman event in continental North America and will take place for the 24th time in Penticton, B.C. on Sunday, August 27, 2006. Athletes will be competing for 80 qualifying spots to the 2006 Ironman World Championship in Kona, Hawaii as well as a $75,000 (Cdn.) pro prize purse. For more information, log onto www.ironman.ca.

Cheating is nothing new in the Tour

Cheating is nothing new in the Tour
gymskinz.com

podcast:
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All of the furore surrounding cheating in the Tour de France is nothing new. In the early days, riders were involved in devious practices that make today's Tour stars seem like choirboys. The first winner of the event, Maurice Garin, was disqualified the following year trying to defend his title for catching a train instead of riding his bike. Les Woodland puts the 2006 Landis affair into some sort of historical context.

50 years after the first Tour

There's a historical irony in this Floyd Landis business. He'll be remembered, unless his lawyers can persuade us otherwise, as the biggest cheat in Tour history, the only man to have had his yellow jersey torn from his back.

But history will be wrong. The first big Tour cheat, Maurice Garin, would not only have failed any modern dope test but he also extended the concept of cycle-racing to include catching a train.

Nobody knows for certain that Maurice Garin waited at an out-of-the-way railway platform back in 1904. He wasn't caught with the ticket stubs in his pocket. But a while back I met a man, a gravedigger in Garin's home town of Lens in northern France, who knew him. The gravedigger was just a boy then and Garin an old man, but there was no doubt in the gravedigger's memory that Garin had admitted catching a train to skip round some tricky or boring bits of the course.

"He was amused by it," Maurice Vernaldé told me. "Not embarrassed, not after all those years, and he used to laugh and say 'Well, I was young…' and admit it. Maybe at the time he said he didn't, but when he got older and it no longer mattered so much…."

The first Tour winner

Garin was disqualified from the 1904 Tour, probably for catching a train when he should have been cycling. Why 'probably'? Because the French federation had grown alarmed at the uproar, enthusiasm and even anger that the Tour had created. This was the race, after all, in which riders were knocked off their bikes and even beaten up. Officials weren't going to do anything to make things worse and that included not publishing the findings of their inquiry. Just like what may happen to Floyd Landis in 2006, he was disqualified after the Tour was over.

Maybe the officials intended to say much later about what had happened but in time the filing cabinet full of papers disappeared. The original French federation vanished with the First World War and so, incidentally, did all the Tour's own records. They were placed in a van to be sent south to escape the invading Germans and were never seen again.

Paris-Roubaix winner 1898

Maurice Vernaldé wishes now that he had spent more time talking to Garin. But he was just a child at the time and he wasn't always happy to be sent to buy paraffin at the garage that Garin had on the edge of town. Garin was like many old men and couldn't - in the eyes of a young boy like Vernaldé - be stopped from rambling on and on with his memories.

More than that, Garin in his old age grew increasingly senile and towards the end of his life wandered through Lens reliving the Tours of years before. In the early Tours, riders were given route sheets and were told to sign register books in each big town to prove they had kept to the course. Garin would walk, mumbling, through the streets of Lens, growing ever more distressed, until finally he ended up at the police station to ask for directions for the 'contrôle'. He'd be patiently escorted back home again.

Remembered in 2003

Garin won the 1903 Tour and would have won the next year as well had he and a handful of others not been thrown out. Cheating was nothing novel to anyone in the field because, even if they didn't do it themselves, they were well aware that others were taking short cuts, being towed by cars (a wire fixed to a wing mirror and held between the teeth by a cork was a favourite trick) or even sitting inside them. Taking a train has to be seen in that context. And the fact that the Tour back then wasn't the Tour de France but just a Tour de France, a new race that nobody knew would grow into something special.

The alcohol they downed wasn't for cheating - not 'proper' cheating, anyway - even if it would have them thrown out of any modern Tour and into a modern jail had they been driving a car. Many an early bikie would have looked for the controls in a state as befuddled as Garin's. The only way they had to numb the pain and hunger of long hours in the saddle on unmade roads was to get themselves half-drunk on wine.

Italian-born Garin

When the excitingly-named Hippolyte Aucouturier was described as vulnerable in races, "because he drank too much", it wasn't because he rode with a bidon of water in his hand like Landis in his miracle stage of 2006. It was because he gurgled down more wine than his stomach could handle.

It did make some sense. Wine was the everyday drink of agricultural workers for whom the water supply was less than pure and alcoholism remained a problem in France right into the late 1950s. It was to combat excessive drinking that France led the way in banning sports sponsorship by drinks firms and the reason that teams like St-Raphaël (an apéritif) and Pelforth (beer) vanished so suddenly.

You can see pictures of old-time riders with wine bottles in their racks. In the absence of food stations or team cars, there are pictures of riders breaking into their 10-hour stages by sitting in a restaurant with a plate of food and yet another bottle of plonk. It was just the way it was.

After winning Paris-Brest-Paris

And it was the way it stayed until the 1960s. The Tour's organisers limited the water that riders could accept on the move. Anything they wanted above the limit had to be obtained from village pumps, springs or from helpful spectators. Or it had to be stolen from bars.

The chasse à la canette - the romantic name for jumping off your bike and running into a bar to steal any drink that could be picked up - was a shameful if colourful episode of Tour history that made for good pictures but a poor image. The big stars didn't do it but their domestiques did and they were expected to race back to the bunch to hand out whatever they had plundered.

Maurice Garin
Vin Denson, when he was a domestique for Rik van Looy, spoke English but only elementary Dutch and French. When van Looy bellowed "Denson… café!" in French, Denson knew his leader wanted a drink. Come the next bar, Denson brought van Looy a bidon. Van Looy, puzzled he hadn't been presented with a glass bottle, sniffed the contents and, with a wrinkled nose of contempt, poured the whole lot on the road.

"It was that day", Denson recalled, "that I learned that café meant not only 'coffee' but 'bar'."

If this doesn't inspire you...

...I dunno what will! 17 (!) more days until Ironman Canada so need all the motivation / inspiration I can get!

check it out - the last GymSkinZ Triathlon Training podcast feed on my mySpace! remember to stop the music - or you can get to it from here:

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cheers!
Tav.

Landis' 'B' test results come out positive

Landis' 'B' test results come out positive

PARIS - The Tour de France no longer calls him champion. His cycling team cut him loose.

About the only chance Floyd Landis has of keeping his prized yellow jersey will now likely be decided by an appeals process that could drag on for months.

Landis was discredited and disowned in short order Saturday when elevated levels of testosterone showed up in his "B" or second doping sample - as it did in the initial "A" sample released last week.

The samples also contained synthetic testosterone, indicating that it came from an outside source.

If stripped of the title, Landis would become the first winner in the 103-year history of cycling's premier race to lose his Tour crown over doping allegations.

Landis again denied cheating.

"I have never taken any banned substance, including testosterone," he said in a statement. "I was the strongest man at the Tour de France, and that is why I am the champion.

"I will fight these charges with the same determination and intensity that I bring to my training and racing. It is now my goal to clear my name and restore what I worked so hard to achieve."

The International Cycling Union, the sport's governing body, said it would ask USA Cycling to open disciplinary proceedings. Documentation from the positive tests will be forwarded to the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency, which will turn it over to a review panel. USADA will ultimately decide if a penalty - likely a two-year ban - is appropriate. Landis can accept the decision or begin an appeals process, which can take up to six months and involve the Court of Arbitration for Sport.

UCI lawyer Philippe Verbiest said Landis would officially remain Tour champion pending that process. The decision to strip him of his title rests with UCI.

"Until he is found guilty or admits guilt, he will keep the yellow jersey," he said. "This is normal. You are not sanctioned before you are found guilty."

But the Tour itself wasted no time in distancing itself from the American.

"It goes without saying that for us Floyd Landis is no longer the winner of the 2006 Tour de France," race director Christian Prudhomme told The Associated Press.

Prudhomme said runner-up Oscar Pereiro likely would be declared the new winner.

"We can't imagine a different outcome," he said.

Reached in his hometown of Vigo, Spain, Pereiro saw it shaping up that way, too.

"Now I consider myself the winner," he said, while acknowledging that the final decision was up to the UCI and subject to a legal challenge by Landis.

Pereiro said he regretted not being able to celebrate properly - in Paris, wearing the winner's yellow jersey.

"I would have liked to have lived that day, it would have been the best day of my life, as a sportsman," he said.

Pereiro also felt badly for Landis.

"I consider him my friend, it surprised me and hurt me to hear what had happened to him," he said.

The results of the second test come just two weeks after Landis, a 30-year-old former mountain biker, proudly stood atop the winner's podium on the Champs-Elysees, waving to thousands who cheered him on.

Within 45 minutes of the "B" sample announcement, the Swiss-based team Phonak fired its captain for "violating the team's internal Code of Ethics."

Phonak stood by Tyler Hamilton throughout his blood-doping case two years ago; Landis, however, is getting no support.

"This will be his personal affair, and the Phonak team will no longer be involved," a statement said.

Testosterone, a male sex hormone, helps build muscle and improve stamina. The urine tests were done July 20 after Landis' Stage 17 victory during a grueling Alpine leg, when he regained nearly eight minutes against then-leader Pereiro - and went on to win the three-week race.

Both of Landis' "A" and "B" samples turned up a testosterone/epitestosterone ratio of 11:1 - far in excess of the 4:1 limit.

Jacques De Ceaurriz, the Chatenay-Malabray chief, said the synthetic testosterone was found in isotope testing.

"It's foolproof. This analysis tells the difference between endogenous and exogenous," he told the AP. "No error is possible in isotopic readings."

Landis spokesman Michael Henson disputed that, and the cyclist's attorney, Spanish lawyer Jose Maria Buxeda, said, "It doesn't end here."

Landis and his defense team have offered various explanations for the high testosterone reading - including cortisone shots taken for pain in Landis' degenerating hip; drinking beer and whiskey the night before; thyroid medication; and his natural metabolism.

Another theory - dehydration - was rebuffed by anti-doping experts.

"It's incredibly disappointing," three-time Tour winner Greg LeMond said by phone from the starting line at the Pan Mass Challenge in Sturbridge, Massachusetts. "I don't think he has much chance at all to try to prove his innocence.

"When I heard it was synthetic hormone, it is almost impossible to be caused by natural events. It's kind of a downer," said LeMond, the first American to win the Tour. "I feel for Floyd's family. I hope Floyd will come clean on it and help the sport. We need to figure out how to clean the sport up, and we need the help of Floyd."

In Murrieta, California, where Landis lives, an AP reporter was asked by police to leave the gated community when she attempted to approach his house. Several cars were parked in front, and the blinds were drawn.

A man who said he was a friend of the family, but didn't want his name used, answered the phone at the Landis' house and confirmed the cyclist was there.

Despite the latest test results, a sign at a nearby freeway exit said, "Welcome Home Floyd Landis, 2006 Tour de France Winner."

In Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, where Landis was raised in a conservative Mennonite home, neighbors vowed their support.

"All he has accomplished, he has attained through his hard work and discipline. We are very confident he will prove his innocence," said Tammy Martin, a longtime family friend.

Paul and Arlene Landis, who have supported their son since the doping scandal began, were out of town on a previously scheduled vacation.

A sign posted on their front yard said, "God Bless, Went Camping."