Last year I competed in Lake Placid, but DNF’d (Did Not Finish) due to missing the bike cutoff for the second loop. You could imagine my excitement and my anticipation (patiently plotting my revenge on the Lake Placid course) to this year’s race. I made sure I practiced more hill climbs (Central Park loops, 9W & Bear Mountain) and added leg work in the gym to help on climbs.
I will finish this time… Well, at least make the bike cutoff.
Dear Brother Fred Caruso,
My heart aches because you decided to leave this world behind prematurely. While I met with a group of familiar faces Thursday night at McSorley’s imbibing beers at an expedited pace and reliving memories of your life and contributions to our fraternal order, I still feel remorseful.
My wife and I were driving around a desolate and rainy Cambridge town. My mind was racing. I was confused. I needed to sign in! Where the f–k is everyone?
While I would usually be excited for my first race of the season, I was dreading this race. I was not in top running shape. I had been focusing my training time on cycling.
“I’m training for an IronMan.”
No, I’m not trying to supplant Robert Downey, Jr in the next Avengers film. I am going to attempt to earn the rank of IronMan by completing the infamous endurance triathlon: 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, 26.2 mile run.
“NO, NO, NO! You are going to finish this! You run marathons!”
It was my brother-in-law. He noticed that I looked ill. I frantically made hand signals for the bucket. I felt food coming up my esophagus, but I was standing, staring at the ceiling and breathing deeply. I felt extremely nauseous… I just ate 12 dozen oysters.
This is a throwback post from July 2012.
Three months ago, my coworker asked me if I was interested in signing up for Tough Mudder. I looked at the website video and was scared but intrigued. Tough Mudder New England at Mount Snow? I could do more than 25 pushups and 6 pullups but am I ready?