Let the madness begin

Yesterday was my first triathlon, and before I get into the details, let me just say that I sit here typing with total rigimortis of the legs.

Initially I was very apprehensive of how well I'd do in this "sprint" tri (1k swim, 22k bike, 5k run). It is well known on the swim team that I usually sit out for at least a 50 in any distance over 200 yards, and even more if its a repeated middle- or long-distance set. Typically its because my shoulders fatigue quickly (I'm built for sprinting). Add a wetsuit on top of those shoulders, and it only gets worse. Then there's the bike...I just bought a road bike and only rode it twice before the tri, which isnt much less than I've ridden my other bike since last fall. Lastly, I HATE running, and only ran a total of 6 miles within a month before the race.

Alas, the competitor in me kicked into high gear, and I was in good spirits come the start of the race:

Pumped up before the race.

So we (The Maestro and I) setup and suit-up...get ready for our wave of the swim to start. My strategy was take it long and slow, stay to the outside, and just hope to do the whole thing freestyle. Apparently 1min before the gun, The Maestro noticed a marked difference in my demeanour--going from jovial to ultra-competitive. What can I say, I'm thrive in competition. So as the swim started, I thought The Maestro was going strong, so I took off in a nice relaxed swim. Being on the outside, I went off course several times. The first turn I looked back and saw that most of the green caps (our age) were behind me. (Kickass!) It was then that I started eating the feet of the previous wave. I am not exaggerating with the term "eat"...the lake was as murky as a body of water gets; it was nearly impossible to see your stroking hand in the water. The ego boost of being out in front definitely improved my swim--the other reason I sit out a lot in distance practice is just the knowledge that I suck at a 200+, whereas I'll do sets of 200 IM's with no problem.

End of swim: 5th place age group; 17th overall (11min)

Transition: Let's just say that I was in the bottom 10% of T1 transition times. (3min : 51sec) I had lots of problems putting on my shirt--never again.

Bike: The course was very technical, with rolling hills, turns, and few straight-aways. At least it didn't get boring. But the hills were punishing, and its where I took over many people (it seems like people are afraid to stand and peddle...I dont know why). But after my 17th place in the swim (besides the absolute shitty T1), then only place I could go is down...which I did. Rank 144 (54min).

Stock pic of my bike...just add pedals and aerobars.

Transition: Not nearly as bad, though I dropped my Oaklies running from the "end bike" to the transition area, had to turn around and go back for em. Embarrassing, to say the least.

Run: This portion was the antithesis of the swim. Swimming I past just about everyone, running, everyone passed me. In all, I overtook two people. I had no legs to begin with...and the start was a sadistic uphill portion that made everyone just want to cry. But I ran/jogged the whole thing, which bettered my goal of "no walking."

The Maestro was not happy about getting smoked.

All in all, it was a very fun event, and if nothing, I learned a little about my own mental toughness. Needless to say, all I did when I got home was be lazy and sleep.

Not looking so fresh after the race.

Cover Stories

For those of us who try to butch it up as much as we can, covering up the really gay aspects of our lives are important, especially when it comes to injuries. For instance, when a friend spiral fractured his leg playing tennis (gay sport) over New Years Day, we said it was from falling out of the sling during a gang bang...believable given the person's sexual escapades. Likewise, this weekend I went to Philly for their annual gay swim meet, OutFestival, and to see my newborn nephew. I was entered in their mini sprint competition...4 individual races, 50yds of each stroke (fly, back, free, breast). I predicted that I would win the competition, and thus all hotties would want to bang...big time. First off, I'd like to admit that I'm not always right.

The meet location was kinda shitty...I had problems adjusting to the poorly light pool. For some reason I kept misjudging the distance to the walls, taking an extra stroke, and slamming my fingers and hands into the wall....hard. After doing it in the relay (breast) and fly, my body had it. It felt like I broke my hand on the finish. I would've scratched the rest of my events, but the Aries in my kept up the fight (or maybe it was the Eye of the Tiger since I was back in my hometown of Philly). But in all honesty, it was probably the desire to win my medal and be totally bang'able. I could picture all the bottoms from across the DelVal area flocking. So I taped up and kept swimming, hoping the endorphins and adrenaline would block out the severe pain. They did. Then on the last event (breast) I did it again. I was going hard into the wall to touch out the guy I thought was really hot. Maybe I should've let him win...his ego wouldn't have been so badly bruised, and neither would my hand. Maybe then he would've given up a piece.

So here I sit with my medal, wrapped up hand, and still sexless. I am a complete disappointment to the team--I think they value "inter-squad camaraderie" over total points won. Maybe next time I'll just focus on sex instead of swimming. Then again, I think that's what I did on Saturday anyway. But alas, I still need a better cover story than "I broke my hand at a swim meet." Maybe something like "I saved a blind pregnant woman from getting mugged," or "I was fisting a hot muscular virgin bottom when his sphincters suddenly contracted, crushing my hand." Better ideas?

A Dry Life

My esteemed swimming-wife, the Arian-Mexican Offspring, posed the question during my open solicitation for blog ideas, "If you couldn't swim anymore, what would you do?" This one is pretty simple, so here it goes...

I started swimming competitively at the age of 8 during summer league. At 13, I started year-round training--summer league and fall/winter/spring aquatics club. After high school I always trained by myself during rec swim at UNCW and Ga Tech. So in essence I've never been without swimming in 21 years (wow...that's almost as long as you've been alive A-MO). I've had the occasional breaks--like when I lived in FL for a year and, surprisingly, didn't have any real access to a competitive pool. Even then, I tried to swim in the ocean as much asi could. And also to compensate, I trained at the gym a lot harder. I was up to 150lbs (I'm 140 now), and actually forced myself to do cardio--mostly elliptical and treadmills.

When I moved to DC, I saw swimming more as a way to meet people then to get into competitive shape again, especially since I moved here not knowing a soul. Like many on DCAC, for me the team is equal parts exercise and social-networking. If I lost the ability to swim--like when I sprained my ankle after moving here and swimming for two months with the team--I'd compensate in my usual Aries way. (Typically I pretend that 'lost' things in my life are dead, and thus must cope and not dwell on them) I'm sure I'd get back to a beefy 150lbs of muscle rather quickly. Being short (5'6"), muscular physiques are often what people turn to to get attention, I'd be no different if I wasn't burring 10,000 calories a week swimming. However, the loss of swim training would leave some uncertainties in my life, such as:

• Would the friends I've made on the team still include me in social activities if I wasn't on the team anymore? A lot of what we do centers around post-practice meals, social activities that are spur of the moment ideas after meets/practice, etc. We rarely have non-teammates (except swim wives) engaged in our circle of friends and activities. I'd hope this wouldn't be the case.


• Would I be as regimented in including cardio into my exercise routine? Often I've skipped that component since I detest running and quickly get bored doing cardio at the gym. As 30 approaches (and subsequent years), I need to maintain some level of cardio activity to promote heart health, and keep those abs showing. Who wants a short, fat gay man? I'd definitely increase the amount of biking I do, besides for commuting purposes.


• Would I find an equally interesting social group based on other activities? I contemplated joining the DC gay scuba club--but that's not really a cohesive group. The do like 1 trip a year, rarely anything often. Nothing like the interaction we have on the team--training 6x per week.
  

Cobbwebs

In my first blog, I mentioned that one reason I'm trying to regularly write things about my life is because my memory isn't nearly as sharp as it used to be, which troubles me greatly. Case in point: last weekend there was talk about some cute, slightly hairy new guy at practice who mentioned my name. They said his name was Jared, which didn't ring any bells in my head. No big deal, I figured there was a mix up. Then last night I see this hot guy stretching on the pool deck while I'm doing warm-up. Naturally, I stop to gawk. As soon as he sees me he smiles and says my name--I'm caught off-guard. Has my reputation preceded itself that bad/well? I could only hope. But no, somehow he knew me and my name, though I couldn't ever remember seeing him in person. Of course this leads me to assume we've chatted online. So in my head I start running through the various face pics of guys I chat with lately. FACE RECOGNITION: NEGATIVE. Luckily I briefed SD on the situation and the did the very outspoken, "Hi my name is __, what is yours?" Phew, at least now I knew his name.

After practice ends I rush home, look through the folder I keep of guys face pics, each saved by their online alias--I can never remember who people are otherwise. Nope, he's not in there either. FUCK! I wait 30min and then get an IM request. DING DING DING. Chatting back and forth for a few minutes, then comes the flashback. He has a boyfriend. STATUS: NOT A REAL PERSON.

Just my luck. Someone is excited to see me, but is already hitched. GRRR! JB, where's my drink?!

I AM THE CHAMPION!!

On Sunday I reasserted my alpha male standing with the team. The much hyped-up showdown between Nicole (the ex-gf) and myself was truly one of my greatest swimming accomplishments (not that I have many, if any at all). At first, I thought I was safe...we got placed in different heats, so at least I could compare times after it was all over, but not be embarrassed by her kicking my ass. I knew that if she did beat me, I'd never hear the end of jokes about my bottom'ness, or who the 'real man of the relationship' was. But then a teammate volunteered to switch heats with me so I could be in the lane next to hers: nervousness returns. Not only did she look strong during warm-up, but I was totally slack at practice to prior week and felt weak that day. Luckily, I've come to terms with the fact that I'm a competitor--no matter how personally embarrassing it might be for me to swim behind various people at practice, I can always turn it out at the meets. This is not to assert that I'm "good" by any standard, I just do much better relative to others in competition.

BAM! The gun goes off, and at the 25m mark I already have a body length on my once muscular-turned voluptuous ex-gf. My stroke felt good, which was reassuring. I was doing my flip turn pull down, and she had just reached the wall: 3 body lengths. Thank god. But will she come back? She was always a strong finisher; I am not. I touch the wall after two lengths of the 50m pool, winning my heat. Nicole strokes in 7 seconds behind. SEVEN SECONDS! Realize that back in high school she would easily kick my ass by 7 seconds. Life has come full circle.

So it turns out that I won the event for my age group. Yaay! My first victory in many years. More to come, hopefully.

IT'S ON!!

I'm nervous. Nine years ago this September I broke up with one and only girlfriend (you may begin your mockery now). I haven't seen her since, though we've reconnected over the past few years by chatting online--how she found me is a story I'll address later. But in brief, Nicole was the only girl I was ever really attracted to...no wonder it was because, back then, her arms and shoulders were the size of mine now, though her abs were more ripped. I, however, was a 120lb twig. Nicole got this body from hardcore swimming, lifting, running--a level that would even impress GCC. At one point, I believe she was ranked #4 in the country in the 100 breastroke and her time was about a 1:02...insane for a girl.

Fast forward a decade. Next Sunday is the annual DCRP swim meet, and my source of nervousness and apprehension. Normally, a casual meet like this would be of no real consequence, except for the fact that Nicole will be attending just so that we can race. We actually entered the same seed time, so we will theoretically be in neighboring lanes for the 100 breast. Based on my time at IGLA (when I was in better swim shape), and hers from the UMD meet a few weeeks ago (when she was in less shape than now), I should beat her by a few seconds--gotta love the gay fountain of youth! However, besides the current level of training, there are several variables that could lead to an upset: I've never raced in long course meters before; she is a mentally tough competitor from years of high level racing; I'll probably be hungover from the night before; she wont have any events prior to the 100br to cause fatigue, I'll have the 200IM and relays.

Your job: keep me psyched up for this battle. If you're a fellow DCAC'er, don't let me pussy-out at practice. You better believe I'm going ever day this week (skipping Saturday to recover).

Also, if youre single: Nicole loves giving and getting anal. So if you're desperate, you might give in like I did back in 1997.

IGLA History Makers

As my esteemed teammate GCC wrote in his latest blog, he set a new record for the 1400 m freestyle. Congratulations! It was one helluva way to start of the first day of the competition. The next day was my first race: 50 m backstroke. Now all my life, I was always a breast and fly guy...until high school. When you have a team of 12 guys and 5 are really good at breast, you find something else to do. We tried distance: I was ruthlessly lapped every time. So I tried backstroke once for shits n giggles...just to get out of doing the 500. Who would've known...I was good at back (my arch-nemesis in childhood).

Fast-forward 13 years to Paris. "Take your mark (though it sounded like "Gen..tlemen" with the french accent)...BEEP". I, being a flawless Aries, have a great start (a relic of my days as a diver) and underwater kick, surface and am swimming great...neck and neck. I see the backstroke flags, take my three strokes, then flip on my stomach. BAM!! The wall is still 10 m away. FUUUUCK ME! Somehow I mistook the 15 m line across the pool (where you must surface for backstroke) for the flags at the last 5 m. So there I am...middle of the pool, turning onto my stomach. Waaaay to impress all the hotties in the crowd with my backstroke prowess. Luckily, I wasn't disqualified, but ended up with a bad time :-( One more IGLA bonehead record, I'm sure! From now on, I'm going back to breast.

Luckily the next swims went much better. To be continued...

Sex is 15 Minutes, Pride is Forever

Aaaaaaaaand I'm back. So where do I begin about discussing the trip to Paris? There's actually bets being taken on what GCC will discuss first. I figured I'd first touch on an overall theme of the week in Paris, then break it down day-by-day as I have time. But the theme: Sex is 15 Minutes, Pride is Forever. As you will see it applies on many levels.


Apparently I had rather large shoes to fill at this year's IGLA, being the team newbie, relatively young (for IGLA standards), and not grotesquely overweight (except by The Imelda's standards), I was wagered to win the "Team Award," which I believe is being renamed after our former teammate who has left us for the Atlanta Rainbow Trout. I guess the best way to describe the qualifications for the "Team Award" is that it is given to the swimmer who best exemplifies the spirit of inter-squad camaraderie, networking, and bonding. I, however, did not meet these qualifications (this year). And why? TEAM PRIDE! Granted, there were some uber hotties there, who I would gladly "switch sides" for, particularly on the Paris team. mmmm...pastry flavored Paris boys. But that aside, who wants to spend $2500 on traveling to Paris to swim, but then do shitty? Well...one of our teammates (who will go unnamed).


I did, however, have my first sexual experience with a cruising bar called "Le Depot." I think that in this case, "cruising" is a complete euphemism. Before arriving, I pictured in my head the good ole days of walking the hallway at The Heretic in Atlanta...dark halls (but still somewhat light), men groping each other lightly (or as they called it "petting" in sex-ed), the occasional hand-job, etc. Nope, not this place. Full on fuckin in littly cubbie holes. Let's just say I got my free drink and left after 15 minutes. The whole time I was huddled in the center of the room, backs to my teammates, in a battle-ready position, watching the porn on the tv's of course (hey, it had been a week). Amazingly, there were some hotties there too.

Alas, I have returned to DC still sexless, light in the wallet, probably 10lbs heavier from all the bread, but with more team spirit and pride than when I left DC!