“Follow your bliss!”- Joseph Campbell
A few weeks back, as I stared at the ceiling of the
ambulance, the first real thought that popped into my mind was, “damn, no
Italy!” I have been looking forward to
riding in Riccione, Italy for almost three years.
Back in 2010 or so, Mark Pietrofesa wrote me a note and told
me he had found the place to
train. He shared with me that there was
a hotel on the Adriatic coast of Italy where the riding was life-changing and that
the person who runs the place, Marina, makes it the vacation of a
lifetime. From that email, I made a note
to myself that riding in Italy in a situation like Mark described was now
officially on my bucket list, a term for life “to do’s”.
I wasn’t able to make it last year due to work and some
other things. I didn’t think it would
happen this year either. In my role in
the navy, I was supposed to be locked down in San Diego for a navy
exercise. With sequestration came the
cancellation of that exercise. I told
Teresa that if they really did cancel that thing that she and I better get to
Riccione, as these opportunities are precious.
I am so glad we did.
Teresa and I spent 27 hours getting to Riccione, literally
using almost every mode of transportation save pack mules to get there. I knew that it was going to be a good trip
when we walked out of the train station and there was one of the cycling
guides, Marcus, waiting for us fresh off a ride. We checked into the hotel and got our bikes
dialed in within an hour of arriving.
Mark was already there, standing around in a cycling kit after riding
all day. It was obvious immediately to
us that we had come to the Promised Land.
Teresa and I rode every day we were there. I ended up riding just shy of 700 kilometers,
saw a stage of the Giro d’italia, and even swam a little in the afternoons
after riding. We barbequed on
mountaintops, dined midday in villages, sipped cappuccinos every 30k or so
every single day and ate food that was world class three times a day. Our days were spent primarily in the saddle
riding up steep hills, descending through varied and magnificent open country
full of vineyards, open fields, small villages, and so much more. The joke became “how long until we stop and
have espresso at the next castle?”
In the evenings, we ate as a family at the “Pietrofesa
party” table there in the hotel. The
staff is so attentive, the food so good and the vibe so nice, there was no real
reason to leave the hotel for anything.
We just ate, rode, relaxed and slept.
What an awesome vacation- the best I personally have ever had.
THE CREW
Mark Pietrofesa. I
met Mark at the race that is now called Oceanside 70.3. It was called the Ralph’s Half back
then. Mark
really helped me in 2009 in Kona with some badly needed encouragement right
when I needed it on the run back up the Queen K. In 2010, we rode within 30 meters of each
other the entire bike portion of the race.
Since then Mark and my friendship has grown. The primary reason for that is Mark is just
easy. He is easy to be around, easy to
ride with, easy to talk to- just easy.
His girlfriend, Karlyn Pipes was there with Mark. I have known Karlyn since I was 21 or
so. She was the lifeguard at the Navy
pool in Coronado back in the 80’s where I would train when I was a young enlisted
dude. She and I didn’t really know each
other that well back then. Just the
hello you say to the lifeguard as you jump in and out of the pool. We got to know each other on this trip, and
the seed is planted for a long and wonderful friendship, as she is one of the
most pleasant and positive people I have ever met.
Zach Poehlman is a friend that I met back in 2005 at Vineman
70.3. He and I have had the opportunity
to train a lot over the years. He is a
navy pilot in his early 30’s and has become a wonderful friend to both T and
me. That friendship continues to
flourish. Zach was accompanied by his
wife Jen, an orthopedic surgeon in the navy, who I had met in years prior. Jen is understated, humble and
brilliant. My favorite thing about her
is when she laughs, she laughs with her entire body. It is a joyful enterprise to share in a laugh
with her.
Chris Crosby and I had not met prior to this camp. He happens to live in Boulder and is a
geologist who is a very strong and serious cyclist. This young guy and I have lots of mountains
to climb together in the future. We got
along with his girlfriend Kristie like peas and carrots.
Eric Prime is another navy pilot who I had not met prior to
this trip. He knows his way around a
bike and we got to ride a fair amount together during our week in Italy.
Gordo and Monica Byrn have been friends of ours for a few
years. Gordo coached me in 2004 and we
have built a friendship over the years that I very much enjoy. He is wise beyond his years and likes to hash
things out through dialogue. Although
quite different in many ways, he and I see a lot of the world through the same
lens, so the contrast between us both is fun to discuss over a meal. He is also a former pro triathlete who can
really wind it up proper when motivated to do so. Monica is also a former pro and is the best
swim coach in Boulder. She is fun to
hang out with and I look forward to every opportunity to do just that.
Scott Molina is the most decorated triathlete in our
sport. He was one of the original four
giants (they call them The Big Four)
that actually put our sport on the map close to 30 years ago. He dominated triathlon through the 80’s and
is respected by everyone who ever raced against him or has trained with
him. On top of his athletic
accomplishments, he is a sage who peels the onion as fast as anyone I have ever
met. I have never had a boring or
superficial conversation with him. He
gets right to it. He coached me in 2006
to the Military World Championships and to my personal best in Kona the same
year. I hold him in very high regard.
There were a few others from England, Norway and Long Island
that were there to train with the crew and I very much enjoyed getting to know
them as well.
This year had been challenging for me almost all the way
back to Kona last October. I had a nasty
hamstring pull that forced me to not run a good portion of the winter. I was thinking that I was making solid
strides in my fitness right up until my crash a few weeks ago. In early April, I was out training by
myself. I was doing some harder efforts
and was barreling down a country road north of Boulder where we all ride when I
got loose in some sand. As I tried to
sit up on my triathlon bike and get my hands back on my handlebars to navigate
through the sand, the back of my glove caught my brake hood and with my weight
very forward of the bike I more or less lost my balance and then hit a guard
rail doing 30mph or so. I impacted right
under my right arm taking the full blow in my rib cage. I heard bones break and felt them crunching
from the inside, so I knew before I even hit the pavement that I had broken my
ribs or my back. I was blessed with the
first responders who showed up to take care of me within minutes of lying on
the ground. A couple of Hispanic farmers
rushed over and helped disentangle me from my broken bike and helped me to
wrestle my heart rate monitor from around my ribs as I was really struggling to
breath and was immobile for the most part.
The ambulance and fire department showed up very soon after that and
before I knew it I was on a backboard in the back of an ambulance on my way to
the hospital. I am not much for drama,
so I will just say it has been a pretty rough cut 5 or so weeks since the
injury with the persistent and enduring thought that my racing life might be
over.
I was so excited to be going to Riccione to train with Mark,
Zach, Gordo and Molina. I have trained
with all of them before and love to be in a bike pack with those boys. They are all crazy fit and tough, but they
are also extremely kind and mature athletes.
There is no bullshit with those guys.
You just train. Not much chatter,
not much flash, just train. Molina and
Gordo are famous within the hard core side of our ironman community for a
number of sayings, with one of the most famous being “JFT”, which stands for “Just
Fucking Train.” There is simplicity and
beauty in that statement. With these
guys, they live it.
After the crash, I shared with T that the most costly aspect
of my being hurt was not that my racing season is most likely over; it was that
I would not be able to train with these guys in Italy. I got off the train in Riccione not expecting
to be able to ride with the boys at all.
I had only ridden three or so times in the previous week just to prove
that I could stay upright in the saddle and would be safe to ride outside and
not on the trainer. Mark (we call him
Petro) told me the night I arrived that he didn’t care how slow I rode that we
were going to ride together. That,
alone, was probably the most encouraging thing I had heard since I got hurt. I was nervous, but quietly psyched!
There is so much that I could write about regarding the
content of each of the 100-140k rides we did last week. I will just say that for me, I was in the
back of the pack or slightly off the back most of the time-and so happy to be
there riding with my friends. I suffered
pretty much the entire way due to the atrophy in my fitness and overall
physical weakness, but I loved it. The
first couple of days were really rugged, as I rode literally as hard as I could
ride just to stay with the boys. Sure, I
will admit, that I bled from the eyes and genuinely wondered everyday if I
would be able to do the entire ride. I
am ok with those types of challenges. It
is fine to wonder if you have bitten off too much each day. I was extremely fortunate that in a couple of
times when I thought I had reached my absolute breaking point, a guardian angel
would show up.
The first time I thought I was going to crack wide open and
have to stop was on the second ride. We
had started off right after clipping in to immediately starting the ride at
36kph. It stayed that way for about the
first 80 minutes. Somebody in the pack
mentioned that his power meter showed a normalized power of 280 watts for those
80 minutes. When we went up hill, we
went fast uphill. After half a day of
this, our guide Felice (a former Giro d’italia stage winner, who is a lovely
man) led us up a very steep extended 8k climb.
I am not good at percentage of climbs, but guys were using words like
15-20%. About half way up, I seriously
thought my legs were going to seize and I would just stop.
Due to my injury, I don’t have any intercostals strength yet
in my upper body, so I could not stand to climb. I had to just grind my way up while staying
seated. I am obviously exaggerating when
I say “bleed from the eyes”, but not by much.
Anyone who has ever really suffered on the bike can relate when you get
what I call the “puffy eye” effort. Your
eyes just feel like they are going to pop out and onto your cheeks because you
are working so hard. Right about then
Gordo came cruising back down the descent and jumped in front of me and paced
me up the mountain nice and easy, but purposeful. It was exactly what I needed-just a back
wheel to look at and to have as a target to stay focused in order to keep
moving uphill. Mark did that a couple of
times last week and Molina got me through a ride I seriously thought I was
going to have to quit later in the week.
It is the surges or the erratic standing climbs less experienced riders do
in front of you that can wreck you when you are “creaking”, a term I use when
an eyelash away from “cracking”. Those
steady and smooth pulls rescued me and would be just enough for me to get my
shit together and ride solid again. I
found solace in that I got stronger every day and found some fitness by the end
of the week. After a long, hard slog up
a mountain, Molina would turn around and yell “find some fitness yet,
Jonser?!” I would tell him that it takes
a long time to get good and there is no easy way! The joke there is that is a famous quote from
Molina that Gordo published in his book “Going Long”.
So that was the week of riding in Italy for me. Hard, long climbs and surviving the
occasional 40-50kph pain train back to town and steep exhilarating winding
descents through the Italian countryside only to stop for the best espresso in
the world and donuts purchased by Petro to get Jonser home! If the boys would not have been there for me,
I would have not been able to ride that terrain at those speeds. I am in their debt.
WHAT DID I THINK ABOUT FOR ALMOST
20 HOURS IN THE SADDLE? IDENTITY.
When I was still pinned to the couch high on vicodin, I was
having a heart to heart chat with my dear friend Brandon. Brandon is a former track star at UCLA, a former
pro triathlete and has been a close friend since we met when he was 30 at a triathlon
camp back in 06. Brandon has moments of
clarity that I have come to trust. I was
sharing with him that day that I was worried that I might never fully recover
and scared that I won’t race ironman anymore.
Brandon (known as Brando or BDC) said quickly off the cuff that my role
as an athlete was probably the least I have to offer the world. At first it stung, as what I heard was that I
was not a good enough athlete for it to matter if I ever raced again. After a few hundred miles to think about it,
that is not what BDC was talking about.
What he was saying was actually a compliment. He was simply stating that I have a lot to
offer the world and most likely that my being an athlete is not that big of a
contribution compared to other endeavors in which I am currently engaged.
I talked to Gordo about this a lot this week over coffee and
nutella. I shared with him the statement
BDC made. He saw it a different
way. He agrees that role as an athlete
ain’t curing cancer, but it does set an example and that in itself has
value. So I chewed on that for a few k’s
of climbing.
I think what this all gets down to based on heart to hearts
with Karlyn, Petro, G, Molina, Zach and of course, the best friend I have ever
had in my life- T, is that it comes down to our perception of identity. Specifically, how do we perceive our own identity? I asked someone this week what was his goal
in life. What is his identity? He didn’t even hesitate. He matter of factly and confidently stated
that his goal in life was to be the man his wife needs him to be. I can tell he has really spent time thinking
about it, as the answer was right there for him.
I have to admit that at 48, I am not that resolute. I wish I were. I wish I could just blurt out ice cold what I perceive my identity to be. It is easy for me to
answer questions like what do I stand for, but not as quick with what is my
identity. That is not to be confused
with the statement that I don’t know who I am.
I, of course, know that one. I am
the son of Maxine, the brother of Chris and Eric, the father of Ben, the Pop of
Allison, the grandfather of my unborn granddaughter Tigerlilly, and obviously
the husband of Teresa. They are my
priorities, along with my faith. That is
the easy stuff. I put them first and it
is black and white.
Identity is different.
What is your identity? Is it your
rank? Is it your reputation in your
sport? Your community? Your church?
Your gym? The letters after your
name based on how long you went to school?
Your looks? Who you are married
to? Your world ranking/records? How much flight time you have? How your friends perceive you? Your mistakes? Your achievements personal and
professional? Your income? Your possessions? Your lack of possessions?
It is a solid question.
I am still rolling this one around in my grape. I think sometimes the hardest part to finding
an answer is to discover and truly understand the question. I wonder aloud if this is the reason I had
the crash. Obviously, the simple answer
to why there was a crash is because Jonser needs to learn to ride his bike
better, but along the way maybe this is the question I am supposed to be
working on right here, right now.
I plan to keep working hard on this question as soon as I
get home. I think I will go for a ride
and try to sort it out.
Peace,
Jonser
Jonser
