The Idiot’s Guide to Spreading Influence

Years ago, I joked with multiple-Ironman finisher, Walter Strach, III that ‘I was influenced by idiots’ to do triathlons. At that time, I was not aware of the impact that it would have on me, and others. We laughed about it, but little were we to know the enormous impact that these hardcore triathletes would have on us. Six years on, we have completed almost 20 Ironman races between us. I also allowed myself to be influenced to do the Hong Kong Marathon next Sunday.

Today at class, I reconnected with an executive who is a half-marathoner and asked about his progress. Another of his colleague enquired about heart-rate monitors (HRM) and HR zones. Another, an American bought a pair of Vibrams Five Fingers when he was in Chicago for vacation. I was surprised at how inexpensive these shoes were there. Given time, we can assert our influence in mysterious ways. Leaders who walk their talk, and talk their way through to others, may be laying the road to possibilities and choices.

This evening, I ran 21K at about a 5-minute pace in my new runners: The Newton Gravity shoe (size 13), which is a neutral performance trainer. I decided to take it easy after the 11K hard run two nights ago. I bumped into Crazy2Tri runners, Ivan and Michael, who were kind enough to encourage me on. My nutrition was water from the public tap, and two packs of High5 energy gels. I limped slightly home, and was pleased I had no blisters or chaffing of my feet.

Year of the Rabbit, or Deer…

I just earned a ranking for running club, MR25; my 5K time trial result on Sunday earned me the title of ‘deer’. When I do it with 23 seconds less, it will put me with the pack of greyhounds. A run in the 20-minute range will put me as a rabid dog, no, horse! To fulfill the 19-minute range, I will be knighted as a hare, and that will be auspicious in this rabbit year.

My planned easy 21K run was jettisoned yesterday, in favour of a faster 11K run. I applied myself in the hour I had for training, so dedicated my higher-cadence strides to a potential training PB. With a minute-wait at the traffic-lights, I managed to sprint in about 51:20 into a light drizzle – I was quite pleased I still had some after-burners after Sunday’s time trial. At my last two kilometres, I saw Ivan and Danny on the opposite lane, bringing it home; I acknowledged them. I have two more 21K runs to do before next Sunday’s marathon in Hong Kong. It is part of my integrated Aviva 70.3 preparation.

I decided to stay at a location nearest to the start-point, without worrying too much about getting there for the 6.20am flag-off. My students from Hong Kong, who ran the race before, advised me. I trust local runners. After the run, cool-down and muck around, I will grab lunch with my missus and then head for the airport, since I have to be in Shanghai that same evening. I hope I will have the strength in my legs and not hobble too much in class.


Photo-credit: MR25 website

Some People Just Love to Ask the ‘No-No’ Questions

This is a compilation of questions and statements I have been asked over the years; some are almost anathema for the inappropriateness. Perhaps these were asked due to negligence, ignorance and insensitivity. In positive psychology, it is touted that ‘behind every behavior is a good intention’. Well, intentions may be good, but the execution is poor. In a world possessed by ‘political-correctness’, what we say does matter – and even more to another.

Here are some questions to stir the teapot, so to speak.

1)    How much do you earn?

2)    Is your business profitable?

3)    How is it you can go on vacation regularly?

4)    Don’t you work?

5)    Life is good, yes?

6)    You have a good life.

7)    You are lucky.

I love to travel, and traveling is one of my main motivations to work. Luck? I am crap at the crap tables. I don’t do well at bets. Luck is not scientific. Bushels of hard work got me to this point in my life. Story of my life.

Making the Time to Eat, Pray & Love

No, I did not watch the Julia Roberts’s film. However, the title of the indulgent book gives food for thought, where lifestyle balance is concerned. To eat, to pray and to love: can be done in private, or within a group. It is a mysterious title, isn’t it?

I continue to preach and praise those who commit to the One-Hour Challenge. Give yourself 60 minutes, and measure what you can do, or complete a fairly difficult task. This morning, I wrote up a bunch of invoices, completed writing one training module, and answered priority e-mails, and still had time to read one blog.

Andrew and Hui Koon (via a blog comment) invited me to train with them, however their running locations are far from where I live. I will give it serious consideration though, since I am keen to improve my timing by a wider margin of terror. Yesterday’s time trial rejuvenated my latent interest for cross-country racing. I used to, consistently, post sub-20 minutes for the 4.8K Macritchie route when I was in secondary school and pre-university. I missed those days of unbridled and reckless running.

This afternoon, I rode for an hour focused on being comfortable on my bike. I then did a short CrossFit session: 2 set of each (20 elevated pushups, 10-12 chin-ups, 40 step-ups on bench, one parallel bar walk) with a minute rest between. That was enough to get me winded and fatigued with my upper body all pumped up. That was a full investment of the 90 minutes I gave myself for fear of procrastinating it away.

*****

I headed for the Janet Jackson concert at the Singapore Indoor Stadium; it started one hour late, however I was suitably entertained. I had my share of local celebrity watch, even taking a photo for MTV-jay, Utt (who thanked me). More ‘can you take a photo for us?’ followed, which was fine with me since I expected the concert to start late. I was also seated next to the unofficial Janet Jackson fan-club as they waved their banner loyally for their idol, while I was occasionally wrapped in the fabric and their overwhelming enthusiasm. Monday evening traffic and parking was a bitch, thus the big delay for early-birds. Ms Jackson did not disappoint as she sang and danced to all 30 of her chart-hits, albeit as a medley of songs strung seamlessly together. She sang, she danced and the decibels were way too high! I stuffed tissue wads into my ears after I experienced mild ringing. The bass was great, but the mid- and high frequencies were exceedingly stabbing. I missed the dateline for yesterday’s blog, so here I am.

In Search of Exclusivity: Time Trial By Fire

This afternoon, I went for a time trial organised by Macritchie Runners (MR25) club. Hui Koon blogged yesterday that he was going for this, and I thought that it was a splendid idea, so I pounced on the opportunity. I had always wanted to qualify as a member of this 30-year-old running club, which hosts the annual year-end, ultra-marathon (which I, missed last year). I decided to skip my 90K ride this morning, in favour of fresher legs and a more repaired body. If yesterday’s sub-22:00 5K run (after the laggon swim) at Sentosa with Sin Guan was anything to go by, I felt confident of holding a 4:30/K pace for the fairly rolling, trail route. The cutoff time for the time trial was, and still is, 25 minutes. Time-trials are held every two months, so do consider if you are an avid runner.

I almost missed the registration time, as no cabs were available in my vicinity. Eventually, I was fortunate to hail down a new weekend relief driver and we made our way there with no preamble.

The rabbits of the pack scurried away into the burrow of the popular 5K trail, while the rest of us hung on to manage some semblance of integrity. I kept an easy pace, with a studied eye on the gravel-strewn road ahead. Weekend runners kept to the side of the trail, obviously made aware of the charging calvary in race-bibs. I cautioned a young runner about his dangling shoelace, and he replied ‘never mind’; I overtook him a few hundred metres later as his shoelace continued to flip about – it was his lace against time, I presume. I saw a runner behind fall on a slippery portion, and I hope that he was alright.

I took about 11:45 at the U-turn point, so decided to stop mucking around and punch the pedal. Having overtaken a few runners on my return leg, I think I did a negative split. I was requested to flip my bib around, as I inched towards to finish line; in doing so, I may have added a few seconds, which did not matter much as I met the target. I signed up as a member of MR25, immediately, after my friend from Team Fatbird, Ashley handed the form to me. The results showed me in 33^rd place out of a mixed field of 76 registrants. I came in at under-22:30 according to my watch, after making my way up the field of enthusiastic and apprehensive runners, including a dozen or more teenagers who knew not the words ‘slow down’.

I had a chat with several friends including expatriate Derek Lu, Andrew (Hui Koon’s running buddy, and 3:06 marathoner), and Ashley Ng. Interestingly, all of us were not members of this serious running group, and I believed all of us qualified. Congratulations, my fleet-footed friends!  My next target: sub-19:30 for the same 5K course, to qualify for Elite Veteran status. I will need to include trail runs, interval and hill work to hit this new lactate threshold.

Time trials are useful as part of our training lead-up to our A-races. You can do time trials by yourself or with a team, over your three triathlon disciplines once every 7-10 days. You need to be very fit, to do it more often – weekly. Such tests are useful for assessing your training progress and race performance. Time trials at work can be applied as such: how much can you accomplish in an hour, or a day? Complete a meeting in an hour (thus MINUTES of the meeting) and not drag on unnecessarily. How soon can you complete a report within a self-imposed time? How fast can you clean your bike after a rainy ride?

Ended Relationships in Endurance Sports: The Ultimate Sacrifice?

Do endurance sports and marriages mix? 

John Cook blogged about this yesterday and, interestingly, I have been thinking about my observations over the years. Is there a scientific or statistical correlation to this? If you are squeamish or in denial, stop reading now!

I, personally, know of more than a handful of friends and acquaintances (doing endurance sports seriously) that have suffered the loss of a marriage in recent years. I believe that this is a painful process, yet it may release both parties from a challenging, long-term proposition. Whether this is a pattern of not remains to be seen…

Endurance sports can take its toll two counts. On the one hand, the endurance athlete may succumb to injury, sickness, chronic fatigue or death resulting from accident (through the sport). On the other, the spouse may feel neglected, ignored, misplaced or suspicious about the partner. It does not help that youthful looking people surrounded you with their sterling physical appearance! On the flip side, these very prized bodies are also not particularly appealing after they cross the finishing-line, for they are wrapped in a spray of mucous, sweat, sports drink, and residual sea-water. Thanks, but no thanks! And, by the way – regardless of gender – nobody sparkles, except a horse. Instead, we endurance athletes sweat and stink – and that’s the honest truth!

In defence of endurance athletes, I am aware that most who arise early to train may be suffering from sleep deprivation, caffeine-infused consciousness, inner civil conflict (‘should I train, or should I sleep?’), and in no way headed for a place of ill repute (well, not at a few hours to peak-hour traffic). The fact is that, upon completing an hour or two of cycling or running, or a session at the pool you still have to go to work. The burst of adrenaline and endorphins may be useful for a few hours, before you succumb to post-workout fatigue. The idea of breakfast at your work-desk may not be such an enticing idea; perhaps, showering at the workplace bathroom, might.

Some well-intentioned pedestrians and observers may suggest the notion of work-life balance, however I disagree. Here, I discreetly borrow Jack Welch’s (of GE fame) approach to corporate life: work-life choice. Choose. In most cases, when training for a major race, our personal goals become our point of focus in our corporeal life. We may be possessed by, and be obsessed with the idea of completing a longer endurance race, or achieving a faster timing. Something will have to give. It may mean less sleep, or earlier to bed. It may translate to training within a prescribed schedule, or whatever time permits. It may be subject to exigencies, emergencies or an Act of God. It may be for 16-20 weeks of the year where you go maniacal, and for the rest of the year you imitate the lifestyle of a Sloth or Koala Bear, and build up enough fat for prolonged hibernation.

Endurance training and racing need not be the ultimate show of sacrifice to oneself, and to others. Live life fully. Live it. Be livid. Believe it.

Mesmerised by a Magician’s Mystical Ways

‘Perhaps there is truth, and there is illusion!’

Perception is reality! In The illusionist, that reality is created on-stage by the mysterious magician, Eisenheim who returns to Vienna after his disappearance for 15 years.

First screened in Europe and scheduled for limited release in the U.S., The Illusionist was welcome proof that art-house quality need not be limited to art-houses. Set in turn-of-the-century Vienna, this stately, elegant period film benefitted from a crossover release in mainstream cinemas, and showed considerable box-office staying power. It may have also been helped through the allure of Seventh Heaven alumnus Jessica Biel, who rose to the occasion with a fine performance.

Certainly, with the acting tour-de-force of Edward Norton (Primal Fear; Incredible Hulk) and Paul Giamatti (Sideways), this film is a heavyweight for this genre. This is an intriguing story about a celebrated magician, Eisenheim (Norton) whose private parlour performance offends the Crown Prince Leopold (Rufus Sewell), a vindictive (and suspected spousal abuser) lout who aims to marry Duchess Sophie (Biel), Eisenheim's childhood friend. With this backdrop of romantic rivalry and Eisenheim's increasingly enigmatic craft of illusion, he is investigated by Chief Inspector Uhl (Giamatti), who is under Leopold's command; The latter is not to be trusted, as Eisenheim and Sophie draw closer to their inevitable reunion. The twist at the end is like a carefully crafted chess game, where the audience is also checkmate in the process.

Cleverly adapted by director Neil Burger from Steven Millhauser's short story Eisenheim the Illusionist, and boasting exquisite production values and a fine musical score by Philip Glass, The Illusionist is a very well made film. The illusions were consistent with the era, and associated superstitions: ghostly apparitions, mind reading, stage illusions, and spiritualism. My favourite re-enactment of a classic of illusion: Celebrated French magician, Jean Robert-Houdin’s The Orange Tree. Rating: A-.


Photo-credits: Amazon.com

Three Idiots & The Shifting of Educational Paradigms

I happened to sit in on this film, Three Idiots while visiting relatives today. It was a pleasant surprise that a group of teenagers were watching it, and got my sure attention as I anchored my behind on the floor to join them. It is a Bollywood production, in Hindi, with complete subtitles, and strong acting to excite you and even make you tear. Dude Warning: The leading actors can jerk a tear from you (for they shed man-tears), based on a strong ensemble cast, and believable depiction of bosom buddies.

Three college friends from poor families, Farhan Qureshi, Raju Rastogi and Rancho recollect stories of their life at Delhi's Imperial College of Engineering. The film describes their juvenile antics, mainly against the Dean, Viru Sahastrabudhe – Virus, and ambitious student, Chatur Ramalingam. Behind this is a backdrop of studying, peer rivalry, passing exams, and passing the close scrutiny of Virus is the blanket cast by the ancient caste system. In more than 2.5 hours of amusing playback (with only one or two plausible scenes), his two friends and Chatur edges towards locating Rancho, who vanished immediately upon graduation. Hot on the heels is also the Dean’s daughter, a betrothed medical doctor who was the girl he tried to woo during his undergraduate years.

Overall, I would rate this film as highly watchable for its provocative thoughts about the notion of education, social class, and the divide between rich and poor. Last year, in my piece about The Apprentice (where Donald Trump competes candidates on both book-smart and street-smart), I was exploring the relevance of education and types of education. I have observed salient differences between young, unemployed, graduates and older, working graduates and their results and motivations.

How do you educate yourself? What makes you value your education? How do you add on to your education? Which is your current smorgasbord of educational sources and triggers? How do you utilise your book-smartness with your street-smartness?

RICE to The Festive Occasion

Since I have a couple of minutes to spare before the wanton feasting begins, I like to express my alternative thoughts to First Aid, mainly RICES.

Rest completely your weary mind and soul.

Ice your drinks, temper and keep cool.

Compress time, and meet as many people as you can.

Elevate your interest, curiosity and sense of adventure.

Support your Cause, friends and empathisers.

Enjoy your long weekend of celebration and festivities. Endeavour to sleep adequately. Watch your excessive intake of sweets. Drive carefully. You can exercise, only if you wish. An extra day or two of rest and recovery would be highly useful.

Wilson Ang wrote a useful and fascinating report on Ironman Western Australia’s on Facebook. It is an amusing read about what long-distance triathletes go through, before a race. He is preparing for his next Ironman assault in China in May. All the best, Brother!

Our hearts and thoughts go to Australians in a time of need. Please take care, friends. Happy Lunar New Year, Everyone!

Trials and Tribulations of a Post-Tolkien, Triathlete

It is a trial by fire, water, earth and air for the multi-sport athlete. These weekend warriors train almost Spartan-like, before the crack of dawn, for a battle that may not emerge. It is coincidental that we enjoy films that include hard physical training scenes and heart-thumping, OST, instrumental music.

What’s that? Multi-sport sounds like a ‘Jack of all trades, but master of none!’ cry the naysayers, whose favourite pastime may be ripping off the metallic foil top of an artificially inflated bag of potato crisps, loaded with everything nutritional except natural nutrition. The same goes for the triathlete – the athletic ménage a trois of three disciplines – who own watches that can tell almost everything except the time of day.

We speak kind of funny; our conversations sound coded, like the secret handshakes of freemasons. We can tell each other apart from the maddening crowd, when we detect the blood-red button on sports-watches, the oval icon on our sunshades, the iconoclastic M-Dot logo, silicon wrist-bands, Race-ID bracelet, and quick-laces on running shoes. Our partners know how to distance themselves from us when we meet our own kind and synchronously indulge in psychobabble. Yet, we are fortunate that our Iron-mates don’t fully abandon us, only our conversations when this plunge into the nadir of boredom, as we immerse in bike-porn, numerology of heart-rate zones, running shoes (we may harbour in secret Imelda’s lust for shoes, albeit the lightest and relatively, unsupported ones), tastiest energy-gels, and vulgar aerodynamic reverse-beaks. And to top it all, the most fashion-challenged tastes like the near archaic, racing halter-top; and the what-were-you-drinking-when-you-designed-this, compression, knee-high, harajuku, clinical white compression socks. Think of a Glico Porky-snapping, schoolgirl fantasy, on a guy’s muscular hot-bod – it’s like Freddy Kruegger invaded our dreamscape on Fifth Avenue!

When we tell people what we do for sport, they seemed stunned. When we tell them how far and how long we train, they seem horrified. When we tell them we earn only a t-shirt and a medal, and no prize money, they look stupefied. They do not get it that we can be as happy as mudlarks in the pursuit of happiness, or is that happiness of pursuit? Nevertheless, we continue in our relentless, myopic, Type-A Personality way, and hunt down our next race online. We can actually sit, purposefully, at the screen for four exciting hours just to earn (and pay) for a slot in Ironman Western Australia 2011. It is akin to winning the lottery. Well, the Kona Lottery for the Big Dance in Kailua-Kona, Hawaii is as good as winning the lottery or sweepstakes. And, yes, the lottery means winning a slot among the 1,800 or more participants in the Ford Ironman World Championships – and you have to pay for your slot, accommodations, airfare and expenses – just to enjoy the prestige of competing alongside similar self-possessed (okay, focused) triathletes and getting that silver decal on your bike, the finisher-tee and medal. Signing for this expensive lottery is a sign that widespread optimism prevails; although not necessarily, collective intelligence! Opinions are like colons – everybody has got one. And I got a slot at IM Lanzarote and IM Canada this year. Nananana-nah!

Despite all these foibles and idiosyncrasies of endurance, multi-sport, athletes, I love this sport. You can’t fault us for attempting the impossible. Just ask adidas: Impossible is nothing.