I hate dentists. (No offense.)

I had to visit the dentist last week.  I've had more than my share of time in the dentist's chair over the years, and I've reached a point where I only demand one thing from my dentist:

NO PAIN.

Oh, I can hear it already:  "But aren't you an Ironman?  You said you love suffering.  What a baby!"  It's a fair criticism.  But there is a big difference between suffering on a race course and drilling holes into bones with a hot, rotating metal wedge.  Here is my main complaint about dentists, and it happens to be related to my only demand of dentists (see above).  Dentists have still not solved the most important problem with their profession.  They make you HURT!

Here are my new-age dentist's tools ---->

See anything high-tech or space-age here?  Nope.  These tools belong at a Steampunk Convention, not a dentist's office.  Filament-based light bulbs have advanced more in the last 100 years than dentists, when it comes to pain. 

My latest visit to the dentist is a perfect example of this problem.  My first visit involved a lot of drilling in preparation for a crown.  I warned the dentist that my nerves are apparently shaped like spider webs, and that no amount of novacaine can completely numb my back teeth.  Every dentist I've had, and I mean EVERY dentist, eventually has to say, "Well, I've given you the legal limit of novacaine, so you're just going to have to endure this for the next two minutes."  Yet every new dentist says, "Oh ... my patients NEVER experience pain ..."

So, like clockwork, the first visit involved some painful drilling, and once again, my dentist was surprised.  "Well, I've given you the legal limit ..."  When I visited the office for the installation of the crown two weeks later, I told the assistant, "This tooth hurt when he drilled it, so are you planning to shoot me up?"  She said, "No, it doesn't hurt to put on the crown, and we like our patients to have feeling in their teeth so they can tell us whether the crown fits."  She then pulled off the temporary crown and scraped my tooth.  She might as well have stuck the scraper in my eyeball.  It hurt so bad I about ripped off the faux-leather armrest.  "Oh, that hurt?"  "Yeah, Sherlock Holmes, that HURT."

So after the mandatory, "Wow, this doesn't typically hurt my patients" from the dentist, he gave me the legal limit of novacaine again.  Here I am waiting for the shots to set in, clearly enjoying myself...

My conclusion is this:  For all the claims of advances in dental care, the dentists still haven't figured out how to not make it hurt.  My dentist bragged about his new device that took computer images of my old tooth so that the new crown would fit perfectly -- more perfectly than a human could have crafted one.  And the cement he used bonded in fractions of a second, and it would last years longer than the old cement.  And wow, look at the natural tooth color of the new crown.  You almost can't tell, can you?  That's all wonderful, sir, but MY MOUTH HURTS!

If everyone acted like dentists, imagine the state of our country ...

1. Ford Motor Company would still be producing millions of horse buggies, but with ever improving interiors made with Italian leather.
2. Oregon Trail would still be the only computer game, but it would run extremely fast on your Apple II-y.
3. IBM would create increasingly efficient (and amazingly quiet) typewriters.
4. TV producers would give up on writing captivating scripts and just film "reality."  Oh, wait ...
5. AT&T would develop an incredibly crisp speaker to attach to both ends of a piece of string.

So, how about it, science?  Can we develop pain-free dental care?

Hi, I am a triathlete. Did I mention I am a triathlete?

Every day I see at least one person on the trail wearing this ridiculous combination of clothing.  And it is extremely common on race days.  Sleeveless jersey with arm warmers.  You've probably seen olympic marathon runners or professional triathletes dressed like this on TV.  And of course, weekend warriors have a habit of mimicking whatever the pros do. 

I have mocked the look mercilessly for many years.  But this morning, because it was not quite warm enough for a sleeveless jersey, and because I had a T2 workout (bike, then run), I decided to find out what the fuss was all about.  Besides, it was dark, and nobody would see me anyway.  These are my observations:

1.  I felt totally ridiculous.  I looked like Grobee from Yo Gabba Gabba with those gangly arms that grow out of his sides.  You know, "The little green one."

2.  When I hit a downhill, my body couldn't decide if it was warm or hot.  I'm cold. No I'm not.  Yes I am.  No I'm not. Just my shoulders.

3.  There were some positives, including the ability to pull off the warmers while riding.  (I can't do that with a long-sleeve shirt.)

The verdict:  I'm still going to make fun of everyone dressed like this.  I don't care if you're a professional.  Or Grobee.

One long (flat) ride.

Question: How many loops around Hains Point does it take to make 102 miles?

Answer: at least a zillion. But I stopped counting after 10.

This morning I focused on a completely flat course with no stops, since my next two races are completely flat. You'd think that a flat course would be easier, right? You'd be wrong.

A rolling course at least gives your legs a break on the occasional downhill. I found the constant effort required on today's flat ride to be extremely tiring. I actually looked forward to the ride home, simply because it involved a few stop signs!

Here is The Assassin at the intersection of the W&OD and Four Mile Run. I started the ride at 5:20. Note the headlamp wrapped around the stem for a 'light.' Yep, it's dark in the mornings again ...

Okay. Now I am tired.

This morning's T1 workout consisted of a 2.5 mile swim, followed by a 17.5mi ride to work on The Assassin.  I really pushed the pace, both in the pool and on the bike, because I wanted to get to work by 9am.  (It's a little unprofessional to roll in late, and even more unprofessional to roll in late wearing spandex and with dried snot across your cheeks.)  I pulled it off, but just barely.  My swim took me 1hr 29 minutes, and the ride took longer than usual because of some stoplights.  But I walked through my office door at exactly 9am.  A quick hillbilly shower in the bathroom sink, a couple of Muscle Milks, and I was ready to go for the day!

As for the workout, my legs were surprisingly weak on the ride.  Either I haven't recovered from yesterday's run 100%, or I was "on the legs" too much in the swim.  But I think the focus on the pool the last few weeks has really paid off.  I won't be in the top 1/4 or top 1/2, but I don't think I'll be in the bottom 1/4 on the swim.

It's a good thing my job consists of a lot of sitting, because my whole body is tired.  Even my cheeks, if that's possible.

A Half Marathon Before Work

This morning the workout plan called for a half marathon.  So I got up extra early and started running before sunrise.  As I've mentioned before, when I'm training for a longer event, the distances that would normally be events in themselves sometimes get lost in the mix.  There are no medals, no crowds to high-five, and no "13.1" sticker for the car.  But I took some time this morning to enjoy the ability to run 13.1 miles, even though it was just me and the mosquitoes.

Here is the Potomac about 6 miles away from Georgetown.

And Lock House 6.

The run went well -- no complaints, no real soreness, and an 8:00/mi pace (my goal for the end of a half-iron).  I consider myself very lucky to be able to run, and to see such beautiful scenery.  If only my swims were half this interesting ...

The Pool: A Love-Hate Relationship

Some days I really fight the water in my swim workouts.  And some days, I totally shred it.  Today was a very good day in the water and a real confidence-builder.  It was my fourth consecutive swim of at least 2.5 miles, and I actually really enjoyed it.  For the record, I'm still slower than everyone else in the pool, but my goal is to finish the swim with as much energy as possible, and make up time on the bike and run.

The pool workout is a war of attrition.  Unlike biking and running, where I can run or bike in new areas or with friends, or listen to an all Smashing Pumpkins playlist, the pool is the same every time, every lap.  Sure, I incorporate variations like paddles and a float buoy, backstroke, and various drills, and I play games with my flipturns (ooooh ... let's rotate the body the opposite direction this time!) but it's the same foggy greenish water and the thick black stripe five feet below me.  For as long as the workouts feel, I never regret the swims at the end.  Pulling myself out of the water and flexing in front of the mirror in the Rec Center locker room make it all worthwhile.  But getting into the water first thing in the morning can be a real challenge sometimes.

Given the mind-numbing aspects of swimming, particularly long distances, I can appreciate the days when everything goes well.  Today was one of those days.  Let's hope there are many more in the future!

I don't know how the olympians look so awesome in their swim caps and goggles. 

I can't help but look like a total dork.  So I embrace it.

Crunch Time

Although I have been gradually increasing my mileage and overall workout loads, I'll confess that I have let some of the intensity slip out of my training.  Yesterday I had to sprint through the Atlanta Airport to make my flight home, and though I probably ran sub-sevens through Terminal T, it wasn't my strongest airport performance ever.  It's time to start fine-tuning this machine, if for no reason other than to make all my flights.

This morning I swam 2.5 miles again, but this time I didn't allow myself to stop or drink for the duration.  It took me slightly longer to finish, and my head was still spinning for hours afterward, but it's time to get serious about this race.  I'm definitely less terrified about the swim distance than I was in 2006.  That said, I still respect the distance and the number of risks that come with a bunch swim of 3,000 people. 

As I've trained for long-distance events (starting with marathons in my early 20's), I've always thought it was funny that as each new milestone is achieved, the previous milestones look like nothing.  A 10K may have been the first goal, but then in half-marathon training, a 10K is a "warmup."  I'm convinced that beneath every "26.2" bumper sticker is a "13.1" sticker.  And maybe beneath that is an "I love Krispy Kreme" sticker. 

It would be tempting to feel like anything less than your longest or most difficult race is somehow less of an accomplishment.  But training for distance races is not a linear path from A to B to Z with no return.  It would be impossible to maintain your highest level of fitness for very long, so hitting intermediate peaks and backing down is all part of the experience.  I approach each race -- even the "B" or "C Priority" races as individual, significant events.  So the Patriots Half-Iron next month is booked as a "training" race, but I intend to give it everything I have.  However, I'll probably save my money on a 70.3 sticker and just wait until November 3 to put an obnoxious 140.6 sticker on my car.