Adventures in Skydiving and Lesson Learned

One never knows, or truly understands how things like this come to be. It's a process. Short for some, long for others, and somewhere in between for the rest.

Some ten months ago a group of friends posted their incredible photos and videos of their skydiving adventure. When I saw them at a race a few days later, all I remember asking them was "why didn't you call me?"

Fast forward to July this year. I invited my dear friend Kellie to be part of my relay team at the Music City Triathlon. She had a "jump" scheduled for that day, so after some back and forth discussions, we figured out the timing for her to join me would not work. But, she invited me to go skydiving with her. "We could get Juliana to go with us," she said. As much as we tried to get our schedules to synch for that day, we couldn't. We tabled the idea for racing and jumping together for a future date.

Sometime in Mid September another friend, Lana, also posted some pictures and videos of her jump. She said she would jump again and would jump with us, so I knew at this point, that this, I must do.

Around the same time, in a conversation, after our Sunday 6 am run, my friend Max said that he would love to jump. I asked him to give me some dates. He did, we picked one and made reservations.

Unfortunately, we were not able to coordinate with Kellie and Lana. But Max and I were in. Now all I had to do was to get Juliana to join us. After a little no-pressure persuasion from dad, she agreed.

If any first-time jumper tells you they're not a little bit scared, or at least a little bit apprehensive or even somewhat nervous, they're not telling you the whole truth. I know I was. Not scared, but nervous. Nervous because of the unknown. Nerves are okay. Fear is not. I was not scared. I was excited and nervous, but not scared.

It took three tries for us to be able to do our jump. The weather got in the way the first two attempts. Clouds and rain all over the area. You don't want to jump if you can't see the ground. Because of these setbacks, Max could not jump with us the third time. So it was just Juli and I. Oh yeah, and her two friends. Bailey and Taylor. We had company.

We knew this whole experience would be epic and out of this world. Literally. We were asked to sign waiver after waiver telling us that in the not-as-unlikely-as-I-would-like chance we die, they aren't responsible.

We arrived early in the morning. We were to be the first group of the day. There were a total of six jumpers. We watched a video; couldn't tell you at this moment what it was all about but at the moment it all made perfect sense. I guess. Then someone proclaiming to be a teacher walked in and proceeded to give us instructions. Instructions amongst other on "what to do in the event 'this' went wrong or 'that' went wrong." Great! More reassurance that we were in good hands. Now, "which color do I need to pull if I have to pull the parachute open?"

Next step was getting suited up. Effortless. My tandem partner was all over this. I felt comfortable because he looked and sounded very professional and experienced. That is until he asked me to "check to make sure the hardness was on correctly." WHAT? How would I know that? Even if it wasn't, how would I know?

Then we boarded the unreasonably small plane. Small compared to any and all planes I have ever flown in before. There were two benches, one on each side. We would sit on these, facing the rear. I would sit in front of my teacher. Videographer in front facing me, recording my every move, or lack thereof. There were only two jump teams available that day so only two of us could go up at the same time. Juliana was on my left. And then there's the plane's door. It was a rolling door, made of some sort of plastic. You could see out this door.

Then the plane took off. Without consequence. That is if you consider the shaking and the baking on the way up "without consequence." I'm not afraid of planes. As a matter of fact, I love to fly. But hearing and feeling each and every one of the 5,438 rivets around me was a bit unnerving. But this subsided quickly. Then we continued to climb. We climbed to some 12,500 feet. That's over 2.3 miles up. That's a. long. way. up.

Then the door opened. The freaking airplane door opened. Have you ever been in an airplane 2.3 miles up in the air... with its door open? No? I hadn't either.

I would go first. Juli would follow. We waddled our way up and sat on the floor, at the door, with our feet hanging out. Did I mention 2.3 miles up in the air?

As instructed, my head was placed against my teacher; this so he could see where we were going. My hands were crossed against my chest and my feet were relaxed. And then we were falling. Free falling. 2.3 miles up in the air!

This was my favorite part of the jump. Maybe it had to do with the fact that in my mind I already knew how epic this would be. After we jumped, we tumbled a few seconds through the air, then we stabilized into the face-down position.

I did not know what to expect. This is not something you can imagine. You really have no idea. Will you feel like you'd lose your stomach? Will you feel like you're racing 125 mph towards the ground? You really do not. Even though you really are moving that fast, you do not feel it. Maybe it's because the ground is so far away and you can't compute speed. Or maybe it's because the wind resistance is pushing against you. You never feel like you're falling, you feel like you're floating. Floating with an incredible amount of wind at your face.

After a minute or so of this, he pulled the chord. There was a little tug. And then we were floating again. The big difference now is how quiet everything was, with the rush of the wind gone. It seemed like the most serene experience ever. We were now just gently floating toward the ground. Before I knew it, we landed. And I wish I hadn't.


So, what's the lesson learned here?

If you look deep into an experience like this, you could walk away with a lesson or two. If you look really deep, you could find numerous. But for me, one lesson stands head and shoulders above the rest:

"You can't touch the best moments in life"

My Incredible View

Yes. Hopefully, our lives have been filled with "moments", moments we will never forget, much less regret. Moments like our wedding day, the birth of our children. Moments like that fabulous sunrise or sunset. Or that hike in the mountains. We should aim to have "moments" not "possessions" or things define our happiness.

How many times can you say you have jumped out of an airplane? How many times can you say you have jumped out of an airplane with your daughter? This is one of my "moments"

Those that know me well are already asking "what's next?"

I've had a bucket list for many years.It has been written, not just wished or dreamed. It has been modified, added to several times. Many items have been deleted. Many items will take years to complete. Some items are crazier than others, but all of them are doable. It is truly a work in progress.

I share this list only with the wish to motivate each and everyone to continue your forward progress. Always keep going after what you want. Never let fear get in the way. Never let doubt control you.

To see what's on my Bucket List, follow this link.

So, as you can see, there's plenty of work to do ahead for me. This list will continue to be worked on, added to and modified.

What's on your bucket list?

Oreos, Socks and Parenthood

I don't quite remember how and when I met Jim Short. I believe, however, that it was back when I started riding my bike a few years back. But it seems and it feels like we've been friends forever.

Jim taught me a lot about bikes, and about life. We didn't ride as much together as he did with many of his other friends, but the few times we did, we made the most of it.

As the years went by and our friendship grew, we learned that we had much more in common that was apparent on the surface. We both loved, and I mean LOVED Oreo cookies. We both had the same affinity for crazy, happy, weird and out of the ordinary dress socks. His wit and humor made for some very special and out of the ordinary conversations. I will miss these.

A day not too long ago, we shared an Oreo Lasagna recipe. I didn't know which one of us was drooling more. I think he was; he called me and said he had something for me. We met and he delivered a half way eaten Oreo Lasagna in a pan. He had shared a portion of it with his mother and his "little britches." The rest, he said, was for me and my family. I think I gained 15 lbs, but it didn't matter much.

During the early days of February 2017, I posted a photo of my socks on Instagram and Facebook. Jim posted right back. Next thing you know, we're in the middle of the #HappySock Challenge, which lasted the entire month.

"All right Mauricio, the weekend is over. Back to SERIOUS business! #happysocks #keepitgoing#gameon #funsocks #makeFacebookfunagain"

But it wasn't just about Oreos and Socks. We talked often about parenthood. As far as I'm concerned he was one of the best dads I have ever met. His "Little Britches" was his world. I wanted to learn more. I wanted to learn his outlook and view on parenthood. He happily shared. I absorbed as much as I could because after all, you're never too old to learn.

I told him one time how proud I was of him, of the daddy he was. I told him that he would be rewarded later with the awesome grown man his Logan would grow up to be. I am sad that he will not get to see this, but we will get to see a bit on Jim in Logan... maybe a lot of Jim.

Today we will say our final goodbyes; we will ride one more mile with him. It is a sad day. We will all miss Jim. R.I.P. my friend.

Love My Tribe

I read a lot. A whole lot. I'm a fervent user of social media as well. Not only do I post often, but I read here a lot as well. My use of different social media platforms has changed through the years, and I expect that as I continue to grow, these needs and purposes will change as well. Social content, in my case, is driven by what it's important to me at the moment. This is why you have seen my content evolved. A lot.

Through the years I have shared my passion for personal growth (physical, mental, intellectual and emotional) with those that cared to follow. Thank you for that. I am sure that many have been turned off, but politely, they have just either ignored me or just went away. I thank you for that as well.

I went from an overweight couch potato to an Ironman Finisher and 18 time Marathon Finisher. All this in a matter of 11 years. I have shared just about every step of the way with you. You have supported me. Encouraged me. Laughed with me. Cried with me. You have pushed me in ways you cannot imagine. My tribe is indeed my strength.

As my goals grew, so did your support. Not once, not ever... ever, did I hear anyone of you say that "I couldn't do what I wanted to do." At least, not to my face. For this I thank you. On the contrary, with each new adventure, I received more support, more encouragement. Even today, as I pursue a new goal, I find that your support is unwavering. Again, my tribe is amazing.

So this leaves me wondering...

For years I have read posts from others. Posts which claim that they have been told: "they couldn't do what they set out to do". Some posts claim that people told them that they were "crazy" and "fools", that they didn't have what it takes. Many such posts claim much of the same.

These posts also claim that these conversations are the "motivators" behind their drive. I get it. Find motivation wherever you can. Find motivation from negative thoughts, comments, ideas, perceptions. I get all that.

These posts have claimed that family and friends are not, and have not been supportive. Some claim, that they're fighting this battle alone. I don't get it. How would this conversation go?

Me: "My next goal is to finish an Ironman triathlon"
Non-Supportive Family or Friend: "What? you're nuts, crazy, loco. You can't do that! It won't happen. You don't have what it takes. You're wasting your time. Give up now. Don't start what you can't finish." etc, etc. etc.

Do conversations like this really take place? I cannot imagine.

But, in case they do, all I have to say, and I'll say it again: "I have an awesome tribe!"

Love y'all

Carmel Marathon In A Nutshell.. Kind'a

I haven't written much lately. Well, truth be told, I have written a lot lately, but not much on this blog. There's a perfectly good reason for that. I'm sure there is. When I figure it out, I'll write about it.

On Saturday, April 22, 2017, three days ago, I ran what is to be, God willing, the first of three marathons in 2017, this would be Marathon No.18 and it took place in Carmel, IN. After my first marathon in 2009, I concluded that there would be no more marathons. Yeah, that worked out well.

As predicted by me and secretly, I did not sleep well the night before the race; this I have grown to accept. No matter the distance, no matter the race, the night before is always short, very short. After some tossing and turning and more tossing and more turning, I got out of bed some 15 minutes before the 4:40 AM alarm would go off. I have my race day rituals, that's why I always get up so early.

After some quick research, I decided on Carmel mostly because of its size, its a small(er) race; this year it boasted 655 marathoners. I registered for this race on November 2, 2016. Three days after the chaotic Marine Corps Marathon 2016, there were some 30K+ runners in this race.

We arrived in Carmel on Thursday. On Friday, we would take it easy. I would do a small, easy 4-mile run and we would go pick up my race bid and stuff.

Quite possibly the best surprise ever, came with the assignment of my race number: 1406. I am not sure what forces came to play here, but this is awesome. If any of you eight people reading this blog, don't realize why this is so big, there are 140.6 miles in an Iron Distance Triathlon. Boom! Some have said that the Ironman is calling me back.

Immediately upon getting out of bed, the first thing I have learned to do is to take an inventory; Toes... check. Heels... check. Ankles... check. Calves... check. Hammies, Quads... check. Back... check. Shoulders... check. It all seemed and felt normal; they all hurt and were all tight. So, I walked gingerly to the shower and took a hot one. Time to get the day started.

I have always been open and transparent in my training and with my goals. All six of you reading this blog know that. And if you have followed me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Strava, etc, etc, etc. you know this. I tell all. This time around, I have chosen a more subdued, quieter approach. This was done with a specific purpose. More on that someday.

After some discussion with my coach and my nutritionist, I came to the conclusion that I would fly solo. Cut the cord if you will, and let things fall where they may. I am, after all, old enough to know better, although some may question that statement, and I have been around the block a few times, so I just knew I had what I needed to do this on my own.

I tend to overdress. I hate cold weather. I had followed the weather report, although I have also learned not to bank on it, all week long. Midweek the prediction was for 100% rain and 20 - 25 mph winds. Greeeeat! I was hopeful, however, because I knew the chances of them being wrong was 90-95%. The weather in the morning showed no rain, low ~ very low 40's and windy. Lots and lots of wind.

I have a personal benchmark that I follow for running weather. Anything under 45º and the long pants goes on. As the long sleeve first layer shirt and the long sleeve tee. I had a windbreaker I planned to wear pre-race. I would toss it to my wife at the start. Nothing doing, It did not go off. Did I mention, I hate cold weather?

During the training cycle, I took up yoga. Yoga helped me decompress, destress and helped my mood and my overall state of mind. I now practice at least three times per week. It's come to be "my" time. I follow the practice with at least 10-15 minutes of meditation. Oh, my!

I had my race day plan written down. The first thing I would do is eat breakfast two hours before race start. That would make it at 5:30 am. I had spoken with the fine folks at the hotel the day before and they had breakfast for me ready 30 minutes earlier than normal. Boom! Belgian waffle with peanut butter, honey, and fruit and a large cup of coffee. Thank you very much.

One hour before race start, I would take two O2Gold and three Muscle Strength, both by Advocare. Note: this is not an endorsement, but dang... these work great. Consult with your local distributor to see if these are right for you.

Training for this race went well. Except of course if you don't count the incident on Monday, March 20th, when my back went out. Totally out. The bulge on my disc decided that it was time to make an appearance. I could not walk, literally could not walk for two days. That Thursday, March 23rd, I would leave with my team to run Ragnar Relay Tennessee. We had lost a teammate earlier, which luckily we replaced immediately; I was not about to let the team down. So, I stretched, stretched, and stretched some more until the disc was back where it needed to be.

I ran Ragnar, the Oak Barrel Half Marathon, and the Purity Moosic City 10K also in preparation for Carmel. I am happy to say that all without any pain. But the thought lingered in my mind; at any time the bulge could reappear. This was my biggest fear. However, it did not.

Fifteen minutes before the start I took my first gel. I would take four more during the race. Well, actually three, because somewhere before mile five, I lost one. Greeeeat! I would be sipping water all morning long. A bottle's worth before race started. I had my 22 oz of Infinit mixed in my bottle and another baggie with more Infinit to refill when the first was gone. The volunteer that helped me refill my bottle with water so I could mix my Infinit was very curious about the content of my baggie.I'm thinking the officer at the other end of the table was too.

I took my long run training to the streets of Nashville, to the parks and the greenways of Davidson County. Most all, if not all these Saturdays, the roads would be filled with runners, of all sizes, shapes, and speeds. Most were training for the St Jude RNR Nashville Marathon and Half Marathon. I discovered during this time that in fact, running trails could be fun and a great option for me. We'll see.

As the ceremonies commenced, I took inventory again: Toes... check. Heels... check. Ankles... check. Calves... check. Hammies, Quads... check. Back... check. Shoulders... check. This time, however, all the discomfort had disappeared, and it would remain a non-issue throughout the race. Opening prayer, National Anthem, and the runners were off. I was in corral "C". It only took about 3-5 minutes to get past the starting mat.

Probably the biggest change I've made on my racing strategy is that I now run with music. I found that my mind lingered with negative thoughts throughout the race(s), mostly about the physical pain and mental anguish I was going through. On one of my long runs, I thought I would give this music thing a try. It worked! I also found that my music choice helped keep the pace up. Good news all around. And what type of music did I listen to? Click here to see my playlist. I tried Amazon Music's Upbeat Running Channel... it gave me a headache!

The race went pretty much as planned. The course had some rollers, nothing of big consequence. It was also not crowded at all, except for the first mile. The wind, however, was brutal. I'm not good at guestimating wind speeds but I would venture to say anywhere between 20 and 600 mph! The course runs through three parks where the trees protect you from said wind, but the city's open roads, oh goodness. The wind.

I could go into mile-by-mile detail of how the race went but I'm sure the four of you reading this would appreciate me not doing so. So, I will not.

I've run 15 marathons and I've raced 3. Although they have all been fun, this by far has been my best and most productive. I went in hoping for a strong showing; a PR would be awesome and a strong PR would validate decisions I've made.

My previous best Marathon time was in the NYC Marathon 2013. My time then was 4:51:27. On this day, Carmel netted me a time of 4:27:42. A PR by 23:45. Not quite the 26 minutes I had first thought, but heck, I'll still take this!!!

It's going to be a great summer. I will take it easy for a couple of weeks, recover some, let the back heal completely and get back to the gym some. Then comes May 15th. That's the day training commences again for my first fall marathon. Added bonus: This one I will be training, and racing, with my daughter. God help me!

In Memoriam ~ Charlie Taylor

"Time Flies, suns rise and shadows fall.

Let time go by. Love is forever over all."

We all knew Charlie. We knew his spirit, his grit and his will to do better. We knew Charlie as a giver; a giver of encouragement, of love and support. We all knew Charlie as a runner, an over the top runner. But above all, and beyond his running, we knew Charlie as a dedicated family man, a son, a brother, a husband, a father, and grandfather. We all knew Charlie as a friend.

Today, we will celebrate Charlie's life. Although we will all miss him tremendously, we are all comforted by the fact that each one of our lives was touched in a positive way, just because we knew Charlie.

"It is time for us to let you go, but we won't say goodbye;

We will look for you in the rainbow, way up in the sky.

When the sun rises in the morning when the world is new,

We will look for Charlie, way up in the sky.

It is time for us to let you go, but we won't say goodbye;

We will look for you in the rainbow, way up in the sky.

When the sun sets, when the day is all through,

We will look for Charlie, way up in the sky.

Time for us to part now, Charlie, but we won't say goodbye;

We will look for you in the rainbow, shining in the sky.

Every waking moment,  we will think of you.

We will look for Charlie, way up in the sky."

We love you Charlie Taylor.