Everything's bigger here

"Everything is bigger in Texas"~ Jeff Hutchins, 1998

An old high school swim teammate used to tell us that during practices on an almost weekly basis, and I remember thinking "Whatever". At the time, I thought it was a manhood deal, and part of the constant one-upsmanship process of 17 yr old boys. After living in Austin for almost two weeks now, I can see his point. Everything is supersized out here, examples being the UT football stadium, food, cowboy boots, cars, my neighbor's boobs, egos, the shopping centers...it's rather ridiculous.

But is bigger necessarily better? One can look at history and find plenty of examples where this is true, from the upward scaling of companies to attack size-biased markets to the recent UFC 100 title fight where the much larger Brock Lesnar took down Frank Mir. However,history is also rife with examples of times where diversity and flexibility were more important then flexibility, from smaller operationally efficient farm communities all the way to Michael Phelps outracing competitors who are bigger and stronger then he is. The answer, as it usually is, appears to lie somewhere in the middle, where there's a optimal combination of size and flexibility. The utilization at this point is such that you can get the best returns on investment in both departments without becoming detrimentally large or too flexible.

The point? As I currently sit under the concrete behemoth that is the UT stadium, I realize more and more that it doesn't matter how big you are (as a company or physically), what's in your wallet, or how many credentials you have on the wall. Conversely, there's not much value in becoming a free-spirited hippie and running around the world with no ties or growth plans either. I won't pretend that I know the optimal balance between the two, but that's what life's about...figuring out the balance and making it work for you. This whole post may be a hallucination brought on by the 110 degree, 95% humidity here in Austin, but I doubt it.

I wanna be a cowboy...I think

The big news around here is that I'm heading to Texas. I've accepted a job, and am excited to be heading out to Austin soon to lead a Green Energy project. This has everything I want in an adventure, namely;

1. An excellent position within a growing company
2. The latitude to make decisions and help grow a company
3. Working with my mentor
4. A strange new world, filled with cowboy hats and boots
5. Bulls....lots and lots of bulls

I would like to say this is going to be boring, but the combo of those 5 things, and a fully loaded IPOD ought to make this a great experience. Did I also mention I'm moving to the South in two weeks?

Finding yourself....at a funeral

At 10:47 am today I found myself carrying a dead body into a church in Northern LA. Seeing as I'm not a mobster or a mortician, one wonders why exactly I would be in that position (aside from the attention grabbing headline). Truth is, I was attending the funeral of a friend's father, was nabbed by a priest because I'm " a strong young man" (at least I think that's what he mumbled), and was carrying a casket up into the church. Being 2 feet away from the body, then listening to the subsequent eulogy got me thinking about life though, and the opportunities and adventures it affords.

(This is where 10% of the audience thinks, "Geez, Ryan, quit analyzing it. You're only 27, and a lousy philosopher at that." The other 90% quit reading when I mentioned I was carrying a dead body into church. If you've made it this far, kudos.)

In the movie "Dead Poets Society", one of the opening scenes is Robin Williams showing his class pictures of previous graduating classes from 50 years previous, and urging his students to "Carpe Diem", or sieze the day as they are few. A true statement, given the fact that life goes by in a blink, and you may find yourself suddenly approaching an age milestone wondering what the hell should you do with your life. It really is that simple, Williams-esque statement, as if you squeeze as much as you can out of every day, you'll probably lose some sleep, and little else as you end up where you're supposed to be.

Ironic that it took a funeral to remind me of that life fact.

Out on a limb (as usual)

We've been discussing over the past few weeks, both at church and elsewhere, how important the skill of listening is. Whether its a girlfriend/boyfriend, teammate, mentor, or God, the emphasis is on what they're saying and doing...not on our own interpretation. With that in mind, this past week I turned down a job as a Sales Mgr in Northern LA. In this economy, most people would think I was crazy, but the truth is it wasn't what I'm supposed to do. When I first moved out to CA, I took a position that was absolutely the wrong choice ( I chose money over cultural fit...story for another time) and kept trying to make it work, but it ended very VERY poorly. I found myself in the same situation Monday, sitting there about to take a job for money...yet this little voice went "Don't. " I thought my unease was just nerves and tried to squash it, but that little voice kept coming back each time with the same message. With this in mind, I told the rather shocked rep on Tuesday I wouldn't be accepting the position, and would be returning to the job market to continue my now 8 month search. It's not that it wasn't a good position, or the people were nasty, it just wasn't what I'm supposed to do for the next few years. No one said this listening thing was easy, but I'm assuming it's like anything else where the more you practice, the better you are.

Unless of course it's backstroke. Never got the hang of that (as 4 swim coaches can testify)

And we're back...

Been a bit since I've wrote on this thing. I highly doubt anyone reads this other then me, but its almost therapeutic in a way just to write in a free flowing manner for 5 minutes and see what comes out.

Its the last day of 2008 today. A lot of people's statuses i (status-i? statuses's?)in my personal network on Facebook, Twitter and Myspace have been referencing the fact that the year is over with joy, commenting on what a "terrible", "miserable" experience it was. This puzzles me for several reasons. I don't feel the 500 some odd people I'm connected with online are overly negative, yet to read these lines makes a person feel the Apocalypse is almost upon us. When I referenced a friend about this phenomenon the other day, his response was that we're getting "older, and that's the way things are". 2008 had its ups and downs, the same as any other year,but I find the ideas that there's no good to be found in time passing, and that getting older means becoming more negative and cynical, is ridiculous. We're here a short time on this earth, and our time here is what we make of it. Focusing on good things, and the wonderful people you meet in life, has the excellent side effect of changing your world view. So thanks 2008 for the memories, both good and bad, and welcome 2009!

My third "marriage"

Several of my friends are recently engaged, which has prompted other friends to ask me such statements as;

"Uh-oh, when are you gonna tie the knot?"
" You're next, dude"
" Soooo.....when are you.....you know..."

These questions have been popping up a lot more lately, as I head towards my late 20s. This leads me to the scenario of why humans feel that if someone else is doing something, they should be doing it too. People start to panic, thinking "Crap, if everyone else is getting married, I'd better find someone and settle down" and end up making...."interesting" choices. I'm not passing judgement on anyone, nor do I think I'm any better or worse then the general populace. Its just an observation over the past two years, watching the dynamics of people in the post-college era. Don't get me wrong, I don't think marriage is a bad thing, nor do I have some master plan to stay single forever, but I'll do it on my own timetable. I'm currently "married" to school and training, and am trying to "make something" of myself. I have no real plans to change that or add a "third marriage" to my life just yet.

Unless Kate Beckinsale shows up at my door. Then all bets are off.

The first long day

Day 33 of IM training found 4 of us stumbling out of bed and heading out to PCH, where we would be riding up towards Seal Beach, as the schedule called for a 4 hour ride, followed by a 1/2 hr run. Most of it would be done in the aero position as well (think bending your body forward like a boomerang and hanging on for dear life....you get the idea). I'd love to say there was some magical adventure, or exciting events during the workout, but really, it was a gorgeous 2 hour ride up and back, riding along the Pacific Ocean, and the run wasn't terrible either.

At this point, anyone reading this is going "Ok, this story sucks...get to the point".

The point to this is when you train for triathlon, you have a half hour "window" after the culmination of workout to eat and replenish some of the calories you've burned off, otherwise your body crashes somewhat and takes up to 48 hours to replenish the intial stores. The longer the workout, the more pronounced the "crashing" effect when you don't eat. It's like being drunk, or tired beyond comprehension to the point where you babble nonsense and drop things for no reason.

Guess who forgot to eat within that window? ::raises hand::

And because I forgot to do such a basic thing, we're going to keep playing the guessing game.

Guess who had a work phone call that day, and told his boss the current project was ".....BS...a trained monkey could do it but wanted more money..."? ::raises hand::

Guess who fell asleep at 4 pm and missed 3 school functions (and pissed off his advisor)? ::raises hand::

Guess who told his mother on the phone "There are two things big about me, my expected salary and my penis size." ::raises hand::

Guess who put his bookbag in the refrigerator? ::raises hand::

Guess who washed an extension cord along with his comforter? ::raises hand::


They really should warn you about this stuff in the Triathlon training manual, rather then just simply stating " Failure to eat in a timely manner may prompt the body to shut down and require 48 hours to return to normal". I'm pretty sure my mom still wants to kill me for that comment.

Business School vs. Ironman

We had to do an exercise in class involving time management, and were told to make a pie chart of an average day, and how much time we spent on the various things in our lives. Mine was as follows

Sleep - 33%
Eating - 12%
Training - 15%
Class Time -10 %
Free Time - 10%
HW - 5%
Work (paid)- 15%

We handed in the charts, went on break while the teacher reviewed, and came back in. I knew something was wrong when the teacher zeroed in on me in the first 30 seconds back and said in a sharp tone,"Mr. Stoughton, I see here that you spend more time training for sports then school. Care to explain?". At this point I have two options;

1. Lie and say I miscalculated, thereby making myself look incompetent and incapable of basic math, but showing that I take my Merage education seriously.
2. Tell the truth, incur the wrath of said teacher for not taking the school curriculum seriously, and spend the rest of the quarter trying to salvage my grade in the class

I weighed these options in 0.2 seconds, looked the teacher directly in the eye and responded with;

" You're just that effective in your teaching, sir."

Between the class laughing and the teacher glaring at me, I'd be willing to bet I'm not getting straight A's this quarter...

Day 21

Day 21 of IM training, I've dropped about 5 lbs since December, and most importantly....I'm starting to get some of my old speed back. Another 10 lbs, and I'll be pretty close to where I was pre-psycho gf/breakdown/2 years of hell. My goal is to get even faster then I was pre-breakdown, but I have a completely different attitude this time around. I'm not that pissed off, angry kid that I was at 22, where it was me vs. the world. These days, its more about me vs. myself, and I'm curious to see how far I can push myself as I hit my prime in endurance athletics. These were my records back in the day;

800yd Swim 8:59
1 mile Run 4:52
40km Bike 1:10:52
Olympic Distance Tri 2:10:26
Sprint Tri 58:59


We'll see how I do being older (and supposedly smarter).

Chinese Subtitles & Cycling

Saturday was a scheduled 3 hour bike ride, and as it was pouring rain, I decided to ride indoors on my trainer with my teammate Karl and watch movies. As the scenery really doesn't change when you're riding a stationary bike, minds tend to wander and DVDs are usually used to combat boredom. However, this particular saturday, while watching the Chinese Martial arts movie "The House of the Flying Daggers" (complete with no sound and english subtitles) I had an epiphany.

I would become a ninja. But unlike any ninja the world had seen thus far....I would become cycling's first ninja. (Keep in mind I'm 6'4, 200 lbs, NOT asian and the words "grace" and "subtlety" probably are not the first words that come to mind when I'm around.)

Nevertheless, Sunday saw me down at the cycling clothes store, buying every piece of black clothing I could find. The clerk even cautioned me ( "You know, there are other colors...."), but I was adamant. Ninjas wear black, therefore I needed all the XL dark clothes I could lay my grubby little paws on. Once back at home, I donned my new outfit to make sure I looked the part, and gave myself the once-over in the mirror (pictures forthcoming). Convinced I looked like an intimidating bad-ass (in form-fitting lycra nonetheless), I walked outside to get a bike tube from my car, prepared to conquer the roads. Rummaging around in my car for the tube, I became aware that it was quiet outside. TOO quiet. As in the " murderer is about to get the hero in the movie" quiet, or the still quiet of the forest right before a bear charges through the brush and tears apart a helpless deer.

Lifting my head up and looking around, I realized two things;

1. The parking lot is a lot emptier when everyone goes home for winter break
2. Less cars in the lot means its easier for the police car to see the black clad, hooded figure rummaging around in the red camaro

20 minutes of questioning later (complete with my neighbors walking by with their mouths open, staring and pointing), I was allowed to strut with as much dignity as I could muster in my Lycra (not much) back into my apartment complex, thus culminating my first ninja experience.

God bless the vigilance of the Irvine PD.

Day 3 of Official Ironman Training

People have been asking me what my race preparation consists of for April 16th. So far my official training for the race in the past 3 days has consisted of;

- 3 hours of bike riding
- 2 failed attempts at yoga
- 200 pushups and situps
- 100m sprint to catch the bus
- 25 minute hot tub float
- 5000 yds of swimming
- 6 rounds of greco-roman wrestling with my brother (author's note: We were supposed to go 10 rounds for family dominance, but were interrupted by my grandmother kicking us both in the ribs and scolding us for fighting outside the restraunt)
- 30 minutes of running
- Walking 4 miles at midnight through the Pasadena Rose Bowl floats, carrying my girlfriend "piggyback".

It's rather unorthodox, but I feel that all this cross-training will only be beneficial come race time. In fact, I'm going to license this cross-training regime under the title " Gooches and Lycra; When two worlds collide". I mean, if people blogging about their boring lives on the internet makes money then......

Why I was late to work today

Training
I have Ironman AZ in the spring, a 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, 26.2 mile run extravaganza designed to send me deeper into insanity then I already am. What this means then is I keep slightly ridiculous hours to get the required workouts in, sometimes spinning on my bike or swimming in a pool at hours most people are asleep. I've been known to skip class, social events, even dates in order to get a workout in, so I'm pretty sure I'm either dedicated or an idiot who likes the entertainment. I lean towards the latter, especially on a morning such as the one mentioned below.

I couldn't sleep this morning for some reason, so I got up at around 5:30 am to go running. Following a path through UC-Irvine, I began a 6 mile run, shivering in the cold and questioning my sanity. Half awake, I began a climb into the hills behind the school , when all of the sudden my sunglasses began to become fogged and covered in water. Confused, I slowed down, wondering if a sprinkler system was on, then as if a switch had been hit, rain began to pour down from the heavens (Note that this could not have happened at a greater distance from my apartment...exactly 3 miles away). Gritting my teeth, I began the run back, my clothes quickly becoming soaked and my lower legs slightly mud-spattered. Rounding a corner in the hills, I lost my footing and slid out, much like a NASCAR racer that's spun out on a track, and now found myself lying on the side of the trail, partially covered in mud, soaked, tired, and slightly pissed off. I staggered back to my feet and continued to run, mud caking the back half of my body. Running down the last hill that brings the trail back into campus, I began to dream of a hot shower that would be the end of this little "hydro" run and began to relax. Too soon it turned out, as the following sequence of events occurred;

1. Construction Truck pulls out in front of the trail, blocking both trail, sidewalk and part of the road
2. Student on beach cruiser bicycle swerves to avoid truck blocking sidewalk, goes up onto trail
3. Bicycle clips me, sending me flying into a standing pool of water, mud and other yuck
4. Bicyclist loses balance on bike, slides bike into above mentioned pool, showering me with even more mud and water
5. Truck Driver who causes this begins to laugh

I sat in the pool for several stunned seconds as the rain continued to come down around me, then noticed the driver laughing and snapped. I made a bee-line for the truck, where the driver, seeing a 6'4 , mud covered nutjob with rage written all over his face heading his way, frantically began to lock his doors. I started pounding on the guys window, whilst saying dignified, classy things such as " You think that was #&$*!) funny?!?" and "Get your &#*$# ass out of here!". He revs the engine and peels out, almost taking my foot off, and I begin to chase him down the street, thinking in my bloodlust that I'm going to catch him and make him pay for soaking me.

For the record, I'm not Kenyan, nor am I that fast. Keep in mind this is taking place in the University Suburbs too, which is a very peaceful, quiet street. Pleasantville, if you will.

There's a ton of stop signs over where this is occurring, so his truck keeps having to slow for them, letting me keep him in sight. Finally, by the 3rd or 4th sign, he loses it and blows right through the stop sign, hoping to leave me in the dust. Unfortuantly for him, he misses seeing the bike cop sitting there as well, who is more then happy to pull out after him with lights flashing. Seeing this, I decide I don't want to be involved anymore, and head the other way. I glance over my shoulder, and spot the driver out of his car, motioning in my direction and gesturing, with the cop staring at me. That's never a good sign, so I begin to run faster. Glancing back, I can see the cop getting back on his bike, and begin to pull out. Picking up my speed, I reach the housing development where I live, and make it inside just as the bike cop pulls up onto the main street with his lights flashing. Racing into my apartment, I lock the door behind me, and jump in the shower still clothed, wondering if I'm going to spend the day behind bars. After about 10 minutes, with no loud knocking, I figured its safe and continue on with my day.

And that's why I do sports. Never a dull moment.

Urban Adventures

Overview
In April of 2006, I made the decision to move from my hometown of Tucson, AZ to the urban sprawl that is Orange County...or more specifically Irvine. My logic for the move was twofold;

1. I'd finished helping my family out of a tough spot
2. I was bored

I packed up my worldy posessions, and headed west like some Arizona style "Beverly Hillbilly". With $2000, a couple of bikes and guitars, and not a whole lot of planning, I would seek my fortune. The first 6 months out here, I lived in a mansion by the sea and almost ran out of money twice as I tried to acclimate to the dramatic price jump of SoCal. The next two years, I lived on campus at UC-Irvine, getting my ass kicked in graduate school with the corporate folks at a top-rated MBA program.

There's your 90 second summary.

Current thought

6 classes away from a Master's degree or 6 months to go. Take your pick. It still feels strange, but I've grown to accept that for $95,000 I get to have 3 letters at the end of my name the rest of my life (I wonder if I would've paid $500,000, if I could have had the alphabet at the end...or at least picked 13 letters in an order I liked.......). It's interesting though that the higher you go in education, the more people get so tied into their professional life they don't balance out their personal lives. This leads to a lot of unfulfilled professional people in their mid-30s with money, but no time to do anything, and they wish they "would've traveled more when younger, would've dated that girl, would've raced in cycling, etc". I've heard this a lot in the past few months, and see it as a cautionary tale. The key point here is a balanced lifestyle...work to get ahead, but don't do it to the extreme you miss out on what life has to offer. Sometimes you only have a limited window to do things, so take advantage of it!