I had one of those restless, excited, in-and-out of a dream state, while tossing and turning sleeps the other night.  Earlier in the day I had made a supremely satisfying purchase on E-Bay; one that causes Tri-Geeks to reminisce about the sleepless nights before Christmas when they were kids.  I felt like a kid.  Albeit, when I was 5, I would not catch a moment of shut-eye in anticipation of the next days plunder.  At least this time, I was getting some much needed sleep.  I know, because of the lucid dreams dancing in my mind.  In these dreams, I moved effortlessly; with power, poise and pace.  It was a basic vision, the ultimate in moving your body.  I had the healthy fitness capable of propelling your body over land and sea with efficient speed.  A daily ritual I tirelessly attempt to improve on.  Although improving all the time, perfection only gets farther and farther away.  In this dream, I was relaxed and feeling euphoric, yet I was racing at max effort.  Being in that fleeting state of mind where the task at hand flows with the body and focuses on seemingly nothing and everything to do with your movements; where your body and mind merge into that elevated state while your movements become beautiful and tranquil.  My mind was clear and calm and in a state of being contemplative.  Time slows down, allowing me to further enjoy the moment, as I race along with a slight grin; a small window for those watching to see and experience my internal pleasure.
Although I did not get the best night of sleep I was still cheerful from all the good visions of the previous night.  I had to wonder if the single act of purchasing a disc wheel triggered my lucid dreams.  “Maybe”, I thought, as I began to daydream about taking my first ever pedal stroke and having the huuumm, huuumm, huuumm sound of a disc wheel. 

Surely much of the lucid dreaming comes from the simple fact of enjoying my fitness.  I have been breathing a lot of air; healthy and consistent in my training while steadily improving.   Having a breakthrough workout is rewarding enough to have me in the clouds for several days.  Like last weeks BRIC workout at the Boise High Track.  It was 4x (10 minutes on the bike trainer then a mile run.)  I was not feeling up for this workout, tired and hungry after work and being just 3 days removed from the NYC Triathlon.  The east coast trip was disruptive on my sleep patterns.  I lightheartedly showed up at the track and began warming up.  Feeling lethargic and heavy I wasn’t sure that I would be able to hit my goal time of 5:15 per mile.  To my surprise I clocked a 5:07 first mile; then went 5:01, 5:07, 5:08.  That’s good stuff for me. 

Then, yesterday in the pool I felt strong and fast while swimming high in the water.    Swimming at the Downtown YMCA is awesome.  I started learning the intricacies of water in this very pool over 30 years ago!  However, it is not a fast pool; being a shallow 6 lane pool while having 4 guys in my lane with 3 guys in the wall lane and 5 or 6 on the other side causes a raucous.  But we like to think its good simulation for rough open water swimming.  The main set was 12 x 100’s on 1:40 going 75fr/25Fly descending in 3 sets of 4.  My times:
1:02, 1:01, 1:00, :58
1:03, 1:01, 1:00, :57
1:03, 1:01,  :59, :57

Solid, feel good swims, especially considering the wavy pool and negotiating butterfly with so many arms flying.  I had more than a few awkward recovery strokes in the butterfly to avoid smacking arms.  But the feeling strong and being high in the water is sheer joy for me.

Up next, the beautiful McCall Mountain Triathlon.

First bike race of the season for me today. The Jason Broome Memorial 10 mile time trial had ferocious winds making it hard for me not to white knuckle my aero bars. It was a tough and fatigued ride. It put me in the mood to see some tough rides, some inspiring training, and the human spirit at its best:

Lance Armstrong Alpe D’Huez 2001

Lance Armstrong Nike Commercial

Lance Armstrong Training

Lance Armstrong Sestriere Climb 1999

Lance Armstrong-Hautacam Attack

Lance Armstrong Climbs Luz Ardiden 2003

After a splendid run near the Arenal Volcano I had several great runs at our next destination in Mal Pais; all on the beach with running shoes and shorts.  You could cover a lot more ground when the tide was out; running on flat hard packed sand.  I was spoiled with my first couple runs being with the tide out, allowing me to cover longer distances.  My next four runs all happened at high tide and that forced me to trudge through the soft dry sand.  It was slow going and made for a low impact strength workout.

But what stands out for our time at Mal Pais is all the surfing.  Most days we surfed twice a day starting anywhere from 7 to 9am and playing in the waves for hours.  Even early in the morning the day’s heat made a refreshing yearning for the water.  Lathered up in suntan lotion we would battle through the surf in an effort to reach the gentle giants beckoning us to come out.  The gentle giants could almost always be seen gathering momentum, darkening the water as they approached.  A rush of adrenalin spikes through the system.  Paddling into position, the peaceful, calming, power of these giants had to be respected.  Almost everyday, sometimes several times a day a wave would humble me; reminding me of its imposing might.  Others, I would seize just right, transferring its energy into graceful, pleasurable momentum.  At least, it felt this way and explains my unyielding need to spend endless hours playing in the surf.  It is an activity that always keeps me coming back for more.

Eventually, we became tired and hungry; making lunch impossible to deny.  The lunch break was a welcome reprieve from the hot sun and replenished the body for more surfing after a relaxing afternoon.

The truly majestic time to surf was near sunset when the day’s inspiration came to a climatic end.  The blinding sun would yield to the perfect ambient lighting, the sky on fire with vibrancy that drew the eyes attention.  The colors formed wonderful hues of beautiful inspiration.  Looking back towards the beach from the water one would notice all the flashes going off from camera’s motivated owners.  While out there surfing, waiting for the next perfect wave, the water and air temperature luxurious with a sky reassuringly delightful; one couldn’t help but be thankful for the precious moment.  The sun would move quickly hovering just above, what looked like to the ancients, like the end of the world.  Looking for the flawless wave would take a back seat to the astounding display of colors while the sun began diving under the water.  The sun spiraling towards the ocean would morph through different shades of orange, red, pink and violet with its overwhelming brilliance turning into a pleasant glow.  Your eyes couldn’t help but linger on the last glimpse of luminosity before disappearing and surrendering to the night’s stars. 

With the sun’s remarkable display all but finished and the light melting away your attention turned back to finding that next wave, visualizing it appearing before you and using its energy for the most pleasurable of passages.  Ultimately, it would come and you’d zip across the water’s surface.  With darkness quickly approaching you always want to finish with that perfect ride; which always seems to be the next wave.   Often, all the surfers would disperse leaving me alone in the mighty Pacific, darkness cloaking me in the immense expanse before me.  I would settle for the next wave and the less than perfect ride, yet nourishing all the same.

Later that night after filling my belly with Costa Rican food I would fall asleep dreaming of the Pacific, hearing its waves crashing near-by and wonder; how far out in the blue abyss is my first wave for tomorrow’s play.

My next run was amazingly pleasurable and a spiritual experience that left me fullfilled for weeks.

We rented a car for the 6 of us and left San Jose at 6am heading north towards the Volcano de Arenal.  We had been driving and driving each of us wanting to continue ‘exploring’ when we arrived at our destination.  We finally decided we would take the scenic route around the massive Laguna de Arenal (reservoir).  It was lunch time as we pulled into this Swiss Chalet making the entire scene seem Swiss.  Everyone was ready for lunch but I wasn’t that hungry and decided that now, with the fertile landscape illustrating numerous shades of green and a storm brewing, was perfect for a run.  My compadres were already seated for lunch when I came in with my running shoes, socks and shorts on.  I told them that I was going to continue on the route we were heading until they ‘catch up’.

I fully expected to run 2 hours (my longest run is 1:35) the way most of our lunches had gone (Tico time is laid back).  As I headed out it was cool, raining steadily, and the wind was howling.  The wind was fierce and the storm around the volcano and enormous reservoir was dreamy.  Laguna de Arenal is world renowned for its wind surfing, and I would later find out that the day’s wind was unusually strong for a place that is used to strong winds. 

In a matter of meters I was warm and soaked from head to toe.  The road followed close to the water and due to the low cloud cover and rain one couldn’t see across to the other side.  I felt like I was near the sea running in a lush environment more like Ireland or Iceland maybe.  The road was hilly as it snaked this way and that in a general northwest direction.  I felt effortless as I ran along getting smacked in the face by gusts of wind.  One couldn’t help but be curious, looking up to the right at trees towering as the mountain side disappeared into the clouds.  Looking down to the left was always the lake, usually a steep 5 to 15 meters below through impassible vegetation.  Again, I was the scout, encountering everything for the first time. 

The energy in the storm fueled me and it felt as though I could run forever.  My sensations were on full alert and I felt pleasure as I ran.  I felt right in my place in the universe; an uncanny calm and sense of purpose overcame me.  The combination of exploring alone, an enchanting landscape, and being in a storm in a novel environment combined to trigger a sensual experience.  It made me feel basic, human at the core, in touch with my instincts.  I was exposed to nature, feeling naked in the storm, and thriving. 

I continued along; the rain and wind gathering strength and intensity.  It was a fantastic feeling to open my mouth and have rain water hydrate me as I swallowed small amounts of the sweet tasting stuff.  I began to encounter fallen limbs, and then whole trees, and even power lines strewn about the road.  I was undeterred only a little leery of a tree falling on me or a live wire giving me a frightful jolt. 

I have said many times that I love to run in the rain.  Maybe it is because I preside in a desert where it is usually hot and dry.  Or maybe it is my love of the water.  For me it is a remarkable feeling to run in the rain, being drenched and refreshed.  It seems to have other benefits as well.  When I started the run my skin was burned, peeling, and aching.  By the end of the run, the amalgamation of sweating and rain water completely revitalized my skin. 

Running along, passing beautiful geography, excited to see what might appear next, I wanted to run, and run and run.  Alas, after only an hour and five minutes, the frenchies had managed the fastest lunch to date.  I heard the horn excitedly honk numerous times announcing the regrettable end to my run. 

One other thing to note about running in a down pour…I didn’t stink after my run.  It was like I took an hour long shower.  I’m lucky it rained otherwise I think the cramped conditions in the vehicle would have caused a mutiny, whereby the frenchies would have strapped me to the roof.