Brian Urlacher Swagger
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You Want How Much?
I came across this article today.
Here’s the take-away quote:
“A-Rod opted out of his record $252 million, 10-year contract with the New York Yankees and figures to set another high—Boras told the Yankees they would have to put a $350 million offer on the table just to get a meeting with Rodriguez.”
Just take a second and re-read that. Opting out of a $252 million deal and wants $350 million. What? Are you kidding? When was the last time you went to the World Series, A-Rod? Yes, I know you hold lots of records for home runs, including being the AL MVP, but you gotta produce real results before you can demand a $350 million contract.
The owners need to put a stop to this. Decide nobody’s going to touch him. Offer him league minimum until he produces. Sure he’s got potential, but you don’t get paid for potential. You get paid for results.
You know, professional sports is not the only place I see this. Take a look at some information on CEO Compensation. It’s funny, because many corporations are going to a variable-pay/pay-for-performance model for employees. Of course the pay-to-performance ratio at the lower levels is still nowhere near the ratio at the upper levels. Go figure.
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San Jose International Triathlon
4:30AM. Roll out of bed, put on my shorts, jersey, and warmups, brush my teeth, get my bags (food and gear) together, and head out the door. I eat a PB&J sandwich on the way, and arrive at Lake Almaden Park just as the sun is rising. I find a spot in the transition area and start set up. Bike in the rack, towel on the ground, running shoes, hat, race belt, food. Cycling shoes, socks, helmet on the aerobars, clean the sunglasses and put them in my helmet, ready for wear. I munch on half a clif bar before I make the requisite stop at the porta-potty. Luckily, I get there before the long gets ridiculously long and only have to wait a couple minutes. I make my way over to the body marking tent, and chat a bit with my friend Ruth, who happens to be racing today as well, with the UC Davis team.
6:30. I do a quick bare-footed jog on the grassy areas of the park, avoiding duck presents, and then stretch as I examine the swim course and take in the scenery. I make my way back to my bike for one last check to make sure everything is in place. Water bottles, shoes, socks, timing chip on my ankle, food, in my hat, race belt and bib on my running shoes. Helmet and sunglasses. Yep, it all looks good. I grab my swim cap and goggles and make my way down to the water. After helping a guy zip up his wetsuit and stretching a bit more, I get in the water for a quick warm-up swim, noting that there are only a few other guys swimming without wetsuits. The water is warm, but pretty murky – in no small part thanks to the ducks, I’m sure – and I can barely see beyond my outstretched arm. Ah well, not much better than Folsom Lake, but definitely not as clear as the pool. And no conveniently-placed black line at the bottom (at least not that I can see).
7:00. Time to send off the first wave – the pros and all the collegiate competitors. The bagpipes tune of “Amazing Grace” starts coming over the P.A. and we count down to send off wave one. 3… 2… 1… With a gunshot and a cheer they’re gone. My wave is next. We get in the water, and strangely enough, only a few guys really head out while most of us kind of just hang back until the last moments before they start us off. And so they send us out to start our race. I manage to keep up with the back of the pack to the first buoy. And then I somehow end up a bit wide of the path everyone else is taking. Okay, minor adjustment as I make my way to the second buoy. My arms are moving pretty fast, and I’m keeping up with the couple guys next to me, but then I decide to smooth my stroke out a bit, relax, and make sure I’m catching some water. I’m breathing every other stroke and sighting when I can. Things are pretty uneventful until I get near the 4th buoy. I manage to be wide yet again and almost end up beached on the shore. I make the turn to the last buoy and then the last turn for the home stretch – where, once again, I’m swimming over grass and rocks (but I think everyone else is, too).
I emerge from the water 29:48 later to AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long”. I rip off my cap and goggles as I run up the carpets to the transition area. All the way around the horseshoe, drop off my goggles and cap, grab a bite of the clif bar, put on my socks, shoes, glasses, and helmet, and start walking my bike out to where I can mount up.
The bike ride starts off feeling pretty good. I take it easy at first, not really letting it bother me that people are passing me. The first half of the ride is into a bit of a headwind, but mostly flat. Ruth passes me a few miles in, and I gradually try to pick up the pace as I go. I notice that many riders are passing me in clumps. Almost everyone is pushing a pretty big gear (bigger than the one I’m riding in), and they’re bikes probably cost a multipe of what I paid for mine – Kestrel, Lightspeed, Orbea, and some I’d never even heard of before. Anyway, I make the turnaround and notice something – things just got a lot easier! I ratchet up through the gears and am now moving at a pretty good clip. As I make the turn on to Bailey, I realize I should probably eat my gel before the hill. That slows me down a bit, but again, I’m not worried. I’m just here to have some fun.
And we start the climb of the “hill”. After Auburn International, most hills look pretty tame. I manage to pass a couple people as I climb the hill and start the descent. I take it easy down the hill, as they’ve posted warning signs that the road is steep and bumpy – exaggerated for insurance reasons, I’m sure, as I didn’t really notice anything too bumpy or steep. Eventually, I’m riding in top gear (or close to it), and passing more people. I’m pushing harder, and it definitely feels like I’m working. As we near the end of the bike, I drop down a couple of gears to spin my legs down a bit, and I slip one foot out of its shoe. I don’t manage to get the other one out before we have to dismount (and swerve a bit as I try, almost causing a pile-up). So I walk my bike through the transition area with one sock and one shoe.
I rack my bike, pop off my helmet and shoe, and get ready for the run. Running shoes on, hat on (I remembered to put it on this time!), race number on, spray on some more sunblock, grab my gel, and head out. Again, I start off pretty slow, letting my legs get used to running after 1:17:34 on the bike.
And again, people pass me on the early part of the run (well, throughout most of the run, actually). A woman who’d passed me on the bike (and then I passed her, etc) caught up with me on the run about mile 1. We chat for a bit as we run before she pushes on ahead. The run consists of two out-and-back sections – the first section covers the first 2 or so miles, and the second one makes up the rest. Most of the run is pretty uneventful. I run alongside a guy in my age group for a while, and we chat until I pick up the pace before mile 4. My legs now feel surprisingly strong, and I’m able to hold a pretty comfortable pace. It’s so comfortable, in fact, that I don’t notice how quickly the finish is approaching and I don’t start my finish sprint until I’m almost in the chute. Ah well, so I may have been able to shave a little bit of time off my 56:58 run, but it doesn’t matter. I finished and I had fun doing it.
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Auburn International Triathlon
Ah, here I am. After countless hours of swimming, biking, and running, it’s race day. I had set up my bike-to-run transition the night before, and double-checked it again this morning, before riding my bike down to the swim area. I meet up with some of the others I know who are doing the race, and chat for a bit as we set up our transition areas, get marked, and put on our wet suits.
We make our way down to the boat launch as the announcer is describing the sprint course and the long course. I take a quick warm-up swim and make it back a little before the send out the first wave of swimmers in the sprint. Five minutes later, they send out the second wave in the sprint. Then it’s our turn. Men 39 and under for the long course. We have two minutes before they send us out. We swim out to the start, and I try not to get out too far forward since I really don’t feel like being bumped excessively. 3… 2… 1… GO! We start our swim, and I get bumped a little as we make our way to the first buoy, a left-hand turn. Then things start to spread out and I try to get into my rhythm. I have to keep reminding myself to slow my arms down and make sure I grab some water. I also have to remember to pop my head out of the water from time to time to make sure I’m not off-course. Okay, second buoy 180-degree right-hand turn. I get into my rhythm and keep going, making my way to the third buoy. Another right-hand turn, right next to the buoy, and I start to pick up the pace. Of course, the next time I remember to bob my head up, I realize I’m a bit off course and need to get over to the right. Alright, adjustment made, and I pick up the pace. Ah, there it is, the boat ramp. I set my feet down, and run up the ramp, stripping my wet suit off to the waist along the way. A quick look at my watch reveals that I did the swim in about 37 minutes, a new personal record. I find my bike, put on my shoes, sunglasses, and helmet, and put my wet suit and towel in my backpack. A quick stop in the porta-potty, and I’m on my way, taking a couple bites of my Clif Bar.
And so begins the bike leg. I stay in a low gear, so my legs warm up slowly. I make the turn onto Shirland Tract Rd and get ready for the hills. My legs feel okay, but still a weak, the way they’d been feeling on recent rides. Unfortunately, a few minutes in, I reach down to put my water bottle back and start to wobble a bit. I wasn’t going fast enough to keep my balance, and then someone pulled up next to me. I topple over, nearly taking out the guy next to me, and scraping my left elbow on the asphalt. I pick myself up and realize that the gels I had taped to my top tube have all ripped off. Great. I eat one and throw the others in my pocket, hoping they don’t ooze all over my back. Alright, back on my bike and riding up the hills to the Dam Overlook. Most of the ride is pretty uneventful. I ditch my water bottle and open gels, and pick up some fresh cold water at the first aid station. Around mile 20, I see the first-place rider making his way back to the Overlook. Around mile 25, I see Tim, and then Todd, Kirk, and, later, Richard, making their way back, too. Next, I shoot my way down a windy road to the Bear River campground. The good news is that it was a fast downhill. The bad news is that I then had to climb back up the other side.
Finally, mile 30. We’re on our way back to the Overlook. I find myself riding near a few people going about the same pace I am, and we chat a bit as we go. Near mile 35, I pass a woman, and then, as I near the mile 38 aid station, I start feeling a mild cramp in my upper left quad. Great. I ditch my water bottle for some cold Cytomax, and that helps almost immediately. Later, I see a rider at the side of the road, waving inner tubes around. I stop and see if he needs help. It turns out he’d pinched his spare, so I give him my spare tube. He asks for my race number and says he’ll try to remember it at the finish. I say it’s not a big deal and make my way along. Eventually, I catch up to the woman I’d passed before. We end up passing each other a few more times on the way to the bike-to-run transition. I pull in off the bike at about 4 hours, 15 minutes, throw on my running shoes, fill up my pocket with whatever I need, and make my way out onto the run course.
I grab some pretzels on my way, and start out on the trail, just behind the woman I had passed on the bike. Unfortunately, there will be no passing her again. My legs just don’t want to go. I try running on the trail, but eventually am relegated to a shuffle. Then I have to start walking up hills. I try running a bit again, but can’t keep it up for very long. My legs just feel tired and tight. I end up walking most of the first 7-mile loop. I meet a couple of other people in my position and we walk and try to jog together. As I complete the first loop, I decide I’m going to stop. There’s no point in trying to finish at this point. I tell the people at the aid station. They ask me if I’m sure and tell me I look like I can do it. I tell them my legs just won’t go. I make my way to the race officials and turn in my timing chip. They ask me if I’m sure. Really. I’m sure. I’m a little sad, but spending 1 hour, 45 minutes running and walking 7 miles did not bode well for my health over the next 6 miles.
And that’s it. I get a big, fat DNF for this race. It’s no wonder they call it “The World’s Toughest Half”
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