If you have occasion to run into Angry Chad and there is time for a run , send him on his way. I can only describe the resulting demeanor as Happy-Go-Lucky- Chad.

Case in point: Rucks has had a rough week and I have been stuck in between Steps 1 and 2 on the Angry Chad chart for days on end now. Its been a quiet week, kind of a downer. So the weather is not too bad today and Rucks goes out for a lunch time run. He has been prescibed some “efforts” so I am told, and I am wondering how things will shake out this afternoon.

He is gone for a what seems like a while and I ask a co-worker if he thinks I should go out and look for him(refer to any number of documented incidents above for an expanation of why I was concerned.) Just as I am getting ready to send out a search party, around the corner comes happy-go-lucky-Chad. We immediatly have skipped to step 5 and the all-clear has been sent out.

Realizing this I timidly ask “What took so long” , praying that he would not revert back to his previous state

It is very likely Angry Chad will not arrive to and start the ride. What typically happens is that he shows up around 1.5 to 2 hours into a ride or workout, Angry Chad sneaks up on you and may take you by surprise: I have been asked before “Whats his problem” and the response is ” Oh that’s Angry Chad, you haven’t met him yet?” so here are the steps I have compiled from personal experience to follow once you realize Angry Chad has appeared. Considering the outcome of the National Championship game last night I think this will be very useful information in the coming days/weeks.

1) Do not under any circumstance make eye contact. Its a little like dealing with a gorilla, if you make eye contact it is perceived as a hostile gesture and the resulting tantrum will only exacerbate an already volatile situation

2) Do not speak to Angry Chad unless spoken too. From experience, this step could last 1 hour to multiple days, maybe even weeks.

3) Once spoken too, keep the talk business. there is to be no joking at this point, especially at Rucks expense. Offer specific help as opposed to encouragement. Questions like do you need a gel? do you need some salt tabs? Do you need me to make a call to mommy work much better than blanket statements like “you are doing good for a big guy or “its ok today is really hot out”

4) Slow the pace down. This can be implemented whether it is a ride or a run. Angry Chad doesn’t like knowing he is screwing up your workout (Angry Chad evidently has a conscience), so you have to be careful and make sure you act like you are still working hard.

5) Once you are spoken to by Rucks/Angry Chad this is the all-clear that Angry Chad has receded into the shadows and the carefree Rucks is back

Intro

Here we are on the eve of the big day; it has been a long and interesting 8 months to say the least. A journey that officially started 364 days ago has almost come to fruition. What follows is intended to lighten the mood of one of the 2600 people competing in the ninth running of the Ironman at Panama City Beach (PCB). For the rest of us, it is purely for enjoyment. So, if you see Rucks at a SCV clothing distribution, on a group ride, or out on the town, thank him for allowing us to laugh with him (well – mostly at him) as his life has been on display for us to read about. I know it has been fun for me, I hope you guys have liked it too.

Rucks can spin a good yarn in person, and before this story, I had heard some interesting things about our boy, but nothing that demonstrated the pattern of ineptitude that eventually was uncovered by RS #2. This was the ground zero, the genesis – the day I realize that RUCKS SUCKS!

This is the much anticipated, much talked about, much debated final installment of the Rucks Sucks thread. If you are an endurance athlete, a triathlete in particular, then what follows has undoubtedly happened to you as well. So before we jump to conclusions and start judging with statements such as “that is so stupid it could only happen to Rucks”, we need to look no further than the mirror for another unlucky soul that this has happened to (or will happen to). This situation is akin to the bike crash analogy. There are two groups: those who have crashed and those who will eventually crash; it is a matter of inevitability.

There are four different perspectives from which this story could be told, and four people (until now) have been sworn to secrecy. The vault has been opened and now the story can be told in all its glory. There are many layers, and it is funny on many different levels. The perspective this will be told from is mine. I vow to you that this story is true, as are all Rucks Sucks stories. So, without further adieu, I give you RS#2.

The Set Up

It begins, as a lot of classic RS stories: Ironman Florida 2006. Ben West, Kevin “ The Irish Missile” Boucher, Chad Rucks, and Malibu have planned to go on the yearly pilgrimage to watch the race, cheer on the other local athletes, and sign up for next years race (Rucks was the only one doing this part). We had taken Thursday and Friday off from work and drove down Wednesday evening. We had rented a house and were looking to get some training mileage on our legs while in Florida. At the last minute Rucks had to go to Chicago for work, and ended up flying to PCB International Airport on Thursday afternoon. This freed up a seat in Ben’s (now defunct) Subaru. My wife got the great idea that this would be the perfect time for me and my 2 and a half year old son to take our first road trip together. So now it’s these four clowns and a toddler. Bridget has an MBA and is a sharp lady, and to this day I can’t understand why she thought this would be a good idea, but since she is the boss and I am perfectly capable of taking care of a toddler, I rolled with it and thought it would be a great experience.

It is now seems for me, taking my bike on this trip was a waste of time. But as fate would have it, Chad’s gear arrived late on Thursday evening. He had been up since the wee hours to catch his flight so he wanted to sleep in on Friday morning. He volunteered to watch Hayden while Ben, The Irish Missile, and I went out for a three hour spin on the bike. The plan was to come back after three hours and Chad would ride the last four hours of Bens massive seven hour base ride. The first part of the plan worked flawlessly. Rucks slept in, changed a couple of diapers, took Hayden to McDonalds (getting a couple of phone numbers in the process), and I got in 3 hours of riding. The second part of the plan is where the fireworks begin…..

Part 1:

We get back from the ride and I take over diaper duty. The 3 amigos are off to finish the ride. They get back with no hitches for the most part; the only problem is that they cut the ride a little short. It seems the wind had picked up considerably and Ben and Chad decided to do a transition run. This is where it starts to get interesting. Hayden is taking a nap and tucked nicely into bed in the back room. I am showered, cleaned and perched on the couch watching TV. The Missile is taking one of his patented afternoon siestas for which he is famous. Ben comes in from the “Brick” run, without Rucks in tow, and I ask: “Where is Chad?” Ben responds, “Oh, he is back there, he was right behind me“. A few minutes pass and I start to get just a little concerned (keep in mind this is pre RucksSucks and I had no idea what Rucks was actually capable of). Ben is now showered, a few more minutes had passed and I ask “Hey man, can you watch Hayden for a minute? I am going to check on Chad“. I get the keys and am walking out the front door when Rucks comes walking up the street in front of the house. Here comes the good part.

I am now back on the couch, Rucks walked in the front door looking VERY worked. As he walks past me I notice something is not right, but I can’t put my finger on it. Did he lose a water bottle? - No. Is he limping or hurt? – No. I know what it is! And then I ask a fateful question, a question that if left unasked would have let certain events slip unnoticed into oblivion forever. But unfortunately for Rucks, my keen sense of awareness kicked in and I uttered the now famous line, “Hey, didn’t you leave out of here with a t-shirt on?” (The reason I noticed was that I thought it was odd that someone would go running with a cycling jersey on with a t-shirt over it). Chad takes two more steps and stops in his tracks; he is contemplating something very heavy, very deep, and very important. After the pause he turns to me and says” Uuumm- yeaaah, about that shirt.” Since something similar had happened to me before, I immediately realized what had happened and started to laugh hysterically.

Maybe it was the grease in the Waffle House food, or all the organic goodies in the cliff bars he had eaten on the ride, we will probably never know for sure. Rucks had eaten something that did not agree with him causing an unfortunate incident that resulted in him having to discard the T-shirt after business had been taken care of. Rucks is not too thrilled with all of my cackling at his expense, but stands there and takes it like a man. After a minute, Ben comes out asking what all the commotion is about. I am still laughing and Rucks is standing there looking like he might stomp me at any second. I get Ben up to speed, we have some more laughs, and it’s on with the story.

Part 2

Chad begins the story with “Let me tell you what not to do” and proceeds to tell us in detail what had transpired. Ben and Chad had been running and all was ok, then Rucks got “That Feeling“, we have all had that feeling, when nature is calling and there are absolutely no bathrooms around. He thinks to himself, “Ok, I will slow down and it will subside“. Well it did not subside, what it DID do was get worse. So he runs a little further and begins to realize that his engines are primed and ready, and “Take-Off” is imminent. The situation is dire. The particular run he was doing was on Front Beach Road. There were motels across the street on the beach side, condos on the side he was running on. So at this point he realizes that this IS going down right now, there is no way around it. His stomach has made that churning sound and all systems are go. He looks across the street and takes four, maybe five clinched baby steps toward the motel, hoping to make it to the lobby restroom. After these four steps, he realizes this plan is a no go and stops. He thinks to himself, “There are bushes a few yards off the road in front of the condos, surely I can make that“. He takes four or five more clinched baby steps toward the bushes and he stops dead in his tracks (incidentally right back where he had started), and realizes this unfortunately WILL be the spot right where he stands. Now, I find it interesting that with all the construction in PCB, our boy had passed at least two port-o-potties and was in sight of another. But that is neither here nor there.

He is now standing there helpless to the fact that one of the two most basic human bodily functions is about to happen out in the open, 10 feet off Front Beach Road, in front of some condos, across the street from a motel, and there is absolutely nothing he could do about it. He was, however, on the absolute greenest, most lush patch of grass within a five mile radius, so that was a plus. Still taking baby steps toward the bushes in a futile attempt to get out of sight, he realizes no amount of clinching was going to delay the inevitable one more second. It was time for “The Move“. Everyone male and female alike is well versed in this maneuver and it must be implemented for business to take place. “The Move” is the pulling down of any below the waste garments that one has on while simultaneously squatting. It is a standard move, and must be done whether there is actually a toilet present or not. It was at this point that he realized in his present clothing situation, “The Move” could not be attempted just yet. “Why… you may ask?” Because he had cycling BIBS on, and to make matters worse, he was decked out in the brand spanking new WHITE SCV kit from head to toe.

At this point, he rips the T-shirt off, frantically unzips the jersey, and throws it to the side. The current “business” at hand is superseding any concerns about decency (public in-decency to be exact). The jersey is off, the bib straps are off both shoulders, and Rucks is free to execute “The Move” as it is naturally intended .Ahhhhh…relief! Sweet mother – FINALLY (he thinks to himself). The moment is finally here and with all the stress and build up, Rucks is actually relieved both mentally and physically. Only after he is finished does he realize the brevity of his situation. He is squatting 10 feet from Front Beach Road with no shirt on, has white cycling bibs around his ankles (held out away from his body with his free hand so as not to get them soiled), and for all intents and purposes, he is as naked as the day he was born. In this moment of sad realization, a car passes (I picture it cruising by in slow motion – like that classic scene in the movie Fargo) and eye contact is made with the passenger. Chad gives a sad pathetic wave in conjunction with that Rucks look of “what are you gonna do?” Rucks makes a command decision to use the T-shirt for clean up purposes and decides he needs to get out of there ASAP. He formulates a straightforward and simple plan: to get some dang clothes on and get the heck out of sight. So, up come the bibs, on goes the jersey and he sprints back to the house before someone calls the cops.

Somewhere during the time that Chad was telling this story to Ben and me, The Missile comes out of his hibernation, awakened by my cackling laughter. He says, “What is going on? I have not heard that laughter in exactly 365 days.” (It was a year ago to the day that Chad had told us the story of RS#191 on the way to Ironman Florida 2005). Needless to say, the story gets funnier every time it is told and Chad reluctantly tells it again for The Missile. Upon the second telling of the story, the fact that Chad had a heart rate monitor strap on comes out, adding another layer to this cake of a story. After all is said and done, Rucks swears us to secrecy for life and tries to forget it ever happened. Meanwhile, I spend the next three days pointing out nice green patches of grass that Rucks might find suitable for doing business…

Per Chad, I got the @##hole award for the 2006 trip

Skinny Jeans

While we were in Hawaii, my wife and I did a bit of running around without the kids( good reason for taking the parents..” Dad I would really be honored if you could go see me do this race……” ). One night we saw someone drinking an energy drink and my wife asks the lady

I thought with all the vitamins and caffine it might pep Rucks up a little since the IM blues hava already set in, and I am having to hang out with Angry Chad more often now…..

Or at the very least it might help him get into those skinny jeans he has been shooting for

I just got the official word: The e-mail has been sent to Ironman North America to change our boy’s confirmed status in the race from agegroup to clydesdale. It looks like the smackdown is back on baby!!!!

He will be racing with a couple spare tires that will be bringing some Queen K Highway karma to the panhandle of Florida. He will also be channeling some Kona Karma through his HR monitor.

Should be deep into a taper, and trying to get odds and ends taken care of……

Well the hay is in the barn now -or whatever the saying is that Gigantor is fond of- and Rucks and everyone should be thinking taper and rest right now. Nothing left to be done to gain any fitness between now and Nov3. There is however lots that could be done to hurt the fitness so lets see if he keeps his head on strait, I am personally hoping for an uneventful 13 days. We will have big problems if an RS come up in the next few days that starts with something like “ Let me tell you what not to do 2 weeks out from an IM“.

On a different note I just received a high level overview of a new restaurant downtown called Genghis Grill: Mongolian BBQ. During this review I was instructed on the best way to maximize ones total amount of food without springing the 12.99 for the all you can eat dinner. Lets just say it involved the mashing of lots of layers of beef and sausage together into a bowl(while the cook is distracted ) and then balancing vegetables on the top, and asking for 2 scoops of rice instead of the standard single, all while casually acting like you are on a diet.

So as they say: “Its all over but the crying”