rob balucas

Catalyst. Creative. Triathlete. Speaker. Cigar Aficionado. Amateur Behavioral Psychologist. Fresh Spring Roll Addict. Paraplegic at the moment.

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coffee love | year 7 update

Seven years ago today was the day I suffered a paralyzing spinal cord injury.

As you know, I had started a streak of celebrating with food .. that has not held up.

Year 1 was chicken fried steak and eggs, 
year 2 was a fancy milkshake, 
year 3 was fresh spring rolls,
year 4, 5, 6 .. I’m sure I did something, but I didn’t write about it and subsequently forgot.

This year I have nothing planned on this day, but I did smoke tri-tip with my cousins last weekend and that’s going to count.

Today is a big day of reflection for me. I’ve been reading my annual anniversary updates and looking back through pictures of all my exploits. 

For some reason this picture from the day before my injury sticks in my head: 

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Rob Balucas (@robbalucas)

It represents my normal routine back then, working from a favorite coffee shop in the city. It also represents finding joy in everyday things like this coffee cup.

I believe that taking a minute – before getting on with work – to recognize and relish in such a small moment is a key component to the attitude and underlying character that allowed me to quickly get back to living after paralysis.

It’s a choice to take a minute. A choice we all are capable of making.
(And this is the whole thesis to this writing and most writing I do.)

Which brings us to today.

We’re 7 years into this wheelchair journey. 
I’m 45 years into life as of last week.
We’re 31 days from the IRONMAN World Championships in Kona.

The biggest thing that has been coming up in the last year is what I call ‘Cynicism Creep’.

Reading my past entries, there’s a LOT of positive. A lot of excitement and a lot of high vibration. But last year I missed writing an annual update. I wrote about the circumstances in last week’s blog. 

Add to that the pandemic, the state of conflict both in our country and around the world, and – this particular week – the HEAT wave here in the west.  The tone of our world gives plenty of reason to get cynical.

So where does that leave us? 

Here’s where it leaves me: Focus on what we can control. Create beauty, create smiles where we can.

What if we all were more attentive to our Cynicism Creep? Could we change the course of things big and small in our world? I think so.

Some experts also think so:

Kona, this blog, and pictures of my coffee cup are my efforts.

What are yours?


So about the wine

I tried to NOT ask for support this year. But I’ve found most days are battle to decide which gets more attention: training/rest/recovery or work. Working for myself, I only get paid for the time I work. Travel, physical therapy, tires, tubes, little incidental things – they have been adding up.

So one last time for my personal journey.

Any contribution is welcome, if you’re willing and able! It means a ton financially – and I kid you not – emotionally it means just as much, if not more.  Links are below.

And if you’re down with great wine, at $200 we’ll ship you a bottle of Housley’s Century Oak Winery 2017 Cabernet Sauvignon with a custom #teambalucas label (shown above).

Details below. Links here:

works too (better actually) »

contribute now »

Use this link to send me your mailing address – click here.


progress report 88%

$5,000 of $5,000


Details:

Shipping: If you are in Southern California and we’ll most likely see each other soon, you can subtract $20 in shipping costs if you choose. 

Timing: we may still wait until favorable wine shipping weather (read: not so hot). But expect it before Halloween.

If you don’t want wine or want to contribute less: that’s perfectly fine too. Just send me a message/email/text if you don’t want the wine.

How the wine came to be: read about my connection to the Housley Family.

September 5, 2022

2021 IRONMAN 70.3 Lubbock Race Recap

Photo by Scott Flathouse

One of my favorite books has a chapter titled, ‘Know your real edge and don’t fake it.’

I have found through my triathlon journey, both before and after my spinal cord injury, that my real edge is always farther out than I thought it was.

Meaning, I am consistently capable of more than I thought when I challenge that thought.

I believe that is true for all of us. Especially those who tell me they could never do a triathlon.

I see all kinds cross that triathlon finish line. Big, small, tall, short, paraplegic, quadraplegic, missing a limb, missing two limbs, cerebral palsy, heart attack, stroke, traumatic brain injury, congenial birth defect … you name it, someone has overcome it.

But I’ve pushed farther and farther, so much so that people argue with me that I’m just an average athlete (which all the data supports).

Case in point, my last major race: the 2019 IRONMAN 70.3 World Championships in Nice, France.

It ended in a DNF (Did Not Finish) because I didn’t make a hard time cut-off on the bike. There is, of course, more to that story and maybe I’ll write it up another day.

But coming home from such a defeat really stung and made me question everything.

Maybe I found my edge.

And maybe it was time to move on.

It mostly came down to swimming. I don’t have the benefit of 10,000 hours towards mastery many put in during their childhood. I picked up swimming in my late 30’s in order to do a triathlon.

During the race in Nice, I spent too much time and energy in the water. It put me too far behind in the race to make the hard time cut-off.

I didn’t admit it too many people, but I came home struggling to find motivation because maybe I just reached the edge.

Trying to balance my small business and relationship and training, I didn’t have any more time than I was already putting in to get better at swimming and make a difference in a race any time soon. Or even in time for next year.

And then a few months later, the pandemic hit.

All the races were eventually cancelled.

I decided now I have a year to get better. So I put my head down in 2020 and got to training. In the garage on the trainer, in our pool tied with a tether strap to the side. Eventually some pools opened with strict scheduling and distancing. We went to the pool almost every weekend since last September.

Earlier this year I really had my own crisis about it again, with a good sprinkle of lockdown fatigue that we all had.

There are 2 races globally where Handcycle Division slots to Kona are won this year: Finland and Lubbock, Texas.

I was looking at the competition; looking at my lack of progress in swim times; looking at how the cards were stacked for and against me to again qualify for the IRONMAN World Championships in Kona, Hawaii.

After a lot of consternation, I decided to stay committed to the goal I set.

 

“Commitment is doing what you said you would, long after the mood you said it in has left.”

// unkown

 

I’m going to put in the work that I’m capable of,
run the best race that I can,
and let the cards fall where they may.

And so I trained, no longer looking back.

Watching 2021 unfold, they set a date for the Lubbock race. Since both Erika and I had been fully vaccinated, we decided to plan as if it was going to happen.

That brings us to the weather.

The first year we went in 2018, It was 102ºF with 27 mph sustained winds, gusts to 48 mph.

The second year we went in 2019, it was a [relative] wonderful 95ºF with minimal winds.

The third year in 2020 was .. cancelled 48 hours before the race due to COVID and luckily we had already postponed as the pandemic loomed large.

We started monitoring the weather a few weeks ahead of the race and it showed a high under 80ºF, but with chances of thunderstorms on race day … so we just noted that as we prepared for the trip.

We decided to take an extra day on both sides of the race and drive – mostly because we couldn’t be certain that airlines wouldn’t damage my wheelchair, race chair, or handcycle (which is unfortunately VERY common); and we wouldn’t risk fellow airplane passengers pulling stunts like they have been with frequency lately.

As race day came near, the chances of thunderstorms only got worse.

It was somewhat of an elephant in the room. They didn’t address it at the race briefing. They didn’t talk about contingency plans…

BUT, there were no thunderstorms on race day. It would barely reach 80º, which was awesome.

No, the thunderstorms came the night before the race.

AFTER we had all checked in our bikes in the transition area out in the open.

I arrived in the morning to a puddle in my handcycle seat which was completely drenched.

It was still drizzling in the dark and we had to contend with mud everywhere around the small lake we swam in.

It also made the lake really murky if you can imagine what intense rain churns up in a shallow man-made lake.

And it was all that and more. The 3 of us in the handcycle division started first, in the dark.

The other two competitors, on top of being better swimmers, have less disability relative to me (meaning that they have more core and/or leg function than me).

And as we expected they were much faster in the water.

I came out 22 minutes behind, even though it was a 2 minute personal best for me.

I went out on the bike and made up 17 minutes on the second place guy.

It was a new bike course and they all but eliminated the climbing.

[rant warning] It appears that while today’s triathlete says they want a challenge, they really just want to go fast but not hard. It seems like the registrations went up a lot with this new course.

So I beat my 2019 time by 42 minutes through wet roads and one very big puddle, but it only got me within 5 minutes of second place.

And only first and second place go to Kona.

That IS me saying, “WAAAAHOOOO!!”

I knew I had a chance of catching second place because this new run course was 3 laps around the Texas Tech campus. It was full of turning and 180º out and back sections.

On a racing wheelchair, all that sharp turning is a technical skill one has to master because race chairs aren’t built for sharp road turns. They are built for the gradual curve of a traditional track.

And then .. technical difficulties.

In the first mile or two of the total 13.2, one of the rubber pads on the paddle I use to push against the push rim wheels and propel myself forward … well, it just straight up fell off.

Which meant I couldn’t hit the pushrim as hard as I wanted, and generate my maximum speed.

In the next mile I found my race chair was steering to the left and I had to continually compensate, again cramping my ability to really crank hard.

I tried to fix it and accidentally unscrewed the ‘compensator’ completely. I had to stop completely and another able-bodied competitor stopped to help me and we got it fixed.

But by then it was too late.

I had no chance to make up those 5 minutes and ended up 22 minutes behind second place. While the competitor in me was still angry and annoyed for the next 24 hours, I did what I had set out to do.

I trained the best Rob Balucas could.

I laid down the best race Rob Balucas was capable of.

With a big asterisk of a new, very flat, very different course from 2019; I PR’d every element of the race even with the race chair issues.

I hit my bike and run goals, and missed my swim goal by 2 minutes.

Photo by Scott Flathouse
24_m-FPIX-3-00985937-DIGITAL_HIGHRES-3917_023173-8872
39_m-FPIX-3-00985937-DIGITAL_HIGHRES-3917_034744-8887
53_m-FPIX-3-00985937-DIGITAL_HIGHRES-3917_052398-8901
95843C83-8C4A-447C-8C77-32B691067C1E_1_105_c
EE2A4189-7235-4647-9DA2-3D7A41CCCA04_1_105_c
2726799C-E23F-4498-93F9-A835AC7ED8B1_1_105_c
A82CA604-48E5-4318-B5F3-3CB3E77DF9E5_1_105_c
2EE8021B-9D85-4E92-90A4-CF0EE214C190_1_105_c
C41AE574-F8EA-4C67-9C34-76C61205A524_1_105_c
It's Mo!
It’s Mo!
C10FAE01-90C6-4CBD-ACA2-E585B10B63D0

So what now?

I did not qualify for the IRONMAN World Championships in Kona this year.

I did qualify for the IRONMAN 70.3 Championships in St. George, Utah.

But I decided not to go. St. George. St. George is an extremely difficult course with bike climbing at altitude – similar to what I faced in Nice, France. But for me, and for the expense, I didn’t have interest in another 70.3.

For me, it’s time to tackle a full distance IRONMAN.

I’ve been allowed to enter IRONMAN California in Sacramento on October 24th.

I’m very excited because it is the inaugural year of this new race – the only full distance IRONMAN in California.

(With some exceptions, only certain races are Handcycle Division-approved and I have to petition race directors to allow me to race.)

It’s time to test for a new edge.

Can I improve my swim enough in the next 110 days to swim 2.4 miles before the cut-off time? And then complete 112 miles of handcycling followed by a 26.2 mile marathon?

We’ll see.


Continued training ensues.

I haven’t yet put together the same crowdfunding campaign as in prior years. I’m working on that, but the bucket for it is setup.

But as in prior years, the financial demands of all the equipment necessary are high. I just recently found that my race chair wheels are cracked and bent and need replacement. Those alone are $3,000. I’m open to and work through sponsorships, so if you know of any please let me know!

Beyond that, if you’re so inclined:

 
contribute now »
works too »

July 5, 2021

9/5/2020 update | Year 5

Today is the 5-year mark since my injury.

Yeah. Time flies, right?

There is so much to share. So much has happened in the last year alone…

But what’s pressing on my mind is a realization I had while watching the documentary Crip Camp on Netflix:

Netflix describes it as “On the heels of Woodstock, a group of teen campers are inspired to join the fight for disability civil rights. This spirited look at grassroots activism is executive produced by President Barack Obama and Michelle Obama. … A groundbreaking summer camp galvanizes a group of teens with disabilities to help build a movement, forging a new path toward greater equality.”
It basically tells the story of the group of teens with disabilities who fought for eventually what became the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA).

I really encourage you to watch it, I won’t give more of the story away.

But what I really got from it is that I stand on the shoulders of giants.

Giants with every kind of disability.

Giants with wheelchairs.
Giants with crutches.
Giants with congenital birth defects.
Giants who got hit by buses (watch the documentary).
And other all other kinds of disabled GIANTS.

Now when I walk my dog and cross a street at the curb cutout, I think of this group who occupied a Federal office building in San Francisco for 26 days with all the health issues and risks that I have.

When I park in a handicap parking spot and have the ability to open my door wide and pull out my wheelchair, I think about how these warriors lived life with none of these conveniences.

Many fellow wheelchair users consider me a baby wheelie even at this 5-year mark. I used to refute that moniker.

But after watching this documentary, I realize: yes I am a baby in this new world for me. These people who fought for my ability to access the everyday world with ease are my defacto elders.

—

There’s a part in the documentary where some guy in the Nixon administration says that curb cutouts and dedicated parking spots, amongst other things, were a difficult expense for the budget when compared to the percentage of people who would benefit.

I remember one of my first managers at my first job out of college (many, many years ago) said in an off-hand comment during a happy hour the same sentiment. I didn’t think too much of it back then, but it stuck with me because I think I knew it wasn’t right.


“Prejudice can’t survive proximity…”

// Stephen Beresford

What became the ADA isn’t perfect. Enforcement and compliance aren’t perfect. People don’t comply and block/park in/use fake issues in handicap parking all the time.

But holy shit would my life be different if these people’s point of view won out. It would be incredibly harder and more frustrating to operate in this world.

I physically shudder at the thought.

I didn’t have an appreciation for wheelchair living before now because I didn’t have any proximity.

Now that I’m a part of this world and the proximity is my everyday life, I obviously see it from a different angle.

…and I’m not talking about the 4’2” perspective I now have, sitting in a wheelchair.

There is a quote I love by Stephen Beresford, “Prejudice can’t survive proximity, it melts away when you meet and speak to those you fear”.

It’s so relevant in today’s world.

It’s so easy to write off those who are different, especially if we’re not exposed to those people.

But when suddenly a family member comes out of the closet; or someone close becomes disabled … that’s when people’s hearts change and their eyes open. That is when the preconceived notions and priorities change.

It’s disappointing we humans operate that way at times.

But not all humans. And not all the time.

I’ve been fortunate to meet MANY people who have open eyes and open hearts. I make sure to surround myself with them.

It’s a matter of choice, I believe. It’s a matter of whether you’re able to be open or not.

And yes, proximity.

Are you looking down only at your own two feet? Or looking out to see the other people around you?

When you look out, do you do so with judgment – possibly driven by fear? Or could you look out with curiosity – maybe seeking to understand?

Sure it takes a little more energy. But the return is a little bit of connection.

And I’ve never heard of genuine connection as a detriment to one’s life and well-being.

Especially right now.


In honor of year 5, I set a goal to raise funding for Angel City Sports.

A lot of the media I’ve gotten recently is on their behalf, and it’s because they really make sports accessible. When quarantine came, they got creative and went virtual with their annual Angel City Games. And now they’re working on being able to survive.

Here’s the deal. I know if everyone who sees this donates $25, we would triple this goal.

Since I’ve moved to LA, I’ve found an awesome local community of challenged athletes and supporters in Angel City Sports (ACS). In these quarantine times, all non-profits are facing deficits and ACS is not different.

I hope to contribute to the ACS community as they rise LA youth and adults into the Paralympic Games for years to come.

If you have it, drop it in the bucket!

More Information and Contribute Here »

September 5, 2020

Times they are a changin’

change being thrust upon us is a funny thing.

It’s not so much the change being funny, but us being funny in how we react to change.

A spinal cord injury (SCI) brings this funny business into clear view in ways you wouldn’t have possibly dreamt. I was surprised by my attachments and the meaning I made up about why those things are important. It took some pretty funny catalysts for me to let go of these attachments and redefine the meaning I gave them.

In my journey, a great example of attachment and making up meaning is driving a car. I was given the basic information on how to get back on the road, driving as a paraplegic, while in rehab:

  1. Get instruction and sign-off from an accredited adaptive driving instructor
  2. a certified installer will install hand controls in your car.

The process is pretty straight forward.

but what I had made up in my mind was not so simple.

In my mind, if I gave in to driving with hand controls, then I was giving up on my focus and belief that I would walk again. And as any new SCI will tell you, the desire to walk again is very potent stuff.

But as human beings, we don’t always attach our desires and drive to the most logical and helpful things.

Sometimes, we need help unpacking our attachments – whether it be through peer counseling, professional counseling, or just sheer necessity of our circumstances.

This is a story of sheer necessity:

When I was released from rehab I moved in with my parents.

It was a shock for me, a very independent thirty-something-year-old, and it was a shock for them, as very content empty-nesters.

It didn’t take long for this living situation to break me of this meaning I had attached to driving. After six weeks of confinement to my parent’s house, I needed to get out and about at-will and ASAP.

A mentor of mine likes to say, ‘Guess what? You can walk, chew gum, and cry all at the same time.’

I decided I could still retain my desire, focus, and belief I’ll walk again; AND at the same time learn to drive with hand controls.

Once I made that simple but not-so-simple shift in mindset, I didn’t wait for the instruction, certification, and hand-control installation process. I bought some bolt-on controls on Amazon, got in a car with a friend, and drove to Starbucks. I didn’t even let not having my wallet stand in my way.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Rob Balucas (@robbalucas) on Jan 28, 2016 at 4:17pm PST

I have been on the road ever since. I’ve driven to San Francisco, Los Angeles, San Diego, and Tucson multiple times by myself with no trepidation.

Eventually, I got the certification and had permanent, secure hand controls installed in my car.

fast forward to today and I have another attachment hiding in plain sight.

My social media profile picture.

Every few months, Facebook has been not so subtly reminding me that my profile might be old and not representative of me today.


Oh Facebook, how did you know?

You see, Mr. Zuckerberg et al., I’ve been holding on to that 5-year-old picture for very personal, measured, vain, irrational, and intentional reasons.

This picture was taken by a friend as I crossed the finish line at the 2015 Wildflower Triathlon. I was proud of that picture because of the accomplishment, but also because it was looking buff. I was getting into the best shape of my life and I was getting close to 40.

I decided that I was going to keep that picture as my social media profile as my last bit of resistance to the physical specimen that I am now, confined to a wheelchair.

I’ll give in to hand controls and I’ll give in to handcycling and racing wheelchairs. But no, Universe, I’m holding onto this profile picture as my last daily reminder as to what was and what I want my life to look like again.

But you know what, I’m ready to admit I’m being silly.

I’m just ready. I’ve actually been ready for awhile now. Ready to change my attachments and meaning I give to this wildly insignificant thing.

Times they are a changin’.

It might be a good time to assess your attachments and reassess the meaning given to them. What is holding you back in silly or maybe not-so-silly and significant ways?

#youcreateyourlife

May 20, 2020

you don’t really care | year 4 update

You don’t really care.

You don’t.

You really don’t care about my races and how I do.

I really care.

See, you don’t really care about what place I finish in; or if I win or not.

But I do. I had really high expectations about a triathlon come back and how I’d surprise people.

But no one really seems to care about how I finish or if I win.

And that’s why I love my tribe.

Last year I had a hidden agenda that I wanted to qualify for either the Kona IRONMAN World Championships or the IRONMAN 70.3 World Championships (70.3 is the half IRONMAN distance).

It was an incredibly silly premise. Before the injury, I was a middle-of-the-pack age grouper who took up triathlon in his 30’s.

Last year I was a 40-year-old paraplegic, with barely 6-months of legit training.

Needless to say, one of my biggest lessons in this process has been patience.

This can also be said for the entire journey of life in a wheelchair.

fast forward to today

Today we are … 21 … days from the IRONMAN 70.3 World Championships in Nice, France. We are also 18 days from the 4th Anniversary of my crash.

To recap, 😉
Year 1 we celebrated with a handcycle ride and a massive Chicken Fried Steak.

Year 2 was celebrated with an amazing milkshake.

Year 3 I nommed on Vietnamese Fresh Spring Rolls, which are one of my top 2 foods (???? tacos fill out the list).

This year, on the Year 4 anniversary we’ll have just landed in France in preparation for the IRONMAN race. So most likely a crepe or something more Mediterranean French Riviera will definitely be in the works. If you have any suggestions, let me know.

I’m getting a little ahead of myself with writing something on the anniversary of my September 5th crash this year. However, the retrospect begins in the month of August. Primarily because I ride the Marin Century bike ride every year in early August which includes the hill I crashed on.

People ask me what it feels like riding that hill and, like all previous years, I tell them I’ve got no energy on it.

marin century ride recap

When I was first in the hospital at Marin General, I was put in an ICU room with a great view of the hill I crashed on. For the better part of a week, I watched the sunrise and sunset on that hill with no ability to sit up, turn away, or move without assistance. I had a lot of time being confronted with that hill and what it would mean to me.

I realized I don’t mean anything to that hill. It’s been here a lot longer than me; and will be here a lot longer than I will be. So I decided that hill doesn’t mean anything to me.

Ironically, I love to ride it. Descending through the redwoods and into Nicasio is beautiful. It is some of the most beautiful riding in NorCal. It’s fast and in my handcycle, I pass everybody which is a rarity for me.

It also included some riding/climbing I thought I’d never see again, including Marshall Wall and Point Reyes

Big, big shout out to the Challenged Athlete Foundation NorCal Cycling Club and Staci for answering the call to ride with me this year! I couldn’t have ridden by myself and they answered the call on short notice after my buddy Peter came down with a case of a sick newborn. (The baby is all better, just FYI).

I rode the metric century (100 km = 62 miles) that also included 3,300 ft of climb. It’s usually the most climbing I do every year.


2019_Marin_Century_03
2019_Marin_Century_05
2019_Marin_Century_01
2019_Marin_Century_02
2019_Marin_Century_04

This year, it was a litmus test for how I’ll do in this coming IRONMAN 70.3 in France. After swimming 1.2 miles, I’ll have 56 miles of handcycle with 4,400 ft of climb, then a 13.1-mile push run.

Let’s see that again .. 4,400 ft of climb.

Yeah.

Buffered by a swim before and a push run after.

So I train:

There’s nothing glamorous about the pain cave, the 100ºF summer heat of master swims, nor my orange headband.

But hey, you don’t care. (And that’s why I love my tribe).

As long as we’re doing it, that’s what you care about.

#teambalucas does france: fundraise update

We are oh-so-close to completing this crowdfund. 82% there!

The plane tickets are purchased, the hotel booked, the transportation booked, handcycle-fixes and upgrades installed.

Like for most of us, making this ask is really uncomfortable to do. But I’ll be damned if every time this tribe says ‘Don’t be silly’ and willingly gives.

And I can’t tell you how much it helps me combat those inner ‘why not’ voices.

So if you’ve been meaning to, but just got busy, here’s your reminder.

Thank you for caring, even though you don’t 😉

 
contribute now »
works too »
 

One last note: post images to the teambalucas 2019 page about the support. Comments about the race below. Thanks!

comments from contributors:

“Because you say, work hard and do. . . . . period”

“Thanks for changing my life by getting me into Tri and being a constant inspiration.”

“Stop being a lazy ass.”

“GO Robby, you inspire me! The Alluv Place is proud to support you in your dreams.”

“So proud of you Rob. Thank you for giving us the opportunity to be a part of your incredible journey.”

“So proud of you, Rob! Admire you so much.”

“Congratulations Rob! I will be in Nice racing too and will keep an eye out on Sunday to cheer you on, reach out of you need anything while there. Congratulations also on Kona, and also passing it up until you are ready.”

“You are an inspiration to all athletes out training for something!”

“Go Rob! You inspire many!”

 
contribute now »
works too »
 

One last note: post images to the teambalucas 2019 page about the support. Comments about the race below. Thanks!

August 18, 2019

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