rob balucas

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

  • what happened?
  • updates
  • speaking
  • media
  • subscribe
  • support
  • 
  • 
  • 
  • 

powered by babaLucas

© Rob Balucas
All Rights Reserved

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

9/5/2018 update | Year 3

Man, he really wants an arm workout.

When I’m riding on my handcycle on a given day and not competing, I sometimes wonder what people think I’m doing. I get all kinds of facial expressions. I have boiled it down to a few choice guesses as to what people might be thinking.

My favorite is this: the confused stare.

I think the confused stare is thinking, ‘Man, he really wants an arm workout.’

‘There’s a million ways to work out your arms. Maybe he just really wants a tan too.’

And then today of all days, it happened.

While I was taking a break on my ride, this older gentleman started up a conversation and asked if I do this to work out my arms.

I wanted to say yes and go with it. You know I would have done that with a completely straight face. But I didn’t. I explained that I’m paralyzed from the waist down, etc, etc.

My gopro just happened to capture it all:

3 Years Today

Today is the 3-year anniversary of my injury. No milkshake commemoration like year 2. No chicken fried steak commemoration like year 1. I’ve been off the wagon in both diet and workout since the last IRONMAN 70.3 flame out, so I’ve exhausted my appetite for gluttony.

I am about to embark on back to back to back weekend riding/racing for the rest of September including the Giants Race, Nautica Malibu Triathlon, and BORP Revolution Ride. So I’ve got a lot to focus on and that’s fine.

Identity

Last month I rode the hill I crashed on, as I plan to do every year, during the Marin Century ride and that sparked off a lot of introspect as to what was it that drove me to rebound so quickly back into my life and not spiral into the depths of despair like many do and many others expected me to do.

I believe it’s the fluidity of my perception of who I am. My identity.

I have actually spent a lot of my life thinking about my identity and taking a proactive, ownership role in who I believe I am. I spoke about it, in part, a year ago at an event for Filipino-American college students.

I say ‘in part’ because my mixed ethnicity is only one dimension of who I am. But it kicked off the awareness for me at a young age because I looked far more Filipino in grade school and was raised primarily by a single, white Mom. You can watch the speech I gave for more about that.

But that led to a lot of awareness and understanding of how others perceive me. Somewhere around the end of high school and the beginning of college, I realized I could shape that perception and began to experiment.

And that experimentation continued deep into my twenties.

I tried on corporate life, I tried on entrepreneurship, I tried on real estate investing, I tried on teaching, I tried on speaking, I tried on living in the big city, I tried on living in the big city on the East Coast, I tried on triathlon, I tried on open water swimming, I tried on dating women an earlier version of me would have shamed me for, I tried on dog ownership – the list goes on and on.

What I learned was that none of those things are my identity.

My identity is something far more core.

It’s composed of values and priorities.

It’s refined and discovered by me trying on the list of stuff above.

And Then, The Accident

And then, the shit hit the fan. I broke my back and added titanium rods and screws, wheelchair, rehab, transfers, constant neuropathic pain, catheters, bowel programs, erectile dysfunction, standing frames, hand controls for driving, being 4 feet tall and looking up at the world, amongst many other spinal cord injury-related things to the list I’ve tried on.

When my accident first happened, I was very quick to reconcile that this injury and the growing list of aforementioned atrocities do not change who I am.

… if I don’t let them.

I believe I have a choice. I get to decide who shows up in the ICU, in the rehab hospital, in the wheelchair, and in my life.

I wrote about my intentionally-crafted and battle-tested values and priorities awhile ago in another blog and you can read that at this link.

My point is that I have come to believe I get to decide what my identity is.

In many cases, people who suffer spinal cord injuries have a really hard time coping with their new circumstances. I understand why and I believe that’s perfectly okay to have happen.

I’ve seen that for many of those people, it’s a crisis of identity. They believe their identity is in the motorcycle they just crashed, in the arborist job that they had when they fell from that tree, in the club dancer they were before they were hit by a drunk driver, in the military uniform they wore before that IED went off.

The truth is, their identity is in their values. The value of riding free, wind in the hair; of working hard and making things beautiful and safe; in having a good time; in the being the warrior who is brave and willing to protect others.

And the application of that identity can be applied to anything.

It’s a matter of being willing to be adaptable and roll with the punches.

Spinal cord injury is a masterclass in being adaptable.

Yo Soy Un Lider

My accountability partner, Lili, and I have been in some form of holding each other to account since 2005. One mantra that’s come out of our partnership is this Spanish: ‘Yo soy un lider.’

I am a leader.

One interpretation of this mantra is this:

Based on how I lead my life, others will follow.

If all I ‘lead’ with is complaining about how hard it is to live in a wheelchair and lament all the atrocities I mentioned before (and side note to acknowledge: it IS difficult and real and painful) then people will follow and say, ‘I couldn’t imagine. It must be so hard. Poor baby.’

And so goes my life.

But if I lead with a smile – the same smile from before my accident. If I lead with the same values of challenge, endurance, and growth that I learned from triathlon and apply that to rehab, living with a disability, and now paratriathlon; then people have said, ‘Wow that’s amazing! Go get it. How can I support you?’

And so goes my life.

¿Eres un líder? // Are you a leader?

#youcreateyourlife

—

PS – I had to have something to eat to commemorate after I started writing about it. I ordered in Vietnamese Fresh Spring Rolls this year because I’m addicted…and they were nommed five paragraphs ago.


An Ask: support my ride for the Bay Area Outreach and Recreation Program (BORP)

One of the first things I was anxious to do, after getting out of rehab, was get back out on the road and cycling. I was pointed to BORP in Berkeley where I could ride their handcycles while mine was on order and being built. Their crew there and other riders were an immediate support group for the goal I had to do a triathlon before the one-year anniversary of my accident.

They allowed me to borrow a handcycle for 4-hour indoor ride and for my first triathlon in Oakland.

They enabled my goals and I could not have done it without their support. I’ve met countless others in the Bay Area who also benefit from there opportunities to participate in a variety of sports.

Will you support BORP? (imagine my doe eyes) I’m riding my handcycle with a team during their annual Revolution Ride on Sept 22. Every bit helps kids and adults have the opportunities I’ve had after a catastrophic life event.

Even better: come ride with us. If you’re a cyclist then join the team. I’d love to have as many people there as possible riding with me.

Here’s the link, do $25. Or $50. Every part gets me to my goal and gets people in my circumstances back into life.

BORP is a 501c3 non-profit, so contributions are tax-dedutible.

Support BORP »

September 5, 2018

Giant Race 2018

So what you’re saying is we get to start at AT&T Park, push our #racingwheelchairs for a 10k down the waterfront Embarcadero of SF – which is blocked off for us AND we get a police escort – all the way to #Pier29 and back? Yes. In. For sure. What’s that? I’m supposed to cross the finish line inside the ballpark? … Yeah, missed that part.

Thanks #teamCAF Challenged Athletes Foundation // Kelly Brush Foundation // SFPD // SF Giants

Big props to fellow wheelers Steve Lau & Steven Toyoji

August 16, 2018

  • 1
  • 2
  • Next Page »
 

Loading Comments...