Living is Winning, the sports documentary based on the life of Decatur, Georgia resident Andrew ‘Drew’ Johnston, wrapped principal photography in August. Producers Linda Burns of Plexus Pictures and Jeff Keating of Doghouse Pictures, have been in production for the past year. The crew, David Bruckner, JD Taylor, Jeremiah Prescott, Nick Hiltgen, Chris Tsambis, Jason O’Donnell and Megan Melgaard, traveled the country shooting triathlons and interviews with athletes, doctors, volunteers, spectators, friends and family.
Johnston began his athletic career as a cyclist, quickly gaining professional status, but after a series of crashes and concussions, he was forced to stop competing. Introduced to triathlons, he quickly found success and a new career, but 2004 brought a diagnosis of Chronic Myelogenous Leukemia (CML) and his body literally broke down. After taking the drug Gleevac and continuing his commitment to a healthy lifestyle, rigorous exercise and a positive mental attitude, Johnston is in remission.
Living is Winning captures the triathlete, living and competing with an incurable cancer as he endures the rigors of training on the road to the most celebrated triathlon in the world, the Ford Ironman World Championship. Community support for the project has run the gamut, from contributions made through IMAGE Film & Video Center’s Fiscal Sponsorship Program, to donated and heavily discounted equipment from Toybox Productions, PC&E, Richard Williams at Post 22, as well as the time and equipment of numerous volunteers. For more information, visit www.livingiswinning.com
After working on the feature length documentary, Living Is Winning for the past 11 months (See 'Doc Focuses on Triathlete’s Journey'), Melgaard was awarded the title of Associate Producer. The trip began in October 2006 when Melgaard went to the island of Hawaii, to film Triathlete Andrew Johnston in the Ford Ironman World Championships. The town of Kona was a busy place with over 2200 athletes, countless volunteers, and of course, spectators. Don't forget film crews either, as a team of 7 joined together in tropical paradise to follow the Leukemia ridden athlete while he dominated the 141 mile race. The Ironman consists of a 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, and a 26.2 mile run. Andrew came in 280 out of approximately 2200 athletes. After Kona, the crew traveled to Lake Placid, New York, to follow Andrew as he dominated another Ironman course. Melgaard has been involved with on-camera interviews, technical advising, and sponsorship/investment relationships. Look for the film to be coming out in 2008!
Newport Beach, California--After a one year hiatus, twenty-six-year-old Megan Melgaard, of Santa Monica, hit the beach for the Annual Corona Del Mar 1 MILE Don Burns Swim, at the Big Corona Beach in Corona del Mar, California. She was in the lead pack for most of the race amidst over 200 competitors and a strong current. She finished an impressive first place in her age group and was the second female overall. Pleased with another top-ten overall finish, including men, in just her third event this year, Melgaard plans to return with her Kustom Web Race Crew to Malibu's Playa del Run Aquathlon on September 9th, 2006.
" I am really enjoying racing and training again," said Melgaard. "I am so excited to be back in the water again with the opportunity to achieve international competition status once again. I want to thank Nick and my Kustom Web crew for giving me the opportunity and support to compete at such a great race with such notable competitors."
Young Alumna Megan Melgaard recently added a role in the blockbuster The Guardian to her already impressive resume. The Warrington College of Business graduate swam alongside Ashton Kutcher and Kevin Costner as a Coast Guard rescue swimmer trainee in the film, now available on DVD. Originally from Mission Viejo, California, Melgaard began swimming at the age of 6 months. "When I could swim about 15 feet on my own at that age, my parents realized they had a fish on their hands," she said. Melgaard swam ever since and was a scholarship athlete at UF. In 1999 Melgaard won a silver medal for the United States in the Pan American Games held in Winnipeg, Canada. Additionally, she was a five-time All-American at the University of Florida. After Graduate School at UF, Melgaard moved to Atlanta where she began racing triathlons. She first learned about the available role in The Guardian from her swim coach. "She simply told me some folks were looking for swimmers for an upcoming film and I should call them," she said. After many rounds of auditions, "I was notified I made the final cut and was beside myself with excitement," Melgaard said. Melgaard spent four months in Shreveport, Louisiana, filming the movie. "Five a.m. wake-ups and I felt like I was in college again, waking up for swim practice. I was in the best shape of my life," Melgaard said. Preparation for the film included a "mini boot camp" led by three official Coast Guard Rescue Swimmer Instructors. "My arms literally were spaghetti noodles and I could not hardly do one [more pushup]," said Melgaard. But being in a movie has its bright sides. "I lived in a house with the director's assistant, as she wanted to train for her first triathlon while we were on location. I was very fortunate to have this opportunity, for I lived around the corner from Ashton and Kevin," she said. Perks included a trip to LA in Kutcher's private jet, baking cupcakes with Costner's wife, and watching football with the Kutchers. After filming The Guardian, Melgaard moved to Santa Monica, California, where she began pursing an acting career as well as sports broadcasting. This led to a connection with Speedo, where she has recently begun development of their new Triathlon division. She would like to compete in the 2008 Olympic games in Beijing, China, but understands the demands of training for an Olympic career on top of a full-time job: "I can only give it my best effort and hope to make the dream a reality," said Melgaard.
Last night was definitely a night to remember. How often do you get to go to Sea World and play all the games to your hearts desire, alongside some of the world¹s greatest endurance athletes? Well, now I can claim that I have done it at least onceŠwith the stuffed polar bear to prove it!
It was at the Endurance Sports Awards in San Diego, California, where I indulged in fun and games, all the while celebrating the accomplishments of several amazing athletes. Sea World was the staging area for the event, providing a playground for adults with open tickets to play amusement park games and win stuffed animals before the ceremony started. It was so funny to see everyone in their formal wear, intensely trying to win anything from a glittery fish to a 4 foot tall lion. What was even more entertaining was watching those who won walk around with them, mindlessly brushing people in the tush as they walked within range of an oversized tail.
Going solo to the event, I was not sure what the outcome would be. I immediately ran into some wonderful friends upon entering the game area. Gail Bernhardt, Olympic Triathlon Coach and Author, is a friend I met while down in Cancun at the ITU World Championships of Triathlon, whom I saw right away. Later, to my pleasant surprise, ran into two other friends from the same trip, Loreen and Les, who are the Executive Director and President of the International Triathlon Union, respectively, down from Canada. It was such a brilliant surprise to run into such wonderful people. They welcomed me immediately and really made me feel a part of the triathlon family. Funny how life works out, but the ITU just happens to be looking for an apparel sponsorŠsee my next blog about that one! (I just started working for Speedo 2 weeks ago in order to develop their Triathlon and Multisport Division!)
At one point during the night, I even found myself helping Greg Welch, multiple Ironman Champion, win an oversized monkey for his kids back at home. Even though Floyd Landis, the most recent winner of the Tour de France, was right nearby, my focus was on the monkey. With only 2 credits left on my free card and no oversized monkey, I bailed on the baseball toss and tried my luck at another game. I couldn¹t leave the night empty handed. I mean come on, get a bunch of athletes together for a formal gala and you find yourself competing to up them once again to win the largest animal. All I really wanted was a cute little polar bear, so I headed over to the game where 8 players tried to bang the heck out of some funky looking germs with a large hammer. With luck and skill, I was able to win a small polar bear just before the awards ceremony began.
For some background infoŠthe first Competitor Magazine Endurance Sports Awards was held fourteen years ago to honor Dave Scott as the first inductee into the Ironman Hall of Fame. Fourteen years later, the Gala has become something much, much more. Labeled "The Academy Awards of Endurance Sports" by Entertainment Tonight, the evening was a sell out. There is a bond between the runner, the triathlete and the cyclist and while their equipment might be different, the dedication and effort it takes to succeed are exactly the same. The was created to celebrate the extraordinary accomplishments of such athletes: Tour de France Champion Floyd Landis, Ironman Champion Michele Jones, Runner-up at Ironman Chris McCormack, among others.
I sat in the back of the room, happy to be a part of such a wonderful occasion.
Indeed the Competitor Magazine Endurance Sports Awards Gala turned out to be an evening of motivation, inspiration, and competition. I left with all three, but most of all, I am happy I didn¹t leave empty handed.
There are a few things on my list of things I would like to do before I die…well, more than just a few things, but that it is for another update.Anyway, I had the opportunity to cross one of those events off my list last night:attending a Monster Truck Rally.
It was actually called, Monster Jam, but for those of us who know nothing about the world of monster vehicles crushing over smaller parked cars and racing around in circles, the name makes no difference.Either way, these events consist of trucks that are literally larger than life and louder than a rock concert, assembling in one place to drive around and look mean.Really and truly, they do!Each truck looks more like an animal, like a lion or dinosaur even, growling their mouths as the truck accelerates as the front of the truck lifts up.The noises were deafening.
So did it come about that I was able to go to the Monster Truck Rally?Well, a dear friend of mine back from the days of middle school called and said she and her new husband would be coming into town.Great!!Since they were coming out all the way to LA LA Land from good ol WashingtonD.C., I had to make sure I could treat them to something entertaining.I had just heard on the radio an announcement for the rally.What better place to take guests and mark one of those epic events off my list?!
They happily agreed and off we went.The rally was down at the Anaheim baseball stadium where the Angels play.Erin and I had no idea what to expect.We walk into the stadium to see 12 Monster Tucks all lined up on the side of a dirt track.There was a ‘table top’ section surrounded by two lines of parked cars that were spray painted either yellow or blue.This evening’s stardom in the Monster Jam show was merely delaying a trip to the dreaded junk.We found our seats in the nose bleed section, for the 45,000 seat stadium was almost sold out.Can you believe that?I had no idea how popular Monster Truck Jams really are!
The show began with 12 Monster Trucks dueling each other around the dirt track.The track itself, in addition to the parked car obstacles, contained several treacherous hair pin turns that could spell disaster if a truck took the turn too fast.That meant loss of time, or simply tumbling over, so the truck literally couldn’t finish the race.Car races around the same track followed Round 1, which weren’t nearly as exciting as the 12 foot tall monster trucks in all their glory.They looked enormous; even from the nose bleed seats.The regular cars looked like remote control cars from way up in the nose bleed seats, but those guys actually wouldn’t come until later.
Round 2 spelled elimination for several trucks.El Toro, the truck that looked like a bull, Maximum Destruction, the dinosaur truck, and The Grave Digger all made it to the next round.Then came the Dirt Wars, where 12 4-wheelers upheld their reputation.They literally would try and knock each other off their vehicles throughout the 5 lap race.Again, Erin and I had no idea what was really going on, as no explanations were given about what was really going on.Hmmm, maybe we didn’t know what was going on because this was such a foreign world for us…that and I was afraid to ask!Either way we sat in eager anticipation of what these people would throw at us next.
Then came the little remote control guys.Dozens of ant sized trucks (from way up in the nose bleeds) came careening out onto the course.It turned out to be just a demonstration of sorts that lasted 10 or 15 minutes.No racing, just all these little baby cars crashing into each other and the dirt.I am not really sure why that was included, but I guess it did provide entertainment along with questions for me to ponder.I mean, how does one get involved with remote control car crashing at a Monster Truck Jam?I guess my parents always did allow me to get into whatever sports I wanted to, but this was just different.
Round 3 was exciting as Maximum Destruction edged out The Graver Digger for the win.The finale, however, is what everyone stays for and I can see why they do it at the end, or else everyone would leave right after this event.The last round was the Freestyle round, where each truck was allowed 90 seconds to wreak havoc on the dirt course.Some spun in circles, some jumped the parked cars, others went for the bus jump.The crowd went wild when a truck would tumble over or have a near collision.Big air and destruction seemed to be what got the crowd going.
It never really dawned on me that the rally would be outside, so we did not dress for outside weather.The cold snap that has hit Southern California chilled us to the bone, but we stayed till the bitter end of the event.I mean, come on, how can you miss the legendary Grave Digger smash cars all over the place, drive over a bus, spin circles, and finally tumble over on its back?Just another one to cross off the list.
So after a crazy holiday season, going back and forth across the county, spending time with family, I felt like it was time to buckle down and hit the gym. Let's just say that the holiday parties had been good to me and the airplane food, well, not so good to me.
I began shopping around the Santa Monica area for a new gym; checking out yoga studios, spinning studios, yoga AND spinning studios-it is a workout in and of itself just to try and find an establishment that suits you. I finally realized all I wanted was a good old-fashioned gym. Well, living in Southern California, a 'good old-fashioned gym' takes on a new meaning. Gyms take on the role of beach style lofts, swanky studios, and ultra modern warehouses packed with spin bikes.
I pretty much fell in love with the first gym I scoped out though, called Equinox. At a price ticket of $8M to design and develop the gym, you know this is going to be good. The place consists of 4 floors, with a consistent beach, loft style. It is extremely clean and well maintained, with both clients and employees being as nice as you could imagine. It is kind of like a home away from home, and judging by how well sculpted the bodies are around there, it sure seems like some of those folks are at the gym way more than they are at home. But either way, I took the advise of my membership advisor and came in for a morning spin class. I certainly worked up a sweat and decided to hit the weights after class.
I was certainly impressed with how many patrons were working out at the gym on a sunny Saturday morning. That is the definition of dedication, if you ask me. No pun intended either-definition, muscles-you get me. So I am admiring the sculpted male bodies while working out when suddenly, a rare specimen walks my way. With arms the size of my head, the core the size of a redwood, and eyes more captivating as a So Cal sunset, I identified this man as THE ROCK. Indeed, it was a pleasant surprise to look up and see such a sight.
I did my best to catch a glimpse or two of him around the gym, not so much to see exactly what exercises he was doing in order to emulate them, but to ogle at the ease and perfection in which he completed each exercise. What a sight to see. Needless to say, I will be back to THAT gym.
Little did I know that when I ventured out on a five day trip to Colorado this past Sunday, my trip would be unexpectedly lengthened. I would eventually become stranded, snowed in up on top of the Rockies, pleasantly dubbed in a place I called the "Vail Jail."
I met my mother in the Denver airport on Sunday evening as she was flying in from Atlanta, myself from Los Angeles. Together, we hopped on a mountain shuttle and over a series of mountain passes to the village of Vail. Since we arrived at night, I was not able to see anything outside at all except for the multitude of snowflakes illuminated by the lights of our van. We safely arrived at our destination condo to meet up with 5 other family members. When I awoke the next morning, I was treated to astonishing views of the Rockies, beautifully covered in a light dusting of snow. This snowfall was merely a preview of what was to come. I also realized that morning that I had forgotten my cell phone charger at home. No problem, I thought. I would be able to find a charger here, no problem. Wrong again.
Monday welcomed beautiful, blue, sunny skies. I was elated to have the chance to share the next few days with my family and friends, skiing, going on shopping outings, eating, and just enjoying each other's company. An afternoon snowmobile ride was extremely fun, but not quite as expeditious as my daredevil tastes prefer. We were not given the chance to venture out into the open expanses of the mountains, where we could test how fast the machines could really go. I guess we were on a "touring" snowmobile trip rather than a speed and fast action trip, which at least delighted my mother. Nonetheless, both the scenery and ride were fabulous.
Tuesday, I ventured out on Cross Country Skis and had a wonderful time following a path along side a bubbling stream with steep mountains rising above me on all sides. Waterfalls were literally frozen in time on the side of rocks, thousands of feet up above. I could hardly hear a sound except for my own breathing and the occasional chunk of show falling off the branches of surrounding Aspens.
Wednesday morning, my mother left early for the Denver Airport, headed back to Atlanta to commence the hectic music concert schedule the days leading through Christmas. The rest of us headed out for the slopes and a great day of downhill skiing. The snow began to fall early in the morning and didn't stop for about 30 straight hours. It had been a couple of years since I had been out on the slopes, but after a few hesitant runs, my skiing muscle memory came right back and I began flying down the mountain. The group of us stayed out nearly all day.
Altitude sickness, though serious and can be quite dangerous to experience, is not always bad. For most of the latter part of the day, I found all comments said to or by me to be extremely hilarious. I reckon I laughed for about 2.5 hours straight about anything and everything, realizing after a while that the altitude certainly has an effect on the brain. My friends indeed thought I was crazy, but we all know that to be the case, altitude sickness or not. Anyway, I stayed out on the mountain as long as I could and actually caught the very last lift to the top of the mountain. I took the longest route I could find back down to the village in order to maximize my Vail skiing experience. It was well worth the lift ticket as once again, I found myself alone out in the snow, surrounded by the scenery and silence. The fresh powder skiing was phenomenal and I couldn't have asked for a better day.
My mother, on the other hand, was not having such a spectacular day. She was scheduled to leave the Denver airport at 10:53 AM to head back to Atlanta. She boarded the plane and they headed out on the runway to de-ice. It turns out that she was just about 10 minutes short from getting to head back East. As I mentioned before, the snow started to fall and just didn't stop, causing her plane to head back to the gate. She would end up spending two nights in the Denver airport, a prisoner of the weather.
Due to the storm, plans for my group members changed by the minute. One fellow went straight home to Denver. Two folks decided to drive to Albuquerque to avoid being stranded and missing out on sharing Christmas with family. I ended up by myself, trying to plan my next move. I still was without a cell phone as the battery had died days earlier. This wasn't too much of a problem as I was with other folks with phones, but things were about to change. There was no way I was getting out of the Denver airport because of flights, so all I had to do was decide where I wanted to be holed up for the next few days. What better place on earth to be stranded than Vail, Colorado??
I found a hotel at the bottom of the slopes that would take me in. I spent the next three days skiing, meeting other travelers, exploring, and even tried my hand (or butt) at snowboarding. Three of my great friends from around the area came and spent one night with me as the storm prevented them from spending Christmas with their families as well. I couldn't have been more touched by the effort they made to come spend time with me. It really made me realize how much it means to me to have such wonderful friends, nonetheless have them all together in the same place. It is even so much more fantastic that we were all able to get together in Vail of all places!
So Vail turned into be nothing like jail, even though I was confined to the place for a total of eight days, essentially without regular communication. The first two days without a cell phone were like living without my left arm. I have 5000 minutes on my plan, so needless to say, I am on it a lot. Going without it for a week taught me some invaluable communication lessons. I learned to communicate with people, with minds, with myself. Up on the slopes I was not distracted by modern technology (for the most part at least. Other people still had them and the ski lifts were obviously operated by machines.) I lived in my own world and learned a lot about myself, most of all how to spend time with myself.
Don't get me wrong, I was not completely by myself, like being out in the backcountry of Colorado. I was in Vail with other travelers, locals, and those stuck due to the weather like myself. The people I met along the way were phenomenal, with such gracious and loving hearts. I met friends just riding the bus, like the two lift operators I met, Dane and Joe, from Georgia, who treated me to discount lift passes. And the two Aussies, Steve and Ben, who dressed up in Santa suits on Christmas Day to go hit the slopes. And Ryan and Ben, the hotel managers, who let me use their personal cell phones to make calls back home. More than twice during this past week I was told that I looked like a local because I looked so content. I can only imagine what it would be like to live in Vail, Colorado, because for eight straight days, I experienced nothing but gratitude for the life and adventure I was living. The lack of a phone and the overabundance of fresh snow contributed to the best "jail" type experience I have ever had. It is now Christmas Day and I am on a plane headed for Atlanta to see my mother, who finally made it back there this past Friday. Merry Christmas to all, and hopes for getting "stuck" in the snow once again.
Exploring is one of my favorite things to do. Whether it be a new city, country, neighborhood, or even super market, I love to check out what the area has to offer. As I have just recently planted myself back in southern California, I have a lot of ground to cover. I had the most wonderful experience yesterday exploring what the area has to offer.
Soon after moving to Santa Monica, I joined the LA Triathlon club, hoping to meet some nice, new folks with similar interests. It didn¹t take long to get acquainted with some wonderful people, even better that they didn¹t think it was at all out of the ordinary to go for a 6 hour bike ride on the weekend. I knew I had found my niche when a group of these folks invited me to participate in an "Adventure Event" this past Saturday. I quickly agreed when I learned what we would be doing: mountain biking, kayaking, trekking, running, and rappelling.
We started the morning at 5:30, preparing our packs and bikes for the event. It was technically called an "event" rather than a "ace" because of legal issues. Either way, our group of 10 set out for the hills of Malibu for an adventure.
After dropping off some cars at the finish line for transportation sake, we arrived at the start bundled up and ready to go. I almost feel bad about saying I was cold at the start with 60 degree temperatures in the middle of winter. A usual day here in sunny southern California provides pristine skies and 70 degree temperatures, right in the middle of December. Needless to say, I am spoiled weather wise. Anyway, we would be flying fast on mountain bikes before long and I would need my Gore Tex Windstopper Jacket for sure.
The event started with a 2 mile trail run where we hit the first checkpoint and picked up our bikes. From there, we would engage on a LONG hill climb for the next 2 hours. Acutally, let me correct myself, this was a mountain climb, not a hill climb. I am not sure how much vertical elevation we covered, but 2 hours worth of climbing sure was a trek in and of itself. As hard as it was, the climb offered beautiful views of the Santa Monica Mountains and canyons in between. The trees were changing colors from green to vibrant yellows, to reds and browns. I felt like I was back in the Northeast just as fall was getting underway. The seasons are shorter here in SoCal, in addition to being a little behind, I guess. Anyway, the vistas were breathtaking.
And talk about breathtaking, so was the descent of the mountain bike. It took all of 30 minutes to descend from the 2 hour climb we just made. We were flying and I loved it! I always feel the need for speed in one way or another.
After the quick descent and another checkpoint, we went off again on foot to the next task: rappelling. The area where we hiked to was like an enchanted forest. There were waterfalls spilling off the top of the rock onto mossy ledges and small pools. The moss had accumulated over time, forming umbrellas and mushroom formations protruding from the side of the rock face. The sun shone through trees of all shapes and sizes, providing light to mint and other fine smelling plants boasted their aromas to passers by.
We would end up climbing 500 vertical feet straight up to get to the first of four ropesto rappel. The ascent was actually quite scary as one false move meant at least a fall of hundreds of feet onto a bed of rocks. That was something I wasn¹t interested in doing yesterday, so careful footing was essential. That and pure faith that the climbers ahead of me managed a safe path eventually made for a successful ascent. We hit the top and went for the first rappel of 100 feet. One of our team members suffered a mild panic attack after roping up and looking down before she launched herself down the rock face. She ended up deciding to let another team member go first so that she could sit and take a breather. That team member happened to be me, so I decided to just hook onto the rope and commence the 100 foot descent immediately. I figured if I didn¹t look down, I could avoid the chance of a similar attack. I took the first descent slow since I neglected to prepare 100% and bring the safety rope. So essentially the only thing preventing me from careening down the face of the rock was the rope, carabineer, and my right hand. My right hand would be used to control my rate of descent by passing the rope through the carabineer. The more you let go, the faster you go. Literally, my life was in my own hands.
I flew down the first rope with no problem despite a little nervous shaking of the legs. After a successful first rappel, I was ready for more which made the other three easy as pie. During that section, the ability to avoid some cascading pools and dripping waterfalls left me dry for the most part. The event directors weren¹t going to let us off that easy, ensuring that we would get wet by requiring water crossings all along the way back.
From the next checkpoint, we hopped back on our bikes and headed for the ocean. More water crossings left us soaked and muddy. Those crossings would be nothing compared to the last event on the bike. We reached the Pacific Coast Highway and the only instructions were that we must go UNDER the PCH and not OVER. This meant a waist deep water crossing underneath a highway overpass. It was a crossing you just couldn¹t think too much about or you would simply talk yourself out of it. In other words, it was down right disgusting. It was more like an ocean overflow bog. I don¹t ever want to know what the ecoli count was in that water. At least our bikes weren¹t so muddy after that though.
From there, we picked up tandem kayaks and headed out for a 45 minute (or so) excursion. The water was beautiful and were successfully made it in and out of the water without waves crashing on us or getting tipped over. I was elated. Apparently, my partner and I had the fastest kayak of the day. Yee haw. The final challenge was a 1 mile beach run that my partner and I took at a comfortable pace.
6 hours of racing made for a wonderful day and a few calories burned along the way. I had no idea such wonders were right out my back door, a mere 30 minutes from the hub bub of downtown Los Angeles. I am looking forward to returning to the enchanting mountains, hills, waterfalls, and rock walls, for they provide endless hours of exploration and adventure in which I so greatly love.
