Officially Recovered

It didn't occur to me until late this afternoon that I had run three days in a row, each without pain.  Nearly six miles with several climbs on Friday, three miles yesterday following a long pain-free bike ride and today, nearly eight miles of trail running in just shy of 1.5 hours. Yeah, I'd say that marks a recovery or if nothing else, a significant improvement.

Duration: Two months exactly.  About one month longer than I ever expected.  But better late than never!

Now, what contributed to this recovery?  I think it's a number of things that all blended together:

-- Accepting the need for recovery: This was definitely the most difficult part of the process.  I thought I could just leap back from my Ironman after a few weeks and start workout out again for the next event.  Not even close.  Once I realized that, my real recovery began.

-- Listening to my body: I had twinges in my hips, knees and IT bands I wasn't used to, and instead of ignoring the pain I did something about it.  I pulled back on races, consulted my coach, personal trainer and ultimately, my ART therapist.  There's a time to ignore pain (perhaps in a race) and a time to acknowledge it (training, post-race).  I'm very grateful I chose the latter route.

-- Taking time to recover: Once I accepted that I needed a recovery, I decided to let the process run its course.  I'm inpatient, so this step was especially difficult.  But it's necessary because rushing through an injury will likely just make matters worse.

-- Extensive stretching: Instead of workout out, I stretched.  And when I wasn't stretching, I was trying to schedule a yoga class.  While it's nowhere near as fun (for me) as cycling out on the open road, I've felt the differences from stretching and foam rolling more often.  Combined with the ART therapy (below), my body has felt fresher lately.  In addition to stretching though, I got back on a strength training regimen that has helped my muscles replenish themselves.  I've been careful to primarily rely on body weight, cables or light weights and met with my trainer to ensure that all exercises helped alleviate my leg problems, not contribute further to them.

-- Active Release Technique therapy: ART therapy has made a huge difference, in my opinion.  I was skeptical at first but am now a believer.  My hips have experienced the biggest benefits so far from the gripping manipulation techniques, and my IT bands are no longer tight like they were in the weeks immediately following Ironman Arizona.

-- Overhauling my running form: I've used the past few weeks to try and ditch my heel-striking ways once and for all.  The process has been long and slow, and at time frustrating. I'm slower than usual.  My calves have been sore, but the end-result should be more pain-free running and ultimately I should be faster by leaning forward and relying more on forefoot striking.  The key for me has been not to get frustrated, or be intimidated by any upcoming races.  My light racing calendar this year is helping me emotionally accept being slower and the moment and being more diligent about learning to run again.

-- Re-emphasis on nutrition: The holidays added weight to my frame, but not the good kind. More like the chocolate kind.   There's probably more of a connection between my lack of recovery and poor nutrition than I'd care to admit.  But once the New Year rolled around, I took a balanced and healthy diet more seriously.  Do I think nutrition was the primary factor in helping me repair myself?  No.  But I do believe in the "body in, body out" mantra, and it's no coincidence that my recovery took a sharp turn for the better in January compared to December.

Will my recovery last?  Can I finally put Ironman Arizona in the rear-view mirror once and for all?  Time will tell.

But I'm finally ready to focus on on improvement, not recovery.  If you are recovering as well, I hope this primer helps you!

149 days and counting.

The Perils of Not Stretching

A negative side effect from my busy week has been my lack of stretching.  Really, the past two weeks have been like this. It's beginning to take its toll.

Today is my usual off-day from training.  But it feels like I worked out twice.  My right calf is tight and sore.  Probably from my swim yesterday morning when it cramped up in the middle of a relay race where I squared off against Coach Gerardo.  I couldn't fold in the middle of the 50 even though my calf was begging me to.  Now my leg is paying the price.  My left IT band and right shoulder are also achy.

I remember when my massage therapist and Fortius teammate David told me soreness tends to spiral in the body since the muscle groups spiral around bone.  I'm walking...err...shuffling proof of this right now.

Not stretching is one of those "proceed at your own risk" things.  It doesn't immediately show its effects, but collectively, a week without foam rolling produces moments like the one I'm considering now -- I don't want to get out of my chair because I'll hear all the cracks and creaks in my body.

Don't remind me, Father Time!

Yes, I'm "only" 36, but days like today make me feel a little older.  And not quite as spry.  I miss the days of rapid recovery.  Like when I was in eighth grade and would play sports all summer long, day after day after day.  I'd say rinse, wash, repeat, but back then it really was just repeat, repeat, repeat!

Still, not working out for the day has been a welcome relief.  Especially knowing that tomorrow I'm waking up at 5 a.m. to drive to Santa Barbara for a SB Triathlon course preview ride and run.  My buddy Frank is joining the Fortius crew and me.  I'm not looking forward to the wake-up call, but the cool, crisp air and beautiful seaside and mountain views should more than make up for it.

Now, it's off to a family barbecue.  The activity stream continues!

106 days and counting.

Wildflower Preview

It's been two days since I returned from a Fortius Coaching training weekend at Lake San Antonio, site of the famed and fabled Wildflower triathlon.

I'm still trying to find the right words to describe my experience there.

I've only completed eight triathlons.  But Wildflower is poised to be the grand-daddy of them all -- the Rose Bowl of triathlons.  The scenery -- picture flowing Texas prairies interspersed with creeks and mountains in the distance -- challenging course routes and abundant wildlife combine to offer an experience that almost makes you forget you're pushing your body to its physical limit.

Almost.

While I could spend hours writing about the relationships I either formed or strengthened with Fortius teammates, I'm going to focus instead on the course itself.  It deserves its own tribute, after all.  I also promised my friends who haven't been to Wildflower that I'd share what I learned.  Selfishly speaking though, I want the images of the myriad hills burned in my head on race day.  I'm going to need that kind of recall.

Wildflower has a reputation for being the second-hardest triathlon course in America.  After swimming in the lake's chilly, murky water, biking both the Olympic and long course routes and running the Olympic course, I can't imagine how difficult our nation's hardest triathlon course would be.

I'll start with the swim.  The good news is that the water temperature should rise a few degrees by May 1.  The bad news (for me) was that this weekend's water temperature was in the mid-high 50s. But that's not going to be the tough part of the swim.

That honor would be reserved for running up an approximately 100-yard concrete boat ramp from the swim exit to the bike transition area.  I can think of few things as fun as just emerging from the water, cold, slightly dizzy and drenched, only to look up at about a 3-5% grade separating you from your bike.

Coach Gerardo suggested not running up the ramp but taking a bit of extra time to settle the heart rate.  An especially wise decision considering the first few miles of the Wildflower Olympic course (which I'm registered for) are a climb up and out of the main park area.  The grade reaches about 8-9% as I recall, so it's important to start the bike ride A) in the low gear coming from T1 and B) with as low of a heart-rate as possible.  There are mostly gentle rollers from Interlake Road onward to the turnaround point, though a few big hills loom towards the latter part of the first 12-13 miles.

According to Gerardo and our training weekend cycling coach, Derek, one of the other big keys to a successful Wildflower bike ride is conserving enough energy on the first half of the ride to achieve a negative split time on the second half.  This is made a little easier as more of the return ride is downhill.  However, don't be fooled...there are a few big hills, especially around mile 15 (if I recall correctly) and the second-to-last portion of the course -- as you re-enter the park.  Make sure you have enough energy for a strong finishing kick.  You'll need it, but you'll be rewarded with a steep, fairly aggressive descent -- the same hill you battled to get out of the park will suck you right back in for the run.  If you're feeling fatigued take your time rolling down that hill.  That's how accidents happen. Trust me, I've been there in the past.

Side Note 1: For those of you doing the Wildflower long course, I salute you.  I rode the long bike course but didn't have the pleasure of running the long course.  That was fine by me.  The long course bike ride is actually a lot of fun, if you pace yourself.  I rode it in a fairly leisurely 3:52, but am glad I did.  Best advice: Save yourself for mile 41, a long (potentially painful) hill known simply as "Nasty Grade."  Need I say more?  Remember there's a follow-up climb to Nasty Grade, and once you start the descent from both, you can begin to drop the hammer if you have enough energy left to do so.  But again, as you'll see below, leave room for the run!

Ah yes, the run.  If you've completed the Firecracker 10k in Chinatown, you fondly recall the first three miles of the race are a spiraling uphill to the top of Dodger Stadium.

The Wildflower 10k course is tougher, to the tune of about 4.75 miles of climbing before you get a real break.

The good (and bad) news is that unlike the Firecracker, you'll see what's in front of you for most of the uphills.  Maybe it's best that you don't see it?  For me, I kept my head down and focused on what was in front of me, which was hard considering all the wildlife and vegetation that were seemingly cheering (mocking?) me along the way.

Side note 2: The deer at Lake San Antonio went to the New York School of Pigeon Behavioral Sciences.  They are unafraid of humans, will essentially pose for pictures and don't get squirrely unless you approach within 10-12 feet. Which, by the way, is a bad idea on general principle.  Deer look harmless but will totally ruin your day.  Or so I've heard.  Not something I want to test out, especially because they travel in groups at the lake.

Back to the run.  If you have trail-running shoes, you may want to bring them.  A good portion of the 10k run is on dirt -- a welcome reprieve from the concrete.  During the final mile, you'll head back to the pavement to run down the steep embankment you biked previously.  This will wreak havoc on your quad muscles but you probably won't feel it until after the race, given the euphoric feeling of completing one of the country's toughest triathlon challenges.

Although I didn't go all-out on the Olympic-distance bike or run, based on my practices I'm guessing it will take me about 3:09-3:15 to finish the entire course, not including transition times.  I'm budgeting about 35 minutes for the swim (though I'd love to be faster!), 1:40 on the bike and if all goes well, about a 54-minute run.  I ran almost immediately following biking the Olympic course so this seems pretty reasonable.

By comparison, I am capable of swimming about a 30-minute mile with a current, 1:10 or possibly less on a 25-mile bike ride and around 50 minutes or slightly less for a triathlon 10k run.  My past Olympic-distance triathlons have ranged from 2:44 to 3:00 (my first Olympic tri).  You can see my budget for this race will be a lot more conservative.

In the end though, the best part of the camp wasn't the preparation or the knowledge of the course.  By far, it was trading stories, insights and one-liners with my Fortius teammates.  Picture going to sleep-away camp but for triathletes.  And with much better food.  It was the ultimate weekend getaway for the obsessed weekend warrior athlete: eat, sleep, train, stretch, repeat.  No cell phones.  No internet access.  Just Triathlete magazine, good company, fantastic scenery, and challenging training.

Aside from having my fiance by my side, what more could an Iron Mad Man ask for?

I returned from Lake San Antonio completely physically and mentally rejuvenated for Ironman training.  I've got the Newport Beach triathlon this Sunday, but my mind is totally locked into May 1-2.  Wildflower.  Oh, it's on baby.

233 days and counting.

Let My Freedom Go!

Today is the second day of Passover, the Jewish holiday where we commemorate the Jews' exodus from Egypt and recall how special it is to be free of persecution.  We drink lots of wine (four glasses during the traditional Seder), sing songs, and offer prayers of gratitude.  Not to mention eat a metric ton of food and desserts that camp out in our bowels for about a week.  That may partially explain why the Seder mandates we recline more deeply during the service as a measure of our ability to enjoy ourselves to the fullest at that moment in time. We simply can't move after the meal!  So we might as well get comfortable!

Passover coincides nicely with my quick return to Ironman training.  Of course, this is ironic because I feel like I'm losing my freedom again just a bit, especially after my past week of decadence. My body is protesting ever so slightly too, as in refusing to wake up this morning in time for the Fortius team 6 a.m. swim.  I looked at the clock at 5:20, quickly deciding "uh-uh" before turning my alarm off for another hour's rest.  Going from eight to nine hours of sleep for a week back down to six just wasn't going to happen the morning after a massive food coma.

My extra snooze time paid off though, as I arrived to the pool around 7:45 a.m. to find Coach Gerardo along with swim instructor, neighbor and friend Megan training in a nearby lane.  OK, I didn't really see them at first and trained on my own for about 30 minutes with drills while racking up a pretty pedestrian 1,000 yards.

But the next 30 minutes, I was lucky enough to receive intensive instruction from Gerardo and Megan on all the things wrong with my swim technique.

Folks, there's a lot.  Too much to recite here.  Probably too much for a 30 minute session.  Let me put it to you this way, if I could start over and learn how to swim from scratch, I would.  I think I pretty much suck at swimming at this point.

Fortunately, Gerardo and Megan are not Egyptian taskmasters when it comes to their coaching.  They patiently showed me that once again, I'm not extending my arms fully before entering the water, and that I'm just not relaxed enough -- which translates to wasted energy.

It took several laps and frustration before I experienced any modicum of progress, but by the end of my workout Gerardo said I was getting the hang of it.  I was keeping my elbow higher longer through the stroke, dragging my fingertips out of the water longer before entering at the last possible point in the stroke. And I was shifting my weight from side to side better, using my hips more effectively.

I thought, "Cool, if you say so."

I'll just keep practicing.  Honestly, I've never felt more like a fish out of water in the water.  Swimming is practically like one of Pharaoh's 10 plagues at this point, as in people feel sick after watching me swim!

During lunch, I participated in a yoga class at our work gym.  One big thing I noticed during my practice was how tight I had become just with one week of inactivity.  The body really does operate like a well-oiled machine, and when that machine isn't being used -- rust sets in. Probably faster the older one gets.

Joy.  Not only am I a slave to a schedule, but I'm a slave to my own body.

Which makes me wonder: Am I my own worst taskmaster?

Wait, don't answer that.

238 days and counting.

Upside Down

I've become a hippie. At least my friend Caitlin thinks so.

I tried to protest with her on the phone tonight, but the following are acknowledged facts:

I practice yoga.

I shop at Whole Foods.

I'm in touch with my feelings.

When running, I now prefer the rhythm of my breathing to actual music.

I have vegan products in my condo. (sitting next to leftover steak, so that's kind of a wash...)

I voted for Obama.

This from a kid who grew up in Reagan country, Simi Valley.  Not exactly a liberal stronghold.

The entire reason this discussion occurred was because I successfully executed my first headstand in yoga class tonight, which I proudly shared with Caitlin (an aspiring yoga instructor). My triumph happened in a class with a format I've never tried before: Anasura yoga.  Although I needed a wall to do it, I managed to kick up and hold the headstand pose with my hands interlaced behind my head for support.  It was a bit scary -- I'd like to avoid paralyzing myself if at all possible -- and exhilarating (maybe that was just the sensation of blood rushing to my head) all at the same time.

In the brief few seconds I was able to focus on something besides not toppling down the wall like a busted Jenga puzzle, I realized how different the room looked being upside down.  Lights seemed brighter.  People were harder to distinguish from one another.  That dude in the corner was working out with no shirt on (c'mon man, seriously?).

I also realized this might be the first time in my life where I was truly ecstatic about everything being turned upside down.  (I'm not much of a roller coaster guy.)

Considering the topsy-turvy nature of the past several weeks, this was an especially welcome insight.  In order to see and appreciate the world differently, sometimes we have to shake things up dramatically.  Sometimes we have to turn something on its head, in this case literally, to gain a different vantage point.  Painful as it might be, it's a part of the growing process.

A lesson learned only by extending beyond my comfort zone.  Even if I needed a wall for support.

Don't we all though?

288 days and counting.

Day Off?

I'm happy to report that I woke up feeling refreshed and not too sore after yesterday's long run. And I was so tired, I fell asleep during the third quarter of the USC-UCLA game, stumbled to bed and didn't wake up until 8:15 this morning.

It's deceptive, this heart-rate training. One one hand, I feel great and like I could work out again today with not too much trouble. On the other, my body was obviously spent and got a great workout.

Initial lessons learned from first trail run:
-- I need trail-running shoes. Apparently, there's a big difference between the two. All I know is that my plantar fasciaitis is acting up on the balls of both feet.

-- Trail running affects muscles that street running doesn't. My hips and glutes, along with my hamstrings, are tight this morning.

-- Stop and look up every once in a while -- even though it's a dangerous proposition because of the uneven terrain. It's important to capture those fleeting moments of awe where you can truly stop and enjoy the journey of the Ironman and temporarily forget about the destination.

-- Stretch! If I hadn't taken time to stretch with fellow ValleyCoach athletes Rosa and her sister Dina, this morning might have been a lot worse. Those extra 10 minutes can make all the difference.

Today, not much on the docket. I'm going on a business trip for the next few days though, which will make training difficult. So I may sneak in a light run this afternoon or evening. Possibly even a yoga class, which would be a very good call methinks. Until then, it's football, food and possibly some holiday shopping (get it checked off the list quick!).

358 days and counting.