Fatigued But Not Deflated

Swimming practice at 6 a.m. came and went today.  Track practice at 6 p.m. came and went as well. I was just too tired.  I'm still planning to attend tonight's swim at 7:30 p.m., but I'm not quite 100%.  It could be allergies -- my eyes are itchy and my prescription medications needed refills.  It could be Trudy and Bam-Bam -- I put a small hole in my bedroom ceiling last week with a shovel handle due to the pounding noise directly over my head that continues regularly at 6:30 a.m.  It could be the workouts themselves -- I pushed myself pretty hard during Monday's and Wednesday's brick workouts.  Maybe it's even the tapering cycle  for Vineman 70.3 taking its natural toll.

It's probably a combination of all the above.

Whatever it is, I'm tired.  So tired I slept 10 hours last night and it felt like it wasn't nearly enough all day at work.

This time, I'm smarter though.  In past races I'd probably get panic-stricken, wondering if I was getting sick or losing my fitness.  I know better.  It's not a big deal. I'm just a little gassed.  I refilled my prescriptions, took the little I have left of my Allegra, and am starting to feel a little better already.  I slept in this morning instead of dragging myself to the pool just because I thought I had to.

Besides, today's track workout was optional, with Coach Gerardo indicating I could skip it if I felt tired.

Commence skipping.

And in the next 30 minutes, commence swimming.

135 days and counting.

Wake Up Call

Well, I won't make that mistake again. "That mistake" was misinterpreting Coach Gerardo's directions this morning during the bike portion of our Vineman simulation brick workout.  At the first climb in Hidden Valley on Portrero Road (just shy of Sly Stallone's place), Gerardo indicated that once I got to the crest, I should come immediately back.  I thought he meant the crest of the entire climb, which would have been the peak of Portrero Road before the steep and tricky descent into Camarillo.

In hindsight, I realize how silly this logic was.  But, I was in a cycling groove, hypnotized by a consistent pedal cadence and from riding largely by myself -- though my teammates were nearby.  It's at those moments when I'm truly in a cycling trance.  Not really thinking about anything important, but rather the ride itself.  How I'm feeling, how the ride is going, what's next whether climb, flat or descent.

I had only realized my mistake when I returned from the second Portrero peak and didn't see teammates Jason, Richard or Karen anywhere, let alone Mike's sag vehicle.  It then became a frenzied solo journey back to Las Virgenes Road and Mullholland Drive.  To make matters worse, my cell phone died.  I didn't place it in the usual Ziplock baggie, and I finally paid the ultimate price.  While the phone itself turns on, it resets itself the moment I try to dial a phone number or punch in any key, for that matter.

Finally, after an added nine miles and 20 minutes of pedaling, I rejoined Mike, quickly changed clothes and ran into Malibu Creek State Park for a 6.6 mile workout.  The time was after noon, and this was designed to simulate the expected hot and sunny conditions we'll face at Vineman 70.3 in a couple weeks.  To better combat the elements, I tried a pair of DeSoto arm coolers.  It's hard to say whether they had a physical effect, but my arms were certainly cooler and my heart-rate remained closer to 160 bpm (low zone 4) compared to the upper 160s it had been while training in 90-degree-plus weather in Arizona.  I completed the running loop, which took me through rocks, creeks, scrub, and dust to the base of the Bulldog Trail, in just about 1:05:00.  It wasn't the fastest pace, but it wasn't the easiest terrain.

Like it or not thoughm, I'm about as ready as I'm going to be for a Half-Ironman.  I remember thinking during the run that the discomfort I was feeling at the end of the run is only going to be compounded on race day. Especially since I'd need to bang out another 6.5 miles before finishing, not to mention adding a 1.2 mile swim and nine more miles to my bike ride.

So while the physical aspects of today's training session were valuable, the most valuable aspect by far was the metaphorical splash of cold water on my ego that just because I can fare well in an Olympic distance triathlon...we're about to enter completely new territory.  What I've done in the past does not matter one bit at a Half-Ironman.

Wake up call received.

Just not from my defunct cell phone.

137 days and counting.

I Fought the Law...

...And The Law told me to shove it. I lost my appeal with the USAT regarding my Breath of Life cycling penalty.  It wasn't even close.  Here's the full explanation, in all its glory, courtesy of the head race official.  At least my appeal made its way to the top of the food chain short of the USAT Protest Committee itself.

"Violation notes:

#906 Male  LA Tri jersey - Observed entering passing zone from rear.  No pass attempted after 40 second count. - 5.10a - Drafting - 2:00 penalty

Explanation: After an individual enters the passing zone from the rear, they have 15 seconds to complete the pass.  A complete pass is when the individual's front tire passes the front plane of the front tire of the person being passed.  I observed this particular violation on my second lap of the course on W. Gonzales Road, most likely your 2nd bike lap as well.  As observed and recorded, the assessed penalty for violation of Competitive Rule 5.10a will stand."

I tried in vain to explain that the guy on my right was steadily veering left, forcing me a wider passing angle that would require me to circumnavigate the orange cones -- which would also be a penalty.  Unfortunately, the appeals process doesn't work that way.  Unless there's a factual mistake, these kinds of appeals rarely are overturned.  Here's why, and thanks once again to the race official for explicitly pointing this out:

Article X

Protests

10.1 Proper Subject of Protest. No protest may be filed with respect to matters which were observed by or previously ruled upon by a race official. No person may file a protest which requires a judgement call. A "judgement call," as used in these Rules, means the resolution of a dispute involving one or more material facts which cannot be determined with certainty solely through the production of tangible physical evidence. The term "judgement call" shall include but shall not be limited to a resolution of:

(a) any purported violation of the cycling position foul Rules (including alleged drafting violations);

(b) allegations of blocking, obstruction, or interference; or

(c) allegations of unsportsmanlike conduct.

Any protest filed in contravention of this Section shall be summarily dismissed under Section 10.4.

10.4 Summary Dismissal of Protest. With respect to each protest filed, the Head Referee shall make an initial determination as to whether the protest complies with all of the provisions of the Article and whether the protest is factually sufficient to support a ruling by the Protest Committee. If the protest is improper or deficient in any respect, the Head Referee shall summarily reject and dismiss the protest and shall not be required to submit the matter to the Protest Committee. If the defect is curable in the opinion of the Head Referee, the Head Referee may allow the protest to be resubmitted within a reasonable time, even if the time period in Section 10.5 has already expired.

...And with that, my last gasp for Breath of Life glory was extinguished.  Coldly.  Impersonally.

Of course, those precious few of you who read my blog every day know that I essentially brought this on myself by joking the day beforehand that I'd be drafting during the race.

I hate being right...especially in this instance.  Especially when I went out of my way not to joke about it!

Oh well.  Breath of Life is officially over.

Helllloooooo Vineman 70.3!

(Now where is that darned visor I just got in the mail?)

142 days and counting.

Hold On For 1 More Day

My celebration/commemoration of the Breath of Life Triathlon lasted all of 24 hours. Until I received an email from Coach Gerardo indicating that today marks the beginning of my taper towards Vineman 70.3.  And the stern reminder that "everything we have done the past few months is for this race."

As if that wasn't enough to force me to refocus on the race ahead instead of the race I just finished, I received in the mail today another omen: My Vineman 70.3 visor.

Breath of Life is soooooo June 27.

Out with one incredible life experience, on with another.  But something is nagging at me.  Tugging like a kid pulls on his dad's belt buckle for attention.

Where is the journey in all this?  The soul?  Where's the pause for reflection?  Jubilation?  Course correction?  Does it occur in the eight hours while I'm sleeping?  My 10 minutes in the shower each morning?

Being a "nester", I need at least a little bit of time to assess and put everything in its rightful place before moving on to the next project.  In this case, my first Half Ironman distance event.  I'm still busy remembering moments from yesterday's race before I put them in my mental scrapbook. Or in this more technical example, my blog.

Closing my eyes and really feeling the National Anthem, for example. Swaying gently side to side thinking of my grandfather and how proud he'd be if he were there physically in that moment.  Smiling to myself.  My pre-race ritual complete.

These are the moments I want to hold onto.  The moments that make a race an event, not just a training exercise.  The moments that threaten to escape me if I let them.  If I move too quickly from one memory to the next, like a bee anxiously finding the next flower while working herself into exhaustion along the way.  Never enjoying for a moment that hard-earned pollen.

We all train many long hours to achieve our goals.  And then we wake up at 4:30 in the morning, stumble out of bed into the darkness, don our wetsuits as the sun rises, and sprint earnestly into the salty water.

Then, we wish for the pain to end. For the finish line to show itself. Eventually, it complies.

And then the race is over.  The chapter is written.

Meanwhile, while the body recovers, the brain is still trying to figure out what the hell just happened.  At least mine is.  What did I learn?  What will be burned into my memory like a cattle brand?  What excess experience can I quickly snatch from impending forgetfulness?

I suppose what I'm getting at is that retention is part of recovery.  And recovery needs to occur before a new chapter begins.

That's where my head is at right now.  Even if my body is eager to take the next step on this Ironman odyssey.

Even as this Vineman 70.3 visor stares at me on my office desk.

There will be time to wear you soon, M-dot.

But not yet.  Not today.

143 days and counting.