New T-Pace

I have a new swimming T-pace.  It's eight seconds faster than the previous mark, 1:48/100 yards.  This has been confirmed after multiple sets of 500s at tonight's Fortius swim. My first indication of change in the water came during one of our early drills.  I was supposed to hit my T-pace in the third of five sets of 100 yards and go faster for the remaining two sets of 100s.  I started off way faster than anticipated, a brisk (for me) 1:37 without much effort.  Problem.  I was supposed to come in at 1:55, with the next set at 1:50. Problem again, as I "slowed" to 1:41.  Then 1:37, 1:33, 1:32.

This continued for the remaining two sets of 500.  More often than not, I came in at 1:40/100 with :20 rest, usually arriving closer to 1:37-1:39.

I suppose my real T-pace in the water in a non-stop 1,000 is still 1:48 as I'd imagine I'm slowing over the course of the TT.  But this still gives me hope of improvement on the horizon.  If I can maintain that 1:40 pace over longer distances, I'll really start saving some major time in events where I'm wearing a wetsuit.  And my swim times came after a fairly intense run early this morning at chilly Griffith Park.  I ran my first 7:30-ish mile pace in roughly six months.

My strength is coming back...nearly three months removed from Ironman Arizona.  I may have recovered physically a month ago, but I'm starting to see strength gains for the first time now.  Even my trainer, Shannan, indicated that "my nervous system is coming back online" based on the improvement in my coordination and agility in recent sessions.

Man, an Ironman sure takes a toll if I'm just starting to get my nervous system back in working athletic order now!

Anyway, it's really nice to see progress after being down in the dumps for so long.  If there's hope for me, there's hope for you too.  It just takes time.  And patience.  And a willingness to accept and trust the process of healing and rebuilding.

Not the easiest thing to do.

But certainly among the most worthwhile.

124 days and counting.

Progress Report

There are positives and negatives when running with a friend who's faster than you.  The conversation and camaraderie can't be beat.  However, it's very easy to beat yourself up -- physically and emotionally.

Both happened this morning when my buddy John and I ran a hilly trail course at Griffith Park.  I love having a friend run with me -- it's relaxing and borderline sacred in terms of being able to unwind without interruption.  And the views, as you can see in the image accompanying this post, are fantastic.  On the other hand, I totally ignored my scheduled workout (stay in heart rate zones 2-3) in the name of keeping up.

Here's the frustrating part though.  I used to be able to tear through this particular trail last year during the height of my speed and Ironman training, notching off 7:30-9:30 miles with ease. Today, no such luck.  John's watch data indicated we ran between 11:00-9:10 miles.  I was wheezing afterward.

What's happened?  I do know this: I'm nowhere near being in Ironman shape.  But I won't get down about it.  Rather, I'll use today's run as simply a benchmark in where I'm at from a fitness standpoint.  There's a lot of training left to go before Ironman Coeur d'Alene.  And I'm really glad I barely have any races this season between here and June 26.

Somewhere between now and then, I hope to pick up the pace while carrying the same level of conversation as today.  Even though my workout wasn't the best in terms of performance, I'll remember it more for the progress report of where I'm at in my training physically, along with the laugh-out-loud moments John and I enjoyed.

Gotta keep the training fun, right?

146 days and counting.

Frustratingly Slow

By trying to run more efficiently lately, I've been putting my body at greater risk. I ran nearly six miles this morning at Griffith Park with my buddy John and Coach Gerardo.  I received some valuable instruction on my forefoot striking experiment, mainly that I've been trying too hard to avoid heel contact on the strike.  This can cause extra strain in the Achilles and knees, as well as the foot itself.  Good thing Gerardo joined me.

I also need to work on kicking my heels up higher, which will activate my hamstring muscles more.  Currently, I'm shuffling too much, which I had no idea I was doing.  Of course, it's hard to run behind yourself and see these things.  One more reason that having a coach makes a lot of sense.

This was John's first time running with Gerardo, and in his words, he had a mental record button just listening to the two of us talk about training, diet, and technique.  It felt good knowing that we were helping John improve even if it was coming at the expense of my trying to break bad habits.  Bad habits I hope John doesn't have to experience for himself.

One downside that I noticed to running with my friends today was that I ran a little harder than what my workout called for.  I was supposed to stay in zone 2 heart rate but was usually in the low zone 3 range.  What's worse though is that now my zone 3, with my new running style, means I'm running 9:30-minute miles.  That's terrible for me!  Last year I was running 8:00-8:15-minute miles regularly en route to my 1:45 Surf City Half Marathon.

I never expected proper form and technique would actually make me slower.  Part of me just wants to go back to running the way I used to.  But I know I need to be thinking of the long-term here, so I'll keep leaning forward at the ankles and pushing ahead. Slowly.

160 days and counting.

Nine Hours of Awesome

I've trained nine hours this week, with another nine to go.  The last two days have been especially intense though.  And I wouldn't have it any other way.  I could have taken the easy way out. Coach Gerardo gave me only 16 hours originally but I asked/begged/demanded more work.  I'm so glad I did.  Finally, I can appreciate what he meant by embracing the challenge of the distances involved in my training.  Just getting through this week feels special. Today's workouts included a difficult 2,300-yard swim at 6 a.m. followed by cycling hill repeats and 20 minutes in zone three aero after that.  Two hours, 20 minutes of hard work.  My quads howled by the end of the bike workout, yet I felt so accomplished that I let out a primal yell to nobody in particular.  I didn't care if it startled people along the Griffith Park walkway or if people thought I was crazy.

We already know I am.  And by "we" I only mean you and me, not my "other" personalities.

Kidding.

Really.

Now I'm winding down for the evening, after a busy day of work.  A good day of work, I might add.  Despite my fatigue, I felt fresh in meetings and on my "A" game. My father shared an article with me about how a prominent business executive makes sure he's moving when he's thinking because it allows him to think better.  I believe there's something to that.  As long as I get enough rest and eat well, I definitely can see a connection between staying active and staying sharp.  I wonder if other people feel the same.  It's almost like fitness is the metaphorical equivalent of dressing up for work.  I used to find that if I dressed dapper in the office, my performance would follow suit. Now, toss out the tie, replace it with the bike shorts, and voila!

Tomorrow, we have a half-day off from work.  Despite my nine hours of torture -- training -- I'm inclined to work out some more.  I won't, because I can hear Gerardo from Texas telling me how bad of an idea that would be.

Can't peak too soon.

36 days and counting.

PS: I still need to compare my running threshold data from the last "official" test to yesterday's TT.  However, I think the last test measured a mile run and this was more about 20 minutes maintaining a certain heart rate and pace.  So it might be apples to oranges.  My first glance indicates I ran a mile 11 seconds faster yesterday and more miles in general.  Interestingly, my heart rate was roughly the same (high 160s).

iTrain

First things first. Yes, I fixed a flat last night. Mostly.

I struggled and klutzed around for around 24 minutes.  My technique was poor and clumsy, but ultimately I did take out one tube and insert another while putting on the tire without using tire irons.  I am proud of myself for that.  Unfortunately, I couldn't inflate the tire though.  My air pump is in the car that currently sits at my dad's auto repair shop.  I used a CO2 cartridge but that didn't take b/c I think the valve stem isn't protruding through the wheel enough.  I may have to insert another tube with a deeper stem.  Either way, I'm eager to see on Sunday morning if I correctly fixed the flat.  Even if I'm slow, I know I can continue to improve over the next several weeks with practice.

I know I can't get much worse!  Or can I?

Now, onto this morning's workout.  Sort of.

Yeah, sure, I ran almost 15 miles this morning on the smelly, hilly trails of Griffith Park.  But really, who cares about that.

My iPhone 4 is here, ready and operational!

I've spent the greater part of the summer and now fall with a pay-as-you-go T-mobile phone.  Is there such a thing as a functional piece of junk?  I've now officially joined the 21st century!  I can be like the cool kids once and for all!  I look forward to walking around as nothing but a silhouette with neon colors all around me as I bop and rock to my favorite hipster tunes.  Star Wars lightsaber app, here I come!  Fart noise app?  Yep, sign me up!  Training Peaks and any other number of triathlon-related apps, OMG I can't wait!

I haven't been this excited about racing as I have been about getting my iPhone.  I'm practically jumping for joy.  Except my legs wont' allow it after all that climbing this morning.

Back to this morning for a moment.  Running with my buddy Joe truly turned what could have been another mental slog into a joyful, fun experience.  We chatted for the first 1.5 hours of my 2.25-hour run.  We covered off on nutrition, race strategy, training schedules, lessons learned and all the other things that can occupy a triathletes mind.  Joe is going through some of the same things I did earlier in the year, so I hope I can be a good resource for him as he continues to grow as a triathlete.  After puttering along with me, Joe then took off for an hour of tempo work .  I still had another 45 minutes of solo hills work.  I didn't mind at all though, as just having someone to keep me company for a little while completely transformed my mental outlook.  Plus, I changed my normal route to include some trails I hadn't run since this past spring.  Felt good to shake things up a bit.  And that's coming from a creature of habit.

This Sunday, I'll have even more great company on my bike ride.  Frank will be joining me, as usual.  He's been a huge help this entire year whether he knows it or not.  Not sure where I'd be without him.  But Caleb is also going to join me.  Just to lend his support as well.  Caleb's Ironman is done this year, so he's literally coming out to help push me along.  He's been consistently reading the blog and commenting for the better part of the last six months.  If there's been any one new friend I've made through this sport that's helped me the most with perspective and inspiration, it's been Caleb.  Yes, athletes such as Coach Gerardo have helped me immeasurably to become a better triathlete.  And my Fortius friends have pushed me to be my best while enjoying the journey.  But Caleb, as a pro triathlete and all-around great guy, has helped me comprehend and accept that what I'm going through is totally normal -- even the best of the pros go through the cycle of fatigue, burnout, exhaustion, etc.  Without that knowledge and support -- knowing that I'm not some wussy whiner who can't hack it all the time -- maybe I would have succumbed to the fatigue instead of powering through it.  That's simply priceless.

I thought getting to my first Ironman would mostly be a solo journey. It would be me against the elements and my own body.

How wrong I was.

Without the support of others -- coaches, athletes, friends and family -- I wouldn't come close to Ironman Arizona.

And now, one very special little phone device with a million little apps that are waiting to be downloaded.

56 days and counting.

Farewell Summer

Summer 2010, I hardly knew ye.  In fact, I think the span of our relationship lasted all of one week, this past one. You were like the friends I had in 6th Grade, the Bortz twins.  In my neighborhood for what seemed like a week, then gone.  Just like that.  No explanation.  Where did they go?

Judging by tonight's "early" sunset just shy of 7:30 p.m. and the slight chill that accompanied it, summer is definitely over. (Yes, I sound like a spoiled Southern Californian. Deal with it!) Did we even get a summer this year?  Not since college had I spent this much time outdoors in the sun.  And I simply don't recall very many days where the heat was stifling.  It felt like we've had one season all year, spring.

As I rode with my new LA Tri Club buddy Jon during our Griffith Park brick workout, I was thinking about this summer.  I was watching it end before my eyes, with dark gray skies creating an ominous atmosphere and perhaps nurturing a more reflective workout mood.

What would I remember about this summer?

Hours after that first thought occupied my mind, I'm still having trouble with that question.   And maybe this has nothing to do with the weather.  Maybe this is just about being tired and ready for bed.  After all, I did swim 2,600 yards this morning (300 easy, 5 x 200 drills with fins 5 x 200 split between catchup and swim without fins and a final 3 x 100 split between kicks and swimming), bike 20 and run four at tempo or race-pace this evening.  And I worked a full day in between, forgoing lunch to get more done.

OK, those last two sentences were fluff, allowing me to procrastinate more.

But seriously, check out what my car looked like at the end of the day from all this cross-training.  You can't even see the passenger seat!

What will I remember about this summer?

Honestly, it's all a blur.  Every weekend seems to have been spent training or racing. Vineman, both my race and Rusty's, will certainly rank as a major summer highlight.  The Breath of Life triathlon triumph and agony of losing my spot at Nationals will stay with me for a long time as well. Beyond that, things get muddier.  I spent a lot of time in the saddle, alone or with friends.  I'm a much better triathlete in September as I was in June.  There's no doubt about that.

But how much time did I spend goofing around with friends?  How much time did I spend with Steph just enjoying the weekend at our own pace?  Was it enough?  I know we had a LOT of good times this summer and I can rattle off a bunch of those special moments spent at concerts, weddings, family outings, nice dinners, and sports events.  But many of those special moments were built around training schedules.

Maybe I just need a little more time to step back and assess the summer. All the great times, both singular and taken as a whole.  Maybe I'm just bummed that the summer is over so quick.  It caught me off guard.  I had summer firmly in my grasp, and yet somehow it feels like it slipped right through my fingers.  What happened?

Sad to see you go, Summer 2010.

72 days and counting.

Why the Negativity?

Is it a full moon or something? Usually, the Griffith Park LA Tri Club brick is filled with positive energy and nothing but encouragement.  Maybe it was the 90-degree-plus heat at 5 p.m. Or the huge swells that hit Santa Monica this morning.  But something was different tonight.  Three different Tri Clubbers offered nothing but discouragement in three separate conversations.  Two of them didn't mean anything by it, both commenting either on their fatigue or a poor race performance at the Santa Barbara Triathlon.  The third (and his friend) flat out warned me about marriage and begged me to get a pre-nuptial agreement because he had just lost hundreds of thousands of dollars in a settlement.  Both friends chided me about being closer to the "unhappy 50%" who get divorced.

Gee, thanks guys.

The places where I go to train are equivalent to a spiritual and physical dojo. I expect negativity, like shoes at a martial arts studio, to be left at the door.

Today, the dojo was muddied.  Footprints stained the white canvas.  It's ugly.  And unappreciated. Ironically, this comes on the same day I interviewed a leading sports psychologist for a freelance magazine website story I'm writing.  We discussed the benefits to blogging or journal-keeping, along with the risks.  Without tipping my hand or my source's viewpoint, one of the risks associated with blogging or journal-keeping is reflecting on the negative so that it becomes self-destructive.  I'm going to take that feedback to heart tonight.  I'll clean up my mental dojo, sweep up the dirt and grime, and look forward to another day of training tomorrow.

Tonight reminded me of how powerful words can be.  Just a few poorly chosen ones can negatively color someone else's mood or general outlook.  I'm vowing right here to strengthen my resolve to encourage others, and if I have something to discuss that could be construed as negative, I'll think twice and ask myself if it's helpful, valuable and necessary information to share.

If it isn't, I'll keep my mouth shut.

Some nights, blogging is really hard.  I write words down almost just for the sake of keeping my ritual intact.  Tonight, it's as if I'm pouring back garbage into a wastebasket and rapidly jogging down the hall to throw it down the chute.  The process is short, messy, stinky and I want to get it over with quickly so the room the wastebasket sat in can return to its normal aroma.

And now the cleansing part:

-- Just because other people's relationships fall apart doesn't mean mine will.  I'm 100% confident of that.

-- What happened to other people at the Santa Barbara Triathlon in years past is their experience.  I'm about to define my own.

-- Yes, an Ironman will take a huge toll on my body and mind.  I should expect at least a month to fully recover, and that's totally OK.  I have no problem with that.

Good.  Got that over with.

And now, I return to my normal, happy outlook on life and training.

Good night, all.

87 days and counting.

Week Done!

This week of training, while not particularly hard, left me slightly gasping for the finish.  Maybe it's the long weekend. Maybe it was waking up before 6:30 a.m. three out five weekdays.  Or that Trudy and Bam-Bam are back to wreak havoc on Stephanie's and my sleeping patterns. The more I think about it, I'm probably just a bit more tired than usual because of the mere 12 hours separating the track and swim workouts from this morning's 1.5-hour bike ride at Griffith Park.  I didn't really push it, but by the end of this morning's ride my legs were definitely glad it was time to call it quits.

I'm scheduled for some yoga now, which I'm going to our work gym to complete.  That'll probably restore and refresh me.  Tomorrow, I have an off-day as Steph and I are back on the wedding  venue scouting trail.  Ojai and Los Olivos are on the docket.

I'm looking for some highlights or superlatives to describe today's workout.  Not much comes to mind at all.  It was one of those rides where you find yourself looking at your watch more for a countdown to finishing as much to see how fast you're going or where your heart rate stands.  I know my calf compression sleeves came in handy and reduced what felt like sore and stiff legs when I woke up this morning.

What can I say...some workouts are just more enjoyable than others.  Then again, it was gorgeous out, without a cloud in the sky.  And in a few years, it will be a real privilege to be able to fit in a pre-work bike ride.  So I file this one away to, Don't Take It For Granted!

139 days and counting.

Do the Work.

How I'm ending the day is pretty much how I started it.  Tired.  Lethargic.  Ready for bed. At least I can fulfill that desire instead of trudging out for an early morning brick.  Stephanie pretty much had to kick me out of bed this morning, literally.  She did so successfully, with the promises of making me oatmeal.  It helped.  My cycling felt about as slow as oatmeal transfers out from the ceramic bowl to the plastic one.  Please. Just. Go. A. Little. Faster.

For whatever reason, I just didn't sleep well last night.  I was ready to train at 4:30 in the morning, and since Trudy and Bam Bam have been making more regular early morning cameos lately, I figured what's the use of going back to sleep.  So I got caught in that "no doze zone" -- somewhere between being awake and drifting off to sleep.  It took me about a half-hour of cycling to wash the malaise off my body and generate some pedal power.

The run turned out much better.  The breakthrough from last Wednesday's Griffith Park brick with Coach Gerardo and Richard is really paying dividends now.  Despite my general tired state, running at tempo pace (heart-rate zone 3) felt surprisingly easy and relaxing.  My heart-rate never rose past 157 bpm but I was averaging what felt like an 8:30-mile pace -- and it was fairly effortless.  In the past, I would labor a lot more running at tempo.  Granted, I only ran a shade under 4.5 miles in just about 40 minutes.  But I felt like I could run another 4.5 or more at the same pace if not slightly better. Given my groggy frame of mind, I'll more than take it.

I suppose the real victory today was simply getting out of bed and doing the work. That's all you can do sometimes, as I've said before.  It's the difference between coming close to your race day goals and either meeting or exceeding your expectations.  You've got to put in the work, the time, the sweat and the effort -- whether you feel like it or not.

That's really all that today was about.  And at this point countless other training sessions I've written about. It's probably the theme of my Ironman training: Do the work. Period.

Speaking of, it's back to work tomorrow morning. At 6. In the pool.  Track session in the evening too.

Let's do this.

141 days and counting.

Coach to the Rescue

First off, it may seem that I’m slacking in the blog department.  I promised (myself and my readers) that I’d blog every day without fail until Ironman. Fail.

Last night I had internet problems. The site seemed to be down.  The night before, I had a late massage from David at LA Body Mechanics that ended around 10:40 p.m. (more on that later).  I was tired, beat up, and needed some rest.

I actually wrote this blog last night in Microsoft Word so I could potentially double-post tomorrow (today by the time you read this).

The past few days have been eye-opening for me.  More so from a mental aspect than anything else.  Previously, I had written about my fatigue after an emotionally draining week.  That fatigue led me to miss a couple workouts.  Which caused me to start worrying – OK panicking – that I wouldn’t be at my peak heading into this weekend’s race.

For those of you who read my blog post about my night with the Lakers, I certainly don’t expect you to feel sorry for me.

Nonetheless, times like these call for a good coach.  Someone to reel you in when you start to drift – OK beeline – for an anxiety attack or confidence crisis.

Enter Coach Gerardo.  Over the past few days, he’s essentially grabbed me by the arms and shaken me, metaphorically telling me to “chill out” and remember why I love the sport of triathlon. David, during his massage, pointed this out to me too.  I had gotten too locked into “the numbers” of the sport.  We all know them well.  Heart-rate zones and duration of workout especially.

I honestly can’t remember the last time I swam, ran or biked simply for the pure joy of it.  It’s always with an end-goal in mind.  A workout to check off the list.  A time to beat.  Someone to beat.

Gerardo has really reset me and got me ready for this Sunday.  He gave David tips on the best massage for me, and reminded me why I was doing all this (because I CAN!).  Yesterday, he (and Richard) ran with me the entire set during our Griffith Park brick to show me I could run a lot faster than I think – maintaining a seven-minute mile pace for two miles while not totally blowing up in the process.  Today, Gerardo pushed me in the water farther and harder than I wanted to go, ignoring my whining to coax a personal best 1:26 100-yard swim out of me.  And, after that, he sent me an email congratulating me on a nice bike time trial yesterday, smooth cadence at 92 rpm and staying in heart-rate zone 3.

That’s the mark of a good coach.  He took me from the brink of dejection and collapse to feeling like I’m truly ready to rock this Sunday.  My energy is high, my confidence is back, and most important…I’m excited to race again.

Thanks coach.

147 days and counting.