Answering a Question I Don't Want to Ask

I've slept for close to 10 hours each of the past three nights. During that span, I've biked nearly 95 miles, ran about 15, hiked another three and swam (only laps).

It was hot and windy for a good portion of those miles.

Total training time: 10 hours, not including the 2.5 hour hike.  That's between 3 1/3 and 4+ hours a day since Saturday.

Am I over-training?

Judging by my sleeping patterns and how my body feels, yeah, a little.

Can I stop?  Hell no!  I'm an addict.  I'm routinely training 15 hours a week right now -- sometimes more, sometimes less.  I know I should take a moment and reassess but with the Breath of Life national qualifier Olympic triathlon coming up on June 27 and Vineman 70.3 a few weeks later, I feel like I'm training for the high season.  I figure there will be time to rest in late July after Vineman.

That leads me to today's workouts.  I was supposed to run with Stephanie early this morning, at 6:15.  That time came and went quickly, with a fly-swat to my alarm and another two hours of sleep. I managed to fit my recovery run in on the treadmill at lunch.  I literally only ran just over four miles in 45 minutes.  To say I was dragging would be an understatement.  A friend of mine who trains at the gym religiously pointed out that sometimes you just have to log the time.  That's what got me through the workout.  Some days are just bad days.  In her words, "as long as you have one good day of training a week," that's about all you can ask for.

That seems like such a strange concept to me.  I want every workout to be my best.  That's what I expect and demand from myself.

Maybe I should ask my body nicely more often?

Despite my legs feeling like anchors, I'm heading to the pool in an hour for an evening edition of the Fortius-coached swim.  Steph is joining me, which is exciting and a little frightening all at once.  I want to show her how much I've improved in the water but I hope I have enough fuel in the tank to do it.  On top of that, I need to conserve enough energy to make tomorrow morning's 6:30 a.m. ocean speed circuit with the LA Tri Club in Santa Monica.  Followed by a brick at 5:30 p.m. at Griffith Park.

I think if it sounds like over-training, it probably is.

In that case, I've answered my own question that started this blog post.

I know I should do something about that.

I just can't promise that I will.

169 days and counting.

Dear Arizona: See You in November

(Pre-post apology.  I missed blogging Friday and Saturday.  The hotel we stayed at wanted $15 for internet, which I think is insane.  And we got back from Arizona last night at midnight. So this is a SPECIAL Memorial Weekend round-up!)

You'd think that after more than six months of blogging practically every day about Ironman Arizona, I'd get the sense that the journey is real.

I'd have thought so too, until I actually drove up to Mill Avenue and Rio Salado in Tempe on Saturday to preview the bike and run course.

But a funny thing happened as I drove down Rio Salado into the parking lot of the Tempe Beach park.

I got goosebumps. Big ones.  Hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, saluting the course.

Maybe it was the Linkin Park song on the radio ("What I've done") hitting just as I pulled up to the main intersection.  I think it was the gravity hitting me that this whole charade isn't a pipe dream, even with all the training that has gone into it.  The dream is real, it lives at a real intersection, and in six months it's me against time and the elements.  Right here.

It doesn't get any more real than that.

If I thought all this was a dream, reality smacked me in the face as soon as I got on the bike.  At 8 in the morning it was close to 80 degrees. By the time I finished the bike ride it was in the low 90s.  By the time I finished the run, I was pretty much dehydrated, even with drinking more than a liter of water, consuming multiple Endurolyte pills, gels and Clif Bars.

Note to self: Training nutrition in California does not equal training nutrition in Arizona.

The bike ride was the culprit.  I didn't sweat during most of the ride.  Why?  Well, the constant cross-wind that felt mostly like a headwind swept any moisture I had right off my face, leaving a film of salt on my skin and all over my jersey.  (Speaking of, it seems that the winds are at their harshest looping back off Shea Boulevard on the Beeline Highway and coming back into Tempe on McKellips. The only semblance of a tailwind seemed to come roughly halfway back on the Beeline Highway.  Please, someone correct me if I'm mistaken.) My college years in Tucson had taught me to always hydrate even when I'm not sweating, so I actually had consumed nearly two water bottles filled with Hammer Perpetuum during the nearly 2.5 hour ride.

It wasn't enough.

I found that out the hard way during the run.  I couldn't figure out why my heart-rate wasn't dropping from heart-rate zone 3 even when I was supposed to be in zone 1 for the first 20 minutes. At first, I thought it was a good sign since I felt fine and refreshed. Guess I didn't need zone 1.  Wrong.   The remaining 40 minutes of my run were to be in zone 3, which quickly turned into zone 4 despite my best efforts.  All the while, my speed was roughly one-half to a full mile-per-hour slower than usual.

The funny part about this unfortunate dichotomy  was my inner monologue the entire duration of the run.  Literally, in my head I was talking trash to the bike and run course.  In fact, I was planning my official response on Twitter, of all things.  It went something like this:

"Dear #IMAZ course, your oppressive heat and nasty crosswinds don't scare me. Your ass is mine in November. Hugs, Ryan."

Turns out that doesn't fit in 140 characters. But you get the idea.

I even went as far as likening my training in Scottsdale/Tempe as like Rocky training to fight Drago in Rocky IV.  I could literally replace screaming "Drrrraaaaaggggooooo!!!" atop the mountain with "Irrrrroooonnnnnmmmmmaaaaaaannnnnn!!!!!"

"You ain't so bad!"

It wasn't until later in the afternoon, after about at least three additional bottles of water, Gatorade, and a Myoplex protein drink, that I realized the folly of my ways.

But, I WILL be ready in November for Arizona.  No matter what it brings.  Even if the bike course is 80% cross/head winds.  Even if there's a heat spell.  I will be ready.

***

And for those of you who read my blog because you want to know more about wedding planning with Stephanie, here's your special update.  We had a great time in Scottsdale.  One of our favorite restaurants and site venues, Sassi, lived up to its expectations in every way.  The food is truly outstanding (the veal chop, pizza di carne, and orecchiette pasta are my big recommendations), the views are stunning and the price is a bargain. We're not sure about the actual wedding location on the property so we're going to continue scouting locations.

We also checked out the Fairmont Scottsdale, which had really great room deals and a truly all-encompassing resort that could make for a fantastic destination wedding.  We need to do more research on this location, but it's still a contender.  Whether we'll be able to handle the heat and critters in September remains to be seen.  Both Steph and I were apparently attacked by a spider lurking in our bed on Friday evening, as Steph has nine welts all over her arms and legs to show for it.  That would seem to be a strike against Scottsdale.

And now, the weekend continues.  Steph and I are going to practice some yoga for a while and then tomorrow we'll hike Escondido Falls in Malibu before meeting my folks for dinner.  And of course, there's three hours on the bike, re-enacting the eighth stage of the Amgen Tour of California. On my tri bike.  Oh yeah!

It's been a fantastic weekend of discovery, insight, and relaxation.

And PS: Arizona Ironman, your ass WILL be mine in November.

173, 172 and now, 171 days and counting.

Beat up

I'm beat. Up. Not from my cycling time trial, which I think went pretty well.

But from the aftermath.

I have my massage therapist and Fortius teammate, David, to thank.  He pulled, stretched, and rolled my muscles into painful submission after submission.  And it felt great.  Judging by the loud wailing that was coming from my condo walls, it didn't sound that way though.  Fortunately, I have a day off from training tomorrow so I'll be able to let the full benefit of the massage take shape on my body.

What will I be doing tomorrow?  Glad you asked!  It's the beginning of wedding venue location scouting season.  Stephanie and I are taking a quick trip to Arizona, Scottsdale specifically.  You know what that means?  Yup, I'm going to bike and run the Ironman Arizona course this Saturday before our meeting at the potential wedding site.  I can't wait.  I'm going to meet my nemesis face-to-face.  One on one.  I hope it's a pleasant encounter.  More to report in a couple days.

Since I posted earlier and I'm headed for a hot bath to further soak the muscles, I'm signing off on this blog post a little early.

More tomorrow.

Still 174 days and counting.

Too Early for 2-a-Days?

I was too tired to blog yesterday.

I can't tell if that's because I was suffering the effects from my 14-hour travel day on Wednesday, which include that tell-tale throat tickle that must have come from Mullet Man. Or, maybe it was the combination early morning run followed by the evening lower body lifting session.

Maybe a little of Column A and a little of Column B?

My goal when I started this blog was to write an entry for every day leading up to Ironman AZ. That lasted less than a week. I will try to do better next time.

Here's the quick summary of yesterday's workouts.

Highlights: Running close to six miles at the prescribed heart rate (below 145) without trouble. (By the way, if you're interested I've attached my initial hear-rate goals until I have a proper field test.) And, being able to maintain Coach Gerrardo's desired cadence of 22 steps with the left foot at 15-second intervals. Weather was crisp and brisk and despite being jet-lagged, the run was pleasant. Dare I say invigorating? Listened to U2's No Line on the Horizon album, which is growing on me several months after the release and one live concert later (Rose Bowl).

Lowlights: Forgetting my running shoes at the gym and having to wear my silver-and-black argyle loafers with my workout gear. I looked like Jeff Spicoli joining the track team. Still managed to get a good session in despite my goofy appearance.

Today, after a relatively (rare) peaceful night's sleep I attended a 7 a.m. spin class at The Ride in Sherman Oaks (http://theridela.com/). The instructor was Lorie Kramme, whom I highly recommend if you're looking to learn and grow from a fellow passionate cyclist. Someone who knows how to really talk you through a visual experience while pushing your aerobic threshold just enough. What I especially enjoyed was her willingness to embrace my need for a specific workout (isolated leg training) and she even incorporated it into the group workout.

In the next hour I'll be conducting the second of my workouts today, upper-body lifting (read: swimming muscles emphasis) at our company gym. I'll be sure to bring my running shoes this time.

***

One quick note: I had the great fortune yesterday of being able to thank the two people responsible for piquing my interest in triathlon. Both live Down Under, as you might expect considering how popular triathlon is in Australia/New Zealand. I was in Auckland for a press trip when I met Dave Hine and Paul Gunn in November 2007, and my life changed ever since. Gents, thanks again for encouraging me to expand beyond my comfort zone. For dreaming big. For getting me off my lazy ass. For making me believe that I could complete a triathlon. And for being supportive of my (exceedingly modest by comparison) accomplishments in the sport.

Paul is one of New Zealand's best triathletes in his age group (35-39). I'm trying to get him to start his own Twitter feed so he can share his experiences with us. Paul was kind enough to invite me to stay with him in January 2011 for the Mount Half Ironman National Long Distance Championships. Even though it will only be a few months after Ironman AZ, I'm considering it.

But that's more than a year from now. Time to hit the gym.

354 days and counting.

Oh Carolina...

I'm feeling guilty.

Two days without real training.

Two days of decadent holiday cooking, complete with multiple pieces of homemade pumpkin pie and homemade ice cream. (How can anyone say no to that?!)

Yesterday was my off day, which was hard to maintain considering I was flying today to Raleigh-Durham, NC for a few days of meetings. So I got some push-ups and ab work in but that was about it. Today, I unintentionally got some exercise in because I literally was the last guy on the plane from Burbank to Phoenix this morning on the 6:50 a.m. flight. This is the second time I've cut my flight so close in two weeks...I need to give myself more time to arrive at the airport! Anyway, I sprinted the length of Terminal A with my transition bag doubling as a duffle bag and my laptop and toiletries case under my arm like a football. Thank goodness I'm in good shape...as the doors were closing just as I arrived to the ticket counter. With a little sweet talking and swallowing of pride (admitting I was late for no good reason), I made it onto my regularly scheduled flights.

Speaking of Phoenix, I went to college in Tucson at the University of Arizona. Normally, I love visiting Arizona but this time it was different, even for a 20-minute layover. As the plane descended into Sky Harbor Airport, I realized the next time I may see the Tempe/Phoenix skyline would be a year from now for Ironman Arizona. That thought really humbled me...I was flying into the mouth of the dragon, so to speak. And I felt just a little intimidated even though I have been to the city many times over the years. But not like this, not with this goal in front of me. Will I be ready in a year for this massive trial? The clock is ticking...and I'm not training today and I didn't really train yesterday either.

After a fantastic meal at The Landing in Chapel Hill (ordered the chicken in special xo sauce with pork and shrimp rice), I'm now at the Doubletree Hotel in Durham, NC (pictured), where it's 48 degrees and raining. I miss SoCal already, though the warm chocolate chip cookie waiting for me upon check-in temporarily made it all better (I'm a sucker for chocolate chip cookies, great for training). Fortunately, there's a small pool here and a treadmill, so tomorrow morning I'm waking up early to get a workout in before meetings begin at 9. I can't wait. Every day I don't train feels like added minutes to my final Ironman time...or like I'm chipping away the percentages for even finishing the race.

Am I the only one who gets this neurotic about training?

According to Gerrardo's training calendar schedule, I'm supposed to run for 45 minutes tomorrow at Zone 1 HR. I'm not even sure where Zone 1 ends and Zone 2 starts! Well, I guess I'll figure it out. I'm going to guess I should keep my HR below 120.

Going to bed now.

357 days and counting.

PS: If you're going to be at the NC-Michigan State game tomorrow night, let me now via @theironmadman. I scored two tickets thanks to my amazing work colleagues!

Freshman, Triathlon Tech University

Waking up this morning sucked. And it wasn't even before 7!

Quick note: I've got the Upstairs Neighbors from Hell. You'll be hearing about the inconsiderate mother and her 3-year-old son from time-to-time, like now, for instance. I'll call the mom "Trudy" and the son "Bam-Bam." Imagine hearing an earthquake directly above your head any time between 5:30-7:30 a.m. and it continuing intermittently throughout the day until 9:30 p.m. 24/7/365. Yep, that's my life. Which is a blessing and a curse since A) it gets me out of bed early to train but B) I'm constantly suffering from a lack of quality rest, evidenced typically by puffy raccoon eyes.

This morning was no different, although I tried a new tactic where I slept on the couch in my living room to avoid the usual bedroom barrage. That bought me until 6:30...when Bam-Bam ran full-steam into the living room and sailed across the floor in his tricycle. "FML," as they say.

Needless to say, I wasn't my usual energetic self when I put my car in auto-pilot and headed to Old Agoura and the Cheseboro Park trails off, well, Cheseboro. I met up with my coach, Gerrardo (pictured), and my fellow teammates -- most of whom I was meeting for the first time. It felt like the first day of school, except for once I was starring as the strange new kid.

We were to run 10-12 miles, which I hadn't done since the Agoura Half-Marathon in March 2008. The most I had run since then was nine miles, and that was just last week in Central Park (Reservoir loop 4tw!). But here was the catch, we were going to run at a 10:00 pace and keep our heart rates below 150bpm. And, we were trail running, which I hadn't really done before to this degree. Nevertheless, it seemed easy enough, I figured, as I have been used to training the old-fashioned way: Progressively killing myself a bit more with each workout until my body demanded a rest day. Apparently, that's not the best way to train. Wish I had gotten that memo sooner.

I started off fine for the first few miles. Heart rate was low and I was keeping up with this seasoned group of triathletes that included prior Ironman finishers and a pair of speedy sprinting sisters. I even had the audacity to remark that this was the easiest run I had ever been on.

Whoops.

Gradually, Gerrardo and gang pulled away. It seems that their speed at 150bpm is slightly greater than mine. By a wide margin. But I kept at it, meandering alone (about a minute behind) through the cold, dusty hills that still manage to showcase their beauty despite being the highest brush fire hazard imaginable.

My tardiness turned out to be a blessing in disguise as I entered a creekbed to find a deer and her little Bambi grazing quietly about 20 yards away. Mama deer and I locked eyes and had a brief staring contest before Mama realized I wasn't worth paying further attention to. She went on with her meal and I continued my steady-as-she-goes jaunt.

While this was the high point of my morning, a moment of Zen amidst about two-and-a-half hours of peaceful contemplation, the low point occurred 80% through the run when I failed my first test administered by Professor Gerrardo. After 9.5 miles, we came to a literal fork in the road, at which point I was given the option of heading back to the car with a respectable 10 miles under my belt, or sucking it up for 2.5 more miles to make it an even 12.

I may have been sore, but my heart rate was holding between 149-152 and I had more in the tank. I wanted to show these folks they weren't dealing with a softie. I wasn't a total noob.

Wrong answer.

The final stretch was almost entirely uphill, to the point where I had to walk most of it to keep my HR in Zone 2. When we reached the top of the first crest, I called out to Gerrardo and playfully chided him for not telling me about the ascents. To which he responded, "that's because you failed your first test of triathlon training: peer pressure."

And so, on my first official run with the ValleyCoach.com crew, I was taken to school.

I'm now a true freshman at Triathlon Tech University, and a victim of some light-hearted hazing.

But I ran two more miles than expected, and although the back of my left knee is sore and I've got a blister or two on my toes, I'm in good spirits.

Hazing never felt better.

359 days and counting.

It Begins

It is Friday night. It's 10:11 p.m. I'm in my bed, blogging. Most people are getting ready to go out for a night on the town. I'm 35 and not yet married, living 20 minutes from Hollywood. I should probably be doing the same.

Instead, I'm on the verge of sleep so I can get up early tomorrow to run 10-12 miles. After cycling 50 today from Agoura to Malibu by way of Westlake, Newbury Park, and PCH (where the image above was taken by fellow triathlete and all-around fantastic human being, Anat). After cycling 20 yesterday, on Thanksgiving, and cross training with my personal trainer and friend, Shannon, the day before that.

It's all with a bigger goal in mind. One in particular. What business author Tom Peters calls a Big, Hairy, Audacious Goal, or B.H.A.G.

Ironman.

Just typing those words makes my stomach churn just a bit. I was one of the lucky (crazy?) folks able to register for Ironman Arizona 2010 before it sold out in 25 minutes. And since this past Monday at 11 a.m. Pacific time, I've been wondering if I made the right decision.

I thought I was in good shape, until Wednesday night. That's when I met Gerrardo, my new triathlon coach. I've competed in seven triathlons so far, including three Olympic distance events. I typically finish as high as top 10% to 50% of the field. I train six days a week, up to 10-12 hours per week. But Gerrardo indicated that my training will need to increase substantially over the next year, as in closer to 20 hours a week by this summer. And, I'll need a new triathlon bike as well...this after I bought a 2008 Colnago Extreme Power earlier this year thinking it would be the last bike I'd ever have to buy. Fail.

(Nobody told me in advance that this sport is such a money pit!)

Yet I can't get enough. I'm compelled to rise out of bed early each morning to push myself harder than the day before, just by a little bit. But I often do it by myself, running lonely streets, swimming solitary laps and going on long bike rides with a handful of training partners.

That's where I hope you come in. Am I doing this alone? Am I the lone Iron(mad)man out there? Am I the only one wondering every morning "Why the hell am I getting out of a perfectly warm bed to beat myself up before (and sometimes after) work?"

I'm looking forward to chronicling this journey towards Ironman 2010. I want to capture those lonely training sessions, the quiet milestones checked off the list, the tune-up events, the lapses and maybe even a podium finish (or two?). I want to have something tangible at the end of the finish line on November 21, 2010 besides the obvious finishers medal, jersey, photos, etc.

I want to relive the memories one day. I want to show my kids (when I have them!) what can be accomplished if you put your mind, body and spirit into something that seems impossible. A B.H.A.G. I hope I inspire others to accomplish their own big-ass goals. And I want to share the experience with anyone who might be mad enough to come along for the ride.

I'm Ryan Schneider. I'm the Iron(mad)man...in training.

360 days and counting.

PS: I'm waiting for a more official website to be built, so this will be my temporary home until then. I'll keep y'all posted with details. I also have a nifty logo that I'll be sharing shortly, thanks to my buddy and amazing web developer/user experience guru, Ward.