Resting And Loving It

No workout yesterday.  One hour of yoga today. This taper business is really starting to appeal to me!

I'm sleeping in -- well, as much as the little monster upstairs allows me to -- reading, watching sports live when they're actually happening...this is awesome!

One of the weekend's highlights included attending Fortius teammate Mike's Ironman Lake Placid send-off party.  As always, it's great to see everyone when we're not wearing spandex or swim goggles or fuel belts or smell like chlorine.  We shared training stories, watched the Ironman St. George DVD that featured a cameo from Fortius teammate Paul, and put Mike on the spot to talk about the sum of his training and thoughts going into his big race.

Amidst all the jokes I realized that my send-off isn't too far away.  Just over four months now.  Where did all the time go?  If it wasn't for this blog, the whole thing would be a blurry dream that almost doesn't seem real.  And yet I sit here, on my couch in the morning, exalting in my days off from training.  In a few years, I'll likely have kids and long for the moments when I can just train for 2.5 hours because I can.  I try to keep that in mind often, but at this very moment, taking a break just feels really good.  So I'm going with it.

Over the next few days, with a lighter training schedule, I may not have as much to write either.  Instead of forcing it, I may take a break from the blog too.  We'll see.

Besides work, the rest of the day consists of taking my bike in for a pre-race safety check and buying new gloves since I lost one on my brick on Saturday.  I'll squeeze in yoga either during a 5 p.m. session at our work gym or at 7 p.m. at Black Dog (more likely).

That's all I got for now.  Fairly uninspired stuff today, I know.  But, I'm just kind of mellow at the moment.  Resting.

Ahhhhhhhhh.

132 and 131 days and counting.

Spinning Head

Usually, my body is sore and I'm physically spent after a Saturday brick workout. Despite the heat and a nearly three-hour time time trial, it's my brain that hurts the most right now.

Don't worry, mom, I didn't crash!

Following our weekly Fortius group training session, Coach Gerardo led a Vineman 70.3 pre-race preparation discussion with Richard, Ann, Mike, Karen and me.  He's a great resource considering he has completed the Vineman course four times, and Mike has done it before too.

I think my head is spinning even more than my legs did pedaling up Mulholland Drive this morning!

I came home and am blogging almost immediately to capture as much information as possible.  In fact, before the "pretty" form you see here and below, I literally brain-dumped out as much as I could remember.

I'm labeling it as Pre-Race, Transitions and Race for those of you also preparing for other Half-Ironman events -- at Vineman or elsewhere.

Pre-Race

• Bring a second pair of socks
• On Friday, get to the beach by 4 p.m. before it closes.
• Running bag needs to be delivered on Saturday and should contain salt tablets, fuel belt, extra gels and bars, hat, extra sunblock and extra pair of socks.
• Bring bike to packet pick up to bike the run course.

Transitions

• Put baby powder in my shoes and on my feet, along with generous helpings of tri-glide to avoid blistering
• There's apparently a 30% grade coming out of the T1 chute.  Gerardo is suggesting clipping the shoes on the bike to ensure a safer run up the hill and putting on the shoes either while moving on the bike or at the mount point. I'm not sure what I'm going to do about this since I haven't practiced those kinds of transitions.  That's something I need to do in the future.
• Don't fill water in my fuel belt water bottles until the first aid station, where the water will be cold and help me avoid cramping.

Race

• Knock off a little of the pace on the bike to preserve for the run
• Avoid people hosing you down during the run as much as possible.  Keep feet dry.
• If warm out, wear arm coolers under wetsuit during swim.  If not, save for T1.
• Eat breakfast at least 2 hours before your wave time.  Make sure you consume at least 600 calories.  Considering I burned 1,500 calories in just shy of three hours today in 80-something degree heat, I'm surprised it's not even higher.  Then again, we should be eating and drinking throughout the bike ride.
• Red-tinted or clear-tinted sunglasses will be most effective dealing with the sun reflections on the bike at the race.  I have neither. Hmm.  Dark glasses will be the worst.  Those, I have.
• Pace your own race.  Don't get caught up in competing with others.  This is going to be the most difficult thing for me to avoid.  I need to find a way to control my competitive urges.  I'll have to focus on looking at my watch, not others.
• Watch the hills on the bike and don't be over-aggressive on climbing them.  Save your energy for the run.

Overall, the three most important tips are:

• Knock a little off the bike race pace to conserve energy on the run.  Same goes for the swim.  It's better to lose a few minutes in the water and on the bike rather than up to an hour on the run due to dehydration.
• Race nutrition is everything.  I should basically be drinking a full water bottle per hour on the bike, and possibly an added bottle if it's hot.
• Run your own race.  Stay within yourself.  Pacing!  This is not a sprint or Olympic triathlon.  According to Gerardo, a Half-Ironman is the most difficult race to get right when it comes to pacing and proper nutrition.  It's a very fine balance between pushing too much and too little, and the consequences are severe when doing the latter.  Since this is my first Half-Ironman, I'm especially nervous about learning about this point the hard way.

I'm sure I forgot more than I remembered.  But this should help keep me on track during the race.  Not mentioned today but rather during my swim this past Thursday is to focus on flow and not mechanics in the water.  If I can keep my breathing in check, that should help a lot.  I found a real good breathing cadence during my 1,000 yard time trial, which netted me a personal-best 18:27.  My pace per 100 yards is now 1:52, down from 2:05 in the pool when I first started.  This also came less from worrying about my stroke and concentrating more on my breath.  My new swim PR time led Gerardo to predict it should take me roughly 37 minutes to swim 1.2 miles at Vineman.  We'll see how close he is.  So far, every time he's predicted a pace result for me, he's been pretty much right on the nose.

I hope he predicts a 5:30 Half-Ironman!  Though I suspect I'll be in the 6:00-6:30 range depending on the heat.

OK, I'm heading into the final week of Half-Ironman training.  I'm physically ready.  I'm mentally prepared.  The waiting game officially begins tomorrow, during my first weekend non- pre race off-day I can recall since joining Fortius.  I'll spend it with family, watching Le Tour and Spain vs. Netherlands (Espana wins 2-1, btw).  Along with sending Mike off in style for his first Ironman, Lake Placid.

Now, it's time to enjoy the rest of my day and night, which consists of today's Tour stage, burgers and beer with my buddy TJ and Predators.  My kind of night.

And a welcome distraction to take my mind off all these mental checklist items for next week!

133 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.

Track Virgin

Today marked my first official workout on a track.  After 36 years, I guess it's about damn time. Psychologically, I felt faster just being on a track.  My timed 800s at 5k speed didn't reflect that because I missed my 2:55/800m pace.  But I felt faster thanks to all the energy and ambiance surrounding me.  The Fortius team meets at Harvard-Westlake High School in Studio City once a week for this coached workout, a very posh institution with a college-level track and football/soccer field.  Today, two large football squads from what appeared to be Santa Monica High School were working out, along with a club-level youth soccer team.  Fast, young athletic kids whooped and hollered everywhere, and it was almost impossible not to get caught up in the near-rambunctious vibe.

According to Coach Gerardo, I essentially made every mistake in the track workout book.  I paced myself when I should have been running all-out during my timed 800s.  I should have been reviewing each 800 lap on my Garmin watch to adjust my pace accordingly.  I should have been leaning forward while running, not backwards.  My arms needed to be striding forwards, propelling me further along with my pumping legs -- which needed to fire higher.

That's OK.  I didn't beat myself up.  Honestly, I had a great time tonight!  The experience took me back to what it must have been like to run on the track or cross-country team in high school.  And having my Fortius teammates all around me, flying by on the track, or leisurely jogging in between sets -- well, it was just plain motivating.  I got to see my friend Christina, whom I haven't visited with in person in what feels like months.  We ran together, joked together, and swam together in our evening Foritus-coached swim session at VNSO park.  Yep, I did a double workout.  Last night, I indicated I was getting up early in the morning for the early swim session.  I just couldn't do it.  The body wanted no part of that 5:40 a.m. wakeup call.  I know this because in is an all-to rare experience, I slept straight through from 10:15 p.m. through 4:15 a.m. I usually wake up a couple times a night for a quick bathroom break.  Fatigue was talking last night, and I listened. Really glad I did.  I made it through the track workout with enough energy to swim a 1:33 timed 100 at the end of a 2,450-yard session.

And I even had enough energy to let out a little primal yell on the way to my car, that's how good I felt.

Of course, that's because I saved a little energy on the track when I shouldn't have, but I'm no longer a track virgin.  I know what to expect now, and I'll do it better next time.

Now it's off to try and rinse the chlorine off me and jump into bed.  I've got a 6:15 wakeup call to get a 1.5 hour bike ride in at Griffith Park.  Zones 1-2 are the order tomorrow, sitting for most of the ride.  I can dig that.

Puttin' in the time.

140 days and counting.

They Can't Take That Away From Me...

What a blur. That's what today's Breath of Life Olympic distance triathlon felt like.

I remember the race in flashes.  The chaos of entering the water and literally grappling with several people through the first buoy.  Elbows over other competitors' shoulders.  Elbows in my head.  My foot buried in a competitor's torso who grabbed my leg for momentum at a buoy.  Bedlam in the water.  The only way I can describe it more visually is that swimming in this break felt like watching the opening scene of Saving Private Ryan when the soldiers are scrambling underwater to get their bearings while their heart-rate is going through the roof from the panic.

Of course, there were no machine gun nests and pissed off Nazis at this event.

On second thought, bad comparison.

Back to the swim.  The water in Ventura Harbor is putrid.  The kind where you truly regret gulping in your mouth.  I thought so much about how awful the water was that a few times I had to re-focus my concentration on my swim stroke.  The color was just as bad.  Brown, murky, muddy...only punctuated by moments of jolting warm or coldness determined by whether you swam through someone's pee stream.  The ocean water was so thick the pee seemed to pool together, almost like an oil spill.

It was that kind of swim.  But the worst part was the course map itself.  Nobody -- not even the lifeguards stationed on paddle boards in the marina -- had any idea where they were during the swim.  You just sort of followed the people around you and hoped you weren't going too far off course. I got lucky.  My Garmin watch data map revealed only a few spots where I needed to recalibrate direction.

The uncertainty of my bearings and my displeasure with the water actually worked in favor of a personal best time.  I just wanted to get the hell out of the water, and because I wasn't sure when the turnaround was coming back to shore, I maintained a stronger pace than usual.  Therefore, I was literally astonished to find the shore on my right and catching glimpses of a cheering crowd when I thought I was just getting to the turnaround buoy.  At first I thought it was a different crowd watching from a separate viewing area.  Then, my foggy goggles spied arched balloons.

"I'm here already!" I exclaimed internally.

I made it out of the water in 24:55, by my Garmin watch.  Nearly five minutes faster than my Wildflower swim.

After a fairly quick transition, it was time to get my bike on.  I was encouraged to see my friend Chris just leaving the transition area, for that meant my swim time was even more competitive as that's his specialty. (Later, Stephanie would tell me that I was among the last two-thirds out of the water, causing her worry.)  My Fortius teammate, David, was nowhere to be found though.  He was long gone, perhaps with him my only shot at qualifying for the age-group national championships I coveted.

I vowed to catch him and Chris, though in my head I figured they were as good as gone.  They're both strong cyclists and runners, and with a couple-minute lead I wasn't sure if I could close the gap. It took all three laps of the course, but I found them on my final lap, on Victoria Avenue just past Gonzales.  We exchanged some friendly banter and then it was back to the races.

I felt strong on the bike today. I was rarely passed and while my back ached, little else did.  The difference of racing on a tri bike compared to a roadie cannot be understated.  Proper equipment -- including an aero helmet and race wheels, definitely makes a difference.  And I was able to catch my breath more easily after a hard swim.

Whatever gains I made with my sturdy Cervelo were returned thanks to the USAT, the governing body of the sport that officially sanctioned this race as an age group national qualifier.  Apparently I did something wrong during the race that warranted a two-minute penalty.  I have no idea about the infraction (I'll find out Tuesday according to the website), but I do know when it occurred. I believe it was on my second or third lap off Fifth Street.  A motorcycle pace vehicle with two riders pulled up alongside another rider and me.  The motorbike hovered at our pace, with the person riding in the second seat scribbling furiously into a notebook and then speeding away.  I had a sinking feeling that "something bad" just happened, but I seriously don't know what.  The experience felt akin to getting a moving speeding ticket.  The only thing missing was the pink receipt telling me when to appear in court.  At least I'd know what I did though!  I do know I had someone on my right who was slower than me, which pushed me wider in the left lane.  I remained within the legal cones and I ultimately passed that cyclist.  Moreover, despite yesterday's blog post, I strictly avoided drafting because I knew there would be serious penalties for doing so.  I truly, in my eyes, was following the rules of the road today.

When I learned of this penalty after checking the results this afternoon, I filed an immediate protest.  The penalty would cost me my well-deserved spot as a qualifier.  By one minute.  Two people with slower times will go to Alabama and I most likely won't. Rubbish!  I hope they know their spots are tarnished.  They were not faster than me.

But I didn't know any of this as I jammed my bike into the rack and bolted out for my 10k run.  And bolt I did.  This was by far my best run in any race of any kind.  I felt light, strong and fast -- even letting out a primal yell in the T2 area about how goooood I felt!  This was compounded by my fantastic fiance greeting me halfway through the first mile.  She staked out a spot on the course where she could run beside me and offer support in an unobtrusive way.   I was running well before, but I picked up speed and confidence at this point.  It was good medicine.

The rest of the run comes back to me in flashes as well.  Rounding a corner on the pier after seeing my Fortius teammate Mike and giving him a forceful high-five. Entering the residential neighborhood for the first of my two laps.  Sipping a fraction of the water I grabbed from the first station realizing I wasn't thirsty -- that the three-fourths of the Perpetuem bottle consumed on the bike would be enough. Finally!  I've nailed race-day nutrition. Oatmeal two hours before.  Half a banana 30 minutes before.  A gel 15 minutes before.  Half a Clif bar on the bike.  And eating half of a Hammer gel at mile three realizing I wasn't hungry enough to need the rest and that screwing up my breathing pattern was a bigger risk. Seeing friends going out on the run as I was chugging hard at the fifth mile to find extra speed.  Confirming during that fifth mile with a hopeful glance at my watch that I was going to break 2:30:00 -- if I just held it together.  If I just continued to focus on my breathing and STAY IN THE MOMENT, like Coach Gerardo and Richard showed me this past Wednesday.  Oh, how important that workout had become!  Scorning a poor defenseless female runner who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, blocking my ability to pass on a sharp right turn at a narrow choke point. (Whomever you are, I'm sorry for yelling "c'mon c'mon!" to get you to clear space for me.  I know I startled you.)

And that final sixth mile.  Which seemed to go on forever.  One volunteer in a USC hat told me it was a quarter mile to go at what turned out to be a half-mile away.  Mike was at the restaurant perch again telling me another quarter mile to go.  That moment almost broke me as I had timed my finishing kick off the first man.  The toughest part was the final 150 yards, as the course made a sharp left turn that stripped momentum and my ability to figure out where the hell the finish line was. Of course, this prompted me to shout, "Where the fuck do I go!?" to the volunteers who pointed frantically at the right path.

Finally, mercifully, the finish line.  And it read 2:25:59 as I made my final desperate sprint down the chute.  Where I promptly grabbed a water bottle and doused myself with hit.  Elated.  Breathless.  Confident.

The closest I'd probably ever get to spraying champagne in a winners circle.  That's how that moment felt.  VICTORY!  Surprising victory...pushing through physical barriers and mental doubts.

I had qualified for nationals just now.  I competed among the best, and despite my lack of size or deep-dish wheels, I was equal to the task.

I did it!

Only to find out several hours later that no, apparently I had not.

But that is also rubbish.  I DID do it. I can hang with these bigger, stronger, tanned, buffed Adonis warriors.  And I will qualify at some point.  And there will be NOTHING the USAT will do about it.

And there is still plenty to celebrate.  Personal bests all over the place.  Friends completing their first Olympic distance triathlon.  Everyone competing together, supporting each other.

I love this sport.

Just not the suits who run it.

144 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.

Work and Training Collide!

This week is going to be difficult to find time to blog.  It's E3 -- the Super Bowl of videogames.  And it all happens right here, in sunny LA.  In downtown. During the Lakers-Celtics series. Can we say NBA traffic jam? Boom-shakalaka!

(If you're old enough to get that, good on ya!)

E3 week is really the first solid week where my training and work schedules collide head-on.  Yes, I realize how fortunate I am to even say that considering we're six months into the year.  I'm at the show all day, parties at night, and up early in the morning to train.  Something's gonna give.  So far, it was blogging last night.  I came home around 11:30 p.m. knowing I'd need to be up at 5:30 a.m. to get in the pool at 6.

Speaking of the pool, this morning's workout was both painful and productive.  Painful in that I felt inadequate in the pool next to Ann, Janna and Deirdre, all of whom seemed faster than me in their respective lanes.  That's never a good feeling.  It brings out all the insecurities I already lambast myself with as it is.  Especially when I'm pushing as hard as I can and simply pop when trying to keep up.  I know I'm supposed to be swimming at my own pace, but at the same time I feel guilty if I'm in a "faster" lane than Janna and Deirdre and they're kicking my ass in.  I try to keep up, generally do, but fall short at the end.  I'm going to attribute that this morning to lack of sleep and standing for hours straight at cocktail parties.  I can move all day, but when I stand still my back locks up.  When I lock up, I get tired. When I get tired and don't sleep enough...well, stuff happens.  On the plus side, I did two things I've never been able to do until today: swam the length of the pool on two separate occasions without taking a breath (GASP!!!) and I shaved a full second off my fastest 100 time (1:31) at the very end of the workout.

So no matter how painful training gets, there's always a bright spot and something to cling on to.  It's such motivation to get out of bed in the morning even when sleeping is the only thing I want to do.  Fortunately, I just snuck an extra hour in from 7:15-8:15 after the workout.  That will save me from certain doom for round two tonight -- two more cocktail parties.  And tomorrow morning I need to get up super early to fit in my brick workout before round three.

There's so much more to talk about right now, but I need to jump in the shower and jet over to Helen's Cycles.  Yep, my tri bike was in for repairs...the front wheel needed tru-ing. And those pesky aero bars needed an adjustment too so they don't keep tilting in the middle of my rides.

Off I go!

156 and 155 days to go.

The Fortius Trio

Most Fortius workouts are filled with lots of teammates, all working together towards one common goal or race.  They feature lots of banter, and a fair amount of friendly competition too. Today, Richard, Ann and I were the lone Fortius representatives.  Just the three of us.  And it was really cool.  I trained differently than normal.  Usually, I push myself to the limits of every workout, or at least (generally) to the letter of what Coach Gerardo tells me.  Today, I followed Richard's lead.  Which meant a more consistent pace on the bike and a little more walking on the run.  At first, I felt guilty.  Like I was cheating on my training.  However, I ran faster than I have been lately despite taking more breaks, which I found interesting. Perhaps it was because I was fresher off the bike -- even with three aero bar re-adjustments due to loose screws. (Dad, you were right, it seems I do have a few screws loose after all.)  Or, maybe it was simply because I had company for a change.  I've been training alone lately, and in the heat of the day.  We started just before 8 this morning so we could catch some of the USA-England World Cup match.  Maybe a more relaxed pace is actually a good thing?  I'll have a hard time digesting that one, but am trying to accept that as a possibility.

Having Richard and Ann to chat, share and laugh with certainly helped my performance.  It also reminded me how lonely it can be training by myself with no music or companionship.  And by companionship, I mean someone pushing me, challenging me to go faster or dig deeper.  I thrive on that, and Richard's bike pacing (when we decided to speed up) and run pace gave me something to strive for.

***

Tonight is Stehpanie's and my engagement party.  One added benefit of a more evenly paced brick is that I have plenty of energy for the festivities.  Of course, I'm genuinely excited about them.  In a way, I can't believe we're actually having an engagement party tonight. It's surreal almost.  I know we're getting married, and Steph is essentially living with me now.  But events like this help make it "official."  The funny part though is that it feels so natural anyway that there's no real "official" needed.  I know that probably doesn't make sense, but really all I mean is that ceremonies and events don't make our commitment any stronger than it already is.  But it's nice to share a moment in time with our closest friends and family.  That will be awesome.

158 days and counting.

Runnin' Fast is Fun!

I ran fast today.  And it felt goood. The Fortius team had its first coached track workout of the season tonight.  We were supposed to train at Harvard-Westlake high school but learned the hard way the school's commencement ceremonies were set up right on the track.  So returned to the scene of our 6 a.m. swim, VNSO park.  I've actually never participated in a track workout before.  Every drill is new, which is exciting.  At the same time, I wasn't the best at following directions tonight.

And I don't really care.

The culmination of our workout was supposed to be a paced, timed mile going at our highest sustainable pace.  Remove the "sustainable" part and that's exactly what I did.  I needed to know how fast I was capable of running, especially after all this training. I will pace myself better once I know what my threshold is. Besides, I haven't had a timed mile on a track since junior high school -- and I'm pretty sure I'm faster now.

Why?  Because depending who's watch you believe -- mine or our running coach, Ray -- I ran either a 6:08 or 6:19 mile.

I'm inclined to believe my Garmin, since I hit start immediately when Ray said "Go!" and stopped it when I hit the one-mile mark exactly.

The time makes sense too, since I held a 6:36 pace at the Desert Tri sprint event earlier this year.  Can I sustain that pace though?  No way!  According to Coach Gerardo though, he anticipates I'll be able to run around a 5:45-minute mile by the end of the season.  That sounds awesome!  And like a lot of work too.

Thus concludes a rather short work week of training for me, 6.75 hours.  I've got a 3.5-hour brick on Saturday and a 2.5-hour swim/run on Sunday.

Overall, this has been a week of self-imposed intensity, which I rather like. I feel like Breath of Life is so close that if I can eek out any more productivity or performance from any inch of my body, I'm willing to try and do it.  It also means I'll savor tomorrow's off day that much more.

160 days and counting.

Choco-Power

I've written about my triathlon exploits after eating pizza. Now I can add red velvet cake to my growing list of Things That Are So Bad They Make Me Perform Better. My friend Jennie sent me a birthday cake today that must have come close to weighing 10-12 pounds.  As you can see, it was pure decadence.  Creamy, cold white frosting with rich red, chocolate goodness.  Each slice took up an entire paper plate!  I was very good, I "only" ate a full piece about two hours before my Wednesday evening Griffith Park brick with the LA Tri Club and Fortius team members.

And it seemed to have paid off!  I was afraid I'd (sugar) crash hard during a bike climb or certainly during the run portion. Or maybe I'd get sick like I had been lately. Nothing of the sort occurred.  I tore up Mount Hollywood on the bike feeling fresh and powerful, unchained by Coach Gerardo's note in my Training Peaks workout that I could play with some attacks and sprints while avoiding heart-rate zone 5.

Well, two out of three ain't bad, right?

Frank decided to join me for the brick today, which meant my cycling mentor had no problem encouraging me to dart up the hills and challenge him to some sprint duels.  I was so excited to finally speed past him on some climbs that I forgot to finish at the top of the hills, which would be when Frank would zip past me by the narrowest of margins. This was a good lesson for me as in each instance I was in the wrong gear to finish strong in the sprint.  Frank knew just when to attack, while I was ill-prepared to make a proper defense.

First, Frank taught me how to ride.  Now, he's teaching me the ins and outs of racing.  It's gonna be one fun ride!  My evening reading -- Mark Cavendish's autobiography -- is also inspiring me to push a little harder while riding. He eschews sports science in favor of simply riding a lot of hours, hard and fast.  He's constantly been told he performs poorly in the laboratory -- poor power output, too fat, etc. -- and he responds by saying that labs don't measure passion and perseverance.  That's my kind of guy.  So as I pushed hard today, even sustaining close to 25 mph in a pace line for a while at the end, I kept thinking of Mark Cavendish and his "old school" training style.  It was a liberating feeling.

Despite the effort on the bike, my run went well too.  It started off poorly, as the group was very fast and shot ahead of me from the start.  This was further complicated by having to pee only a half-mile in.  Eventually, I got my legs under me and caught up with most of the group during the trail run portion.  I kept my heart rate mostly in zone 3 and was very consistent during my finishing two-mile kick.  Though I need to pick that intensity up in preparation for the Breath of Life Olympic triathlon on June 27.  I'll really need to push hard that day!

I'll have an opportunity to hone my speed (or lack thereof?) tomorrow at our Fortius team's first coached track workout.  It's going to be held at Harvard-Westlake High School off Coldwater Canyon at 6 p.m.  But before that is my 6 a.m. coached swim workout.  Better get to bed.

161 days and counting.