Sluggish

Some words sound just like what they are.  I know there's a grammar term for that, but I don't feel like looking it up.  Ironic statement to follow. Sluggish is one of those words.  If I were an alien from another planet trying to decipher what sluggish meant, I'd think it means to slug through something.  To struggle.  Over-exaggerate.  Over-work.  Or, pop a slug in me, because I'm just about finished.

Any of those terms or phrases would describe my brick workout today.  Whether it was the earlier start (7 a.m.) the semi-cold, dewy morning or just plain fatigue, my legs felt stiff and heavy on the bike.  My brief six-mile time trial portion of the 45-minute spin was close to pathetic, with an average of around 17.5 mph that spanned nearly 21 minutes of pedaling.  Granted, there was more traffic (and therefore slowdowns) than usual.  But c'mon!  Really? Gah.

I quickly transitioned to a 30-minute run, which felt closer to 30 years. Maybe today would have been a good day for music to fire me up a bit.  Honestly though, I don't know if it would have made a difference.  On the positive side, I ran my old jogging route that was my stand-by for all of last year and completed the loop with a much lower heart-rate while maintaining a similar if not greater speed.  So I had that going for me, which was nice.

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was fighting with myself. Almost dragging myself around town, whether it was on the bike or my own two feet.  I can't help but wonder if this is the dreaded "over-training" wall people keep telling me about.  Or, maybe it's just a cold, considering I've been fighting an illness for about a week now without really telling anyone.

Don't worry, mom, it's nothing. I'm warm, well-fed, and yes, I'm wearing a sweater.

Anyway, no west for the weary.  Tomorrow I have a swimming time-trial, which I'm mentally looking forward to.  Physically, I hope I can answer the call.  Following the swim, I'll quickly be transitioning to a 45-minute run featuring five, three-minute hard interval runs in zones 4 and 5a.  That's up to 168 bpm, baby.  I hope I can sustain that rate.  Fortunately, my buddy Dustin will be joining me in Calabasas bright and early.

Well, what I really hope is that I sleep in or through my workout.  That I wake up late, saunter to Jinky's for a massive breakfast, and that I don't do anymore training the rest of the week. Nah, make that the rest of the month!

But I won't give in to that kind of sentiment. That's not my m.o.

Besides, I don't do sluggish.

272 days and counting.

Recovery Day?

I thought Mondays were supposed to be recovery days. Guess that's in the past now.

After a weekend consisting of a 15-mile trail run, 45-minute swim, 53-mile bike ride and a 15-minute transition run, I was back at it again this morning.  Hard.

First, I swam 2,500 yards, highlighted by 15 100s at 2:10 pace.  Slow for many, but after this weekend, it was just fine. Though I did most of the sets between my normal T-pace, 2:05, and 2:10.  Somehow. I'm still trying to figure that part out.

The toughest part of the swim wasn't even physical.  It came in the form of an impromptu lesson from my lane-mate, a very fast swimmer I met named John.  He said I wasn't gliding enough at the end of my stroke, meaning I wasn't leaving my arm extended for long enough.  In addition, though John said I had a strong upper body and my legs were good (really?, Coach Gerardo thinks my kicking sucks), he mentioned my arms were entering the water much sooner than they should be.  And that I was bending my elbows too much. This runs counter to what Gerardo was trying to get me to do, entering the water with my pinkie fingers touching the plane first in order to more effectively engage my hip rotation.

Swimming is such a technical sport, and I honestly have no idea what I'm doing sometimes in the water.  Just when I think I'm improving, I find that I have more bad habits.  I'm a little frustrated, to be honest. Am I getting better, or getting worse?

Fortunately, the second half of my workout, a 45-minute "recovery" run completed this evening on the treadmill, went smoother.  That was actually part of the problem though.  With my elevated heart-rate zone settings, it's more difficult to reach a speed that gives me the workout I need.  For example, when I was really out of shape (2007), I could run at 5 mph and my heart-rate would probably have been around 150 bpm.  Now, I can run at 6.4 on the treadmill and my HR is firm at 140.  So, a recovery run doesn't feel like much of a relaxing recovery at all when I'm dripping with sweat and the treadmill is making that high-pitched whiny noise that sounds like how I typically feel at the end of a workout:"Whhhhyyyyyyy????"

I suppose it's a good problem to have though -- feeling like you're in such good shape that what used to be a full-fledged workout is now considered a "recovery."

Wow.  That was an eye-opening moment for me tonight.

What's next, a 50-mile "recovery" spin?  A "recovery" two-mile swim?

At this point in my Ironman training, nothing surprises me.

274 days and counting.

Racing the Rain

What an ominous-looking day in SoCal. From Balboa Park in Encino to Simi Valley, threatening grey clouds and the wind competed with each other for intimidation supremacy.

Fortunately, the Fortius group started our group ride early enough to avoid the raindrops.  My teammates had a six-hour ride today, or approximately 85 miles.  I was lucky, my assignment was "only" four hours with a brief 15-minute run thrown in at the end.

I accompanied the group to Simi before they turned left at Los Angeles Avenue towards Wood Ranch and Thousand Oaks while I continued straight to visit my parents.

That's where the fun began.

I was so excited to see my folks and surprise them that I forgot to take my keys out of the front door lock.

You can imagine my surprise when I arrived back to Encino two hours later with no keys and eight voice mail messages from my parents.

Fortunately, my dad was nice enough to drive out to drop them off, and I bought him and mom breakfast as a humble, embarrassed thank you.

The part in between though, the actual visit, was great.  I enjoyed a quick snack of berries, chatted about the pseudo-high school reunion I attended last night and terrorized mom with my camera.  I promised I wouldn't show the picture below, but I honestly don't think it's that bad. Do you?

I was supposed to show the latter image instead, since it highlights my mom's real pride and joy: her new kitchen.

Back to the ride.  Despite yesterday's trail run and swim, I felt pretty solid on the bike.  The Santa Susana Pass climb becomes easier and faster each time I make it.  The descents do too.  I was certainly ready for the ride to be over by the time the four hour mark ticked off on my heart-rate monitor watch (NO, not the Garmin.  Soon.  Honestly.). Overall, I was pleased with my performance today.  Door-to-door from Simi to Balboa Park on my return trip, with several traffic stops and two brief snack pauses: one hour, 56 minutes.

I'm definitely ready for a nap now though. Or an Epsom salt bath.  Or a massage.  Or bon-bons.

Just anything but more exercise, OK?

Especially if it's going to rain.

275 days and counting.

Take that, Boney Mtn Trail!

Progress in Ironman training, or any kind of training for that matter, comes in many forms.

I can be physically measured, emotionally felt, experienced or visualized.

I was fortunate enough to experience all of these moments during this morning's trail run up Boney Mountain in Newbury Park.

Perhaps the morning was pre-ordained for greatness because I no longer felt the urge to bundle up to avoid the chill.  Like plopping into the pool instead of dipping, I'm finally prepared to handle the cold weather without fear of cramping or getting the chills.  So, in 47-degree weather, I rocked the shorts and T-shirt.  Felt good, too!  Crisp. Light.

The run itself was meant to be a litmus test, though I secretly think the test was rigged. Coach Gerardo didn't allow us to use our runner's watches (in my case, STILL my Polar!) or heart-rate monitors.  We were supposed to run however we felt like running, with "be smart" as the only suggested guideline.  I took that to heart as best I could, but really I felt like an uncaged wild animal from the get-go.  Like I was totally free from the science of the sport and returned to the sheer art and joy of it.

Despite some heavy calves at first, I felt great from the first mile all the way past the 15th, about where we finished.  Physically, I experienced the sensation of gliding along the muddy hills even when I should have felt winded.  Just a couple months ago, during my first Boney Mtn trail experience, I did a lot of walking.  Lots of huffing and puffing too, combined with a shortage of water and proper nutrition.

Last time out, the low-hanging branches and plants that clawed at my legs felt like they were doing their best to push me backwards.

This time, the rain-soaked vegetation reached out to high-five me as I breezed by.

Emotionally, I ran without fear or anxiety.  I knew I belonged in the Fortius training group.  I was part of the team.  I could even help lead it every once in a while.  And it felt good.  Further, the views were spectacular, a steel gray cloudy morning interrupted by patches of teal sky and an apologetic sun for all this wet weather we spoiled Southern Californians have been experiencing.

Speaking of experiencing, I don't think just a couple months ago I could even have run with an understanding of what "be smart" meant.  Though I pushed myself a little hard at parts today -- especially while scampering up the steep hills toward the top of the trail -- I always ran at a measured pace. I was in tune with my heart-rate.  I knew when to push forward, pull back, speed up and slow down.

Never before have I felt so at one with my own body and mind.

And, the visualization, well that's easy.  I can clearly remember parts of my first Boney Mtn trail run where I thought I was in over my head.  The ascents were never-ending.  The terrain caused me uncertainty.  The breaks were too short while the duration between them was too long.

The smile on my face at the top of the peak here is me remembering all those moments and realizing that the person holding the camera this time has changed a lot since then.  On more than one level.

In short, it was a kick-ass run.

And then I swam with Mike for 45 minutes to the tune of 1.25 miles.  Dare I say it was soothing and relaxing?

What's happened to me?

I am becoming an Ironman.

276 days and counting.

The Music in My Head

	Jane's Addiction - Three Days .mp3
	Found at bee mp3 search engine

I've been toying with the idea of adding "soundtracks" to my blogs, to give the emotion behind them a little more dimension.  This is my first post where I'm going to try it out.  Please consider downloading the free tune and listening to it while  and after reading.  I hope it adds something to the experience.  Let me know what you think.

Today, members of the Fortius team (Richard, Paul, Mike, Cynthie and Coach Gerardo) ramped up our base cycling training with a 5.5-hour trek.  We pedaled from Calabasas Commons to the Pacific Ocean and back via Mulholland Road, climbing more than 4,200 feet along the way.  I burned 3,000 calories during the trip.

When you're cycling for that long, a lot can run through your head.  Sometimes, since I don't use an iPod while cycling, I play a mental soundtrack that keeps me fired up and going strong.  Today, I focused on my favorite song of all-time, "Three Days" by Jane's Addiction.  To me, it conveys such a wide range of emotions: Serenity, chaos, anger, exhilaration, bewilderment.  The energy in the music is infectious.  I dare you not to be ready to take on the world after listening to it.

"Three Days" matched how today's ride felt.  The climbs were persistent and intensity-filled.  The downhills were wild, occasionally hairy with traffic in Malibu Canyon, and the views were magnificent.  The weather really cooperated today,too, though I had to shed a thermal jacket, my headband and arm warmers along the way after a chilly start.

And, like the length of "Three Days", the ride was seemingly never-ending.  There's something about cycling for close to three hours and realizing you're only about halfway done.  And that's when you're staring at the glistening Pacific Ocean knowing you need to climb Mulholland Road all the way back to the Valley before the final stretch occurs.  It's hard to appreciate the beauty of the sea when all you can think of is a nine-mile climb that awaits.  But then, at the top of the mountain, the mood changes.  And the frantic downhill rocket ride ensues.

In my head, the song and the road were playing the same tune -- maddening, orchestrated chaos.  The beat served as both taskmaster and pacemaker, imploring me to pedal a little harder for a little longer.

And it worked.  I had a great ride, with enough left in my fuel tank to finish strong and avoid cramping up.

We'll see what pops into my head tomorrow for my 2.75-hour run and 3,200-yard swim that follows.

Hopefully not the theme from Titanic.

283 days and counting.

The Bar is Rising

Tomorrow, a new phase of training begins. It lurks in the form of a 5.5-hour bike ride starting in Calabasas at 8 a.m.  Hill climbs.  Lots of long hill climbs in the curvy backroads of Malibu Canyon.  And the intensity only rises further the next day.  Sunday calls for 2.75 hours of hilly trail running, followed by 3,200 yards of swimming.  That's close to two miles of swimming, for those keeping score.  By far the most I've ever swam in one session.

Hey, Coach, my Ironman isn't until November!  What's the deal, yo?  Is this your idea of a Valentine's Day gift?  (Good, because it's the only one I'm getting, apparently!)

Well, I suppose it's time.  I can tell I'm now comfortable at this current level of training intensity.  That's an accomplishment on its own since I recall just a few weeks ago how hard the transition was to this intensity level.  Blogging daily allows me to maintain this kind of perspective and celebrate a moment that otherwise might have gone unrealized.  So, I lift a virtual glass to, well, myself!

<Clink!>

L'Chaim!

Now, there's only one thing left to do: Raise the bar higher.  Such is the life of an Ironman-in-training.

284 days and counting.

PS: I'd like to briefly comment on the death of the Georgian luge competitor at the Vancouver Winter Olympics this morning.  Putting the obvious negligent safety issues aside for a moment, this young man died doing what he loved.  Competing.  On a global stage.  Competing at something he trained his entire young life for. I am truly sad for him, his family, friends and countrymen.  Yet at the same time, I can think of no better way to have a life cut short if it must.

If something catastrophic ever happens to me while training for the Ironman, I will have gone out on my terms.  I can live with that.

Rest easy, Nodar.

Time to Procrastinate

Full disclosure: I'm blogging to procrastinate right now. My new Garmin 310x uber-watch is staring at me, waiting to be programmed.  Begging, in fact.  Coach Gerardo is begging too.

Full disclosure:  I've had this watch for about two weeks.  It's still in the original box.  Anat likes to point this out regularly.

Tonight I've made some progress though.  All the parts are out of the box and now I simply need to download the appropriate software.  Yet I feel like the kid in that online car buying TV commercial (no, I don't fast-forward past all commercials, I'm actually an ad geek) where he can perform open heart surgery with a ballpoint pen but is frightened by the prospect of choosing the right vehicle.

I can run with bulls, sky dive or complete a triathlon... but I'm stymied by complicated-looking technology.

This from a guy who works at a video games developer.

To be fair, the actual set-up looks pretty harmless. Download some software, upload my vital stats, sync my heart-rate monitor and I'm done.  At least that's how the manual reads.

But the watch itself, well, it looks like something Batman should wear, not me.  I'm still searching for the hidden button that deploys the grappling hook.  And with all the features it sports, I'm afraid I'll try to get off the treadmill before it's time to do so and the belt will speed up uncontrollably, followed by, "I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Ryan."

So, that's why I'm procrastinating.  My life may depend on it!

I'll let you know how the set-up goes tomorrow.  I've got a blog to write now.

My schedule called for a brick workout today, spinning with hill climbs for 45 minutes followed immediately by a 30-minute tempo run with hill climbing to elevate my heart-rate to zone 4 (168 bpm).  I woke up at 6 to do it, crossing the darkened, bustling Sepulveda Pass to Equinox -- Gym of the Gods.  (My guest pass membership is expiring.  I am sad.)

The workout itself was uneventful, which is a victory since that meant I wasn't sore at all from Sunday's half-marathon.  Judging by my soaked clothes though, it was a productive workout nonetheless.  I'm finding that I need to work harder to elevate my heart-rate to the zones specified in my training schedule.  In other words, my heart is growing stronger, as is my endurance.  That feels good.

The real highlight of the day was seeing my blog featured in KNBC-LA news anchor (and now friend) Chris Schauble's "Iron News Man" blog.  To read that I'm truly inspiring others and they like what I'm writing -- it's almost overwhelming.  My blog is a labor of love, a "pay it forward" gift to my future family.  But it's becoming bigger than that, thanks to the people who read and contribute energy to it.

That energy is now adding fuel to my every pedal stroke, swim rotation and running stride.  It's permeating into my work, and my personal life.  I am growing stronger, faster, better.  I owe it to the collective energy of my friends and family, and for having an outlet such as this to dive deeply into my consciousness without fear of ridicule, embarrassment or rejection.

Thank you.

Now if only I can get one of you to program my watch.

286 days and counting.

Surf City Half Marathon: A Double PR

When I woke up at 4:30 this morning, I wasn't sure how my first official race of the Ironman season was going to fare.  As is often the case with me, myriad thoughts ran rampant through my head, all vying for attention simultaneously:

• Would all this heart-rate mumbo-jumbo actually pay off?
• Have all the training hours actually transformed me into a better triathlete?
• Would the weekly trail runs in Agoura and Newbury Park harden my legs to better withstand the rigors of pavement running?

As I sit comfortably in my office chair at home, the answer is yes, I think so and definitely!

The morning and race itself was a blur.  I attribute that to a mixture of grogginess, "runner's trance" and pure joy.  Here are the highlights I recall:

Around 7:10 a.m., my Fortius teammates Mike and Karen arrived with me to the race starting area with about 30 minutes to spare before the starting gun.  We carpooled together, which was atypical for me. Typically, I like to arrive much earlier to feel the race environment, feed off the crowd energy, get appropriately warmed up, and generally amped for the start.  Mike's approach is different, and turned out to be beneficial.  He likes to wait in the warmth of his car for as long as possible before taking the shuttle bus over, and then get loose just before the race start. I think I'm going to do that more often.

Despite the early morning chill (46 degrees around 6:30 a.m.), once I started jogging I immediately became warm and focused.  I was surprised at how comfortable I felt with such little preparation compared to my normal routine.

In another big departure, I chose not to run with music.  I wanted to see what it would be like to simply stay in touch with my breathing without distraction, figuring that the sound of 20,000 footsteps all around me would provide a symphony all its own. I loved it.  I felt more connected to the race, and what I can only describe as a hive-mind mentality of thousands of people marching towards one goal simultaneously.  Powerful stuff.  Hence, "runner's trance."

As much as music can be a motivator, it can also isolate us from each other in the most engaging of moments begging to be shared with others.

On to the actual running.  The sense of connectivity I felt with my surroundings and the experience at-large boosted my performance.  I started the race more calmly.  I maintained my zone 3 heart rate for much longer, and was able to drop it a little more easily when I crept upward.  The result was that I grew stronger as the race progressed.  My first three miles were at an 8:17 pace, followed by an 8:09 pace at the eight-mile marker.

My first indication that today might yield a good finish time came around the fourth mile, when I caught up to the 1:50:00 pace group.  For the next three miles, it became a tantalizing game of cat-and-mouse, as I'd gently throttle up to the front of the group, only to drop back a ways after my heart-rate rose to a point beyond my race-day plan.  I passed the 1:50 group unexpectedly, rounding a corner back onto Pacific Coast Highway.  There was a water stop at the intersection and as I made the right turn, I couldn't see the 1:50 sign bobbing ahead as it had been.  At first I thought I fell off the pace dramatically since there was traffic in the hydration area.

Then, I looked backwards.

Big smile.

It was at that moment I knew I was going to break my personal record.

The rest of the race became a gradual series of surprise and joy, as I waited in vain for my legs to lock up, or something bad to happen.  Yet, as I continued toward the finish, I was growing stronger, faster and more confident.  People whom I couldn't reach in the first part of the race were falling behind me.  And it felt great.  My only challenge was keeping my heart-rate under control not because of working too hard, but because I was just so damn excited!  It ultimately became a game to see how much time I could shave off my previous PR (1:50).

I finished in 1:45:59, more than four minutes faster than last year's best result.

Then, I strutted (literally) down the finisher's corridor straight to the beer garden.  There I met some new friends I've met via my twitter account (@theironmadman).  Bob (@rcmcoach), Liana (@fittorrent) and Chris (@chrisschauble) were all on hand to congratulate me and each other for a great run.  We combined forces with LA Tri Club and Fortius friends to make a larger celebration party (pictured).  And merriment ensued.

Strangely enough, my race may not have been the biggest breakthrough of the day.  As I watched the Super Bowl with my buddy Kevin and some other long-time friends, my thoughts drifted to my break-up.  I was wondering what she was doing at that moment, where she was.  And I was really frustrated.  I've been fighting an inner war the past several weeks between two selves: The guy who still loved his girl, and the guy who sadly knew it was time to move forward and anew.

I couldn't figure out why I still wanted to be with her, and then it occurred to me in a true epiphany: When I'm not with her, my emotional core takes over.  Sometimes I can't think clearly.  All I see is her and what could have been. Yet, when I was with her, my practical self would rule, and that self could clearly see the challenges inherent in the relationship. Ultimately, that self won out.

In a healthy, stable relationship, both selves must be in alignment.  When they're not, something is wrong.

I let out an audible sigh that must have been lost amidst all the cheers in the game. But this was a very big moment for me.  I totally get it now.  When I'm feeling a little low, now I know why I'm feeling low. It's not because I made a mistake in the relationship, it's simply because it's a natural emotional response to missing someone you care for.  But it doesn't mean it's time to go back.

It's time to move forward. Even when it's hard to do so.  But this realization makes it MUCH easier to do so.

So, today was also a personal PR for me.  While I miss my ex-girlfriend greatly, I unburdened a big part of my past right there in that living room.  And hopefully left it there.

Whomever said "To know thyself is to love thyself" is one smart dude.

My Ironman journey grows deeper and more soulful by the day.  At the beginning, I was running towards a tangible finish line, but now the distance just continues to grow as the destination and route constantly changes.

289 days and counting.

Calm Before the Storm

There are 290 days left until Ironman Arizona. There are 14 hours left until the first race of my Ironman season.

The Surf City Half Marathon looms.  Today's weather reflects my attitude about the race.  Murky.  Gray.  Rainy.  Patches of sun.

Why?  I'm not sure what to expect tomorrow.  Two-plus months of Ironman training will be put to the test for the first time.  While I'm absolutely certain I will break two hours, the question is whether I'll break 1:50, my time last year at the Pacific Half Marathon in Agoura.

I'm no doubt in better shape than I was a year ago for Surf City, my first half marathon.  However, am I faster?  Will I get the chance to find out?  According to my schedule, Surf City is supposed to be a C-level race priority.  A training run, in other words.  But can anything be a C-level priority if you have to wake up at 4:30 a.m. to do it?  Coach Gerardo has me following a specific plan tomorrow, which essentially calls for remaining in zone 3 heart rate for the first 10 miles and zone 4 for the last three.  That means I won't be able to cross beyond 168 bpm in the final three miles.

I'm not sure my competitive side will allow for that.  If I feel good, I know I'll be very tempted to push it.  C-level priority my ass.  Especially if my buddies Kevin and Tim are running side-by-side at that point, or slightly ahead.  And they know it too.

Either way, I am dialed in for this race.  I wasn't when the day began.  Hours in the car schlepping from Sherman Oaks to Huntington Beach to pick up the race packet, and back to Thousand Oaks for an appointment gave me plenty of time to idly think about the race, training, family, life, etc.  My mind was all over the place.

Then, my iPod saved the day again.  Isn't it funny when your iPod seems more like a friend than a music player -- knowing just what song to play on shuffle mode exactly when you need to hear it most?

Today, that song was "Right Here, Right Now" by Van Halen.  Like a gong in yoga class, the opening piano and guitar riff snapped my focus together instantly.

Then, I played it three times in a row.

Needless to say, I'm pretty jacked right about now.

Is it 8 a.m. yet?

290 days and counting.

Meditative State

With Ironman training, I've grown accustomed to doing certain workouts at home.  Cycling on the trainer and abs work immediately come to mind.

Today, I add yoga to the list.

Once again, the physical exercise took a back seat to the mental benefits associated with it.  At first, I felt awkward.  A little "granola", to be honest.  After returning home from work and getting settled, I turned down the lights low in my bedroom, sat cross-legged and allowed myself a few moments to sink deep within to reflect upon a long week.  A trying week.  A week filled with conflicting thoughts and emotions.  Then, I let out a few heavy "ohm" chants, carefully monitoring my breath pattern to dispense of every last ounce of stress.

Within minutes, I was relaxed, focused and completely centered.  I'm still surprised at how easy it was to find my metaphysical core.  Why do we stray so far from ourselves so unnecessarily?  Previously, to reach a zen-like state, I believed you needed a yoga studio complete with sitar music, Buddha statues, lots of props and of course other people.  This was different.  Quiet.  Peaceful.  Solitary.  And completely self-contained.  I found it easier to remove any semblance of self-consciousness or ego and instead could truly focus on my breathing.  There was nobody to compare myself to, or worry about when the instructor was going to come by and make an adjustment.

I was both student and instructor.  Patient and doctor.

Granted, this was only a 30-minute session.  I mostly focused on sun salutes, downward dog, cobra, plank, warrior and pigeon poses, followed by some foam-core rolling at the end.

The result was a sense of wholeness and rejuvenation unlike I've experienced heading into a weekend in quite a long time.  I set my intention for the week to more fully accept the hurt and loss that I'm feeling and to quit worrying so much about being macho and "toughing it out."

When I looked at my scheduled at the beginning of the week, I figured today's yoga workout would be the first one I'd be able to skip if I ran short on time.

Looking back, it was the most important thing I did all week.  Thirty minutes out of 10,080 re-aligned my entire outlook.

Namaste.

291 days and counting.