Shattered but Happy

I basically did an Ironman over the course of this weekend.  Hence the lack of blog posts for it as well.  I trained 12 hours in two days, with the following results: SATURDAY

-- 112 miles on the bike in almost exactly six hours.  Rode from Pepperdine University to Simi Valley and back, with detours in Camarillo.  Climbed about 3,500 feet total.

-- Ran five miles in 45 minutes immediately following the bike.  Legs felt pretty decent after the first mile.

-- Did both by myself, which helped lock me in mentally since I'll have to do the same come race day.  Yes, it was a little lonely out there, especially when it started raining unexpectedly in Moorpark.  But I got through it.  And G-d has a sense of humor, too.  When the rain drops came first came down, I shouted out to nothing in particular, "Bring it!"  And the rain immediately stopped.  I thought I had won that little battle with Mother Nature.  Nope!  Mile 111 found me facing a huge hill at the Malibu Creek Shopping Center to get back to Pepperdine, with a stiff head-wind, and only a minute to spare to hit my goal of 6:00:00.  The wind picked up, my pace dropped back, and I finished with 6:01:01.  Mother Nature 1, Ryan 0.

Before moving on to Sunday, I should note that for the first time I can remember, hunger woke me up in the middle of the night.  I literally had to make myself a peanut butter sandwich at 3:30 a.m. to get back to sleep.  That was after drinking a fully loaded protein shake at 11 p.m.  Fortunately, I only lost one pound last night despite the massive amount of calories I burned.

SUNDAY

-- Ran 13.1 miles in almost 2:30:00, covering just about 1,300 feet of elevation in 80+ degree heat.  I really started to feel it bad towards the end of the run. I fell short on liquids and had to dog the last two miles without any.  At that point it was around noon, the heat of the day.  Big mistake.  But once again, I got through it.  Clearly, my long distance pace right now on rough training weekends is around 9:30/mile.  That was my moving pace today and roughly the pace after yesterday's bike ride.

-- Swam 4,000 yards (500 short of three miles) in 1:25:00 (roughly).  This workout absolutely shattered me.  Of course, it was the cumulative effect of the weekend but it really took all I had to get through it at Calabasas Swim & Tennis Center.  I thought about quitting several times in the workout.  I was tired, irritable, lonely and my feet were cramping every 500 yards.  I knew I'd be even more upset if I didn't finish the full workout, so I pushed through.  The quality of the session wasn't very good but I truly did my best, pacing myself accordingly.

Total damage from the past week: 18 hours, 20 minutes.  Total scheduled was 19:20 but with missing 10 minutes here or there I fell just an hour short of the overall goal.  I feel fine about that since my Training Peaks workouts are mostly colored green, meaning I did the vast majority of the work.

And if anyone wants to tell me that swimming close to three miles, biking the full Ironman distance and running 18 miles total doesn't count as a strong weekend of training, then y'all can kiss my butt.

And with that, I bid you good night.  I got some resting to do.

My Muse Mantra

They cannot force us. They must stop degrading us.

They will not control us.

We will be victorious!

These are lyrics from a Muse song called Uprising.  I listened to them for about an hour straight tonight while on the treadmill.  I played this song over and over...and over again on my new iPhone (which I LOVE, btw).

I know the words have nothing to do with triathlon. But they have everything to do with me right now as I am immersed in the peak phase of Ironman Arizona training.  "They" doesn't matter.  It's not like someone is out to stop me from training hard.  Or preventing me from doing my best.  And if there is, that person is only me.

No, I think in this instance, "they" refers to things beyond my control going into the big day.  Weather. Time.  Mechanical troubles.  Other racers.  That's at least what I pictured in my head while mindlessly cranking out the required 20 minutes in zone three sandwiched between two 20-minute light recovery jogs.

None of those potential negatives will bother me on race day.  This is my new mantra for the next few weeks.

"They" will not force me to succumb to the elements.

Others' actions (or inactions) will not control me.

I will be victorious.

53 days and counting.

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.

The Building Wave

Two months from right now, I'll be eating my Last Supper before Ironman.  Wondering about the Big Day that will come in those next 12 hours. I've been thinking about and waiting for this since my first workout more than 10 months ago.  It's now only 60 days away.

That still seems like a long time, but when I break it up with five weeks of peak training and three weeks of tapering, it's really almost here.  It still hasn't really hit me though.  Emotionally, I feel like I'm in an ocean with my feet still barely touching the sand.  I can see the incoming swell in the distance but it hasn't yet lifted me off my feet.  The power of the wave hasn't formulated.  But the energy, the anticipation, it's definitely there.

Today was more or less about recovery.  I ran for an hour this morning on what appeared to be the first day of school in my neighborhood's elementary school.  Cars jammed the streets on Dickens, causing me to be just that much more aware of my surroundings.  It's not like I was running fast though, as my legs were a little sluggish and my heart rate was beating as slow as I can remember in a run.  It took me almost through the first 40 minutes to creep into zone 3.

I just finished a yoga workout before returning into the office.  The calves are tight and my lower back is as well.  But there's no time to rest further.  Ironman training beckons.  Tomorrow is another two-hour-plus training day, filled with 80 minutes on the bike and 60 minutes in the pool in the evening.  All en route to a 19.5-hour training week.

The wave is picking up steam.  The water is rising above my chest.  I'm a little nervous, but not panicking.

Even though I haven't, I feel like I've been in this exact spot in the ocean before.  More than 2,000 miles logged on the Garmin and 185 hours confirm that sentiment.

I'm ready for the wave.

60 days and counting.

Enter the Grind

Somewhere this afternoon while at work, I wondered why my legs were so damned sore. Then, it occurred to me.  Yesterday I rode about 30 miles (roughly 20 of them being at a time-trial pace) and ran nearly 12 on trails before that.  Throw in a swim and that's about what I completed at the Santa Barbara Triathlon last month.

Oh yeah, and then there was this morning's 3,000-yard swim at 6, which featured the following awesomness:

-- 400 yards in 7:15 with 4 x 25 all-out as a reward (completed successfully at 1:42/100 pace)

-- 300 yards in 5:15 with 4 x 25 all-out as a reward (completed successfully at 1:45/100 pace)

-- 200 yards in 3:15 with 4 x 25 all-out as a reward (unsuccessfully completed at 1:40/100 pace)

-- 100 yards for time (1:30)

These times mesh with my Nautica Malibu Triathlon swim pace of 1:44/100 (28:40 on 1,500 meters).

The pace also meshes with an impromptu "pep talk" Coach Gerardo gave me unexpectedly this morning.  As I climbed out of the pool after expressing uncertainty over how I should feel about a 1:30 time-trial after a hard workout, Gerardo said, "You're not going to get any faster from here until Ironman."  He added that it's now time to sustain a solid T-pace for longer, as that's where we're at in Ironman training.

Gerardo also told me I needed to change my perspective about training for the next few months.  The distances are about to be doubled, Gerardo said, and that the victories won't come from gains in speed but rather simply doing the distance and time allotted.

In other words, the next couple months are going to be a grind.  Embrace it.

I'm ready for it.  No complaints.  No excuses.

7:15 a.m. run tomorrow.  Lookin' forward to it.

64 days and counting.

Ray to the Rescue

I haven't done a lot of cycling where the temperature matches and exceeds my cadence...when I'm pedaling flat or downhill. But that's what happened when LA Tri Clubber Cheryl pointed out that her computer watch indicated 104 degrees around 11:30 a.m. this morning on our approximately 60-mile ride from Agoura to Newbury Park and back.

Picture having a blow-driver blast you with hot air for 3.5 hours.  That's how our ride felt.  Shade was definitely our friend today during every rest stop -- which there were more of than usual.

Fortunately, we had none other than our dog-bark impersonating, recently USAT-certified coach, Ray, saving the day.  He drove a badly needed sag vehicle all over the Conejo Valley, keeping us hydrated with drinks paid for from his own pocket and entertained, as always.  Of course, Ray being the nice guy that he is, wouldn't even accept the contributions cup we offered him in return for going so far out of his way. On top of all that, Ray even found time to shoot some video of us in our various forms of agony or glory, depending on the time of day and the level of fluid in our water bottles. (You'll have to be Ray's buddy on Facebook to see them though!)

I fared well on the ride, especially since I had my road bike to everyone else's tri bikes.  I started to cramp around the last mile of the ride, using my elbows to power my legs up a final climb so I wouldn't over-exert with my hamstrings and quads.  I made it back to basecamp off Agoura Road and Las Virgenes without incident.

Perhaps the best part about today's ride is that I can finally put to bed my bonk-fest with Christina last month riding the Colnago.  Clearly that was a fluke.  We rode longer today, in much hotter conditions, and still managed some decent climbing.

Following the ride and a much-needed refueling session with the Fortius gang, I drew a cold bath at home and soaked with Epsom salt after icing my legs with frozen vegetable bags.  Then, it was nap time for nearly 1.5 hours.

Now that's what I recall a nice recovery.  My legs feel fairly fresh and I have no dehydration-related headache to report.  Which is good, because tomorrow morning Ray will be leading us on a 12-14 mile run through the Bulldog trail at Malibu Creek State Park -- near where the TV show M.A.S.H. was filmed many years ago.

There are days when I'm torn between being thrilled at having the opportunity to train to peak physical condition, and wondering what the hell I'm doing to myself.  Do you ever feel the same way? Seriously, it's Labor Day Weekend.  I should be sleeping in, lounging around at the beach, and sipping cocktails watching the sunset.  Instead, I'm getting up at 6, on the road or trail by 7 and training into the heat of the day.

This Ironman stuff sure feels nuts sometimes.

76 days and counting.

2011 Goals

Over fatty muffins and sugary hot chocolate at Starbucks, Coach Gerardo and I plotted my goals for the 2011 triathlon season. To say they're ambitious would be accurate, and probably an understatement.  Especially since I haven't even completed my first Ironman yet!

In fact, my 2011 goals are so ambitious that Coach Gerardo indicated I shouldn't share them publicly as it may create undo pressure for myself.  I know this could be true since I've recently spoken two sport psychologists about blogging affecting triathlon performance.  So, I didn't argue.  As much as I'd like to share my goals with you, I'm not.  I will say this: I'm going to be training hard -- very hard -- for strong performances at the Cheseboro Half Marathon, Wildflower Long Course and Ironman Coeur d'Alene.  Between those events, you'll find me back at the Surf City Half Marathon and Desert Triathlon in Palm Desert.  I'm more excited about competing in my first cycling road race next year.  Stephanie and I are going to choose that race together, which will be fun.

Despite the excitement about looking ahead to next year, I'm feeling apprehensive about doing so.  It's like the feeling baseball players must have when a teammate is pitching a no-hitter.  I just want to focus on the batter at the plate -- in this instance the next day of training tomorrow -- and not the possibility of something so large and ominous.  Not when I can't even call myself a true Ironman yet.

So, for now, I'll continue training.  And dreaming just a little about next year too.

81 days and counting.

Santa Barbara Tri: A, B or C Race?

In Training Peaks, my triathlon workout schedule manager, race days are indicated by little trophies with an A, B, or C on them. The Santa Barbara Triathlon is listed as a priority C, meaning it's essentially another training day that happens to be timed.

I'd like to believe I'll be able to keep that in mind when the starting gun goes off at 7 a.m.  But I know myself all too well.  Maybe you're beginning to know me too.

That C level priority is what dragged me out of bed this morning for a 6 a.m. swim and what compelled me to attend tonight's final Fortius-coached track workout.  If Saturday's race is "just another training day" then there's no excuse for me to blow off these last workouts due to the fatigue I'm experiencing.  That was my thought process throughout the day.  I wanted nothing more than to go straight home when I left the office around 5:30 p.m.  In fact, I debated doing just that throughout the commute.  There's the triathlon magazine web story I could be writing.  Or the packing I could be doing for Santa Barbara.  Or simply relaxing at home for an extended period, which hardly ever seems to happen now.

But the honest motivator was this: I knew that somewhere out there, someone competing in my age group this Saturday was training.  He was overcoming the heat.  The fatigue.  The excuses.  And If I didn't haul ass on that track -- perhaps against my better judgement -- then he was going to beat me by a few seconds in the race.

C-level race or not, I can't let that happen.

So, I ticked off two 400s, two 800s and another two 400s at a 6:00-7:00 minute mile pace along with a handful of striders and light lap-running.  Perhaps against my better judgement.  Despite my concerns, my heart-rate dropped quickly between laps, I didn't overheat nor did I exhaust myself.  Much like this morning's swim, where I tied my 100 PR at 1:25, I pleasantly surprised myself in the run.

And that's the gift I received for putting in the time today.  I had enough energy to perform at a high level for myself despite the fatigue and self-doubts.  Moreover, A, B, or C, level race, I know that by pushing myself just a bit further than I wanted to this week, I inched forward towards my ultimate A-1 goal: Ironman.

Let's see how I feel tomorrow morning!

86 days and counting.

Forging Ahead

Somewhere in the middle of my 9.5-mile Nike/Westridge trail run this morning -- between the 20-degree temperature climb, running past a mountain biker with a parrot on his shoulder, narrowly escaping multiple bee stings from a small hive clustered at a rest stop drinking fountain, and inadvertently insulting two Ironman women triathletes -- I had a vision. I was tired, hot, sore and running low on water.  I already thought I had hallucinated considering a magnificent red parrot squawked at me on a descent. (I'm pretty sure he said, "Too slow!")  So, having a vision as heat waves undulated from the dusty gravel seemed totally normal.

There, at my weakest point, at the end of what would become a 16.5-hour training week, I physically felt myself becoming stronger.  I felt like a piece of iron being forged into something powerful. Pounded.  Blasted.  Shaped.  Hot.  I pictured one of those movie scenes where the angry hero descends into his weapons lair and creates his signature weapon.

Only in this vision, I was the weapon.

I realize I sound more like Leonard from Full Metal Jacket than William Wallace from Braveheart.  And I don't really care.

After this weekend, I'm harder.  Stronger.  Tougher.  Better.

I'm rounding into Ironman form.  I can feel it.

I had ridden 101 miles on Saturday at an 18 mph pace, with 4,000 feet of total climbing.  It was only my second century ride I've ever done.  I felt superhuman throughout the day.  Nothing could slow me down and I never really tired out.  The highlight was a pace line with three other cyclists on the final five miles where I averaged around 23-24 mph.  The guys complimented me after, thanking me for pulling them and telling me I made their wives happy because they'd return home to their families ahead of schedule.

I've never been complimented on my cycling before, especially by strangers who were no slouches themselves.  I'm always struggling to keep up with other LA Tri Club or Fortius members whom I deem better.  To be acknowledged for my own skill was refreshing.  Special.  That alone probably fueled my three-mile "recovery" run off the bike. I've never done that before either.

And just one year ago, there's absolutely no way I would have been able to run 9.5 miles the day after a century.  In fact, last year I bonked on the last 25 miles and Frank had to essentially tow me into port.

What a difference a year makes.

Sure, this morning's run was slow and stiff.  But I did it.  I survived what turned out to be 93-degree heat and kept my heart-rate in zone 3 at the highest.  That was a huge moral victory for me. I proved to myself I could bounce back the next day after a tough workout.  In the heat -- without overheating.

I didn't technically race this weekend, but mentally, it feels like I did.  Something changed in me.

During my ill-fated Ironman conversation with the two women this morning -- ill-fated because I made a joking comment about people with "140.6" stickers on their car, which they both have! -- one of them remarked that their Ironman training was harder than the race itself.  If that's the case, this weekend helped prove her point.

Yet I have three full months of training as of yesterday.

I want more training!

90 days and counting.

Who Knew?

Who knew that when I started my Ironman journey last November, it would lead to: -- Great relationships with an entirely new group of friends

-- The physique I always wanted but could never achieve

-- A greater appreciation for nutrition and healthy living in general

-- Improved confidence and mental outlook

-- A deeper appreciation for discipline, sacrifice and tolerance of pain

-- A reunification with my passion for writing

-- And now...freelance writing opportunities!

Yep, after a long hiatus from freelance writing, I've decided to dive head-first back into that world.  I'm working on two stories for a fresh triathlon magazine website and couldn't be more excited.  I'm almost as excited as competing in an Ironman in three months.

Three months!

Without this blog, I'm not so sure I would have gotten quite so much from my training.  I never expected the Ironman to change my life the way it has.  And this is only my second full season in the sport.

Who knew?!

Certainly not me.

92 days and counting.