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.

Recover Right

I've been told that it typically takes two days after participating in a rigorous sporting event before your body feels the strain from doing so. If that's the case, then I'm pretty pleased with how I felt today during training.  After completing a half-marathon in a personal-best time this past Sunday, I've been waiting for the recovery hammer to drop on my body.  To say I'm not sore would be a lie.  However, in the past 48 hours I've completed a spin session on the trainer, a yoga class, an hour of cadence swimming this morning followed by an hour run (20 minutes of zone 3 heart-rate) during lunch.

Even though I'm really tired at this very moment, I feel surprisingly good overall!

In the past, I've needed "Vitamin I", Ibuprofen, ice bags for my outer knees and IT bands, and a long nap.  That was just immediately following the race.  The day or two after that... forget about it.  Definitely no training the day after.  Maybe something light the day after that. Maybe.

I've been finding many parallels lately between recovering from a break-up and training for an Ironman.  Today is no different: Even though I may be sore or in some kind of pain, I'll actually feel better by pedaling, swimming or running through it -- without forcing the issue -- instead of letting myself atrophy until the pain subsides.

It's the difference between an active recovery -- aggressively engaging in overcoming the problem -- and a passive one where the problem overcomes you.  One leaves you feeling replenished, the other leaves you feeling empty.  One empowers, the other weakens.  One rebuilds, the other debilitates.

Maybe that's why tomorrow night, for the first time in several weeks, I'm actually looking forward to a quiet night at home.  I haven't spent one here without having plans earlier in the evening in about six weeks.  It's time.

It's the next step in the recovery process.

287 days and counting.

A Nice Friday Surprise

For the first time since Lord-knows-when, I'm writing dates down on an actual paper calendar in my office (they still make these?). Usually, I can keep activities well organized in my head, or there was always the lady reminding me and doing all the social planning anyway.

Times, they are a-changin'.

Almost every night the past few weeks, I've been busy doing something, anything, besides stay home. Been there, done that. I know where that road leads.

And it's been working, little by little. Tonight was supposed to ring in the first weekend with little to no social plans besides training. I was totally OK with that, too. Like a good run at the casino tables that comes to an end, I knew exhausting myself every night with activities had to stop at some point.

Fortunately, my friend Anat came to the rescue. Again. I may have lost someone incredibly special in my ex-girlfriend, but in the process, I've gained one helluva friend. Someone who has single-handedly taken it upon herself to essentially be there whenever, wherever, however. I could not be more grateful and humbled. I am one lucky dude.

Tonight, Anat invited me to join her family and some family friends of theirs for an informal Shabbat dinner at Brent's Deli in Westlake. It was so relaxing and enjoyable. Essentially the whole experience felt like a home away from home. Down to being told my face has gotten thinner the past few months and that I need to eat more! (I'm tryin'! I'm tryin'!) My current food coma indicates Mission Accomplished for the evening.

All in all, it was a fantastic day off from the training regimen. Thanks to a good friend, good company, and good food.

I'm glad my rapidly filling calendar had nothing written in it for tonight.

313 days and counting.