An Informative Workout

Learning by doing is a lot more effective than learning by guessing.  That's how I'd sum up my nearly two-hour run workout this morning.  My assignment was to run the last five to eight miles at the goal pace I'd like to run a Vineman 70.3, with a goal heart-rate in mind as well.  I chose to target eight-minute miles at a 158-160 goal heart rate.

This may have been a tad aggressive.  I was working off less than six hours sleep, courtesy of a stellar engagement party last night for Stephanie and me.  About 50 of our closest friends and family gathered to help us celebrate something that was five-plus years in the making.  (Here's a photo of Steph and me with my future in-laws!) But I didn't let it stop me from getting up early to swim with the LA Tri Clubbers in Marina del Rey.  Even though I'm generally total crap with fewer than six hours sleep.

For the first 45 minutes of my solo run, my legs felt awful. I couldn't even elevate my heart rate to zone 2!  It was truly one of those days where quitting seemed the best option after my mile swim.  But, I knew this is probably how I'd feel during the Ironman, or perhaps even Vineman. Tired, defeated, sore, and alone.  I know that if I don't train to overcome these hurdles, I won't be mentally strong when it counts.

So I dug deep.

I realized that an eight-minute mile pace wasn't going to be feasible when my first mile clocked in at 8:05.  I felt like I was running much faster, but the clock indicated otherwise.  So, I changed my goal to reflect being as close as possible to 8:00.  That went out the window with an 8:10 at mile two, but I lowered back to an 8:09 for mile three.  The wheels started to come a little loose after that.  I went to 8:18 in mile four, 8:23 in mile five, and I essentially screeched to a halt with an 8:34 at mile six.  I stopped shortly after that because I was really trying to pace myself for a sub-50 minute 10k to emulate the Breath of Life Olympic triathlon coming up in a few weeks.  The good news is that I did break 50 minutes on less than optimal sleep and eating/drinking conditions.  The less-than-good news is that I can't hold an 8:00 pace.  I maintained my 160 bpm heart rate for the most part though, which was a success.  In fact, I dropped my heart-rate by a few percentage points compared to my last big tempo run of this type, which occurred about two weeks ago.  Progress.

Overall, I reinforced once again that I can tough out a good run when necessary.  I learned I'm not as fast as I'd like, but running faster than I used to be.  And my stamina is slowly improving.  I wouldn't have learned any of this had I not dragged myself out of bed, or chosen to push myself by ignoring my body's protests.

I'd say that's the makings of a great workout.

157 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.

Hot Hot Heat

The line between training hard and being stupid is a fine one.  I think I walked it a little today. It wasn't supposed to go that way.  After touring the sun-splashed and wind-swept Santa Ynez Valley yesterday, Stephanie and crashed out pretty hard last night around 9:45 p.m.  Nearly 11 hours later, we awoke.  I suppose my body was trying to tell me something.

I eventually rallied this morning and drove to the Starbucks at Las Virgenes and Agoura Road for my brick workout -- which was a solo affair.  No sooner had I arrived than I had to turn around.  I left my helmet at home!  Arrrgh!  I did have that moment where I considered riding without it.  But I knew that was not a fine line between training and being stupid.  Plus, if I survived, Steph would have killed me anyways!

Once I eventually got started on my brick, it was 10:30 a.m.  In the span of driving home and returning to Agoura, the temperature went up five degrees to 80.  I was going to complete my brick during the hottest part of the day, from 10:30 through 2:30 p.m.

Wise or stupid?

On one hand, I'm a big believer in training in multiple weather conditions, especially with Vineman 70.3 looming.  It gets hot in Napa Valley in the middle of summer!  And my initial outing in heat, a week ago in Arizona, didn't go so great during the run.  I wanted to keep working at it.

On the other hand...dude, it's 93 degrees!  At least!  Coach Gerardo didn't say to train in the heat of the day, so why put myself through that?  Why not just do the workouts prescribed at the typical early hour?

Where's the fun in that?!

So, I trudged onward today.  Alone.  In the heat.  Talk about a mental exercise.  No music.  No conversation...just me, my thoughts, and beautiful scenery.  The highlights weren't even on the bike or the run, but the car rally fundraiser for the LA Sheriffs Department.  There were 100 exotic cars all revving up on Agoura Road, just waiting to blast and whine through the canyon roads.  Nice!

My pace on the bike and the run wasn't special.  However, I did see some progress on the run compared to Arizona.  I didn't lose as many calories, my average heart-rate was lower and my pace was only .1 mph off.  Yet I climbed 200 more feet.  The credit goes to better hydration -- I scheduled water refill stops at Peter Strauss Ranch and at the Sherwood fire station.  On the bike, I climbed Rock Store in just under 20 minutes while remaining largely in heart-rate zones 2-3 and not over-exerting except on a few steep grade turns.  I never really hammered on the ride, but it was still a respectable workout.

Following the full brick, after sitting in a heat-induced stupor at Sharkey's (top photo), I high-tailed it to Helen's Cycles in Santa Monica to pick up my new cleats and to quickly adjust the seat on my Colnago. Once again, Pete took great care of me.  With some very minor adjustments, like actually making my seat flat, I felt an immediate difference in comfort on the trainer.  I'm eager to see how Monica will feel back on the road for my next ride.  And seriously, people, if you need a new bike or a great place to get quality service, I can't recommend Helen's (and Pete) enough.  I've tried my luck at several bike shops and while I've had good results at others, Helen's is the best I've been to.  Hands down.  Simply a cut above the rest.  Like the advertisements say, ask for Pete, and tell him I sent ya!

Before signing off, I wanted to briefly reflect on the significance of today's date, June 6.  I believe it was 66 years ago when Allied Forces stormed the beaches of Normandy on D-Day, Zero Hour.  This was the most pivotal moment of the 20th Century for America.  Had this battle been turned back, I fear the course of World, US and Jewish history would have taken a far worse turn.  I visited Normandy nine years ago today, and I can tell you that what those men fought through to get ashore is astounding and miraculous. And the rows upon rows of grave markers is something that sticks in my head and heart.  During my visit, I went out into the water at what would have approximately been Dog Sector and looked to the beach at the views and bluffs the Americans, Canadians and British had to scale.  I'm in awe of what those men accomplished that day, and when I compare my completely inane blog and its musings with the miraculous actions of that day...I am speechless and beyond humbled.

We are lucky to be free and alive, in good health no less.  We owe that at least partially to the veterans who fought on our behalf for generations, wherever duty called.  No matter how hot or cold it got.  Or wet.  Or worse.

164 days and counting.

Drop Dead Legs

I'm in an absolute daze on my couch right now. These past five days of training have felt particularly challenging, capped off by tonight's two-hour run that featured nearly an hour at tempo pace.  My legs felt so heavy and tight that I almost quit the run altogether after the first 30 minutes.  My stomach acted up again too, which I'm thinking has more to do with running in the evening after eating all day rather than in the morning when my stomach is closer to empty.  But the session turned out to be much more of a positive experience than I could have anticipated.

I really do think the best workouts stem from the worst workouts.  It's that moment when you're about to give in to your body's whining and whimpering that something special starts to happen.  In this instance, I found a way to manage a 51-minute 10k and an 8:15 mile pace after running feebly for an hour while keeping my heart-rate largely in heart-rate zone 3.  That is encouraging because if I really push hard I should be able to break back into the high 40s for my upcoming Olympic-distance race.  I've never broken 50 minutes in an Olympic tri and I now think I'm capable.

And to think how close I was to quitting tonight and starting my rest day early.

Speaking of rest days, I can't wait to apply the ice packs, take a hot shower and slather myself with Dragon Ice recovery balm.  And then, after I slam this protein shake by my side, I'm going to pass out.

166 days and counting.

From the Sea to the Mountains...

The late KABC-TV anchor, Jerry Dunphy, used to open his newscasts with a greeting along the lines of "From the desert to the sea, or wherever you may be, good evening."  (I know that's not exactly it.) That's what my day of training felt like today.  It started at 6:30 a.m. in Santa Monica for my first ocean speed circuit with the LA Tri Club.  We -- and by "we" I mean about 100 other folks -- met at Tower 26 off Ocean Park and Barnard Way, where we then swam out to a buoy about 250 yards offshore and triangulated back to the lifeguard tower.  We jogged the distance from the tower to the entry point, with the goal of completing at least three loops in the typical one hour allotment.

I was still feeling pretty crispy from the Fortius swim the evening prior, but had enough in the tank to complete three loops with fairly little effort.  The water was cold but manageable and especially salty.  I don't remember the water being as salty in Marina del Rey and Malibu. I'm not sure why that is.  I didn't really know too many people at the swim, but friendly faces Byron, Bob, Mo and Liana made my first experience pleasant.  Bob reminded me that some workouts just require you to show up and log the time.  This would be one of those days.

Of course, my training didn't stop there.  To conclude the day, I rejoined the LA Tri Clubbers at Griffith Park earlier this evening for our weekly brick.  We "only" had 1.75 hours instead of the usual 2.25, but it might as well have been that long based on how my legs felt and my heart-rate performed.  My bike ride was pretty pathetic, though I stayed mostly in heart-rate zone 2 on the climb up Mount Hollywood and managed to get out to the Griffith Observatory and back in just over an hour.  That's kind of encouraging since I didn't exert much effort but still got up the big hills without much trouble.  Still, I just didn't have much power in my legs and I have a 45-minute time trial tomorrow.  I need to find the extra power for that one.  Fortunately, my run was a pleasant surprise. Though I didn't feel great, I managed two sub-eight-minute miles at the end of he run, even getting down to around 7:30 without coming close to heart-rate zone 4.  I didn't expect to see that kind of progress after beating myself up the past few days.  I hope I can build on that moving forward.  We'll find out on Friday, when I have a tempo two-hour trail run with the last 5-8 miles in zone 3.  Wheee!

Perhaps the best part of the day came in the middle, when I visited the dermatologist.  A year ago at this time, I literally was receiving some very light radiation treatments on my face for some pre-cancerous growth on my nose.  Today, I received a 100% clean bill of health from the skin doctor, noting that I was progressing "perfectly."  Considering how often I'm outside, this was a huge relief.  I've been much better about using quality sunblock whenever I can, and it clearly has made a difference.  I can only urge my friends to please do the same, and PLEASE get checked out by a dermatologist.  Or at least have someone monitor your body for unusual moles and pigmentation.

We covered the sea.  We covered the Hollywood sign.  We covered Griffith Observatory.  We ran trails.  We ran on the road.

I think we did Jerry Dunphy justice today.

168 days and counting.

1,000 Yard Stare Saturday

I've got the 1,000-yard stare down cold today.  That unmistakable look worn by those who have pushed themselves either to their physical or mental limits, or both. Four hours on the bike with a monster climb followed by an hour run can do that.  (Thank goodness I opted to bring the road bike today and not the tri bike!)  I haven't uploaded the Garmin data yet, but I think I burned north of 2,000 calories today.  The amazing thing to me is that I didn't even come all that close to completing a 70.3-mile distance and I'm pretty spent.  Granted, I dipped into heart-rate zone 5 on the bike and zone 4 on the run a little too.  But still, I didn't swim, biked two miles longer than the standard Half-Ironman 56 miles, and essentially ran half of a half-marathon.  Total time: roughly 4:50.

I know I'll be fine in less than two months when the starting gun at Vineman goes off.  But getting to that point now is harder than I realized.  I'm climbing a new fitness peak after plateau-ing the past few weeks.

Speaking of climbing, my Fortius teammates and I slogged our way up the big peak on Portrero Road.  Most people carefully steer down that road at very cautious speeds.  The climb was most certainly the steepest I've ever encountered, and it didn't help that I was accidentally in my big ring -- which I didn't realize until the peak when I started my descent and tried to switch into that gearing.  Darn it, I was already there!  That would explain the 35-45 rpms up the hill and feeling like I was going to tip over at any moment. The upside, of course, was the next big climb of the day -- "baby" Portrero hill by Sly Stallone's house -- was much, much easier.

The "toughest luck of the day" award went to none other than Fortius teammate and friend Mike.  He got a flat as we started our big Portrero climb... and then a bee flew into his helmet on the way down the hill and he got stung on the head!  As weird as that sounds, almost exactly the same thing happened to me in 2008 when I was a rookie rider with the San Fernando Valley Bike Club.  The only difference was that I got stung by a yellow jacket, and I was all alone.

For me, the best part of today's bike ride was cycling on some of the roads on tomorrow's final stage of the Amgen Tour of California.  The same streets I ride on regularly will now be considered holy as the likes of Cavendish, Shleck, Zebriskie, Leipheimer and all the other amazing pros blast through them.  I can't wait for them to show me how it's really supposed to look.

That's all I got for today.  I'm going to watch the Amgen Tour of California time trials on Versus, go to Fortius Coach Ray's house to try on our new K-Swiss sample racing team kits (woohoo!) and get ready for Stephanie to head back into town after a night out in Palm Springs with her best friend.  Go go go!

One last note.  I'm inside of six months until Ironman Arizona on November 21.  Yet my blog countdown is WAY off.  I'm nine days off.  So, I'm resetting my countdown clock to 179 days and counting with this post.

Wait for it...

179 DAYS AND COUNTING!!! Less than six months to go!

Freaky Friday

My morning workout went haywire today.  It went so far off the rails that even Amtrak would be like, "Damn!" It started innocently enough when my Garmin watch ran out of juice on the first lap of what was supposed to be my first track workout.  No problem. I'll work out later, I thought.  I went to go pick up the water bottle I stashed on the bleacher's at VNSO park...it was gone!  After one lap around the track!  Less than five minutes into my run.  Seriously?  Who steals a water bottle?  I looked around incredulously when I saw a parks and recreation golf cart riding away with the driver mimicking my "what in the world?!" gesture with my arms.  Wow. Whatever.

Then, on the way home, I turned right on Van Nuys near Ventura onto a street with a "no right turn on red" sign.  The light had turned green.  I got pulled over anyways...by a friggin' bike cop!  Seriously?  Is this really happening? I couldn't hide my contempt, shouting "You've got to be kidding me!" when the cop told me to pull to the right.  I gave this guy a ton of crap, until he pointed out that the sign was actually no right turns at all from 7 to 9 a.m.

Oh.

Still though, with the California budget crisis, the police department has clearly turned to chickenshit tickets as a way to pay the bills.  Fortunately, after a raging outburst that evoked the scene in Shawshank Redemption with Morgan Freeman and the parole board, the cop let me go without a ticket.

Who said fighting against The Man doesn't pay off every once in a while?

I finally did get my workout in tonight at 5:30 p.m.  The session called for six, 400m sprints with 200m recovery intervals.  I held steady between 1:32-1:38 and 170-177 bpm.  I don't know if this is considered "good" since it was my first time out.  What I do know is that if I were to hold that pace for a mile I'd be able to roughly run a 6-minute mile. That would rock!  We'll see what Coach Gerardo says.

That wasn't even the highlight of the workout though.  The final 10 minutes called for running barefoot slowly in the grass.  It's amazing what a sensation can do to spark a hidden sense of nostalgia.  Almost immediately upon feeling the grass on my feet and toes, I was taken back to childhood and running in my front yard, playing in the sprinklers with my mom watching.  I couldn't stop thinking about childhood the entire time I was running barefoot.  It was nice to go back to that place. I didn't realize how easy it was to get there.

All in all, it was a great day. It just started off on very shaky ground.

195 days and counting.

What Fuels My Fire

I'm sensing a potential problem with my training.

It's centered on fear.  Fear of finishing last in a pelaton. Or in the pool.  Or on the track and trail.  It stems from being dropped on numerous rides with the San Fernando Valley Bicycle Club early in my cycling career, or my past inability to keep up in swim workouts.  And an athletic inferiority complex in general that is best represented by my irrational love for underdogs like Rudy Ruettiger.  Fearing that I'm the slowest or the worst fuels my competitive fire, as much as when people tell me I can't or won't be able to do something. Anything.

This fear is manifesting itself in a pretty obsessive competitive streak lately.  My training partners and friends, Ann, Richard and Mike, have encountered that side of my personality recently.  Richard and Mike were playfully teasing me about notching up the intensity a bit too high during our weekly Griffith Park brick sessions on Wednesday nights.  I can't help it though, especially when a few of us cyclists tackle Mount Hollywood en route to Griffith Park and occasionally treat it like we're racing for the polka-dot climbing "king of the hill" jersey at Le Tour de France.

OK, maybe that's just me that feels that way.  Maybe I'm the only one who hears British Tour de France TV commentator Phil Liggett in my head -- announcing my progress and stumbles to the world in real-time.  And that's part of my problem.

It happened again today, where what felt like an unusually large pelaton ratcheted up the intensity almost as soon as we turned out of the LA Zoo parking lot.  I was prepared for an easy spin and run considering our recent race weekend at Wildflower.  Nobody else in the group received that memo, apparently.  We took off fast, and hard.  I was almost dropped at first until I warmed up properly.

That got my attention.  And drew my ire.  Then, what was supposed to be a jaunt turned into a near-sprint, starting at around Forest Lawn Drive before heading right up a long hill en route to Mt. Hollywood.

Phil Liggett took over.  He called the action in my head with every pedal stroke.

"Ryan seems to be struggling today, his weary legs almost begging for mercy after a grueling Wildflower stage on Sunday.  He's towards the back of the pack at the moment, or is he calculating his big surge? It's hard to tell if our man on the Colnago is wearing the look of a confident, intense competitor or someone who's at the end of his line before the real racing begins.  What's Ryan made of today?  We will all soon know.

"Oh look at that!  Ryan is making his move now, passing to the outside left of a small group of riders who seem to be slowing down.  He's picking up steam! But can he catch the man up front, the blue-jersey, Trek wearing monster who is trying to lose the entire pack up the mountain?  Can Ryan pick it up to slay Goliath?  Or is David simply out of rocks?

"It appears we'll have our answer shortly.  Ryan is making his move!  He's separating from the pack and is solely focused on tracking down the Trek.  Now Ryan is riding Trek's wheel, forcing the leader to pick up the pace.  The man up front is becoming uncomfortable. I think Ryan's got him!  Yes, the Trek rider is now standing and pedaling up the hill.  Laboring!  Panting!  Cold and merciless, Ryan passes.  Seated.  A point has been made.  'This is MY hill.'  This will indeed be Ryan's day!  From worst to first, for one moment, Ryan is king of this hill. A huge victory for Team Colnago."

Yep, that's how my brain works. Even if it's 5:30 on a Wednesday evening on a seemingly routine ride. I know I'm a little crazy.  I know.

I hate losing. I hate being dropped.  I hate being perceived as too slow.  Not good enough.  Not fast enough.

Nothing ever comes easy for me, so I never take a workout for granted. Maybe that's a secret to success: Treat each workout like it must be your best.  Because somewhere out there, someone is training harder.  Getting better.  Becoming faster.

What are you doing?

203 days and counting.

Wildflower Wrap-Up

Tonight's brick workout at Griffith Park represented my last "real" training session before the Wildflower triathlon this Sunday.

How do I feel?  It's a mixed question.  This morning, I would have written that I felt slightly more fatigued than usual.  Tonight, I'm more optimistic. Most notable is that my right knee isn't hurting at all despite climbing to the Griffith Observatory and running a few miles after.  Lately, my knee had been acting up on the run and sometimes during the bike, requiring ice and extra stretching.  Tonight, no discomfort.  That's a plus!  It's been weeks since I felt that good after a workout.

The ride itself was a little tougher than I expected though.  I found myself pushing a little harder than I wanted, but it was mainly because Frank joined me and I wanted to play catch-up.  In the understatement of the year, I am a little competitive.  Fortunately, Fortius teammates Mike and Richard playfully yanked me back and in their own way reminded me we were supposed to be tapering. Point taken.

Perhaps the best news of the day though was Coach Gerardo's email that tomorrow's 6 a.m. swim workout is cancelled, meaning I get a training off-day since nothing else is scheduled.  Woohoo!  I am so excited to sleep in, though I'll need the extra time to pack for the weekend.  Despite the lack of workouts, tomorrow will still be packed with triathlon goodness. I'm likely buying a set of race wheels to go with the triathlon bike I don't own yet.  They're Hed Jet 6 and 9 wheels.  More info on them tomorrow once the transaction is complete.  And I've got a pre-race massage with Fortius massage therapist David at 6:30 p.m.  Since it's so close to the race the massage will be light and circulatory, mostly a relaxer.  Can't wait.

Even though Wildflower is in just a couple days, I can't help but notice how relaxed I am.  I've trained at Lake San Antonio. I've done more than 10 triathlons now.  I'm experienced.  I'm healthy.  Well-rested.  What's there to be nervous about?  I know the course will be challenging, but it will probably be one of the most fun triathlon weekends I'll ever have.

210 days and counting.

Just Another Manic Sunday

So how was my Sunday? Swimming and running and yoga, oh my!

Followed by a special dinner in Newport Beach with Stephanie's family celebrating Mr. Van Schaik's 63rd birthday.

Just got home. Absolutely exhausted! Non-stop action from 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. will do that.

But it really was a great day. It started off with my longest ocean swim ever, a 1.5-plus mile jaunt in Marina del Rey with my Fortius Teammates and the LA Tri Club.  I was surprised at how easy the duration of the swim was, though I wasn't pushing hard.  Richard and I stopped a few times to chat, spot our pier marker and look or other swimmers around us.  Coach Gerardo even made a cameo swimming with us, still basking in his rightfully deserved glow of a 3:15 Boston Marathon time last Monday.

After the swim, it was time to run for an hour.  Most of the group was going to eat breakfast but I needed to fit my workout in since we had plans this evening.  My Fortius teammate, Paul, joined me for the run or I would have been on my own.  Paul is competing in his first full Ironman, St. George, this coming Saturday, along with our teammates Lisa and Christina.  We talked a lot about his thoughts going into St. George.  His preparation.  His mental state.  His goals.  What's next.

It's funny, but even though I'm not competing this coming weekend in St. George, a piece of me will be there.  Only I and and a few others really know the hard work that Paul, Lisa and Christina have invested in this massive achievement.  And while each of them fully deserve the accolades that come with competing an Ironman, a small part of me feels like I'm attached to the experience too.  Like a bench player on a basketball team that never sees actual game time but knows his contributions in practice make the starters -- those who do actually play -- better.

I capped off the training portion of my day with a 1.5 hour restorative yoga session at Black Dog.  The deep stretches, especially in my shoulders and hips, hurt and softened me in the best possible way.  I'm returning again tomorrow night for a 7 p.m. session, along with Steph.  The rest of my training week is quite light in preparation for Wildflower.  Ah, Wildflower...I had forgotten about you for a few days.  Let's hope this taper goes better than my LA Marathon training.

G'night all.

213 days and counting.