Bad Luck Monday

There are certain days when the best thing to do is stay in bed.  Avoid showers.  Avoid going to the bathroom.  In other words, for better or worse, don't move.  And for heaven's sakes, don't train! That best describes my past 24 hours.  I've been attacked by a series of silly bad luck papercuts, adding up to one bizarre day:

-- I spilled a bottle filled with Accelerade in my gym bag last night, likely ruining the camera that has taken most of the photos you've seen in this blog.

-- Earlier today, I took an involuntary shower when the lid to another water bottle wasn't secured tightly enough as I tilted it down towards my face.

-- I had a problem with the condo at home this morning that required me to stay there until the early afternoon.

-- On the way into the office today, I ordered lunch from my local Baja Fresh.  The same spot I go practically every week once if not twice.  I order the same thing for the most part, alternating between burrito plate, taco plate and fajita plate.  Today, for the first time in the years I've gone there, they screwed up the order -- loading my burrito up with sour cream.  Which, of course, I encountered the hard way.  I HATE sour cream.

Fortunately, today is a recovery day from training.  Not much can go wrong with an easy spin on the trainer (which went off without a hitch, thankfully) and a yoga session (still to come, fingers and legs crossed!).  I'm actually doing yoga at home tonight since I think I'm done venturing outside for one day.

I can't believe I'm here in one piece still!

Tomorrow and Wednesday it's supposed to rain.  Maybe it's a sign that I should continue to stay indoors and ride the spin bike or trainer. Only time will tell, unless the power goes out on my alarm clock.  At this pace, I better not joke about it!

32 days and counting.

Tri-Asshole Redux

Guess my Tri-Asshole blog post touched a nerve.  It was so nice to see y'all respond to the post, but to be honest, I'm fine about the whole episode.  At first, I'll admit my feelings were pretty hurt.  But I quickly realized that his comments reflected more on him than the race itself.  To be fair, I also know that Ironman Arizona is among the "easier" Ironman races. I picked it for a reason in that I wanted to enjoy my first Ironman and get my sea legs, so to speak.  And that's just what I'll do.  There's no shame in completing any Ironman of any kind.  Anyone who's ever embraced the spirit of the sport knows that. Back to spirit.  While Tri-Asshole and I interacted for only a few seconds on an elevator ride, that conversation has already yielded tangible gains in my training.  Tonight, I swam a 1:16/100, my new PR by a whopping SIX SECONDS.  I didn't know I had that in me at this stage of training. Coach Gerardo did, but I doubted him.  (When am I going to learn?) And that was after cycling 35 miles this morning that included a 75-minute zone-3 time trial.  AND, that swim PR came at the end of a 2,250-yard swim session with the Fortius gang tonight.

How did it happen?

It would certainly be more dramatic if I indicated that I had visions of smashing Tri-Asshole's face in while swimming to new heights (or is that lows, in this case).  But it's just not true. What Tri-Asshole did was simply motivate me to work harder the next few weeks.  To make sure I sweat just a bit more.  To not ease off on the gas pedal.  To not coast until after I cross the finish line.

I got a swift mental kick in the ass.  And I feel outstanding.

So, what I am saying is that I've turned a potentially mentally damaging situation into a healthy positive.  I'm not sure I would have reacted in quite that manner a year ago -- whether in the workplace or in the gym.  I do think endurance sports training has enabled me to find some mental and emotional padding that allows me to bounce back from stinging comments or even physical pain.  It is an invaluable asset in a chaotic world.

It just took a real jerk to remind me of that.

Before I finally go to sleep tonight, I'll be sure to think fondly of him.  I owe him one.

38 days and counting.

Tri-Asshole

I despise hotel internet service charges. In fact, I refuse to pay them.  So when I saw that my Portland hotel room required $9.95 to use the web per day, I knew I wouldn't be posting any blogs for the weekend.  I will post a few images though.

But I must share one story in particular from the wedding weekend.  The Portland marathon wound through the magnificent city yesterday, which required every ounce of restraint on my part not to participate.  Of course, the fact that it was sold out in July helped matters.  There were a few runners staying at the Hotel DeLuxe, including one man who strode in Saturday afternoon wearing an Ironman Coure d'Alene jacket.  Naturally, I wanted to introduce myself and chat.

Well, he didn't want to chat.  Especially awkward since we were sharing an elevator ride.

I told the man I was racing Ironman Arizona in a few weeks, to which he coldly replied, "You could have picked a harder one."

Talk about a Charlie Brown moment!  This guy removed the football before I could kick it and tripped me along the way!

I awkwardly stammered about how IMAZ was my first, which only dug me deeper into this guy's dark hole.

"I did Silverman for my first."

Well, uh, I did Wildflower this year.

No response.

Then, mercifully, it was time for my exit.

"Have fun," he said.

Gee, thanks.

It took me a few minutes, alone in my room, to get over such a hit to my psyche.

Ironman Arizona...easy?

Finally, I regained my sense of perspective.  I had merely met my first tri-asshole, which is rather amazing since I've been in the sport for two-plus seasons now.

And in the end analysis, Tri-asshole fueled my fire for the remaining two weeks of peak training.  So much so that I snarled and begged Coach Gerardo to increase my training workload this week and next so that I finish my peak training in the strongest condition possible.  Gerardo had taken off 15% of my workload since this past week was so light, reasoning (correctly I'm sure) that it's potentially detrimental to boost hours significantly from one week to the next.  But I'm more than ready.  Having the last few days to relax and not think as much about training helped re-energize me.  And it's not like I didn't train either.  Earlier that Saturday, before I met Tri-asshole, I ran three hours...on a freakin' treadmill.  Granted, it wasn't the fastest pace (roughly 17.5 miles), but I still did it.

That run ultimately doesn't matter right now.  Only tomorrow matters.

In case you can't tell, I've got my game face back on.

Tri-asshole has no idea what he's started.

39 days and counting.

Forced Recovery

I'm off to Portland, Ore. tomorrow to witness the wedding of a couple Stephanie and I are friends with.  That has meant a (much) abbreviated training schedule this week.  To the tune of "only" 13 hours, the bulk of which have already been completed.  All that's left is a three-hour run on Saturday followed by an optional 45 minute swim. Speaking of swims, I had a rather long effort tonight with the Fortius gang: 1:20:00 straight. I warmed up with 20 minutes non-stop before the workout began, and then we proceeded to swim a series of 400s, each with descending times and drills.  Coach Gerardo estimated I probably swam around 4,000 yards.  More important, this was the first time in all my training where I basically swam the duration that will be required for the Ironman swim.  It's a LONG time in the water!  And it's amazing how easy it is for the mind to wander once you get in the Swim Trance.  There were periods of several minutes where I had the same sensation as when I'm driving long distances and I don't remember the stretch of road I just passed through.  How odd, since I'm much more actively engaged in the swim than piloting an automatic drive vehicle.  Does that happen to anyone else? It must.

I'm not sure how I feel about such a light week as I'm close to peaking for Ironman.  On one hand, I'm eager for the time off, but I know there's so much work left to be done before the big event. I was just starting to really ramp up, only to drop back down.  I'm not foolish enough to think this will affect my overall fitness level, but I can't help but wonder just a little bit if it's the difference between being 10-15 minutes faster during the actual race.

It's moments like these though where I realize how lucky I've been with my training.  For the most part, I've been able to hit every workout as planned.  Weather has cooperated.  Circumstances have cooperated.  My body has cooperated. So I need to keep that kind of perspective, and just enjoy a rest week when I can get one -- even if it's inadvertent.

I will try to blog over the next few days, but it may be difficult to say the least.  Check this space again on Monday, just to be safe.  Or I'll tweet if something interesting comes up.

Enjoy your training weekend, everyone!  It'll be rainy up north...soak up the sun while you can and appreciate our good fortune to push ourselves to be the best we can be.

43 days and counting.

Indoor Brick

You're looking at today's bike ride...all three hours of it. I borrowed one of the spin class bikes at our office complex gym and rode two hours solo before participating in a spin class led by one of my Shan Clan, personal trainer and friend, Shannon Flanagan.  I even adjusted the bike's positioning so it felt almost exactly like my tri bike, adding towels for padding at the base of the handle bars so I could ride in aero without discomfort.

I'm trying to figure out if riding on a trainer or spin bike is actually harder or more grueling than riding outdoors.  Obviously, it depends on the workout.  All I know is that today I went through three -- THREE -- shirts.  Each soaked to the core.  It was like a Chinese or Vietnamese wedding where the bride makes separate entrances to show off a new dress.  Except the bride isn't usually in the middle of a workout.  I was so drenched that by the end of my 30 minute follow-up run my feet were wet.  Even my shoes were soggy!  They still are, almost three hours later.  That just doesn't happen when I'm doing brick workouts outdoors.  Not even at the height of the summer in Malibu Creek State Park before Vineman 70.3.

When I told Stephanie tonight about my workout (I should note that I took a half-day off from work to complete it), she was puzzled about what I could possibly do to stay focused and entertained for that solo duration.  Having music now is such a luxury that listening to my iPod is more than enough to keep mentally occupied.  I can't tell if that's mental insanity or mental toughness.

Tonight was one of those times where I took to heart what Coach Gerardo told me a few weeks ago about embracing the duration of each workout and basking in the accomplishment of completing it.  The rain poured outside.  The final Griffith Park brick workout of the year may or may not have gone off without me.  Yet there I was, slogging through my own brick, using vacation time to get the job done.  I must admit, crazy as it may seem, I enjoyed today.  It was a different workout.  A new challenge.  And I'm glad I didn't just roll over and skip the workout altogether.  Believe me, I thought about it.  It would have been the rational thing to do.  Nobody could blame me. Except my coach.  But I know I would have been disappointed in myself.

Is there anything worse?

44 days and counting.

Shot in the Arm

This morning, I may have hit my low point in Ironman training.  I couldn't get out of bed in time for my Tuesday morning ride.  It was supposed to rain, which provided the perfect excuse to sleep in a little longer. Plus, last night's massage had left me in a rather tranquil mental state as well. Still, I needed to cram in a nearly two-hour ride before work.  This required me to ride on the trainer. I can't decide which is worse: Swimming endless laps in a pool, running on a hilly trail on a hot day by yourself without enough hydration, or riding for more than an hour on a bike trainer.

When you do all three in the span of a few days, it can cause you to go a little batty.  The sweat was literally forming little pools on my floor.  Shredded tire peeled away by the trainer floating in the salty water.  Finally, I had to pry the drenched technical shirt off my back just to feel like a normal human being again.  It was just one of those "What the hell am I doing to myself?!" kind of moments.  Which, as you've seen lately, I've had more and more of lately.

And instead of basking in the accomplishment of completing the workout, all I could think about was tonight's swim and how much I didn't want to attend.  I was so over it!  And yet I have a month and a half to go still.

Fortunately, I remembered my Muse mantra in the car on the way home from work, an hour before the swim.

They will not force us!

They will not control us!

We will be victorious!

The song, Uprising, totally picked me up.  I remembered that this is all a choice. Sometimes, a tough choice.  But a choice nonetheless.

I arrived to the pool reinvigorated.  Ready to swim.  Despite the crisp evening chill and scant raindrops.  The swim was a fairly intense one, with three sets of alternating 500s, 400s and 500s and a timed 100 to conclude the workout.  If my mental state had been worse, there's no way I would have matched my 100 PR time of 1:22.  Even Coach Gerardo commented that I had a breakthrough in my stroke, lifting my  left arm higher out of the water and gliding through the stroke longer.  He's confident I can lower my 100 time further if I continue to hone my technique.

And to think this workout almost didn't happen.

Every day I have to find a new way to motivate myself right now.  Today it was music.  Who knows what it will be tomorrow.

45 days and counting.

Well-Deserved Recovery

No big workouts to report today, not after this past weekend's mash-fest.  Instead I took care of myself with an early evening yoga class that left me dripping with sweat (still can't get that hand-stand!) followed by a long massage with David from LA Body Mechanics.  While the yoga class at Black Dog was a little more than I bargained for, the massage helped me drain the rest of the pain from my body.  Not without a fight though. My glutes, quads, adductors, calves and lower back were quite sore, though David said overall my body right now is in great shape.  That's reassuring given the intensity of the past few weeks and my lack of stretching. Turning away from my body for a moment, my real focus the next few days is going to be on the weather.  When we get a big shift like the one we've had in Southern California -- 90 degrees one day and rain the next -- my immune system goes straight down the toilet and I usually get pretty sick.  I'm hoping that all the training hasn't left me winded and incapable of fighting off another cold.  This leaves me torn as tomorrow morning I should have a long bike ride before work.  If it's rainy, damp and cold, I'll probably stay indoors and ride on the trainer for nearly two hours.  That could wreak havoc on my butt though, as I'm starting to get saddle sores.  I know, not the sexiest subject, but if you're sticking with me from the beginning of my training you should know the truth.

Ironman hurts.

Bad.

At this point in the training, expect to wake up in the middle of the night to eat.  Expect sores in uncomfortable places.  Expect to need food in the middle of work meetings or risk getting a headache.  And expect to need food soon after eating a hearty meal.  Expect to be sore in one place or another all the time.  Expect to pay for massage work every two to three weeks with two months to go until the race.  (I'm on a schedule with David now.)

And expect to be antsy to work out when you've had a couple light training days.  For all the bitching and whining about the training, it's addictive.

So while I'm recovering today, I'm already thinking about tomorrow.  And despite the volume of this past weekend, I feel pretty good.

Progress.  Every day a step closer to the final goal.  Every day a slight new victory. A new insight.  But it requires doing the extra work.

47 days and counting.

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.

Rest Required

I participated in the eating of a full, three-week old pig at a Culver City restaurant last night. Though I'm not sure what was more disturbing: Eating the different parts of the intact beast or how tired I was by 10 p.m. after a beer and a glass of wine.

This sport saps the life out of me sometimes.  There are certain moments where my body just seems to shut down and go into the equivalent of "hibernation" mode on a computer.  Like right in the middle of a dinner.  This sucks, because it's not like I go out all often with my training schedule.  When I do, expect to be able to stay awake and rally.

By the time I got home at midnight, the last thing I could think about doing was blogging. Though I did consider it, staring at my laptop, which peered back at me with its single battery light blinking back at me.

I felt guilty for not writing.  I felt guilty for not being able to quite keep up with my friends at the dinner.

Triathlon makes me physically healthier, but sometimes with a sacrifice that's too great to make.  And yet with another month of peak training, this is what I must get used to: Rise, train, race to work, work, race to train, train, quality time with Stephanie, blog, sleep.

Where's the room for friends?  Where's the room for socializing?

The kicker is that today's an off-day from training.  And instead of going out tonight, all I can think about is a quiet night at home.  Just me and the DVR.

I ask my body to do a lot.  Right now, my body is asking for return favors.  Rest.

Deal.

51 days and counting.

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.