Sizing it Up

I'm  in Paso Robles at the La Quinta Inn with my friends Chris, Tia and Mike, winding down our preparations for tomorrow's Wildflower Long Course triathlon.  It's 8:30 p.m. and we're going to bed for a 5:15 a.m. wakeup call.

It's been an exhausting two days.  Yesterday, I took the day off from work to focus on race prep and getting my head straight.  Instead, I worked from home and completed two upcoming articles for Lava Magazine Online -- one of them ironically dedicated to stress management.  I went to bed last night cranky, tired and felt bad because I took it out on Stephanie.  It's the taper, I told myself.  But still, there's really no excuse to be a brat.

My mood continued through this morning, when I rushed out the door in a blur after submitting both articles and arriving late for our scheduled 9 a.m. caravan time.  I was frazzled and couldn't have been further from my desired mental place a day before racing.  I needed quiet time. Badly.

However, when you travel with a group anywhere, that's not what you're going to get.  So, taking a lesson from one of the professional triathletes I interviewed for the stress column, I controlled the situation as best I could and got quiet within my own mind.  I thought about what I could do to have a great race, the important steps to enjoying a great race.  For once, I tried not to think about hitting a specific timeframe, which is difficult for someone as competitive as I am.

While I'm not sure how this approach will play out tomorrow, I do know it helped me today once my group and I entered the Wildflower expo area. G-d and G-dess bodies abound at the lake.  Everyone is ripped, dressed in their pre-race compression gear and looking ready to absolutely crush the course.  My friends noticed several competitors and called them out to each other, questioning whether they could beat them.  I remained silent.  I can't control their performance.  Or anyone else's but mind.  It doesn't matter who's faster than me.  What matters is did I run the best race I could, and how can I ensure I achieve my potential.

I am nervous for tomorrow morning.  Who isn't before a big race?  But I feel prepared.  I know I belong here, along with the athletes who might look the part better than I do and even talk the talk better.  I am aware, but I am not afraid.

So for once, instead of sizing up the competition, I'm simply sizing up myself.  And, despite a hectic two days preceding the race, I like what I see.

58 days and counting.

Sea Change

In the workplace, fancy business magazines and consultants call it a "sea change" when something profound occurs to shift not just a business, but an industry or a movement. I feel like I experienced something similar to a sea change ironically in the pool tonight. Maybe it's merely an epiphany but I realized that instead of lamenting all the training and counting the days until "the end" (IM Coeur d' Alene), I need to really savor these moments while I can. Truth is, "the end" is nearer than I'd care to admit -- and that will be the real end of my racing and serious training for 2011.  In June.  Just two months away.

Whereas not having a set schedule sounded so appealing, now I realize it also means the absence of something special.  A bond with teammates. A common goal.  The chance to put myself to the test.

In other words, a void.

In two months, I'll be putting it all on the line for my second Ironman within a calendar year.  And then, that's it.  No race goals.  No training goals other than what I choose for myself.

I'm excited for the free time and of course the biggest day of all -- my wedding.  But instead of just getting through each day of training, I'm going to try harder to take it all in and enjoy each workout for what it is -- a pronouncement that I have big goals and am achieving them.  None of this comes easy, but the knowledge that I've vowed to do something for myself and am actually seeing it through is something I'm proud of.  And, none of this is guaranteed.  I could get hurt tomorrow and my break would start a lot sooner than I wanted.

So, here's to being grateful for every workout.  Here's to savoring an accomplishment.  Here's to enjoying the stretch run, and this Saturday's race.

Maybe that's why my water bottle quote for Wildflower will be "Peace Within."

Now THAT is a sea change for me.

61 days and counting.

I'm Ready

Fortius Coaching held a Wildflower pre-race strategy meeting in Encino tonight. As I sat there with my teammates, serving as the dutiful note-taker, I realized something important.  Perhaps the most important thing I've realized all year so far:  I'm so ready for this race.  And for every race moving forward. I do give much credit to my coach.  I know what to expect at these races.  I know how to remain calm.  I know that I need a routine, my own routine, to get ready on race day. I know that means going away from the group and getting in my zone, my place.  I know I need music to find that place as well.

What I don't need are lots of facts and reminders about what exactly to do and when to do it.  I learned all that stuff last year.  I know when to eat before a race, what to eat, and how much to drink.  When I started thinking about all those details tonight during the meeting I started to stress out.  It's a lot to remember!  I'd rather just trust myself at this point, show up to the race, run my ass off and celebrate afterwards.

That is going to be my plan.  Along with coming up with a cool quote to write on my water bottle for race day.  Any suggestions out there?  So far I'm thinking, "Don't think. Just Race."

62 days and counting.

The Little Engine Who Couldn't and Then Did

You know the story, "The Little Engine that Could?"  I used to love hearing it as a kid.  Over and over again.  Maybe it rubbed off a bit on my personality. Today on my long two-hour run for the week, I was The Little Engine Who Couldn't.  I couldn't motivate because I was running alone early in the morning on my normal day off from training.  I couldn't elevate my heart-rate to the usual zones based on the usual activity level -- I was off by at least 10 bpm.  I couldn't travel much faster than the walking horses on the dirt path, and my run quality smelled like them too.

And then, I saw one of the strangest things in all my time training.  As I passed the Los Angeles Zoo parking lot in Griffith Park around 8 a.m. on my first of two loops, a man in corporate attire was playing the bagpipes next to his Porsche Cayenne.

I can't make this stuff up.  I'd say only in LA, but really, maybe it's only in Scotland?

The man belted out "Amazing Grace" as a horde of high school cross-country runners jetted past, waving, laughing and saluting.

Perhaps the man was paying tribute to a fallen comrade, or even rehearsing to do that at a funeral at the nearby Forest Lawn Cemetary.  Maybe he was just inspired.  Either way, I found my lost stride, my passion, and ultimately my speed.  I ran the second loop seven-minutes faster.

This further proved to me how the mind affects the body in training and racing.  I didn't want to be outside this morning.  I wanted to be in bed and it showed in my performance.  But once I committed to the run, truly and fully, my performance soared.  Well, it soared compared to where it was when I started.  Anyway, you get the idea.

The next time your engine is running a little slow, consider why and what you can do to change that in your own mind.  You might be surprised at what happens.

60 days and counting (btw, I know this isn't true and that once again my numbers are off!  I'll change this tomorrow!)

PPS: Tomorrow I hope to review the Fuel Belt R-30 (three-bottle holder). In short, OK but not great.  I'll tell you why.

Shout Out to Tri-Widows

Sometimes Stephanie asks me how my day went and I don't know what to say.  It sounds so trivial, really.  I woke up early, ran for a while, maybe jumped in the pool for a bit and went to work.  I attended a bunch of meetings really about nothing important, did some other work too, and then after leaving the office I either came home or worked out some more.  Then I blog.  End of story. Meanwhile, Steph is up to her eyeballs in work, building a career, trying to juggle multiple wedding vendors and their tedious contracts, planning a close friend's bachelorette party and trying to help maintain a home for us both.  Her to-do list looks like my to-bring list for a race, just longer and without the butt-butter.

After spending two nights just trying to pick up a bit more of the household load, I realized while folding laundry and towels that I've got nothing on her!

So tonight, instead of spending a bunch of time reflecting on my hard swim workout, or watching Paris-Roubaix replay (again) while spinning, or the lifting I did at lunch with Shannan, I'm going to write about folding laundry. Cleaning out drawers. Hanging dresses. Doing dishes.  Picking up around the house.  Taking over some wedding planning duties.  Helping cook dinner last night.  This is the stuff that's really important.

We as triathletes have to remember that while we juggle three sports, our partners juggle our three sports (and hearing about them endlessly) AND their lives too.

I'm not sure which is more mentally taxing.  I may be the Ironman.  But Steph is no less an Iron Woman for enduring and being such a supportive partner.

61 days and counting.

Why I Almost Signed Up for IM St. George: Part 2

Upon entering VNSO pool yesterday morning for my 3,200 yard swim, I saw the following sign posted near the dressing room door: "Pool to be closed for maintenance for 3 WEEKS starting May 31."

I had to do a triple-take.  No, this can't be happening!  Seriously?  The final three weeks of IM Coeur d'Alene training?  When I'm in the pool for repeated 4,000-yard workouts and then running off to work, then more long-distance training after work?

Yes, there are other pools in the area.  But none are quite as convenient as VNSO, which is literally 5 minutes from my condo.  I can roll out of bed, put on my swimsuit, grab a banana to eat quickly, fill my water bottle and within 15 minutes I'm swimming laps.  It's fast, and most important, conveniently on my way to work.

Now, I'll need to head the opposite direction, to Calabasas, to fit in my morning swims.  Then, I'll need to fight traffic to get to work on time.  It's a hassle, and really the last thing I need or want at this point in my training.  Worse, I'm not sure what Coach Gerardo is going to do about coached swim workouts in the evening or mornings as those require permits.  Is it really worth the effort to secure those for three weeks?

This led me yesterday to make up my mind that I was going to go for Ironman St. George.  I'm sick of scheduling my life around training!  So the best way around that is to A) be done as quick as possible and take a longer break and B) IM St. G is on May 7, so the pool being closed May 31-June 24 won't really matter to me.

My mind was further made up after I spent time talking with Mark Allen, widely considered one of if not THE greatest triathlete of all time.  I'm interviewing Mark for my next "Mind Games" column with Lava Magazine Online.  I couldn't resist asking him about my "dilemma" at the end of our interview.  His advice? Why not do BOTH St. George and IM CDA?

My heart says YES!  My body says NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

Marks' feeling was that you should race at the races you want to race at.  If St. George is calling to me, which it is and will continue to, then I should do it.

Then, after a second Passover seder last night, I talked with Stephanie about it.

She thinks I likely won't be physically able to complete IM CDA if I do St. George, and if I don't do CDA then I've wasted a huge amount of money.  This is true.  And the race is largely non-refundable ($150 return for $575 registration, no thanks!).  So, in pragmatic terms, I'd be spending close to an extra $1,000 just to satisfy a deep primal urge to be an Ultimate Badass(TM).  And, if I tried to do CDA, I'd still need to find a friggin' pool for those three weeks!!!

So, after having some real sense talked into me, I'm back to my original plan.  I'm going for IM CDA, with all my might.

I really want to try St. George.  If I was made of money right now, didn't have two games shipping this fall, wasn't planning for a wedding and honeymoon or writing for Lava, I just might do it.

Instead, I'll think about St. George for next year, depending on the state of my mind, body and spirit. I know I've said CDA will be my last full-distance Ironman, but St. George is only six hours away!  It's so close, whispering to me.

If only Coeur d'Alene was whispering to me as loudly.  I think I need to work on that.  The Wildflower long-course next Saturday will help.

62 days and counting.

What, Me Worry?

In the span of a week here in Southern California, we've gone from the hypothermia-inducing cold of last Saturday's Mulholland Challenge to the sweltering heat yesterday from our five-hour brick session.  As a result of not being able to reach parts of my back to apply sunblock and being too stubborn to ask anyone, I earned my "tri-wings" -- the unmistakable sign of a sleeveless jersey-wearing triathlete.

Man, it stings too!

What also stings is knowing that if it's hot at the upcoming Wildflower long course triathlon, I may just melt.  Though my DeSoto arm coolers helped yesterday on the bike (I never felt too hot nor dehydrated), I cut my 60-minute run short because I felt myself overheating.  I shuffled/ran/walked while trying to keep my heart rate beneath 163 bpm and was largely successful. However, in just shy of 40 minutes I only managed 3.75 miles on hilly, dusty terrain.  The same terrain many of us will see at Wildflower.  I remember drenching myself in sponges last year that scantily clad college coeds gave me as my body temperature crept upward as morning turned into mid-day.

I wonder how it will be this year?

Moreover, this morning's 1,500-yard time trial swim in Calabasas with my Fortius buddies indicated that I didn't recover too well from yesterday's bake-fest.  Even if I did miscount a couple laps in the water (forgive me please...it was 60 flip turns!), my T-pace sagged to 1:54-1:57.  I'm typically in the 1:41-1:48 range.

Should I be alarmed?  I don't think so.  It's hot, my body isn't used to the weather right now, and I have time to acclimate. Further, we all know it's possible to turn in a less-than-impressive workout from time to time.  The key is moving past it and looking forward to tomorrow's training. Which is exactly what I'm going to do, along with an ART session.

Part of my problem is that my body is wound tightly with inelastic fascial tissue in my back, and my calves/Achilles feel spring-loaded to the point where they could shoot arrows across a field.  I think to move forward in the next couple weeks, I need to take better care of myself, get plenty of rest, eat right, and stretch more.

So that's my plan as I head into the two-week window before my first real "race" of the season.

I find myself quite excited to get back out on a race course.  Though I may need to cram an open-water swim session in beforehand -- especially considering I just wrote about that topic last month in Lava!

Gotta practice what I preach.

66 days and counting.

No Workout Monday

I'm not really sure why Coach Gerardo gave me a day off from training today.  Oh yeah, the monster ride on Saturday!  Well, I didn't have any time to compile my video blog yet so stay tuned for that.  Instead, my free time this morning was spent at the doctor's office for the annual physical and drawing of blood.  Whee!  My favorite. Physically, I feel fine today.  I could have worked out, same as yesterday,when I swam a hard 1,800 yards in 30 minutes and a light 45-minute run immediately following.  Shockingly, I could have kept going, which is very encouraging for Ironman training.  So much so that I started to flirt with the idea of forgoing Ironman Coeur d'Alene and tackling St. George instead.  But that just might be a bit too crazy given my already hectic schedule.  Then again, if I complete IM StG in early May, I'm essentially done with tri-racing for the year and can focus more on work, wedding, having a life, etc.  It's a tempting offer, but perhaps I'm underestimating the difficulty of the St. George course.  Further, I had a very hard time staying warm during the coldest portion of the Mulholland Challenge bike ride, shivering uncontrollably for minutes at the base of PCH upon leaving the chilly mountains.  St. George is supposed to be similarly cold, especially in the water.  Can I hack it?

I kind of want to find out.  Then again though, if I stay on my plan toward CDA, I can take the experience and strength I gained from this weekend and apply it towards a better result.  It's a great conundrum to face.

But the best conundrum of all is enjoying a rare Monday off-day.  What to do with the extra time?  Unfortunately, it was spent in a doctor's office, having a dull needle shoved in my arm.  Come to think of it, that's not too dissimilar from a hard day of training.

Both leave you feeling a bit woozy and needing sugar afterwards.

71 days and counting.

Decisions, Decisions

My stomach rumbles.  It's 6:30 p.m.  I'm supposed to be leaving for swim class shortly.  I'm doing the Planet Ultra Mulholland Challenge on Saturday. 112 miles, 12,750 feet of climbing. I won't lie, I'm nervous.  What is this going to do to my Wildflower legs? Is this challenge worth it?  Why am I going to do this to myself?

Well, there's only one answer.  Because it's there!  Because I can.  Because Wildflower isn't a guarantee.  Really, what is?  Life, death and taxes, Mark Twain would say.

Some might argue that I'm hastening one of the three of those inevitabilities by torturing myself for eight hours Saturday morning.  I look at it slightly different.  If I can get through that kind of agony, then the hills and ensuing run both at Wildflower and Ironman Coeur d'Alene should feel comparably reasonable.  Notice I didn't say "easy." I wouldn't do that.  An Ironman is NOT easy.  But, when the sun starts to go down in Coeur d'Alene on June 26, when I'm at mile 16 and realize I've got another two hours of running, I'll remember the Mulholland Challenge.

How I remember it remains to be seen.  But, I'll at least give it my best shot instead of wondering what if.

So, the question remains...pool swim tonight or take some extra time off for added rest?

I'm going to let my car decide.  Wherever I end up is what I'm going to do.  And you'll have the answer tomorrow.

75 days and counting.

Poopy Brick

My training mojo vanished this morning.  And I didn't even get a memo with a warning!  Nope, instead, I found out my morning brick was going to be terrible mid-way through my bike ride.  I couldn't figure out why my heart-rate was so low despite a strong effort on a long hill climb.  Typically, I hover in the 150-160 bpm range on this particular climb, but today I stayed in the 130s, reaching 150 only after a final futile push to reach the hill summit in time to make it back to the parking lot within the hour. Fail.

My legs felt like they were dipped in tar -- hot, sticky, burning, and painful.

That sensation continued on my poor excuse of a run.  My training instructions were to run easy in zones 1-2 for the first two miles, ramp up to zone 3 for the third mile and ramp up again to zone 4 for the final two miles.  I couldn't get my heart-rate past 145 for the entire duration of the run!  In fact, I had to stop halfway through the run for a bathroom break, which almost never happens.

Has this happened to you?  That awkward feeling part way through a workout where you're just dying to find a restroom in the middle of a trail run?  NOT good.

Fortunately, I was running parallel to a golf course.  I looked like I was streaking with my clothes on as I raced across the green -- hands covering my head to protect an errant drive.  That's how bad I had to go!  Once I felt better, I returned to my run.  Once again, I couldn't muster any real power or speed.  Though I ran steady 9 and 8:30 miles on the two miles back to the car, I would have preferred revving my intensity and trying to hit consistent 7-minute miles again.

Today was not that day.  I'm debating hitting the pool for a rare Wednesday evening swim, or just resting today altogether.  Maybe this morning was an aberration?

There's only one way to find out.  And in these final three months of Ironman training, that way is to suck it up and get back out there as best I can.  If I'm not feelin' it, I'll back out.  But unless I'm in a work meeting or injured, "not feelin' it" ain't good enough.

76 days and counting.