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.

Change of Pace Day 3

This week's theme clearly has been about shakin' up my trainin'. Today I "borrowed" Steph's iPod (mine's broken) and ran w/ music for the first time in months.  We won't get into the exact tunes on said iPod, or which tunes I chose to listen to while running.

Yes, in some instances, my Man Card would likely be pulled.

Yet I don't care.  What a boost to run with something other than my own thoughts!  Now I understand why iPods or any other music player are illegal in sanctioned races.  I felt a noticeable energy surge in this workout compared to other runs -- though my mere five miles in one hour would suggest otherwise.  Of course, I had five, three-minute hill repeats as the main segment of my workout.

I know.  Excuses, excuses.

In another training schedule shake up, I swam at Van Nuys Sherman Oaks pool this morning on my own with the Olympic-length lanes.  This made a big difference in my T-pace for some reason.  I was much slower than usual, yet I managed 2,650 yards in 55 minutes.  Here's the workout:

WU:

-- 300 easy

-- 3 x 150 (kick, pull, swim)

-- 6 x 50 (10 sec rest)

MS:

6 x 100 (10 sec rest)

500 TT

CD:

-- 200 easy swim, 100 easy kick

-- 200 pull

Admittedly, it was nice to have a lane essentially to myself and not deal with unnecessary delays between sets.  I could jump in the water, work at my own (rapid) pace, take quick breaks when I needed them, and plow through the entire workout.  As a result, I was able to swim more yardage than usual.  However, that yardage was slower, as I mentioned.  My six 100s were closer to a 2:05 pace and my 500 TT was a fairly abysmal 10:21, a 2:04 pace. That's what I used to swim at the beginning of the triathlon season when I first joined Fortius Coaching in November 2009.

I'm going to chalk this time up to a nuance of swimming long and hard for several sets.  I've swam TTs nearly a full two minutes faster than that, so no worries.

Tomorrow, my week of changing training pace may continue.  I'm without my four-door car for the week as Stephanie's decrepit Mustang is still at my Dad's auto repair shop, being coaxed to live just a while longer.  I don't have a ride to the Fortius workout and haven't heard from Coach Gerardo yet on whether he can pick me up.  If not, I'll be joining a new LA Tri Club group tomorrow at 7:15 a.m. in Encino for a 65-mile ride to Simi Valley and back.

It's definitely strange how much my training schedule has shifted this week.  And in the past, as a younger Ryan Schneider, this would have bothered me greatly.  I was an "order" guy.  I needed everything to happen the way it's supposed to happen!

Not so much now.

I think part of that is just getting older, hopefully a little wiser and a lot more flexible.  Perhaps some of it can be attributed to training too.  Flat tires happen.  People crash.  Roads are closed.  Water is too cold to swim in.  Water bottles fly out of cages.

Shit happens.

The clock still runs.

Gotta finish the race.

Until tomorrow...

77 days and counting.

Not Feelin' It

Practically every time I pack my bag the night before for a 6 a.m. morning swim -- goggles, cap, towel, sweats, Zoomers -- I wind up not attending the workout. What's up with that?

The rationale with packing early is to save time so I can sleep longer in the morning.  It's my way of committing to the swim hours before I enter the water.  Sort of a pre-bedtime psych job. Yet, on the days where I can drag myself out of bed for the workout, it's usually because I need to scramble and scrape together my workout gear.  I wonder if being more prepared is somehow actually enabling me to sleep more deeply, thus making it harder to wake up.

Today though, I honestly just didn't feel like going.  I wasn't feeling it, flat-out.  I didn't even feel like training at all, for that matter.  Maybe my post last night about changing pace stuck with me longer than expected.  Maybe it was the barbecue cheeseburger, fries and a salad at 8 p.m. after my run with Stephanie.  Maybe it was the tinge of embarrassment I still have for getting testy with someone in the pool during my most recent swim on Tuesday night.  Or, the fatigue associated with a frantic end to the workday, a frenzied bike ride home, a brick workout and writing another freelance article for Lava Magazine.

It's probably all of the above.

So at 3:19 a.m., I  searched in the dark for my cell phone, clicked off the alarm, and went fetal.  I decided to skip training today altogether and switch it to tomorrow, normally my off-day.  The extra two hours sleep was time well-invested.  I had a big meeting today that required my full energy, and a late evening planned at the Hollywood Bowl.  No afternoon bonk fight to resist.  No stiff legs either.

Of course, that means tomorrow I'm waking up at 6:30 after probably getting home around 11:30 p.m. to swim (alone, gah!) and then run at lunch.  To continue my streak of including a Yogi Berra quote in my posts, "It's like deja vu all over again."

At least my swim bag is already packed.

78 days and counting.

Change of Pace

Today went according to plan, right until it didn't. Sounds like a Yogi Berra-ism, right?  Well, it is.  I cycled to work from Sherman Oaks to Burbank using Chandler Blvd., which traverses a good chunk of the San Fernando Valley.  It was such a relief NOT to play vehicular dodgeball or Frogger for a change.  I could enjoy myself on the bike.  No heart-rate monitor.  No rush.  No worries!

I was on track to attend the 5:30 p.m. weekly Griffith Park brick workout, but a work emergency quashed any possibility of that happening.  Thank goodness!  I had a fantastic evening and still got my brick workout in.  I left the office around 6 and essentially time-trialed home in 34 minutes via Chandler and courtesy of a small paceline of speedy cycle-commuters.  Seriously, I think I'm going to invent a sport called Commuter-Cross!  But that's a different post for a different day.

I got home around 6:45 p.m., ditched my bike and called Steph to see where she was.  Unfortunately, the answer was about what I expected...stuck in traffic.  But, Steph wanted to join me for running!  This hasn't happened in months so I was thrilled. I circled the block a few times warming up until Steph was ready to join. I got my heart-rate zone 3 out of the way in the first half-hour so I could spend time running at Steph's pace.  We jogged for another 30 minutes together; of course, Steph wanted to push it on the last block.

Instead of showering and eating in, Steph and I walked immediately to the Blue Dog Tavern for burgers and beer.  A spontaneous date!  We laughed, caught up and just had a great time hanging out.

It's moments like that where I realize how regimented triathlon training is.  And how welcome a change of pace can be.  Both literally, as in changing the pace of the bike and run based on how I'm feeling and the situation in the moment.  And figuratively, as in rolling with the punches and actually having an even better evening than I would have expected.

I'll try to remember that throughout my training in the coming weeks and months.  Things may not always break my way.  Plans will change.  Especially next year when there's more going on at work than ever before.  But if I can realize that sometimes the unexpected just may be an enhancement, then I think I'll be in great shape.

79 days and counting.

Santa Barbara Tri Photo Gallery

I wanted to upload some images from the Santa Barbara Triathlon this weekend.  Haven't posted many images lately so I'm trying to make up for it here! I took this first photo on Friday, the day before the long course event. Steph and I were re-visiting Firestone Vineyard in Los Olivos, about 40 minutes north of Santa Barbara.  We're probably going to get married there.  In this exact spot one year from now!  That's my beautiful bride-to-be. I'm a lucky dude.

It's always easier to shoot photos before the starting gun goes off at a triathlon.  Especially with a camera that doesn't do action sequences well.  In the second photo I'm with my buddy Kevin, a fellow Fortius team member who had a terrific race -- clocking in around 3:39.  By the way, the water temperature was a crisp 59, or possibly even colder. Hence me wearing a "squid lid" for the first time.  I actually found it to be very comfortable and effective.  I was noticeably warmer in the water and would use it again if necessary.

Image number three is a quick one of Steph and me minutes before the start of the race. You can really see my "race face" come out in the fourth image shortly taken after that in the next shot standing at the starting line.  Go time.

Image five...aaaaannnnd they're off!!!!

That's why I looked so intense a few seconds before. I've done enough of these tris to know I was about to be kicked, hit, grabbed and shoved underwater for the first 300 yards of the swim.  It's that moment right before the starting gun goes off where you wonder, "Why am I doing this to myself again?"

OK, not really.  I love this!  I thrive on the competitive chaos. Who am I kidding?!

Somewhere between the image above and the sixth image taken with my Fortius coach, Gerardo (right), and Fortius teammate, Bob (left), I swam a mile, biked 35 miles and ran 10 miles in 3:43:01.  I outlined what happened on the bike in Saturday's post, but I haven't really said much about the run.  It was my fastest "distance" run to-date, with an average pace of 7:46 for a total time of 1:17.  But that's not what jazzed me the most.  For the first time I can recall, I was told I paced someone else to their personal best run.  That's what I usually tell someone else at the end of every race!  A 25-year-old kid , Chris, was clocking 8:15 miles with me for the first few miles of the run.  Chris felt out of his league on the pacing but I gave him advice on how to stay in the right physical and mental zones for longer. I suggested that he walk through the water stops, walk up inclines if necessary and save himself for the final three miles of the run, where he could really pour it on.  I outpaced Chris on the final five miles, but he wasn't far behind at the finish.  We shook hands, and the gratitude he showed really made my day special -- especially after such a frustrating bike ride.

Once again, giving back to others or motivating them somehow feels so much better than just taking from this sport.

Finally, after the race and the Fortius team celebratory lunch that followed, I took Steph out for a special thank you and surprise. It's important that our significant others know that we couldn't compete to our fullest without their understanding and encouragement. I always try to keep that in mind, every day.  So, I took Steph to a flower stand so she could pick out her own special bouquet, and we enjoyed some fantastic gelato at Scoops in Montecito.

What a relaxing ending to a frantic day!

And for those playing along at home, today's workout: 28.68 miles on the bike before work, 2,200 yards in the pool after work.

Now I'm done.

80 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.

Magazine Writin'

Tonight's regularly scheduled blog will not be seen, though the results of not blogging tonight will be see soon enough. I just knocked out 700 words for the Lava (triathlon) magazine website piece I'm writing.  After some fact-checking, I'll be submitting it to the editor tomorrow.

Magazine writing and blogging different in that the former requires a little more emotional distance than the latter.  However, given the subject matter (can blogs aid a triathlete's performance?), I think I was able to combine the intimacy of blogging with the journalistic integrity that comes with quoting other people.

Ultimately, you'll be the judge!

Now, it's off to Simi Valley, where we need to pick up a back-up mobile that I'll be driving until Steph's car is fixed.  Joy.  I've got 17.5 hours of training this week, with two days of cycling back-to-back.  Not sure how I'm going to do that just yet.  Perhaps it's back to Balboa Park and braving the morning rush hour traffic gauntlet.  That's like cycling Frogger.

Gotta jet.

83 days and counting.

The Only Choice

I grew up going to two schools, public and Torah. At the latter, we'd discuss Judaic teachings, of course, but we'd also cover more general moral lessons too.  One always stood out to me.  This is the scenario: You're at the beach. You spot a random stranger drowning in the surf.  Nearby, your favorite pet dog is swept up in the tide and current as well.  You can't save both.  Pick one.  There is a right answer.

As a child, this was a true dilemma.  Your pet is a family member, right?  But really, it's obvious now which one you should save, I hope.

Now what the hell does this have to do with triathlon?

I found out today during the bike portion of the Santa Barbara Triathlon long course, metaphorically speaking.  After an intense, choppy and frigid swim, I found myself struggling up the first several miles worth of climbing on the bike.  Until mercifully, I reached the top to begin a fairly steep, technical descent filled with switchback turns.  It's the kind of descent that sneaks up on you in a race because the first few miles on the bike are usually spent recovering from the swim, and then the focus turns to keeping the heart-rate in check on the climbing.  It's easy to fall into a hypnotic mental and physical rhythm because doing so dampens the pain in your quads, neck, shoulders and lower back.  The challenge becomes balancing relaxing on the downhills while remembering how dangerous they are.

Unfortunately, I saw just how dangerous they were firsthand.  As I began to rocket downward, I realized I was carrying too much speed around the right corner heading into El Toro Canyon.  I squeezed the brakes...hard.  Flashbacks of my Santa Susana Pass crash in 2009 raced through my head.  They helped me avoid panicking though as I looked through the turn, composed myself and corrected while staying on the right side of the road.  But someone was riding behind me closer than they should have as I crushed the brakes.  The cyclist consequently veered around my left-side, forcing him farther out beyond the double-yellow lines on the turn.

Things went real bad from there.  His back wheel wobbled and skidded on loose dirt and leaves. He tried to correct the skid, lost control, and slammed down on his left side, hurtling down the street on his shoulder, legs and back.

I keep playing in my mind the grimace on his face as he slid down the street.  I can see the whites of his teeth and wince in his closed eyes.

The sad part is I kept pedaling for a moment, choosing between competition and compassion.

It's not really a choice.  Compassion quickly won out -- but not without a brief internal struggle.  I work hard to arrive at race day ready to do my best, and once the starting gun goes off, that's my reward for all the hours spent training and preparing.  It's my time to shine and see how I stack up with the best!  Still, what kind of man would I be had I kept pedaling, even finishing with a personal best?  That's something I would have regretted quite possibly for the rest of my life.

Thankfully, I won't have to put myself through that kind of self-torture.  After the accident, I slowed, pulled over safely several feet downhill, turned around and rode back up the incline to check on the rider.  He was standing, hands clutched on knees, waving me off.  "I'm alright, get back to your race.  I'm OK," he said.

I shouldn't have listened.  The impact sounded horrendous and looked even worse.  But, the man told me he was fine.  I asked him if he was absolutely sure and if he was going to try and continue. He said yes to both.

I solemnly turned downhill and resumed my race.

I later found out the cyclist needed an ambulance and was placed on a flatboard.

On one hand, I know I did the right thing by stopping.  On the other hand, I didn't do enough by neglecting to stay with him until medical attention arrived.  I knew better.

However, I would have done exactly the same thing as the downed rider.  I wouldn't want someone else's race ruined because of my crash.

I keep telling myself that.

Maybe I need to go back to Torah school.

84 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.

Why the Negativity?

Is it a full moon or something? Usually, the Griffith Park LA Tri Club brick is filled with positive energy and nothing but encouragement.  Maybe it was the 90-degree-plus heat at 5 p.m. Or the huge swells that hit Santa Monica this morning.  But something was different tonight.  Three different Tri Clubbers offered nothing but discouragement in three separate conversations.  Two of them didn't mean anything by it, both commenting either on their fatigue or a poor race performance at the Santa Barbara Triathlon.  The third (and his friend) flat out warned me about marriage and begged me to get a pre-nuptial agreement because he had just lost hundreds of thousands of dollars in a settlement.  Both friends chided me about being closer to the "unhappy 50%" who get divorced.

Gee, thanks guys.

The places where I go to train are equivalent to a spiritual and physical dojo. I expect negativity, like shoes at a martial arts studio, to be left at the door.

Today, the dojo was muddied.  Footprints stained the white canvas.  It's ugly.  And unappreciated. Ironically, this comes on the same day I interviewed a leading sports psychologist for a freelance magazine website story I'm writing.  We discussed the benefits to blogging or journal-keeping, along with the risks.  Without tipping my hand or my source's viewpoint, one of the risks associated with blogging or journal-keeping is reflecting on the negative so that it becomes self-destructive.  I'm going to take that feedback to heart tonight.  I'll clean up my mental dojo, sweep up the dirt and grime, and look forward to another day of training tomorrow.

Tonight reminded me of how powerful words can be.  Just a few poorly chosen ones can negatively color someone else's mood or general outlook.  I'm vowing right here to strengthen my resolve to encourage others, and if I have something to discuss that could be construed as negative, I'll think twice and ask myself if it's helpful, valuable and necessary information to share.

If it isn't, I'll keep my mouth shut.

Some nights, blogging is really hard.  I write words down almost just for the sake of keeping my ritual intact.  Tonight, it's as if I'm pouring back garbage into a wastebasket and rapidly jogging down the hall to throw it down the chute.  The process is short, messy, stinky and I want to get it over with quickly so the room the wastebasket sat in can return to its normal aroma.

And now the cleansing part:

-- Just because other people's relationships fall apart doesn't mean mine will.  I'm 100% confident of that.

-- What happened to other people at the Santa Barbara Triathlon in years past is their experience.  I'm about to define my own.

-- Yes, an Ironman will take a huge toll on my body and mind.  I should expect at least a month to fully recover, and that's totally OK.  I have no problem with that.

Good.  Got that over with.

And now, I return to my normal, happy outlook on life and training.

Good night, all.

87 days and counting.