The Crucible

As I understand it, the traditional final major act Camp Pendleton Marine recruits go through before actually becoming MARINES involves something called The Crucible.  I don't know exactly what it entails, but I do know there's significant physical and mental hardship imposed on the hardened young soldiers.  I know it's a rite of passage, as well as a bonding ritual. I'm viewing tomorrow's and Sunday's training sessions in similar fashion.  My own personal Crucible.  Tomorrow features a six-hour brick workout and Sunday is a 2.4-swim followed by a three-hour run.  By the end of this weekend, I'll have trained close to 11 hours.  I'll probably bike around 56 miles and run about 32.

The thought of doing that is more mentally daunting than a physical fear.  Staying mentally sharp for that period of time in a non-race mindset will be a challenge.  I realize that is exactly what will be required of me for Ironman Arizona. But tomorrow is not that day just yet.  However, I need to pass through this Crucible.  The final weekend of build training before the taper period.  Untold thousands of Ironman triathletes have gone through the same final test of physical and mental fortitude.  Tomorrow is my turn.

Fortunately, I should have help.  My buddy Caleb will likely join tomorrow's workout, and Bob (who also is racing IMAZ) will be my training partner on Sunday.  The weather looks like it will cooperate as well.  Though it will be cold in Fillmore, it likely won't rain.  I cannot possibly imagine doing a six-hour brick in a gym.  That might be too much for even me to handle without going stir crazy.

I'm not sure how I'm going to break up the workouts this weekend to stay mentally engaged.  In talking with Stephanie about it, I'll probably look at doing it by bike loops (1.75) or time (1.5 hours roughly per loop).  I'm also debating bringing music on the run.  I know I should train like it's a race, but if I'm running by myself with nobody else on the road essentially, that's not a race day condition either.  On the flip side, I want to make sure I can hear traffic.  I'll see how I feel when I wake up tomorrow.

For now, it's off to hang out with Steph for a while since we won't see much of each other this weekend.  This is perhaps the toughest part of Ironman training for us both.  It's the period where I need maximum time to train and recover, and sadly that can come at the expense of our quality time.  We're making the most of it, as we dined together tonight interviewing a potential wedding photographer, and now we're going to spend some quiet time alone after a trying week.

The Crucible is finally here.

27 days and counting.

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.

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.

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.

Where I've Been

Saturday: Baptism (not mine), Wall Street movie with Stephanie's family (family great, avoid the movie), dinner with the Van Schaik clan after in Costa Mesa. Sunday: Biked 97 miles with Frank and Caleb, from Malibu to Moorpark and back. Swam almost two miles after that.  Rushed home, changed clothes, took Steph out for a surprise dinner at Cicada Club in downtown LA followed by another surprise, Muse floor seats!

Just got home from this whirlwind of a day.  So much more I could say about the entire day.  Too drained physically and emotionally to even try. Highlights are easy though.  Caleb made me feel like I'm halfway decent at triathlon by complimenting my cycling.  Steph looked at me tonight like I'm king of the world. Well, at least her world. Muse simply rocked my entire core.  To the point I stood for two hours after my day of training and didn't mind that much.  Truly one of the best live performances I've ever seen.  Dare I say even better than a U2 concert?

Days like today just don't get much better.  Honestly, one of the better days of my life.

54 days and counting.

A Real Weekend

I'm headed into the busiest, most taxing part of my Ironman training.  Yet what I'll remember most from this weekend is the time I got to spend with Stephanie and my family. At first I was bummed that Yom Kippur fell on a Saturday.  I need that time to complete my long bike or run.  Trying to do so during the week wipes me out and for a 5-6 hour bike ride, it's logistically impossible.  But being able to enjoy a Saturday by not running around all over the place and then trying to cram in some relaxation -- even if it meant not eating much of anything -- was a true joy.  Yes, I attended services, as I mentioned yesterday.  But I also stopped long enough in my life to plop on the couch and watch some college football. I hung out with my family without looking at my watch.

Sometimes, doing less can be more for your mind and body in triathlon training.

The trend continued today, as I logged five hours in the pool (3,000 yard swim) and on the bike (4 hours, 4,300 feet, Tour de Conejo via Calabasas and Simi Valley).  You'd think that wouldn't qualify as lounging, but the eight hours from when I returned home and spent the day with Steph certainly did.  Though I was on a tight timeline with my training today since we had a 3 p.m. appointment with our wedding ceremony rabbi, it actually ended working in my favor.  I got to really feel like I had a leisurely Sunday without the guilt of either missing all my training or not spending quality time with my lady.  While I had to cut my workouts short -- by 500 yards in the water and around 1.5 hours on the bike -- it still meant more time after our appointment just to hang out with no particular plan. Like a long date.  We filled our afternoon running an errand (I needed new swim shorts and goggles), eating an early dinner at Fritto Misto in Santa Monica, and watching Peyton destroy Eli at home on the couch.

It was so nice to have a weekend back in the heat of my Ironman training.  I'm bummed I didn't complete my original 17.5 hours of scheduled training.  But, I still checked off most of my workouts, trained hard, and at the end, I feel quite refreshed.  Mentally, I'm ready for next week's dose of Ironman fun, which will call for another 17.5 hours.  Physically, I worked hard but have much more left in the tank.

Which is more important: Completing all your training and feeling mentally and physically drained, or completing most of it, finding balance at home and looking forward to the next week?

Is there any doubt what the correct answer is?

61 days and counting.

Racing for Others

I've raced a lot this year.  Nine events, to be exact.  One half-marathon, one marathon, one Half-Ironman, and the rest triathlons of various distances.  And I'm not done yet! As the season has worn on, I've found it occasionally more difficult to get fired up to race.  Especially when the events are on a Saturday, like today's Nautica Malibu Triathlon (International Distance).  When I'm at work on a Friday, I'm focused on work (yes, as if it wasn't obvious in the above photo, I do work at Insomniac Games!). Not the race.  So when the time comes to dash to the pre-event packet pick-up, I find myself struggling to get in the right frame of mind to torture myself so early the next morning.

That was the case today around 5 a.m. on the way to the race.  Earlier in the season, my car would be bumpin' the sounds of rock and gangsta rap. I was jacked!  My biggest problem was calming down, not firing up.  This morning, silence in the car, punctuated by periodic conversation with Stephanie, who braved an oncoming sinus cold to join me for yet another day of fan support.

I couldn't quite get "there," that mystical place where body and mind shake hands and agree to work together to deliver a personal-best performance. Body showed up, mind was still wandering.

Until the National Anthem just before the sound of the first-wave cannon fire.

I have a little pre-race ritual that locked me in tight.  During every National Anthem, I close my eyes and for some reason, I always picture the same thing.  My grandfather, who passed away in 2005, is ambling towards me or hovering in my mind.  I know he would have loved watching me perform in this sport, and the truth is, I miss him every day.  So amidst all the hectic activities and moments in my life, the National Anthem before a triathlon is the place and time where I can quietly pay homage to a great man whom will always be my lovable hero.

And then I remember that it's now time to kick-ass. No excuses, just like grandpa. No fanfare, just like grandpa. It's. Time. To. Kick. Ass.  End of story. No talking.  Action.

Even though I always get a little choked up in those moments, I couldn't be more dialed into race.  Everything else melts away.  Nothing but racing occupies my mind.  Literally 100% focus.  To those who don't know me, it's probably my "stay the fuck away from me" face!  Today that feeling was compounded by having my parents join me for the first time this season to watch me race.  When I saw them, after my pre-race warm-up swim, I immediately returned to being that 12-year-old kid who craved their approval on the soccer field.  I couldn't help but smile.

Happy, but not distracted though.

As if I wasn't rearing to go, being with my parents took that energy to another level.  In fact, I broke my dad's eyeglasses giving him a head-butt before entering the corral for my 35-39 men's age group wave. I don't think the feeling of wanting to please those important to you ever goes away, no matter how old you are.  If I got report cards at work, I'd still give them to my mom to hang on the refrigerator.

Now, add those emotions to the mental imagery I try to conjure up moments before the starting gun blasts: A steaming, smoldering, powerful 1970s-era rocket ship about to take off from Cape Canaveral.  Complete in crackling, saturated 1970s-era filmstock.  Film projector-sounding audio providing the sound enhancement.

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5...I literally picture the gates coming apart from the rocket as the engines ignite.

4, 3, 2, 1...BANG!

I wish I could describe the sensation that occurs in my body when that gun goes off.  Honestly, I get dizzy for a moment and my vision is temporarily blurred while a massive energy surge pounds through me.  There is no sound in that moment .  I can't hear my own footsteps.  Not even the roar of the ocean.  It's me and the race.  Me against time.  There is nothing else.  Nothing else that comes close to mattering in that moment.

Granted, with a 28:40 swim that's a lot of imagery and motivation for what many would consider an average aquatic performance!

Nonetheless, that's what I think about in the final minutes before every race.  And today, that's the added motivation I had to race faster than I have before, on a tougher course than this past summer's Breath of Life Olympic-distance event (the site of my previous best performance).

Some days, I race for me.  Today, I raced for others.

That turned out to be more than enough rocket fuel to keep me going.

***

Race Notes:

Swim: Nice pace.  Good current helped.  Stayed out of trouble by avoiding other, slower swimmers from the previous wave who seemed like sea mines because of their unpredictable, sometimes-chaotic behavior.  One guy literally swim into me at a perpendicular angle!

Bike: I maintained a 20.5 mph pace despite dropping my chain on the second climb heading out to Deer Creek Road from Zuma Beach.  Very proud of myself for not panicking, quickly fixing the chain and getting back into the race.  Didn't lose my cool, and caught up with my pace-mates fairly quick.  Speaking of, I played a helpful and fun game of "cat and mouse" with three cyclists.  One tall, lanky 38-year-old, another 38-year-old and a 36-year-old Kansas native who was out on vacation and shared a bike rack space with me.  He rented a Giant bike for the race and was an amazing climber.  I beat him by around a minute but he was faster than me on the swim and run.  I beat him overall by 16 seconds due to faster transitions.  He served as healthy and friendly competition.  We kept passing each other throughout the race, occasionally chatting, occasionally drafting (just a little, shhhh...).

Run: Wow!  That's all I can say about my 43:43 10k. Coach Gerardo (pictured here with LA Tri Clubber and Tweet Tycoon @fittorrent) really got to me at the Santa Barbara Triathlon when he told me to "just run" and not worry about heart-rate.  I never once looked at my heart-rate today and instead ran by feel, with the general mantra of "go as fast as you can" stuck in my head.  Unlike Santa Barbara, I never stopped for water breaks.  Unlike Santa Barbara, I didn't start off slow and build to a fast pace.  I started fast and steadily grew faster.  If I recall my Garmin watch data, my mile splits were 7:25, 7:29, 7:25, 7:18, 7:09 and I didn't see the final lap but think I broke 7.  What's odd though is that my average pace is listed at 7:03.  Hooray!  For a change, I wasn't passed a lot on the run -- I did more passing instead.

69 days and counting.

Race Time Awaits

Bike is cleaned.  Bags are packed.  Race packet is picked.  Stickers and bibs affixed. Carbs eaten.

Race time awaits.

What else is there to say, really?

I am ready.  I want to crush the course tomorrow.  My parents are coming.  Steph will be there too.  I want to end the race portion of my long season with a real bang.  I want to hit 2:25 at the finish.

I am going to do everything I can to meet that goal.  (Without accruing penalties!)  I am going to race hard tomorrow.  Very hard.

I am going to look the way I did at the end of the Santa Barbara Triathlon, pictured below.

Spent. Exhausted. Relieved.

I am going to make my third Nautica Malibu Triathlon my best.

What else is there to say, really?

70 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.