Frustratingly Slow

By trying to run more efficiently lately, I've been putting my body at greater risk. I ran nearly six miles this morning at Griffith Park with my buddy John and Coach Gerardo.  I received some valuable instruction on my forefoot striking experiment, mainly that I've been trying too hard to avoid heel contact on the strike.  This can cause extra strain in the Achilles and knees, as well as the foot itself.  Good thing Gerardo joined me.

I also need to work on kicking my heels up higher, which will activate my hamstring muscles more.  Currently, I'm shuffling too much, which I had no idea I was doing.  Of course, it's hard to run behind yourself and see these things.  One more reason that having a coach makes a lot of sense.

This was John's first time running with Gerardo, and in his words, he had a mental record button just listening to the two of us talk about training, diet, and technique.  It felt good knowing that we were helping John improve even if it was coming at the expense of my trying to break bad habits.  Bad habits I hope John doesn't have to experience for himself.

One downside that I noticed to running with my friends today was that I ran a little harder than what my workout called for.  I was supposed to stay in zone 2 heart rate but was usually in the low zone 3 range.  What's worse though is that now my zone 3, with my new running style, means I'm running 9:30-minute miles.  That's terrible for me!  Last year I was running 8:00-8:15-minute miles regularly en route to my 1:45 Surf City Half Marathon.

I never expected proper form and technique would actually make me slower.  Part of me just wants to go back to running the way I used to.  But I know I need to be thinking of the long-term here, so I'll keep leaning forward at the ankles and pushing ahead. Slowly.

160 days and counting.

1 Step Backward, 1 Step Forward

I had to write my first "race exemption" email today, and I didn't like how it felt. The Los Angeles 13.1 Marathon is this Sunday.  I signed up shortly after completing Ironman Arizona, thinking that more running would equate to becoming a better runner.  I desperately wanted to improve my marathon time, and figured I'd be fine to resume training after about two weeks off. Unfortunately, while my heart has and continues to be willing, my body just hasn't quite cooperated.  That's not to say my recovery is going poorly.  Far from it, once I accepted and embraced that I needed a recovery period.  I'm feeling stronger every day now and my lingering leg pains are starting to subside.  But the point is that I don't really need this half-marathon, or my Surf City full marathon in a few weeks, to elevate my running.  I didn't know that at the time, though a few of you tried to warn me.  More running can equal more pain.

Still, the frustration at having to bow out of a race gnaws at me. On one hand, I know I'm doing the smart thing.  I keep telling myself, "follow the plan," repeating that mantra daily with each workout.  On the other hand, I feel like I've failed myself by not being able to perform.  It's like some joker pointing his finger at me and saying with a laugh, "You're getting older!"  What's more frustrating though is that I know I could have completed the half-marathon this Sunday.  I might have done it at my current Ironman pace, but I could have run it.  However, at what cost?  My psoas might have tightened up. Or my knee tightness may have increased.

Further, now I can continue to work on improving my new fore-foot strike running technique, which is much more valuable.  There's no pressure of an upcoming race to worry about to take me off my drill work, though I do plan to turn my Surf City marathon into a half-marathon run since I have so many friends doing it too.

So today is a bittersweet day for me as a triathlete.  By taking a step backward physically, I think I've taken a step forward mentally.  I'm practicing what I've been preaching lately.  I'm going to work on getting faster by forcing myself to go a little slower.

For us Type A personalities, that's about the hardest thing there is to do!  Outside of completing an Ironman.

162 days and counting.

Chicken Salad Out of Chicken Sh*t

My morning bike ride started off poorly.  First, my buddy Frank and I were confronted with a fog bank so thick in Agoura Hills that we had to drive back over the hill on the freeway to higher ground to have enough visibility to ride.  But it wouldn't matter, as Frank realized once we prepared to leave that he forgot his shoes at home.  His day was over before it started.  On the day before his birthday, no less. Then, if that wasn't enough, I got a flat tire on my back wheel -- in the first mile of my solo ride.  I knew my back tire had a slight gash in it following my rainy Santa Clarita outing a couple weeks ago.  Yes, Frank suggested I replace the back tire but I thought I could get lucky and make it last a while longer.

Turns out Frank knows what he's talking about.

Fortunately, I noticed my flat about a block away from a cycling group preparing for its own Saturday morning ride. I was even more fortunate that my Fortius teammate Jason decided to ride with this group instead of our team -- he pulled up in his 4Runner almost immediately when I pulled up with my lame bike in the cul-de-sac.  Jason helped me insert an empty Clif Bar wrapper between my new tube and the tire to keep debris out for my ride back to the car.

That wasn't even the highlight of the pit-stop though.  I met Julie, who recognized me from my Fortius race kit and told me she was the person cheering for me at the bike turnaround point at Ironman Arizona.  I had never met Julie in my life, but she was a friend of my buddy at Helen's Cycles, Pete.  Pete told Julie about me and asked her to cheer for me that day.  This unknown cheerleader had remained a mystery for me since then, so I was excited to tell my new friend that hearing her scream for me at those lonely checkpoints truly boosted my energy and resolve heading back into the headwind.  If nothing else, that helped make my brief ride today somewhat of a success.  Saying "thank you" to Julie felt great.

So now that my bike ride was over for the day, I had a choice.  I needed to be back home in 1.5 hours for a family obligation with Steph.  I could just skip working out for the day and lament my bad luck on the bike, or I could try to squeeze in a trail run.

Even though I was bummed about not cycling with Frank and embarrassed by my choke-job on fixing my own bike in front of others, I decided to at least try to fit in a hilly trail run.  I'd have to drive another 30 minutes to the Dirt Mulholland trail, but I couldn't let the whole day be a loss.

I'm so glad I did!  FINALLY, seven weeks after Ironman Arizona, I enjoyed a run where my knees didn't act up!  Yes, my right psoas still felt tight but that was it.  Better still, my calves weren't screaming in pain from my new running technique where I'm trying to run purely off the balls of my feet instead of my old heel-to-toe strike.  Better than all that was my lower, calmer heart-rate on hills.  I felt like I was running slower, but still I managed to bang out nearly six miles in an hour on a hilly trail where my heart-rate only briefly visited zone 4 a few times and I typically stayed in the low-mid 140s.

To think I would have missed that experience had I sulked about my bad luck on the bike.

We often hear about how if you fall off the proverbial bike, you should get right back on it again.

Sometimes, maybe it's best when you fall off the proverbial bike, to simply ditch it and just change into running shoes.  Take what the moment gives you.  Accept it for what it is.  And plan a different route to achieve a goal.

164 days and counting.

Back to Work

Today I hit the Refresh button, literally, on my Ironman training. After a brief moment of reflection, I reset my countdown clock on the blog to Ironman Coeur d'Alene.  It's time to look ahead and move forward.  I basked in the post-IMAZ glow for two weeks, and now it's time to get back to work. Of course, that's easier said than done -- especially after not exercising since the race.  So, I added a little motivation on my bathroom mirror.  Something I'll look at every morning when I get out of bed.  I still have "Remember THIS Day" and "It's the journey, not the destination" scrawled on notes stuck to my mirror as well.  But this note is smack-dab in the center.  Staring me in the face.

I know this Post-It might seem harsh.  But I need to kick-start myself emotionally as well as physically.

That's what I attempted to do this morning with my Fortius trail run in Agoura.  Several of the usual suspects (Richard, Ann, Mike, Karen, David) were running the CIM marathon in Sacramento. But we still had a solid turnout on this crisp, cloudy morning, including a new teammate, Chris.  He volunteered at IMAZ near the first aid station on the bike route.  I'll look forward to sharing what I know about the course with him as he begins his own journey towards Ironman Number One.

The plan was to run for two hours today, but my IT bands wouldn't cooperate.  As you can imagine, my legs started tightening up around the third or fourth mile.  We weren't even doing much elevation today (600 feet total).  My left leg really started acting up around the turnaround point for us (just shy of an hour), the same burning, tingling sensation around my lower kneecap I felt at IMAZ around the eighth mile of the run.

Something is definitely not right with my leg.  I mashed my way through the rest of the run, taking brief moments to stretch my left leg and then my right -- which started acting up around the seventh mile.  The only bit of good news I can take from this run is that I was never winded or overly tired.  Fitness-wise, I feel fine. Once again, like at IMAZ, my body betrayed me.  But I'm not sure I can really write that in good conscience since I didn't stretch in two weeks, gained five pounds and generally did nothing constructive for my training.

I'll be fixing that starting today.  I've applied ice bags, rubbed pain gel, stretched, and even howled in pain from being overly aggressive with the foam roller.

Yep, time to start training again.

I also ran with a new pair of shoes today, the Asics 2160 trail shoes.

I bought them last night from Road Runner in West Hills, in a half-size larger as often recommended for running shoes.  This is my third pair of Asics trail runners, the 2140 and 2150 being the previous versions of the 2160.  It's too early to offer a legitimate review, but I can say that my heels were a little sore after the run, which is unusual, and the shoe was tighter than I expected last night when I wore them to a dinner party to break them in.  I've had nothing but great luck with my Asics so I'm confident this pair will eventually work out well.  While the Asics 2150s were a little on the heavy side (around the 11.5+ oz mark), I rarely had fit-related issues and after IMAZ my feet weren't sore.

So, on two wobbly legs I managed to run just over 10 miles in just under 1:45:00.  Not my best run, but for my first run back, I'll take it.

And, as my Post-It note implies, I certainly won't basking in that "accomplishment" for very long.

After all, Ironman Coeur d'Alene is nearly seven months away.

198 days and counting.

PS: Here's my blog post from one year ago today.  It's interesting to me that one year ago today was apparently the first moment in my training where I realized I could truly become an Ironman.  I'm really glad I wrote this stuff down!

2 Weeks!

Two weeks from tonight, I'll be collapsed in my hotel room, hopefully elated with the performance I worked for and (I believe) earned. Yet it still doesn't feel totally real. For instance, despite a year of training, I felt a pang of anxiety when I realized tonight that the next Ironman on the official schedule is...mine.  There's nothing else to look forward to.  No other friends to cheer on.  No other teammates to send off.

It's just me and a date that approaches more quickly every day.

If today's workout is any indication, I'm definitely close to being ready.  Bob, my fellow Fortius and IMAZ teammate, joined me this morning for a full tri-workout.  We swam at Zuma in clear, crisp 62-degree water for 45 minutes.  I experimented with compression shorts in the water instead of a swimsuit, as well as compression calf sleeves. I liked it overall.  The calf sleeves rolled up on my leg a bit but I think that was after I took off the wetsuit, not while wearing it.  I think I'll go with that strategy at Ironman.  Any edge I think I can get.  Following a fairly leisurely transition (what a gorgeous day out!), I did my very best to hold onto Bob's wheel as we hammered out to Big Rock and back.  I succeeded for the first half of the ride as we belted out several 21-plus mph miles, but the second half of the ride, Bob stopped toying with me and simply took off.  He very well may break five hours for his bike split at IMAZ if he wanted to.  Finally, we embarked on a 90-minute run while trying to stay in heart-rate zones 2-3.  We were successful, completing just around 9.6 miles in that span on a flat course.  I needed that run following last Sunday's blow-up in Calabasas.  I know I can hold my heart-rate steady for several miles but I'll need the weather and wind to cooperate, as well as my own ability to stick to my race plan.  Today, the wind was moderate and the temperature was around 70 when Bob and I started running at noon.

Now, it's getting late (for an old guy like me).  I'm typing, reflecting about the past week.  With the exception of a couple monster swims, this past week truly felt like what I expected a taper should be.  Relaxed.  Moderate.  Fun.

With the occasional balls-out bike sprint thrown in for good measure.

14 days and counting.

Nine Hours of Awesome

I've trained nine hours this week, with another nine to go.  The last two days have been especially intense though.  And I wouldn't have it any other way.  I could have taken the easy way out. Coach Gerardo gave me only 16 hours originally but I asked/begged/demanded more work.  I'm so glad I did.  Finally, I can appreciate what he meant by embracing the challenge of the distances involved in my training.  Just getting through this week feels special. Today's workouts included a difficult 2,300-yard swim at 6 a.m. followed by cycling hill repeats and 20 minutes in zone three aero after that.  Two hours, 20 minutes of hard work.  My quads howled by the end of the bike workout, yet I felt so accomplished that I let out a primal yell to nobody in particular.  I didn't care if it startled people along the Griffith Park walkway or if people thought I was crazy.

We already know I am.  And by "we" I only mean you and me, not my "other" personalities.

Kidding.

Really.

Now I'm winding down for the evening, after a busy day of work.  A good day of work, I might add.  Despite my fatigue, I felt fresh in meetings and on my "A" game. My father shared an article with me about how a prominent business executive makes sure he's moving when he's thinking because it allows him to think better.  I believe there's something to that.  As long as I get enough rest and eat well, I definitely can see a connection between staying active and staying sharp.  I wonder if other people feel the same.  It's almost like fitness is the metaphorical equivalent of dressing up for work.  I used to find that if I dressed dapper in the office, my performance would follow suit. Now, toss out the tie, replace it with the bike shorts, and voila!

Tomorrow, we have a half-day off from work.  Despite my nine hours of torture -- training -- I'm inclined to work out some more.  I won't, because I can hear Gerardo from Texas telling me how bad of an idea that would be.

Can't peak too soon.

36 days and counting.

PS: I still need to compare my running threshold data from the last "official" test to yesterday's TT.  However, I think the last test measured a mile run and this was more about 20 minutes maintaining a certain heart rate and pace.  So it might be apples to oranges.  My first glance indicates I ran a mile 11 seconds faster yesterday and more miles in general.  Interestingly, my heart rate was roughly the same (high 160s).

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.

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.

The Building Wave

Two months from right now, I'll be eating my Last Supper before Ironman.  Wondering about the Big Day that will come in those next 12 hours. I've been thinking about and waiting for this since my first workout more than 10 months ago.  It's now only 60 days away.

That still seems like a long time, but when I break it up with five weeks of peak training and three weeks of tapering, it's really almost here.  It still hasn't really hit me though.  Emotionally, I feel like I'm in an ocean with my feet still barely touching the sand.  I can see the incoming swell in the distance but it hasn't yet lifted me off my feet.  The power of the wave hasn't formulated.  But the energy, the anticipation, it's definitely there.

Today was more or less about recovery.  I ran for an hour this morning on what appeared to be the first day of school in my neighborhood's elementary school.  Cars jammed the streets on Dickens, causing me to be just that much more aware of my surroundings.  It's not like I was running fast though, as my legs were a little sluggish and my heart rate was beating as slow as I can remember in a run.  It took me almost through the first 40 minutes to creep into zone 3.

I just finished a yoga workout before returning into the office.  The calves are tight and my lower back is as well.  But there's no time to rest further.  Ironman training beckons.  Tomorrow is another two-hour-plus training day, filled with 80 minutes on the bike and 60 minutes in the pool in the evening.  All en route to a 19.5-hour training week.

The wave is picking up steam.  The water is rising above my chest.  I'm a little nervous, but not panicking.

Even though I haven't, I feel like I've been in this exact spot in the ocean before.  More than 2,000 miles logged on the Garmin and 185 hours confirm that sentiment.

I'm ready for the wave.

60 days and counting.

A Big Workout Sandwich

Training 3.5 hours on a weekend day is one thing. Doing it in the middle of the week is another.  I awoke at 6:30 to cram in my long run for the week as Yom Kippur will take up my Saturday.  So instead of going fast, I'll be fasting.  Or trying to. Probably unsuccessfully given my mega-appetite lately.

I ran for two hours at Griffith Park starting at 7:26 a.m., the first hour being flat and the second covering the hilly horse trails.  Ahh, the smell.  Oh how I'll miss that in the offseason.

I was pleased with my run performance overall.  Maintained a very steady pace on the hill portion (9-9:30) while my heart rate typically fell in the low-mid zone 3 range (low 150s).  I got into the low 160s on the big hills but quickly recovered.

Racing to work was probably the most hectic part of my workout.  I got in my car at 9:27 a.m., made it across town to the Burbank studio, showered, changed, ordered breakfast and made my 10 a.m. meeting with my boss.  I'm actually more proud of that transition time than most of my races!

After a work day that can only be described as "eventful", I bolted back to Griffith Park for the evening LA Tri Club brick workout.  Minus the run portion, of course.  I had a 1:30:00 bike ride planned, with half of it a straight shot in zone 3 bpm (146-151).  For some reason, I could never quite reach the lower end of zone 3.  It didn't seem to be fatigue related, as I hovered consistently in the high 130s, low 140s during the speed portion of the workout.  And my mph totals were in line with expectations (20-25 mph depending on wind direction).

Finally at 7:08 p.m., as the sun set, my long day of workouts drew to a close.  What a workout sandwich!  Two hours in the morning before work, a full day at work, and 1.5 hours after work.

I am cooked!  Now I'm just waiting for Steph to get home so we can enjoy some quality time together.  I'm tired of working out, or talking about working out, or thinking about working out.

And yet, in less than 12 hours, I'm back at it again.  In the pool, for a 6 a.m. swim since I have a work dinner tomorrow night.

Sometimes, the Ironman training workouts seem more intense than my actual work day.  And today's work day was anything but leisure-filled.

65 days and counting.