Smarter, not Harder

Before I get started, my latest Lava Magazine Online column is now live.  It's all about defining and overcoming the Off-Season Training Blues (OTSB).  Tried to have some fun with it.  Hope you enjoy, and if you do, please don't be shy about passing it around the internet!  Here's the link Onto today.  Yesterday, I mentioned I was going to cram some killer workouts in today before my Las Vegas business trip.  Well, in baseball terms I was 2-3.  I ran for an hour on the treadmill at my office complex gym, slogging through 5x3 minute hill repeats in HR zone 5b.  That left me absolutely drenched in sweat, not to mention the treadmill.  It also served as a great warmup for my personal strength training session with Shannan.  She led me through a battery of agility drills designed to improve strength and flexibility in my hips and glutes.

At the end of both workouts this morning, I could feel myself getting stronger.  I feel like I've turned a corner in my training.  Despite my current hectic schedule, I do believe the worst is over in my recovery period -- mentally and physically.  While my speed may not be what I'd like at the moment, my form is improving and my legs seem more resilient.  That is a great sign.

This form of progress also allowed me to be more pragmatic in my training approach for tonight's scheduled Fortius swim.  After a long day of meetings -- OK one meeting that lasted seven hours -- I realized I just didn't have much left in the tank for a grueling coached swim workout.  I spoke with Gerardo, and we both agreed I should postpone it until tomorrow, moving my cycling time trial to next week.

That's the thing about training for a second Ironman though.  It's not about training harder, as was the case in my first Ironman odyssey, it's about training smarter.  I find that with the limited time I have now, I'm listening to my body even more.  If I don't feel like training, I try to motivate and push myself to rally. But I can sense the difference between fatigue and exhaustion.  The former feels like laziness or a lack of enthusiasm to push myself. The latter feels like an inability to do so even if I wanted to.

That's how tonight felt. So, I came home, packed my bags for another trip, and hung out with my lady.

The night ended on another positive note.  My review Newtons finally arrived!  I've been looking forward to this day for weeks.  I'm going to try the Sir Isaacs stability line.  They're pictured here.  What I immediately noticed was the increased rubber on the sole in the forefoot area, along with the...ahem...bold peach/orange colors.  Whether it's from an awkward stride or the coloring of the shoes, people will see me rockin' my Newtons from near or far.  I'll be taking notes in the coming weeks and month and will share my impressions via Lava Magazine Online.  Of course, you'll be the first to know when the story hits.

Off to bed, and another crazy day draws to a close.

133 days and counting.

Pacing Myself

Normally, pacing in triathlon involves a discussion about racing and training properly so as to properly balance efficiency and output. Right now, a few days removed from a trip to London and a day removed from re-packing my bags for Las Vegas, pacing means something else entirely.  Right now, pacing means juggling work schedules while picking and choosing my spots carefully to train in between spending quality time with Steph, not to mention paying bills, catching up with friends and otherwise staying on top of life.

Boo-freakin' hoo, I know.  And I'm not complaining, to be honest.  I've written recently about how this year is so much different than last year in terms of Ironman training.  But I think I may be even more satisfied with crossing the finish line in Idaho this June as a result of how much harder I'm going to need to fight to get there.  Every little training opportunity I can scrounge is treasured.  I took it for granted last year, perhaps even had a false sense of entitlement.  This year, every hour or Saturday morning bike ride I can manage is appreciated.  I'm sure some of you feel the same way.

Tomorrow is one of those days.  I've got a full day of meetings and then the next day I'm in Vegas through Friday.  So, it's up at 6 a.m. for 7 a.m. running hill repeats at Griffith Park, followed by strength training with Shannan at 8:30 a.m. I've been missing the weights lately so I need to squeeze in a PT session while I can.  After my day of meetings, I'll jet over to the pool for a coached workout at 7:30 p.m. But that's my last swim until Sunday.  And my last strength training opportunity for the week as well.

Sometimes it's a feat of strength just to stay in shape amidst a hectic life.  It's easy to forget that.  But right now, I'm happy with being an Iron Juggler.

I'm just not sure how long it'll last.

Pacing.  I have to keep remembering that it applies to life and not just racing.

134 days and counting.

Breaking the Rules

Funny that training three hours on a Saturday feels like taking the day off.  But that's just what I did today, forgoing my afternoon time trial swim to spend time with Steph.  We went to a nice lunch and then to see No Strings Attached, the rom-com with Natalie Portman and Ashton Kutcher.   Ironic that just yesterday I was writing about rom-coms. There's a lot to be said about recovery from training.  It usually involves icing, stretching and minimal movement.  But today it was all about spending quality time with my lady.  I had truly forgotten what it's like to have free time in the afternoon on a weekend during tri-training.  How sad is that?  Saturdays are for training. Plain and simple.  But by breaking the "rules" a bit, I feel so much better.  I had a great afternoon filled with R&R after a hectic week on the road.  And now, I'm eager to get in the pool tomorrow and run before prepping for a little Super Bowl soiree.  Best of both worlds.  Especially considering how exhausted I would have been after swimming and how little energy I probably would have had for the evening.

A little unplanned rest can go a long way sometimes.

136 days and counting.

Unbroken

Do you ever stop and think about what kinds of entertainment you gravitate towards?  Not just in a broad sense, the way my fiancee loves practically all "rom-coms" (romantic comedies).  I'm talking in more specific terms, like what kinds of stories do you find most appealing, entertaining, thought-provoking or otherwise engaging. For me, it's simple.  I love "against all odds" stories.  Overcoming the impossible.  Sports movies like "Rudy" make me bawl like a baby, but some of you know that already.  In short, I'm inspired by David, slinging the rock at Goliath's menacing head.  Heck, I've got an Underdog toy at my work desk!

I was thinking about this topic as I snapped shut a 400-page book I read in about three days. It's called "Unbroken," written by the same lady who wrote "Seabiscuit."  The story of "Unbroken" defies belief.  I still can't believe all this happened to one man, Louis Zamperini.  He went from being an Olympic miler in the 1936 Berlin Olympics to serving in World War II as a bombardier aboard a B-24.  Zamp, as he was known by friends, was shot down over the Pacific Ocean and survived with two others aboard a raft for nearly 50 days.  Then, he was captured by the Japanese and endured two years of horrible torture in POW camps in Japan.  When the war ended and Zamp finally came home, he had to battle his own demons and the nightmares of warfare before dedicating his life to helping troubled kids.

I find that stories like this fuel me for triathlon training and racing.  If Zamp can persevere against odds that far surpass anything I'll likely deal with, how can I not push a little harder or dig a little deeper -- even if it hurts or is inconvenient?  Lessons like these help at mile 17 of an Ironman.

We are by-products of what we consume, nutritionally and in other ways.  I enthusiastically consume anything with an overcoming adversity message.

Zamp is a survivor, and so am I.

137 days and counting.

A Tough Decision

Tonight, with the advice and  help of my coach, I decided not to run the Surf City Half Marathon this weekend. Could I run the 13.1 miles?  Yes.  Could I finish in two hours or less?  Probably.

Will this help propel  my training and boost my confidence?

Not really.

Moreover, I could re-aggravate the leg injuries that ART therapy has helped me restore.  There's just not enough upside here, as Mel Kiper Jr. likes to say when evaluating NFL Draft prospects.  The funny thing is, I've known all along this is the right decision.  I signed up for Surf City without a clear head, still emotionally swelling from Ironman Arizona.  I had no business making such lofty plans mere days after such a big race. I know that now.

It could be worse though.  My buddy John, who has been pasting me in trail runs the past few Wednesday, felt a twinge in his leg this past week while I was in London.  He instantly knew it was serious.  IT band tightness.  John, too, is a scratch for this Sunday's Race.

Not such a Super Sunday after all.

I've had the great fortune of participating in multiple races, injury free.  This was to be John's first half marathon.  A big milestone in his life.  He worked very, very hard to get to this moment.  Perhaps too hard.  But this is just a heartbreaking turn of bad luck for him.  He told me that at first he almost wanted to cry he was so frustrated, the moment he knew his race was over before it started.

I'm sure we can all relate at some point.

For me, I'm reminded how blessed we are to arrive at the starting line ready to race.  Physically and mentally.  It's a gift in itself to feel healthy, alive and proud just moments before the starting gun pops.

Keep that in mind the next time you toe the line.  We are very, very lucky when our plans align with reality.

138 days and counting.

London Towne

There's a half marathon a week from today on my calendar and I haven't worked out since Friday.  I'm in London, where it's bitter cold, and I'm eating yummy but unhealthy curry. Bollocks!

In good news, I'm adjusted to the time change rather well.  I slept five hours on the plane last night, arrived at the hotel and promptly wrote my next Lava Magazine Online column on deadline.  No sign of illness yet either -- I'm quite prone to sinus infections after long flights.

Now, I'm wiped.  Tomorrow, I plan to work out no matter what.  Hopefully a run, swim and possibly even a light bike at a local gym.  Tourism?  That's for chumps.  I'm in training.  No gym bag though?  That's gonna be tough. Still need to figure out that part.

One thing worth noting before I call it an early late night.  I've noticed that fixie bikes are quite the rage here.  I've seen a few bike shops dedicated to selling them and scores of kids riding them.  Thought it was interesting to see.  Cycling culture is alive and well across the pond.  Perhaps photos tomorrow.

OK, I'll try to check in over the next couple days.  Wish I was training more!

142 days and counting.

Not Like Last Year

I'm at my desk at work. It's 8 p.m. on a Friday.  I'll be on call until the wee hours as I head off for a press trip tomorrow in London and assets still need to be delivered.

I'm not complaining at all.  I work for a fantastic company, I love what I do and love my teammates.  I've been incredibly fortunate NOT to have to work late hours for quite a while now, so when I do, I really don't mind.

That's just life.

And it's a lot different from last year, when my luck and timing aligned to allow for a high emphasis on being the best triathlete I could be.

I don't think that's realistic this year.  I essentially have A-races in the life column: Wedding and honeymoon; Busy career year; and an actual Ironman.

Three A-level "life events" are starting to take their toll.  I can't remember the last time I missed two workouts in one week when illness wasn't a factor.  But that's just what happened this week with deadlines looming and a suitcase still waiting to be packed.  It's moments like this when my goal of breaking 12 hours at Ironman Coeur d'Alene seems farther away than ever.  Especially when I'm seeing slow running results from my ever-changing form, as was the case today with a lumbering 5.8 mile run in zone 2 that lasted almost an hour on the dot. And when I'm downing In N' Out Double-Doubles with fries late in the office instead of my personal strength training session, which I skipped.

What to do?

I think the answer is to simply accept that A) it's a busy time of the of the year in my industry, B) I'm lucky to have a job and C) this year ain't nothin' like last year.  I know I've mentioned the latter point before, but watching it unfold with an Ironman less than five months away is a little scary.  What else is coming?

Life, that's what.

This is normal!  Normal people work late hours and have lots of commitments. Abnormal people fit 15+ hours of training in on top of it.  Something's gotta give.

I'm not prepared to give in.  Yet.

How do you do it?  Especially those with families?

Maybe triathlon is a single-person's sport? A sport for those with disposable income and disposable time.   I dunno.

(Apologies if this is a downer.  I know that one of the things the people who read this blog appreciate is my honesty, so I don't want to sugarcoat anything.)

But wait! A silver lining!

Here's what I've learned from training and racing the past year-plus. YOU HAVE TO KEEP GOING!  You have to chip away at the problem.  Don't give up!  Even if the result isn't what we visualized, we still complete the journey.  That means a lot.  There is no shame in that.  No quit in that.  It's no different than those workouts when we just don't want to get in the pool or on the bike, or lace up those muddy shoes.  The results from those workouts are sometimes the best.  Why?  I think it's because there's no expectations involved.  You just shrug your shoulders and pedal.  And then you get there faster than you expected, wherever "there" is.

So that's what I'm going to do.  Shrug my shoulders and move forward the best I can.  I may not get there as fast as I'd like.

But I'll get there.

And I hope to see you there too when I arrive.

144 days and counting.

Progress Report

There are positives and negatives when running with a friend who's faster than you.  The conversation and camaraderie can't be beat.  However, it's very easy to beat yourself up -- physically and emotionally.

Both happened this morning when my buddy John and I ran a hilly trail course at Griffith Park.  I love having a friend run with me -- it's relaxing and borderline sacred in terms of being able to unwind without interruption.  And the views, as you can see in the image accompanying this post, are fantastic.  On the other hand, I totally ignored my scheduled workout (stay in heart rate zones 2-3) in the name of keeping up.

Here's the frustrating part though.  I used to be able to tear through this particular trail last year during the height of my speed and Ironman training, notching off 7:30-9:30 miles with ease. Today, no such luck.  John's watch data indicated we ran between 11:00-9:10 miles.  I was wheezing afterward.

What's happened?  I do know this: I'm nowhere near being in Ironman shape.  But I won't get down about it.  Rather, I'll use today's run as simply a benchmark in where I'm at from a fitness standpoint.  There's a lot of training left to go before Ironman Coeur d'Alene.  And I'm really glad I barely have any races this season between here and June 26.

Somewhere between now and then, I hope to pick up the pace while carrying the same level of conversation as today.  Even though my workout wasn't the best in terms of performance, I'll remember it more for the progress report of where I'm at in my training physically, along with the laugh-out-loud moments John and I enjoyed.

Gotta keep the training fun, right?

146 days and counting.

Enjoy it While it Lasts

I interviewed a pro triathlete today for my next Lava Magazine column.  No, I'm not saying who. What strikes me about my relatively short time in the world of triathlon is how accessible, humble and gracious professionals are in this sport.  I used to cover high school and college sports for a local newspaper as well as my college daily (Arizona Daily Wildcat).  The athletes were coddled and spoiled, treating us press-types as the scum of the earth.  Even when I was in college and interviewing my peers.  There were exceptions to my experience as a sports reporter (Phoenix Suns forward and Duke University graduate Grant Hill being most notable), but by and large, interviewing athletes ranked right up there with voluntary abuse.

Yes, I said voluntary abuse -- I went there.  I would know about it too, as one college basketball player tried choking me once after practice. (A story for another day.)

Anyway, my point is I feel like I'm on the ground floor of a sport that ought to explode onto the mainstream scene at any point.  The sport is growing exponentially.  People are taking notice.  But right now we're in the golden period where pros still appreciate any exposure they can get.  They seem to answer their own emails, tweet their own messages, return phone calls when you try to reach them, and even say thank you once an article has been published.  When I was a kid and thinking about being a sports columnist, these were the kinds of athletes I had always hoped I'd be able to interview.  Young, hungry, gracious.

I'd like to see triathlon gain the mainstream exposure it deserves. It's a healthy lifestyle that often employs a charitable angle at races.  And it's something one can do for many, many years.  Yet, I realize what a good thing we have going now.  I don't want to hold the sport back, but I will remember these days fondly.  When I can talk with champions without layers of middlemen.  When we can exchange restaurant recommendations via gmail.  When we can talk about friends in common without a PR person motioning me to hurry the conversation along.

I wonder how long we'll have left to enjoy these graceful champions before the next reality TV series,  action figure lineup or cheesy movie with d-level celebrities dilutes the magic we have now.

Until then, I'll enjoy it while it lasts.

147 days and counting.

Get Better

Why do we push ourselves so hard as triathletes? Why do we spend our discretionary income hurting ourselves, mentally and physically?

What do we get out of it?  What are we looking for?

I think the answers to all these questions and more change over time.  We evolve from, "Because I want to know if I can do it," to, "Can I do it again?" to "How good can I do it consistently?"

But still, what's pushing us forward?  Is it desire?  Is it fear?  Is there some outside inspiration that propels us, ala Livestrong?  Does it come from within?  I wondered that today as I was enduring a painful Graston Technique in my ART session where a cold, blunt metal device that resembled a boomerang was being thrust back and forth into what felt like my hip bone.  I winced, grimaced and gripped the chair as I lay prone on my left hip.

Why am I doing this to myself?  What am I trying to prove that's worth all this pain?

For me, that answer, and the motivation that comes with it, changes every day.  It can be a song that fires me up.  An inspirational story pushing me forward.  An insult or jab from someone teasing me.  My coach saying something positive to me.  A trainer encouraging me to squeeze out one more rep.

But for every answer, there's a voice from within that says something.  A voice speaking to me.  "Go farther."  "Try harder."  "Push!"

And even on the ART therapist's table this morning amidst the pain and scowls, the only voice I really heard was, "Get better!"

Maybe that's what it's all about in this crazy sport. "Get Better."  Become a better swimmer.  Recover faster.  Learn something new about yourself. Explore a new trail.

Getting better hurts.  But I think the pain is necessary.

What do you think?

148 days and counting.