Sledgehammer

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A lot happened this weekend, this epic weekend of Ironman Coeur d'Alene training. I was trying to make some sense of it Saturday afternoon, driving home from Frazier Park (an hour north of Los Angeles) after the Heartbreak 100 century ride.  See, I was feeling pretty damn good about my performance there.  Not because I was particularly fast on the bike, but because I had enough energy left AFTER the bike to run for 50 minutes at what would have been close to a 4:30 marathon time.  That doesn't seem like much, but A) it would be my marathon PR and B) that came after climbing nearly 10,000 feet on a chilly day.  Speaking of chilly, it was so freakin' cold that I bought an extra pair of arm warmers and used them as calf warmers! I rode the course with an undershirt, a jersey, a fleece jacket, a wind breaker, leg warmers, arm warmers and arm warmers on my legs.

Back to the ride itself. What changed for me? What worked? Why? The trick for me was actually listening to my coach and walking (GASP) for a full minute after every nine minutes of running.  Going slower to ultimately go faster. It never makes sense to me but yet it works. In fact it made a huge difference, especially on a run that featured nearly 500 feet of climbing in the first two miles.

I had broken with my tradition, finally, of hammering on a bike ride only to fade on the run.  Instead, I stayed within myself, tough as it was to be passed, and conserved energy.  Still, I managed just over seven hours on a tough course -- which really wouldn't have been too much slower than what I would have managed going a more aggressively.

Which brings me back to my car ride home.  I was flipping through radio stations, done reflecting on the day and needing a mental break.  Peter Gabriel's "Sledgehammer" came on.  Huge smile. Radio dial cranked up.  I had my new mantra:

"I've kicked the habit Shed my skin This is the new stuff I go dancing in, we go dancing in Oh won't you show for me And I will show for you Show for me, I will show for you"

If you saw a dude screaming and dancing in his car on the 118 Freeway around 6 p.m., that was me. I know it's a little corny, and I know the reasons behind the actual lyrics (I think it's about drug addiction) are very serious.  But for me, on that drive home, I felt like I had finally kicked my own stupid racing habits and was ready to take the next step forward in my tri-career.  It felt really good.  Like if I take care of myself -- if I show for you -- then my body will show for me, and my results will be better come race day.

The rest of Saturday and into Sunday morning was spent recovering from the ride and run.  While Heartbreak 100 isn't nearly as difficult as the Mulholland Challenge, it still took its toll -- most notably on my outer right knee area.  I woke up stiff and sore, and definitely not feeling like running for 2.5 hours.  I texted Gerardo to ask if I could skip the run, as much because I liked the confident feeling I had from the day prior and didn't want to be dragged back to that dark place of self-doubt following another sloggy bonk-fest.

Coach wasn't having any of that.

"Push through" was essentially the only text I got back. A man of few words, Gerardo is. But he knows which are the most important words.

So push through is what I did.  For 2.5 hours exactly in the Calabasas area.  Granted, I only climbed roughly the same elevation as yesterday's 50-minute run.  But, once again the walk a minute every mile routine paid huge dividends. My heart-rate never felt out of hand and I'm confident that if I can stay within myself on the bike ride that I can enjoy a marathon PR by a long shot.

As we all know though, Ironman can throw anything at you on race day.  So, I'll be prepared for that.  But today, following the run AND a 3,000-yard swim immediately thereafter, I felt refreshed.  Not exhausted. But happy.  Almost joyous.  I got through the weekend.  I learned about myself.  I learned that if I hydrate constantly (five full bottles on the Saturday bike, two full bottles for today's run), stay cool (literally), pop lots of Endurolytes, and stay focused and measured on the bike, I can have a GREAT day at Coeur d'Alene.

I didn't feel this way at the peak of my training last year heading into IMAZ.  Granted, we still have one more giant training week left, but if I can maintain this outlook and simply smarter training then I'll be quite confident and prepared.

A wiser athlete.  More humble.  But I'm carrying a sledgehammer filled with confidence and experience.

29 days and counting.

1 Month to Go!

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Of course, you wouldn't know it's one month until IM CDA as once again my math skills are subpar.  My internal counting clock is off by a day. Let's hope I show up on time in Coeur d'Alene!

Today, Coach Gerardo shared the rest of my schedule with me leading up to the race.  This week is about 21 hours, next week is around 18 and the remainder of my training will hover in the 12-13-hour range.  So, two more big weeks and then we'll ease off the gas.  Then again, I've never quite felt my foot on the physical accelerator that much this season.  That's not to say I haven't been training hard -- I've given this everything I've got in the tank just to survive it all.  But it just goes to show the difference experience can make.  The stillness, relaxation and sense of confident purpose is having a real effect on my body, allowing me to keep weight on more easily this time around while remaining "dialed in" for race day.

If race day were tomorrow I'd welcome it with open arms.  Unlike last season towards the end of Ironman training, I don't feel like I'm cramming for a final exam with the last big training sessions.  Look, I've been on a performance plateau for around six months now.  An extra big bike ride or long swim won't make or break my Ironman, so I might as well chill out about the whole thing.

One month to go. What will I be feeling and thinking at this time in June?  Will I be celebrating finishing the race the way I intended, or will I be glad just to get to the finish line?  During my training workouts, when I have more time to let my mind wander, I think I'm going to visualize going through the entire race.  I keep reading and hearing pro athletes and coaches talk about the importance of visualization.  This Saturday, when I'm participating in the Heartbreak 100 ride in Lebec, will be a good time to start.

One month to go.  I'm savoring every moment.  Every memory.  Absorbing every detail of every workout I can.  These are likely the last real days of having the freedom to train like this for many years to come.  Sure, I'll do Olympic triathlons and 70.3 races, but maybe not an Ironman.  I've said that before.  So even the hard workouts are becoming more enjoyable.  Just for the sheer joy of having the free time to do them.  For doing something for myself.

One month to go.

31 days and counting.

What is Our Formula?

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Today at work, I was analyzing what makes for an iconic enemy in video games?  Is it a signature trait? If so, what kind?  Does the enemy have to be conversation-worthy?  I think so.  How does perceived danger or threat play a role?  There's probably a direct ratio to the threat level and the iconic nature of that enemy. Then, I began to wonder if WE have a formula?  What makes us iconic as triathletes?  What makes us Ironmen and Ironwomen?  For starters, we'd have to include willpower.  Without willpower, there's no way any of us would be able to handle the training, and the sacrifices that come along with it.  Next, I'd say athleticism.  While we may not be the second coming of LeBron, Carl Lewis or Michael Phelps, we each exhibit athletic qualities that enable us to swim, bike and run for long distances.  We couldn't complete a triathlon without being athletic even at the most base levels.  Finally, I'd assert that being an Ironman or Ironwoman requires a sense of fearlessness.  We are unafraid to pursue our dreams.  We are unafraid of failure, though it may keep us all up at night or force us to question our sanity in the moments before a race starts.  Yet, despite that fear, we splash into the water with hundreds -- sometimes thousands -- of strangers.  Knowing that we will be kicked, grabbed, clawed and poked mercilessly for what feels like an eternity.  Fearlessness leads to signing up for a second Ironman event even before the first one is completed.  Or is that stupidity.  No, it's fearlessness.  I think.

But what do you think?  If someone were to break you down as a triathlete and try to isolate the essential qualities that make you a triathlete, what would those qualities be?  For now, I'll start the discussion off with the following theorem -- we'll call it Schneider's Law:  M-dot = W + A + F x 2.4 + 112 + 26.2.

What's your Law?

32 days and counting.

What a Difference 6 Months Makes...

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It's finally here. The final few weeks of demanding Ironman training.  The early mornings.  The late nights.  Cramming work, writing, wedding and family in between.  Twenty-one hours of training scheduled this week, and it's not even my biggest week yet.

Sorry, friends, see you at the end of June.

It sucks, but that's honestly what it takes at this point to finish the journey.  Focus.  Discipline.  Patience.  Resolve.  That applies to the workouts themselves.  No need to be a hero at this point in the training. If Coach Gerardo says to stay within zones 1-3 on a 2.5 hour run (like today), then that's exactly what I do. The result this morning meant a relatively pedestrian 2:13:04 half-marathon on the Griffith Park long course trails, with a couple golf course loops thrown in for good measure.  I know I can run faster, but not while keeping my heart rate down.

Welcome to my Ironman marathon pace.  Once again, physically I see I'm more than capable of a 4:15-4:20 marathon if I don't go crazy on the bike.  I ran 9:15 miles with 15 second walking rests at each mile marker.  Normally this would be a disappointment.  But since I know what to expect come race day, I would gladly GRATEFULLY take this pace.

All of this is besides the point though.  Race day is just outside of a month from now.  Last time at this point, I was practically panicked inside about possibly not finishing or disappointing myself, or even you Mr. and Ms. Blog Reader.  Not this time.  In fact, I'm honestly surprised how mellow I am about being in the final crunch right now.  It's seriously no big deal.  I remember, and I'm sure Coach G does too, that last year I was pretty much a whiny bitch about all the pain and suffering associated with the training. "Why are you trying to kill me???" was a common question I asked.

This year I'm not so cocky as to say "Bring it on!"; rather, my attitude is, "Oh, OK.  I've done this workout before.  Cool."

I truly didn't expect to be this relaxed.  Whatever I do in the coming weeks, the goal is to stay that way.

Chillin'. Sleepy.  Another brick workout at 7 a.m. tomorrow.  Bedtime.

33 days and counting.

Guilty, or Grateful?

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Should I feel guilty, or grateful? Today I was supposed to swim for 45 minutes, easy laps, focus on cadence, yadda yadda yadda.  Then, I was supposed to spin easily for 45 minutes. I forgot my local pool is closed on Mondays, so that left me with a mere 45-minute workout day coming off a weekend where I missed a key long run due to a potential injury (more on that in a moment).

In other words, I didn't need a recovery day from fatigue.

But perhaps I needed a genuine recovery day as a reward for my body putting up with me not permitting it to rest so much after Friday's terrible leg cramps.

Fortunately, after my ART appointment this morning, I learned that my hip flexor/TFL strain was mild at best and I'd be fine.  My injury was essentially from overuse and probably an awkward position in one of my exercises (I'm thinking reverse situps or step ups with weights).  It stems from a weak psoas muscle (deep in the lower abs) that triggers overcompensation in my left hip muscles.

It's so strange that in my second go around with Ironman training, mentally I'm in great shape five weeks out but physically I'm practically falling apart.  Some days I wonder if I'm going to sprint to the finish or stagger.  However it turns out, I will cross the finish line.  Walk, shuffle, jog, run or sprint, I will cross the finish line.  I feel like I'm too experienced not to, and I've made so many mistakes over the past couple years and months that I'm due for a "good" race.

But I don't expect one either. I expect to do my best, try to be smart, listen to my body, and take what the day gives me.

If only I listened to my body a bit more in training.  I think I got lucky this weekend I didn't tear something.  It could have been a lot worse, only missing one big workout -- one I'll make up tomorrow morning.

So, guilty or grateful?

GRATEFUL.

Most grateful.

34 days and counting.

Server Problem

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I planned to write a hefty post tonight about pushing through injury and knowing when to hold back. Unfortunately, I kept getting a 404 error trying to access the site until just now. I'm on my iPhone, in bed, an ice bag affixed to my left hip. Despite the 61 miles and 5,700 feet of climbing and a short run after, I feel OK. Tight, but OK. I learned an important lesson today. Mainly, progress is sometimes uncomfortable. And can be scary. I almost sat out this entire weekend because of a muscle strain the likes of which I hadn't encountered before. But, with treatment, a little bit of rest and some faith, I got through 2/3 of my training weekend. I also knew when to stop, as I could have run the full hour of my scheduled brick today. But I didn't. Why? Because there's a fine line between pushing and listening. My legs were tight. Richard said I was limping or at least favoring one leg on my run. And I felt grateful enough for the gift of being able to hang tough through the weekend while playing it relatively cautiously.

It's almost like this little server issue. I could have not written anything tonight and given up. Instead, I tried something different and found a way to overcome the problem.

I think this will come in handy in five weeks. A blend of strength, resourcefulness and a dash of just plain stubbornness.

35 days and counting...from my iPhone.

Where the Heck I've Been...

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Where have I been? Where haven't I been since the last time I wrote?

This video blog attempts to explain!

Also, here's my Garmin data from the Palos Verdes Half Marathon, in context now with how I chose to run the race.

It's good to be back!

37 days and counting!

Sure, Why Not?

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Chalk one up to timing. Tomorrow, I've got a two-hour run scheduled on rolling hills.  I'm supposed to stay within heart-rate zones 1-3.

Guess what?  It just so happens the Palos Verdes Half Marathon is tomorrow! Rolling hills and all.  So, is this going to be a good idea,or a bad one?  I'll let you know tomorrow at around mile 10!

The timing seems to be working in my favor though.  I didn't train much yesterday since I didn't swim and I had run two days in a row prior.  Today was my off-day.  An unintentional taper, but a taper nonetheless.

On the other hand, am I weak from being sick and missing six hours of combined training last week?  I honestly don't know. I have trained seven hours this week so far, illness and largely fatigue free.  I feel fresh, strong and eager to run tomorrow, so I suppose that's a good sign.

The real challenge is going to be holding back at the event.  But I'm going to treat it as an Ironman training run, meaning that despite the adrenaline I need to figure out how to hold back and pace myself even when I feel particularly strong.  This is not a strength of mine.  But it needs to become one.  More important, I have a LONG training day on Sunday featuring a 6.5-hour brick AND an hour swim before that.

In other words, I'm doing a mini-Ironman on Sunday.

If that doesn't force me to pace myself tomorrow, I don't know what will.  But ya know what?  This is what it's all about -- challenging yourself constantly.  Surprising yourself, and your body.  For better or worse, I'm going to put myself out there tomorrow, on a tough course I haven't experienced before, and try to enjoy the journey.

Why not, right?

Race report tomorrow night.

44 days and counting.

Observing, Not Particpating

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This morning I finally gave in to visiting an urgent care center for my flayed fingers.  Shannan, my trainer, and some of the other trainers at my office complex gym, took a look at my exposed fingers following a strength training session and grimaced.  I'll admit, I kinda dug the attention as it reminded me of being a kid when you'd show off cuts and bruises to the girls and make them recoil. Boys will be boys.

At the doctor's, the physician indicated that my fingers were going to be fine (as I expected all along).  Fortunately though I have an updated tetnis shot and am currently on antibiotics from my upper respiratory/sinus infection.  Thus, infection was ruled out for the most part.  The issue now is keeping my fingers dry for the next couple days so they can air out properly.  Sadly, that means no swimming until at least Sunday, which also means that I've got 1.5 days of rest since tomorrow is an off-day. Normally I wouldn't complain, but after interviewing Chris McCormack ("Macca") last night and after seemingly finding a better bike pace, I'm fired up to train!

Why is it that when we want a break there isn't one in sight, and when we don't need one we get more than necessary?

So tonight, instead of swimming, I'm going to train in a different way: Atop the deck at VNSO pool.  I'm going to shadow Gerardo and see what he's seeing.  Maybe I can even help out a bit.  I think that maybe I can learn to become a better swimmer tonight by watching, not doing.  Then, on Sunday, I can mimic what I see in the water.

I'll let you know how it goes then.

45 days and counting.