Two Race Reports

Race reports can get old. I have written many. Sometimes they come close to capturing the emotion and drama of racing, sometimes they induce boredom faster than a math lecture. Which is interesting because numbers are usually where we start and finish when assessing a competition. It's a math lecture on screen. And today's lesson is peppered with history. 

PLEASE check out this perfectly penned race report from the 1936 Olympics where the USofA was represented in the rowing Olympics by the University of Washington crew. It is a great story, flawlessly told and cracking with intensity and pathos. I was cheering for the good guys (Huskies) as they matched strokes with the heavily favored bad guys (Hitler and Mussolini) in a rather hostile Berlin setting. 

Moving ahead 76 years, and jumping from rowing to triathlon, which didn't even exist at the time, I file this abbreviated report on Saturday's Chelanman Long Course Triathlon. Please forgive if it fails to illicit a similar emotional tone as the former piece.

Going in, I knew it was gong to be a battle of a different type. I was balancing on fatigued legs, tired from overwork, not fully recovered from two prior workouts. My right arm dulled by the relentless ache of RSI (repetitive stress injury). My sleep had been interrupted the night before. We drove five hours to get to a camp site where the sprinklers would cause yet another interruption to much needed REMs at 0200. Wake up call was 0500. You don't need a lecture to figure the math. Bloodshot and bruised at the swim start. 

Saying that the swim conditions were ideal might be an understatement. Seventy degrees, as calm as it gets and crystal blue water to match even that of Tahoe. The game plan was to go easy (again) smooth, breathing, rolling on side, maximizing every movement for propulsion and efficiency. At about 800 meters I even chuckled at how simple it was. Find the slippery groove and cut the drag. If I have been any more relaxed I would have sunk. The right arm goes numb at 1000, leaving the left to compensate. I adjust, correct and keep eyes on the underwater rope. What I don't need now is to lengthen the swim. Every five breaths I look up to sight, squinting into the bright yellow ball of fire in the morning sky. I think about the Race Director's sister and her battle with MS, I think about Chris and Stephanie's constant, gracious and fitting gratitude for strong and healthy bodies, I think about how beautiful it is right here, right now. I feel lucky, even with the use of only one arm. I think that this is not the time to be a wuss either so I put on a little move to test the limb. A least I am an alive wuss. And know what? In about five minutes the swim wuss would be hitting solid ground and morphing into a BIKER.

A biker with wheel fatigue it appeared. Off to a fast start on the 58 miles. Steady, controlled, big 56 ring ring churning. Nutrition strategy in place, new (non-matching) Michelin on rear. Beautiful blue skies, lakeside, 80 plus, slight sidewind. By mile 30 on the rolling out and back, the challenge was to manage the quad pain, keeping split times and finish goals in the equation. It needs to ouch a little but not to the point of failure, a scenario that often destroys confidence and willingness to stay aggressive. By the course signature hills, a consensual damage control gear provided close to maximum speed, now given the heat, fatigue, elevation and distance to target. Usually at about this juncture in any race the debate begins over what to give and when. Kill the bike, slug the run? Save a little for the 13? Or save a lot and kill the run? All part of the game. What they call in Iron. 

Back in T2, transition from bike to run, I am feeling decent, all things considered. Seemed to be an abundance of endorphins called into emergency action. With quads and hip flexors getting a rest and hamstrings and glutes about to take control, the big question was now about nutrition, electrolytes, water and pacing. What is left and how long until the onset of debilitating fatigue? Or, rather bluntly, how long can I go at desired speed? 

Facing but a single option to learn the answer I set out on the 13.1 mile out 'n back run. I am feeling surprisingly good, even without the data that would later indicate that my bike split, which seemed a day slower than last year, was actually fairly close, with the perception of half of the effort. In doing the obligatory total systems check I find back and core still surprisingly strong. Mental not to self is made to erasure hydration and with that the pace quickens to approximate desired speed and result. Legs are sore, tired and turgid. Close to cramping at any second. I shorten stride making quick, mid-foot strikes trying to coordinate upper body movement with ground level impact. Find the flow. Breathe. Two down. Keep charging. I am passing people with black markings on their right calf's indicating they could be my children. I recognize several from the bike leg. Teach them to pass ME on a climb. At mile 5 I am out of EFS liquid shot, the fuel I carry. I must now call upon my experience to mix and match water, Heed, Hammer Gels, pretzels, oranges and bananas to power the finish. A blister has developed on my left toe. I begin to splash ice water on my hamstrings and calves at every aid station. I no longer care about time. It is this step, this foot-strike, this breath, in rotation, that counts. I am managing pain. It hurts, but we endure. It is hot. I like it. The sun sparkles on the water and I think about how sensual it would be to skinny dip RIGHT NOW. I get to mile 10. My pace has suffered. Both legs are about the cramp. The toe is bleeding. I am passed by the eventual Women's Overall Winner. I run with her for five steps before she drops me like a bad habit. My head and heart want to give chase but my legs only want relief. They are screaming to stop this punishment. Five clicks remain and I can see the finish in the distance. Keep it going. Stay present. Find what remaining juice remains and squeeze it to pulp. The faster you go the quicker the end. This ain't so bad. I can take a little hurt. This is precisely the scenario for which we train. The person who can delay the onset of fatigue, wins. Not only will I delay, I will thrive in the effort. I surge. There is still some gas in this rusty old tank. Burn it. I get there. Finish. 

There are worlds of differences between rowing and running, between the 1936 Olympics and the little, local 70.3. The stories and the passions are very similar. Sport is played out in order to reference the heroic. We need something to compare ourselves to. We like to create relevancy and validate our training, our talent and our character. We accept challenge.

It is why I keep coming back. Stories like the Huskies in '36. I want some of that. 

I'll keep trying. 

Pix: Top: 2012 Highway 97, Chelan, WA bike in , run out. A RCVman photo. Bottom: The 1939 Rowing USA gold medal winners from the UW. A Slate magazine photo. 

Into the Light

• Number of incarcerated people per capita
• People who believe in Angels
• Defense Spending

Out of the darkness and into the light. We are off for another adventurous racing weekend. It is raining hard here today. I thought it rained hard one week ago atop Hurricane Ridge, but this even has THAT topped. I am jonesing for Vitamin D. I pack no sunscreen. Give me rays.

Putting the finishing touches on my (patent pending) non-taper, we raced the Men's Oly TT 44K course last night. It was work. I considered the output and the effect on tomorrow's 70.3 frequently over the course of the 1:21 of high intensity. I considered it again this morning during our series of four minute climbs with a one minute break at 120 RPM. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night as right hamstring, calf and instep played "Cramp first" until 0400. We shall see. I have 20 hours to recover.

Leaving you with two links today, and as I am toting only cell, there most likely will not be another post until Sunday night, when the damage, or the results of prior damage, has been done. 

Matt Frasier on how much protein an athlete really needs and the incredible embedded video above. The three line items at the head are the three events where the USofA takes gold. It is a very powerful piece.

Have a great weekend, regardless of the weather and please keep on the road into the light. 

Right to Remain

This morning's session was simple and straightforward. Warm up, then execute a seated push with cadence over 100 until expiration of current song. This, at level 11. Next song, stand at 11. Sit at 12, stand at 12. By the time we hit level 15 and Blue Sky (Lord ya know it makes me high when you turn your love my way, yeah, yeah) we had shared commentary on the pathetic and perplexing state of current affairs dealing with making a clean getaway. 

And I don't mean leaving town for the weekend. Seems my morning partner today is dealing with the reality of his father's mortality. A lot of us will be facing this same situation very soon. We both felt like the time is right for some compassionate, sensitive and nonpartisan compromise from our "leadership". Enlightened even. 

Is this possible? I wondered aloud, with the billions the health care industry, big pharma and the insurance conglomerates are hauling in on a regular basis, and coupled with the intimidation and fear tactics employed by gov.com, the Catholic Church and the Police State? How does one find enlightenment under all that oppression? 

We discussed the complexities. The Right to Die. Quality of Life. Dr. Jack. Native Americans. Medical technology. Our phobia on social care. The 1%, Totalitarian capitalism. War. Education. Inflation. Six feet under by shovel. 

By level 16 I was pretty cooked. Keeping 300 watts after 50 minutes felt like my legs were on the BBQ. We warmed it down, cooled, stretched and applauded each others effort and contribution to the discourse. His father is 65 and undergoing a liver transplant. He may not make it. Included in our conversation was the paradox of the rugged individual, the guy who thinks he can be self sufficient and totally independent. One can be the most self reliant lone wolf on the planet but sooner or later the paradox of receiving a liver from a donor will change your view. 

We need each other. We are social animals. Stress is reduced when we share. We like doing things together. We like the pecking order of having a leader, a cadre of specialists, a bunch of happy campers in the middle and a jester, prankster and comic to remind us that nobody gets out alive. 

The best way to die, I am convinced, it to know how to best live. To face the eventual with no regrets and the smile of accomplishment and experience on our face. I believe in the quality of life. Our days together are numbered. Nobody knows what that number is and it is different for everybody. It sometimes scares me to think of what a catastrophic mess I could find myself in, refusing to play the game. I do not want to burden anyone with cleaning up after I decide to go.

It's a good debate. A deeply individual choice. I do NOT want a puppet on a political string deciding for me. I see it as freedom of speech and the pursuit of happiness. It is quintessentially religious. I have the right to remain silent. 

In the meantime, I plan on living large and loud. 

Seems simple and straightforward. God Bless. 

Mailbox motivation

From a very good article entitled Top 10 Exercise Tips for Rapid Weight Loss. I cite Number 6:

6. You've probably heard that you should find a workout buddy to help you get to the gym. That's good advice, but a better idea is to find a 'challenger'. A 'challenger' is someone that gets in your face and challenges you to do better. He or she makes you uncomfortable by making you accountable. Sometimes the best thing someone can do for us is to make us mad, embarrassed or uneasy! This prompts us into action, and that action is for our own benefit. Do you have a 'challenger' in your life? Get one, and get one today! Maybe it can be your friend from work, or perhaps someone from church. How about a sibling? A 'challenger' is someone who knows you well enough to push when you need to be pushed, who will not let you make excuses. A good 'challenger' will call you at home and question why you're not at the gym today. A good 'challenger' will stop by your desk at work to see what you're eating today. A good 'challenger' will not let you fail.

"He or she makes you uncomfortable by making you accountable."

Boy (oh boy) do I like that one. As compared to, say, making  your fat ass comfortable by enlarging the padded seating area and recline-ability, at 15-50% off for three days only.

Lazy-Boy Inc has no clue as to their motivational success with athletes considering alternatives to serious training. And, again citing Number 6…

 "A good 'challenger' will not let you fail."

Remember the sale is factory authorized. Consider yourself challenged.

Water

This drives me nuts. Anybody can pick a subject and rip it to shreds. The part I detest is when there is no closure, no antidote or little alternative. It's somewhat like ripping one politician and/or policy without offering a solution or suggestion. Today this juicy little article was in the NPR Health section. The author goes big game hunting with a BB Gun. He puts the bear in the cross hairs (Coca-Cola is hyping sugar again) and squeezes the trigger only to miss the target because he didn't factor distance, trajectory, wind or heat. Nice try dead-eye, next time finish it off. To be fair, this piece ends like it was pushed off a cliff at knifepoint so I think it might have met a ruthless copy editor or word count restrictions. He gets close with comments and quotes from Jurek and Noakes and then the readers take over and all hell breaks loose. Coconut water to original Gatorade and everything in between but the kitchen sink. Bias spewing like a broken sewer main. This is pretty common and I understand. I see it a lot on several other sites that I visit. I irritates and frustrates. It's always an election year in the comments section, skeletons come out of the closet, names are called, feelings hurt and the Internet bullies of the world tell us how they would like us to behave. 

PERHAPS WE COULD BE CIVIL?

EVERYBODY IS DIFFERENT

OPINION IS NOT FACT

BIAS IS RAMPANT

I CAN DISAGREE WITH YOU AND STILL DISCUSS A SOLUTION

CAN WE POSSIBLY WORK TOGETHER?

I am not questioning the importance of nutrition in training and racing. After almost forty years of testing I have as yet to find the magic elixir, that perfect combination of carbohydrate, protein, fat and electrolytes. I have made my own "sports drink" baked my own "power bars" and experimented with chia, malodextrin and chocolate milk. I have been vegetarian for twenty years and have raced suing minimalistic nutritional support. I have bonked. After all this I have come to one conclusion:

WATER IS WHERE IT'S AT (but please don't drink the water in your local pool)

You body is smart enough to handle almost everything else. It will convert (almost) whatever you ram down the pie-hole into fuel. That being said, there are levels of this that the ultra competitive or results seeking demo, can utilize for maximum effect. The faster you go, the higher the burn rate and the longer you keep at it (Ironman) the more you need to use science and experience. And this means testing. You need to experiment and gauge for yourself the results. Can you process this as fuel? Will it be available on course or will you have to carry your own? What is your sweat rate? How many calories do you burn in an hour of steady state racing? If you are doing a slow 5K you don't even need water. If you are doing an Ultra you had better prepare. When emergencies hit, you best have a plan. Like a five dollar bill in your pocket for a coke and snickers. 

COKE AND SNICKERS?

Everybody is different. Heading to the pool for a quick K. Water and protein after. 

Happy Camping

Monday, the start to another rollicking summer week of training, adventure, excitement and RACING. YES!!! It will be interesting to see how all my morning 60 minute high intensity sessions will play out over 70.3 miles in Chelan Saturday morning, BUT, judging by my RPE over 112 on Thursday, I think the eventual answer will fall somewhere between superb and exceptional. AND (I am gong to shout all articles from here on out) please allow me to remind the vast blogging audience, the group formerly known as the VBA, that what really matters is not the outcome but the effort. I will say, in other terms, IF I can orchestrate an effort that in my objective estimation nears my personal best, that commodity known as 110%, and honestly grade my performance as a 10, I don't care where I finish. The finish could be so far from the podium, say ten miles up Highway 97 (towards Pateros), or MOP, BUT, if my mind (ego), spirit (soul) and body (motor) unanimously agree to the quality of output, I will head for rest and recovery (pizza and beer) as one happy camper. 

The VBA that know me might take exception to this as some type of blasphemy or election year misdirect. Others might think it crazy, lazy or a outright falsification of everything we hold dear about sports and competition. It is not any of those I assure. AND here is why:

I know from twenty years of experience at doing this that one leads to the other. That if I can sustain an efficient wattage for five hours, properly fueled and cooled, focused and in the zone, I will end up, not in Pateros, but on that makeshift flat bed podium accepting a logged water bottle as reward for my five hundred hours of training and thousands of dollars of equipment and travel related expenditures. Meaning...

IT HAS TO BE ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE. 

And it is. I like to compete. To test. I like the drama. The challenge. I like going fast. And long. I like being out there all day doing battle, with the clock running, the sun relentless, the hills dusty and daunting. I like the smell of fear. I like having a bogey, something to chase, a time reflective of previous efforts, recorded when I was young, green and prone to errors of judgement. 

Which would be last year.

So here we go. A new week. The Genesis of Race Week. I wish that I could afford a "real taper", acclimatize, carbo-load, massage, lots of R&R, BUT that isn't the way that this one is going to play. There will be change, challenge, travel, racing on-the-fly. All fine by me.

Here are links to the stories I prefaced in the HoM. This first is a phenomenal story about Diane Van Deren. She is a world class ultra runner. How she got there is the story. If you are in need of any motivation for your next run, PLEASE give this one an ear. 

Second is a hilarious piece by Jimmy Fallon on spinning. Check it out and be advised that it is rated R. 

Lastly is a link to a time, speed, distance calculator that is useful for doing all kinds of mathematical projecting. The old, what if??????

The old what if?

Do your best, be prepared, train smart and race hard. That way the only what if you'll need to answer is where to pitch your tent. AS a happy camper.

The Rain Train

Watching the rain on Sundays is like watching a train leave the station with someone you love aboard. It is a melancholy emotional mash-up of sadness and joy. Worse, I always feel additionally saddened with the fact that there is a race happing, literally, as I type. Lots of my pals are out on the Lake Stevens (new) course this very minute. A year ago we were out there with 'em, mixing it up, hammering on the bike and sluggin' out the 13.1 hilly miles. 

But today it rains and I watch from my finestrina (Italian for little window), as a thin plastic blanket protects my woodwork installed over the pizza oven to protect it from, yes, rain. Welcome to the Great Pacific Northwest in July. 

Meanwhile in others climes fun thinks are taking place that rewire no Goretex or black plastic. 

Here is a terrific report from Coach Joe Friel appropriately entitled, How Hard is the Tour de France? Here is my two word response: Damn hard.

Another astute entry from Coach Chris Carmichael on a rather timely (for me) look at mid season weight gain. Been here done this. 

I had (almost) forgotten the running sub theme from Forrest Gump. This unauthorized (and that is OK in this usage) video is a great reminder of the reasons why we run. You remember those don't you?

Taking it one step (at a time) further, here is a wonderful collection of ways to keep your mojo up when it feels like it's on the train outa town. 

Lastly, before I get back out and deal with the weather in order to push the PO project, we will OFFICIALLY begin the London TT competition TOMORROW. I have finally transferred and created the Men's 44K (28.02 miles) course (shown above) and it is ready for your TTing mirth. We only have two weeks to get rides in so let's get after the gold. I will post format, scheduling and additional info over at the FB site, so if you are interested (as you should be) to see how you match up with the best Time Trialists in the world, now is the chance. The event from London airs live on August 1.

3, 2, 1 GO

All aboard.