"Off" Season Recommendations...

Okay, it's now officially the "off" season here in North America, or at least it is here in the US (Ironman Cozumel takes place down near Cancun this weekend) and I thought I'd jot down some of the more important considerations for the Ironman-focused triathlete. If you have an Ironman on your "To-Do" list in 2010, listen up! (My To-Do list? Write To-Do list...). Anyway, race day will be here before you know it, so...

1) STAY ACTIVE. The vital aspects are to...

• Keep some semblance of fitness going all winter, whether it's specific to triathlon or a partially-related form of cross-training (hiking, snowshoeing, skiing, mountain biking, weight-lifting, pogo-sticking, shoveling snow, scraping windshields, lawn-bowling, curling, etc)
• Work on your specific weaknesses (athletes who train how they need to always beat athletes who train how they want to)
• If you're an Ironman athlete be sure to keep your weekly long run(s) going. Of all the workouts necessary for a solid Ironman performance this is the toughest on the human body; it is also the toughest (and riskiest in an injury sense) to reintegrate after a prolonged lay-off. Bottom line: no matter what, keep running.

So, if you're a pathetic swimmer living in a winter environment (weather forecast: sh!tty) you need to work your swim this winter once and for all, all the meanwhile maintaining a weekly long run (90+ minutes) and a few "filler" workouts that get you out the door when it's necessary (and it's always necessary when lofty goals stand in the way). If it's moving a bunch of chrome-plated weights around, then by all means move a bunch of weights around.

But about those weights. If your first (or big) race is in May (Ironman St George, for example), you'll want to do workouts that are increasing more like that particular race, to try to meet the demands presented to you that day. Lifting weights is, no doubt, a workout, and it's better than doing nothing. But if you're already a thickly-muscled guy who can out-lift those kicking your ass on race day (e.g., I'm willing to put money down that almost every male age-group triathlete can out-lift Chrissie Wellington or Jordan Rapp but yet they're nowhere near the same zip-code as either of them on race day; never mind that NO ONE was near Jordan this weekend. Here's your next American Kona winner, if you care about all that red, white and blue crap) well, then you need to reshape not your pecs but your priorities big guy, or else you'll always have those same excuses or comments I was forced to hear after this weekend's race in Tempe…

"Nutrition..." (the ubiquitous scapegoat excuse)

"Oh, man, I know I can do better than that..."

Well then, do so tough guy! Train by doing what the race asks of you, not what your feeble ego tells you to do. And though now is not necessarily the best time to go do some open-water swimming or long-ass bike rides (unless you desperately crave frostbite or hypothermia) it is a good time to rewrite the wiring in your head. Your head is ultimately what runs the show and until you get it screwed on right you'll always be required to dish-out those same lame excuses post race. The clock doesn't care about you. Nor does the race. So rewire yourself before time runs out. Winter---just like spring, summer or fall---is a good time to do what's needed.

The Ironman Mystery

It's Ironman day here in toasty Tempe, Arizona and I'm presently observing two thousand or so ___________ (fill in the adjective: tough, nutty, dumb, inspirational, etc) triathletes toil through this exceedingly beautiful fall (summer in disguise) afternoon. All but a handful look to be struggling and only a few hardcore lunatics boast grins on their sunburned faces, though such facial expressions could easily be taken for grimaces. It's tough to tell at this stage of the game. I'm not sure the athlete's themselves really know.

If there's one thing that absolutely mystifies me about this whole Ironman "lifestyle" (if you will), it's this eternal impulse to celebrate something we can't wait to finish. I'm still trying to wrap my head around that.

At any rate, I'd think I'd rather be competing than spectating. If there's one thing more painful than doing an Ironman it's watching one! Still, I enjoy watching others suffer as much as me. Let the pain reign!

Ride Hard Lots

Another of the many people named "Anonymous" left a comment on my last blog, asking the following. First though, here's another rant! What's with all these parents naming their children 'Anonymous'? That's even worse than 'Chuckie' and I'm still mad at my parents and trying to recover. Anyway, his question went like this...

Hi Chuckie, I'd be interested to hear your thoughts on raising one's FTP as high as possible (without drugs of course). I'm a cyclist and am willing to do years of dedicated work to achieve this. I know there are no shortcuts, but other than the 'ride lots' mentality, what type of training would you consider to be most effective? Aerobic threshold, tempo, threshold, VO2, or a mix of all. Or is 'ride lots' the answer in the end? I'm relatively new to the sport (have been racing 3 years and am hoping to upgrade to Cat 2 next season), but come from an extensive swimming background, and would really like to see where I can go.

Dear 'Anonymous',
The easy answer is "ride lots" but with "hard" thrown in there somewhere. "Ride hard lots". But that's hardly helpful. Most coaches would tell you it comes down to specificity. Any type of training needs to be specific to the end goal if that goal is to be met. The problem is that we don't just get better at doing something by only taking the end result into consideration, including a sole focus like raising your FTP. In other words, you could do hard anaerobic FTP-focused interval training as often as possible, but this type of training is not without its faults. And raising your FTP isn't just about training at FTP intensities; a lot of athletes mistakenly assume this (though once established a high FTP does generally equate to a higher range of capacities over varying durations). (Of course, a high FTP does not mean better racing skills or the capacity to move up a category. The racing cyclist's goal shouldn't be solely focused on a number but rather acquiring all the necessary skills to improve and be competitive.)

Anyway, you first have to build to a level of achieving a capacity for more, if that makes sense; as I once told Tim DeBoom (who then made it famous in triathlon circles, though I'm sure it'd been said long before we ever started saying it), "You have to train hard to handle more hard training". In other words, you have to first train to handle more training (which eventually means "ride hard lots") and it takes time and training volume as much as it does short-term specificity.

You could track time spent at your FTP (your current one; not your goal one) and try to increase that time each week but again, there's a fair amount of risk in that. Doing anything all-out for an hour is highly stressful, even on a nice, expensive bike. And though the body can adapt to that stress, it can also reject it if it's deemed too hard or occurs too often, with inadequate recovery or inadequate restorative mileage between bouts. Training really ought to incorporate a little of everything, so long as it relates to the physiology and mentality required to raise your FTP. In the end, anything that makes you a more powerful rider or a better bike racer can be considered specificity. Miles do this and hard riding does it. There's a balance and a mix of efforts necessary that is unique to each of us. It's part trial and error but the basics can always be applied.

At the top level in cycling the guys with the highest FTP are the guys who put in lots of miles. In the purest sense they're also biggest guys, so FTP really ought to consider or include more of a power-to-weight consideration (if you can consider a consideration!) but since it's your own personal FTP, you shouldn't really give a damn about what others can do. Focus on yours and yours alone, and lose any extraneous weight in the process. Not to come across egotistical, but my FTP is quite high and it helps me go fast for hour-long durations. However, I weigh more now than when I was purely a pro cyclist. I was much more powerful then, even though my numbers weren't as great. Why? Because I hadn't fully developed. Nor did I carry around as much weight (I'd like to think most my weight gain since then was/is pure muscle mass but the dunk tank states its opinion otherwise; my goal is to become the biggest loser but I first need more to lose).

What's more, I wasn't just lighter but more flexible and aerodynamic, in addition to being more aggressive and highly stupid, all necessary traits for ripping the legs off others. Again, power up, weight down (and a focus on strong aerodynamics and specific skills like cadence and muscle recruitment). (Regarding muscle recruitment, FTP intensities and beyond are great for improving this but the slow-twitch fibers must also be fully developed and they don't always get there through shorter, more intense training.)

Specificity may very well be everything in training but an athlete's immediate training may not always be readily specific toward his or her end goal. It takes a layer upon layer or a brick-by-brick approach (read Alan Couzen's blog), not a quick route to the top. In endurance sports shortcuts always end up as dead-ends. You don't need to have a higher FTP tomorrow by training intensely today and everyday before now, even though you might be able to see it rise immediately by doing so. But you'd almost certainly come to reach a permanent plateau by training this way. Instead of worrying about immediate improvement you need to see your hour of power climb over a long enough period, the long term. Ideally, every six months should see an increase, and it'll likely be one that won't immediately erode. Miles help with that but lots of long miles alone won't do the job. You've got to up the intensity ante when your body is ready for it.

I hope this helps. There is no simple answer but to ride as much as your body can absorb with as much intensity as it can absorb. All said, more really is better but "absorb" is the operative word here. To absorb training you need to benefit, basically, and that involves every single aspect of your life: sleep amount, sleep patterns, nutritional habits/practices, recovery diligence, hydration, postural stress, real life stress and so on. The list is long but he who works hard to improve every consideration of his improvement (if you can improve improvement!) is he who I'd bet on come race day, even though my wager would likely be fairly meager, no thanks to an income that borders on no-come.

Benchmarks

Now is a good time of year to test yourself via some "benchmarks". Why? Because they allow you to learn a little more about yourself. Moreover, the results are bound to be disappointing, and they can only improve over time (assuming you actually do the necessary work to help them improve over time). We all have to start somewhere, so they say, and starting from the bottom gives you a pretty good platform in which to launch your FUTURE WORLD DOMINATION. Some of us (e.g., me) like this platform so much we stick around there our entire lives! I like to think that successful people simply wouldn't exist if losers like me didn't. You winners should be grateful for us losers!

Moving along, the following are the benchmark tests I have the bulk of "my" athletes do…

• 5-mile/8-kilometer run test @ 90% of his or her LTHR
• 1-hour indoor bike test @ 90% of the athlete's LTHR or at the athlete's IMT (Ironman Threshold…more about this in due time)
• 400 (meter or yard) all-out swim effort (all-out means ALL FRICKIN' OUT)

It is not without basis I use these durations or lengths.

For one, with the exception of the 400 (meter or yard) (eye)balls-out test in the pool, they relate to the same energy systems called upon on race day, assuming the athlete is competing in endurance triathlons and not my brilliant proposed sprint triathlon. Even the 400 relates to race day, however, in the sense that you'll be calling primarily upon your aerobic "system", though a fair extent is demanded of your often-latent anaerobic system. I hate to be the one to break it to you but what with the nervous energy and all, race day (even Ironman race day) is not just a long slow slog, physiologically speaking.

Anyway, each test is little more than a benchmark to allow you to see whether or not you're maintaining a baseline level of fitness or making gains in training, which, ideally, you should be, even now in November (though I will say that these gains shouldn't always be readily apparent). If you're not, you'll need to make some changes, fire your coach, or contemplate suicide. On the other hand (the one without the suicide apparatus), if you are making gains, be sure to keep doing what you're doing, as these tests relate closely enough to what the race will ask of you. (In general, I lengthen the tests for Ironman athletes, when time allows and the time is called for, and it's almost always called for.)

The 5-mile run test is no fancier than Phil Maffetone's or Mark Allen's run MAF Test. And speaking of running, why don't you run a search online and save me the trouble of having to write it all out? Please. In fact, I believe I've already run it by you here in the past, so you can search this blog, if you're fearful of leaving it momentarily (an understandable fear in my mind).

Anyway, the basics of this poorly-labeled "test" are to run (jog) 5-miles at a predetermined intensity (as gauged by your heart rate monitor) (usually about 85-90% of your lactate threshold heart rate), measuring your subsequent pace, finish time, perceived exertion level, conditions and each mile split en route. Yes, it's a rudimentary "test" (and hardly challenging) but it can tell you a lot, like just how pathetic your aerobic engine/development is.

The bike test is also simple and relatively easy. Ride one hour at a predetermined power output (one that relates to your goal race, and it's doubtful a FTP [functional threshold power] test does) and measure your heart rate response or at a predetermined heart rate while measuring your power output, preferably at race-like cadences in a race-like position on your race bike. Yep, you'll need a power meter.

Though I'm not a fan of electronic over-reliance or stuffocation, you should seriously consider owning a power meter if you don't already. That said, some of the fastest athletes I guide (read: Ironman winners) don't even use power measuring devices (though they do use power) and I'm certain they can kick your ass on a bike. Power is simply a tool; you're still the one who needs to do the grinding work. Again, and this is worth repeating, a power meter doesn't do the training for you; it simply lets you know what the training is doing for you! It's a meter, not a motor!

Anyway, this straightforward bike test also measures your aerobic progress (assuming it's progress!) and can easily be lengthened to two or more hours, to correlate to race day that much more closely. It's important that any benchmark test you do relates to your goals on race day. And on this note, I'm willing to bet that the ol' "Hour of Power" is likely less relevant to your goals than is a three-hour grind.

(Tangent! I myself have ridden a road bike since before pubic hairs began sprouting at the confluence of my anatomy. As such I possess a rather noteworthy FTP, higher than all but a few pro triathletes, despite my pencilneck weight classification. Still, the vast majority of these not-so-gentle-men would annihilate me throughout the course of an Ironman ride. So…does my high one-hour capacity for pain matter? The honest answer is a resounding "no". One must still do the work necessary to improve where it matters most, and it matters most AT THE FINISH LINE. All else is conjecture.)

The swim test is the most taxing of the three and may necessitate the need for a few cups of full-octane coffee ahead of time. The goal is to mix up the energy system requirements and swim at an ALL-OUT effort for approximately five to six minutes, or whatever length test gets you (or the clock) there in such a time frame. For some of us more flotationally-challenged triathletes this may equate to a paltry 300 short-course yards. For you gill-necked fish folks (i.e., freaks) this might mean almost as much as 600 long-course meters. Whatever the distance, keep it the same from week to week. And yes…you ought to be performing such an effort week in and week out, to see if your swimming is still weak, whether it's weak in or weak out.

I suggest giving the lifeguards a mental break this winter and working hard to improve your swim, so they can quit grinding their teeth on deck. This test will help you see whether or not you're making their jobs any easier. The goal: get faster, no matter what it looks like* (and without relying on all that stupid swim paraphernalia). Remember, in swimming it's all about rhythm, technique and then fitness. Indeed---and pardon the word-play here---it sucks to suck in the water.

*I hate to say it, but in the water, in general, you must look good to be good.

Back-to-Back Ironmans

I've been a traveling fool as of late (though forever a fool) and blogging has taken a back seat to my backseat driving. Below is a question I received a day or two ago about the whole rigmarole of doing back-to-back Ironmans.

Quick question... Why when training for two ironmans relatively close together do your athletes taper for the first but not the second one? How far away do the races need to be to taper for both??

For those I coach taking part in back-to-back Ironmans this is indeed the case. I'll advise the athlete to taper for the first Ironman and then skip the whole taper process for their second race, when the two "overlap". Tapering works but only when fitness is high (relative to one's self) going into an event. Of course fitness is high (and perhaps even higher) after an Ironman but so too is fatigue, and herein lay the "problem".

Fatigue and fitness trend similarly but Ironman fatigue demands full respect and FULL recovery. So if a second Ironman falls five or six weeks later there's no easy way to recover and taper in time for the second. Otherwise too much race fitness is lost. And since recovery really cannot be denied, the taper generally has to go. (On this note what I've witnessed as an athlete and now as a coach is that the taper process might even be over-emphasized some, because four out of five times the athlete performs better in their second Ironman. This could be due to many factors of course [e.g., experience that hasn't yet been forgotten] but methinks it's most often due to over-tapering the first time around, something I try hard to avoid. I've rearranged my whole line of attack over the years as to how an athlete tapers for an Ironman. The event is nothing like your average endurance event [or those pinpointed in "scientific studies"] and so its requirements aren't and probably shouldn't be the same.)

As to how far apart two Ironmans should be to require a similar taper for both, that's the difficult part of your question. The easy answer is that it depends on the individual, the race demands, and the athlete's diligence toward hastening post-race recovery (this, by the way, is the real secret to making gains: being diligent toward speeding recovering). Since there is no easy Ironman (contrary to what others might say about Arizona or Florida) it's obviously important to be fully prepared. In order to be fully prepared one must be fit first, then rested (in addition to nailing those tricky tasks of nutrition and race day pacing.) Where many Ironman athletes go wrong (and their coaches too) is in thinking they need to be "fresh" before the race. As I've said before, Ironman ain't a tampon ad, so feeling fresh is quite simply the wrong line of thinking.

Freshness essentially means a loss of fitness (remember: fatigue and fitness are cut from the same mold) and fitness (along with smart execution on race day) are what will get you to the finish line in the least amount of time, the goal for the vast majority of us.

But post-Ironman fatigue cannot be so great as to limit your gains in fitness, as measured not by how you "feel" but by what the numbers say. They don't generally lie. Try an aerobic test after an Ironman and the results are stunning. The muscle damage incurred won't even allow your motor to get the job done, despite the fact it's ripe for the task. But in a matter of days the numbers improve and may even exceed those seen pre-Ironman. This is a great sign you're making strides in recovery but then there's the "deep-seated" fatigue, the residual stuff that leaves your immune system suppressed, your hormones out of whack and your desire to live generally pretty low. Your leg muscles may be saying, "Man, I feel good," but muscles are only a petty part of Ironman recovery. There is so much more needing focus: tendons, ligaments, your heart, other organs, adrenals, hypothalamus, you name it. Even your bones and blood need rest after an Ironman. So too does your skin (and I'm not just referring to the blisters on your feet).

Unfortunately, it's hard to speed up all of this damage but you certainly can to a degree. Soaks, massage, improved nutrition, naps, elevation, compression, supplementation, hyperbaria, the NormaTec device, medication (and so on) can all help take the typical Ironman recovery from 3-6 weeks to 1-3. Again, much of it depends on the athlete (age, gender, fitness, weight, build, etc) and there is no cut and dried "this is how long it takes" response. Partying post-race delays recovery, incidentally. Note to self: no stage dives post-Ironman.

If an athlete approaches me and informs me they're entered in two Ironmans that are virtually back-to-back (Lake Placid and Louisville, for example) and their goal is to qualify for Kona at either event, we focus primarily on the initial one (assuming they're also willing to dish out the big bucks for my coaching services, of course). But first we look at the athlete as an individual and what the race entails. If the athlete cannot climb all that well on the bike and despises cooler weather, for example, then Lake Placid makes for a tough proposition. The individual is the primary consideration, the race secondary. We can all be prepared for that which we do not normally excel in.

Now, if the athlete failed to reach Kona by way of Lake Placid we have no option but to try our damndest at Louisville. This first means recovering fully from Placid. (On this note it is hopeful if the athlete also didn't kill himself or herself during the failed attempt.) Training then becomes anything (legal) to hasten recovery, and usually for two to three weeks. Fitness is lost but then so too is fatigue. We maintain fitness the best we can (i.e., in water or through short, frequent spins) but with the sole goal of stripping away all that nastiness caused by the brutality of Lake Placid. (…Placid, my ass!) Then after two or so weeks we start more serious movement (though I don't quite call it "training" at this point): hiking, jogging uphill, longer spins, harder pull-set swims. This movement can last a week or so when the real training (i.e., race practice) kicks in, just two weeks shy of Louisville. But two weeks of training is plenty of time to "reinstate" race-required fitness, so long as the whole notion of tapering is removed and a quality fitness "base" was established earlier in the training year. The taper process is no longer a procedure but simply a couple of days sans harder training. I've even had a few athletes skip those two easier days in the past, if they're still making gains right up to race start. While fitness isn't built in a day (unlike Rome), it does take days to get the job done, and days are what make up great race days.

So…
1) Taper as you normally would for the first Ironman, if fitness is "normal".
2) Do everything in your power to hasten recovery post-Ironman.
3) Don't rush into "real" training until your body is 100% ready; ignore your head and listen to your body. Maintain fitness through less abusive means.
4) Don't taper for the second Ironman if your fitness isn't as least as high as before. If gains are yet to be had, keep the momentum building right up to race day. Momentum is a good thing when doing or building toward an Ironman.
5) And if none of the above appeals to you, consider spreading your Ironmans out a little more (12+ weeks). Then again, if it's worth doing, it's worth over-doing!

Getting There Isn't half the Fun; It's ALL the Fun

For whatever reason the open road has always kept me high on its invite list. While it's not quite the invite the wilderness delivers it is, nevertheless, one I always RSVP in quick fashion. It's Halloween, 2009 (a good day to be whomever you want to, just like any other), and today I find myself blithely situated in a mid-sized rental car en route to sunny Solvang, moving yet again. I rent when traveling long distances not only because my motorcycle would get a tad uncomfortable but also because it would be tricky to cram my life's belongings onto it. The car I now recline in, a Toyota Something or Rather, is filled with many of the things I need to survive. Books primarily, but also the Vasa Trainer, the CompuTrainer, my bicycles, my laptop and other tools of the (coaching) trade.

I'd spent the last four months sucking air at 7,500 feet in Park City, Utah, and will be happy to breathe easy at sea level once more. I am not well-suited for altitude and I now tip the scales fifteen pounds lighter than when I'd arrived there. Of course, the lengthy bouts of exercise (i.e., mountainous mayhem) might have had a lot to do with it too. Still, I theorize that air has calories and the thinner it gets, the thinner you get.

Solvang is an alluring anomaly for California. Its air is sparkling and crisp and each breath is not just satisfying in a caloric sense, but downright refreshing. So too are the environs. The roads are rural and uninhabited (minus the wine crowd on holiday weekends or those wackos camped out in front of Michael Jackson's place). The weather is simply stellar and the townsfolk generally congenial and borderline tolerable (indeed, an anomaly in California). But I'm not there yet and so I keep chipping away atop the chip-sealed backroads. When time permits, I always choose the road less traveled. I think it's important we make it permit.

As I sit here with the cruise control controlling my vacillating right foot (technically known as a pussyfoot), putting distance on Utah, I think. Man, how I think. Not unlike me, my thoughts seem to come and go. In truth they're always there, fading in and out of clarity. I think of how many times I've moved in my life and cannot even begin to put a number on it; hundreds. "Resided Undecided" I call it, this inherent itinerant-ness. I've now lived in thirty different states.

I'm forced to ponder: what am I running from? Or where am I running to? Why is my life so discombobulated? I think of old loves and new hopes. I think of heartbreak, those to which I've been dealt and those I caused. I think of fears and worries and the joy in having fears and worries. As a climbing buddy of mine once said, "It's good be be scared; it means you're still alive." He was right, of course. I thought then, as I do now: it is good to be alive. I like the unknown.

Quite simply, my mind tends to wander when I wander. This same tenet holds true whether I'm running or hiking or cycling or seated inside a climatically-controlled 60mph cell block. Movement, no doubt, is good for the soul. Not only does it engender worry and concern but it also brings alight hopes and dreams and fantasies and other not-to-be-mentioned thoughts. This quest for movement is what led me to the Alps and the Andes and the Pacific Crest Trail and it will assuredly guide me to parallel paths before my expiration date. Alaska is the one state I haven't checked off my list here in the US, while Iceland and Norway still call from afar. I like to think of these as collect calls in that I must collect them before I run out of time. (One can only hope there are no roaming charges.)

No doubt as humans we need to roam and to seek adventure, but as I wrote in one of my trail journals...

Maybe it's not even a journey I'm after. Perhaps it's a pilgrimage. The distinction between the two, I suppose, is that a journey can be defined as going from one point to another point in space. A pilgrimage, in contrast, is going from without to within, from space to no-space…the journey within. Hell if I know, but methinks exploration is an integral of being human (which I am).

And so the exploration of the unknown continues. After all, that's what life is...the unknown.

For now though I best quit trying to drive and type and keep my eyes on the road in front of me.

It's egging me on, as ever.

Now is as Good a Time as Any

Now is that time of year when triathletes tend to start looking ahead to next year. Though this is not entirely a bad thing, I personally feel that it's too soon for it, but who cares what I think, right? I'm not even sure I care what I think!

(The reason I think it's too soon for it is because when we look ahead all the time we tend to forget the here and now. Life isn't made up of a bunch of tomorrows; it is made up of the here now…this gift we call the present. And anyway, the future will soon be a thing of the past, so we must embrace the gift of today.)

Still, I don't think most of us think like I think (thank God, or we'd all likely be behind bars or wandering the wilderness). Most of us set our sights on things we can't always control, like those many tomorrows we take for granted and presume are coming our way. If you're in good health and don't cross the path of an inebriated driver it's safe to assume these tomorrows will arrive. But if you've done little with your numerous yesterdays and are doing less now today (by reading this drivel, for example) then what makes you think you'll achieve what you're hoping to accomplish tomorrow, or many tomorrows from now?

You see, history allows us to learn a little about the future. Sure, we grow and learn and change and continue to dream (though dreaming is really just a form of planning), but for the most part, each year pans out like the last unless we do something about it NOW. We must take control of our future and indeed our "destiny" if we are to fulfill it, and that begins today, at this very moment. As it's been said, "Today is the first day of the rest of your life," so don't spend it resting on tomorrow's hopes; quit resting on your lazy laurels and do something NOW. And planning isn't that something. (If you're going to plan, plan actions, not results.)

The dictionary defines planning as the act or process of planning; designing a definitive purpose. So naturally, for the athlete, planning might come across as a good and necessary thing. Purpose certainly is. But planning is often just a way to feel good now without doing something now. It is often little more than an innate subconscious ruse acted out in order to keep us from acting out now. After all, planning relates closely to wishing. Remember, the tomorrow we are planning for today will not exist in this form when tomorrow arrives.

What's more, plans also have a way of destroying our ability to make decisions on the go and we might find ourselves sticking to them to the bitter end, when we should be implementing a course of action based on the realities that unfold "before" us. In this sense, plans are a good servant but a bad master. As I wrote to Alan about his blog today (a highly recommended read, by the way), "It's good to have a plan for when things don't go according to plan!" Just don't over-plan and be enslaved to what may or may not happen. Let your life and your training enjoy some spontaneity and some adventure, and now is as good a time as any!

Before his death (obviously), John Lennon once wrote, "Life is what's happening while you're busy making other plans," and truer words have never been spoken. So rather than "make" plans, no matter how elaborate their construction may be, why not just head out the door and go for a run? Who cares if it's snowing? Who cares if it's getting dark? Just go! You can plan for tomorrow when it arrives, because if you go do something today that wasn't planned, tomorrow's plans will likely need to be changed anyhow.

Seize the day. And that day is TODAY.

PS: One final suggestion: Leave the planning to your coach!

There are NO Secrets

Over the past few days a plethora of questions has befallen my e-mail inbox. These inquiries come from many different sources---though oddly enough, all stem from humans---and, as far as I'm concerned, there are simply too many...which doesn't make circumstances simple at all. (For what it's worth, a plethora is generally too many of a good or bad thing, while a surfeit is too much of a good thing. Ergo, my choice of words in the opening sentence.)

As I learned to a long while ago, I prioritize and respond first to the ones that matter most (to me!). Prioritizing is a fancy way of saying, "Someone or something else is more important than you," (and it may very well be me! Often times I respond to e-mails by not responding at all!).

Anyway, there were no exciting questions like, "Chuckie, are you by chance single?" But one set of questions came my way from a engineering type of guy (Coach's Caveat: engineering types are often a nightmare to work with! No offense to all you engineering nerds out there!). He wanted to know a few "secrets". His words, not mine. At first I thought I'd tell him about that fateful night in Tijuana when I ended up in a ramshackle hotel room with those Siamese twins, but then I realized that wasn't the sort of secret he was after. He wanted triathlon secrets, specifically triathlon training secrets.

"Ugh," I thought to myself. Here we go again.

Pardon me for my lack of patience but I'm only going to say this once; please understand what is being said!

There are no secrets!

There are no shortcuts. Nor is there a hidden path to success (though there is a lonely one). There is no easy way. There are no "breakthroughs" in racing or training (and if there were, they'd only come after long spells, making them less of a breakthrough and more of a 'wait-your-turn-and-squiggle-through'). Quite simply, there isn't anything that will help your cause other than old-fashioned hard work. The harder, the better. So roll up your (compression) sleeves, losers.

Again, in training---and life---there is work and there is rest. And if you want to reach success (a level of success beyond enjoyment, which itself is vital) you will need lots of them both.

Here's how it works...
One, you apply a stimulus (i.e., a training stress).
Two, you back off (and allow for adaptation).
Three, you note your response to that stimulus (good, bad or ugly?).
Four, you apply the next stimulus (ideally a greater one, at least over time).

Done. Basic.

Now it's completely understandable that triathletes are always looking for ways to become faster. It's in their nature. There's no crime in this of course, except when they continue to look in the wrong places (my inbox, for example, or perhaps when looking to purchase a "faster" set of wheels). And, for whatever reason, triathletes seem especially adept to this. They love looking! Well then, look. The "ways" to get faster are as palpable as pineapple peelings or a porcupine's prickly things. And, to be sure, they are "ways". Methods. Means. Mannerisms. Movements. Actions. They are not "secrets".

So there you have it, for the last time ever. In training, alas, there are no secrets, not even your own. There is stress applied and rest that follows. Getting the mix right is an individual thing of course, and it depends on more than just training and rest (i.e., real life and the stress it provides, as well as weird sh!t like circadian rhythms and artsy-fartsy stuff we know next to nothing about). But the basics still pertain: apply stress, recover and adapt. Repeat. Again and again and again.

To reiterate...
You, the organism, are to apply a training stress over a given time (e.g., day/days), enough of one to "shock" the body into a new level of adaptation, particularly in the discipline where it's needed most, whether it's swimming, cycling or running (as demonstrated by your race results). This is how the human body works; we adapt to stress. And this pertains even to a guy like me, who's set his life up to avoid stress (and has managed to do quite well, he might add).

Next, the organism (you) would be prudent to back off and recover, noting the stress's effect and the time it takes to fully adapt to it. Naturally, noting the effect isn't entirely easy but it is not all that hard if you're in tuned with yourself. Unnaturally, it is also not entirely easy for many triathletes to back off and recover; they're simply too compulsive. Don't be one of these types. (But do be careful, you may stand alone.)

Regarding recovery, backing off doesn't mean you shouldn't stay active! I tell those lucky souls I coach (including a horse named Pistol Whip) that while recovering "don't just wait; do your best to speed time." (In other words, work on hastening your recovery, so you can apply MORE stress sooner; after all, that's how so many performance-enhancing drugs work and that's how you should too! Be your own steroid!).

Finally, reapply the next (level of) stress. This last one is tricky, of course, because it's not always sensible to apply a greater stress straight away. This is because not only are some of us slow, we are likewise slow to adapt! This is why you must watch your response to any stress (and not just training stress) and be patient in your approach. That's why it's called progressive overload, because progress takes a while. (Oh, and if you overload too much, it takes a while longer.) Thankfully---though this is just a guess on my part---you should have already acquired this patience since you've probably wasted year after year in search of secrets.

Rant over. Over.

The US Ski Team (aka Bastards)

I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, some worse than others. Today, in keeping with that trend, I made yet another. You see, I decided it wise to jump in with members of the US Ski and Luge Teams and do one of their famed workouts. I was ASSured by a pudgy-looking gal (must've been a luger) that it was going to be "an easy one", and that I had nothing to fear. "Come on," she prompted, "You'll enjoy it."

Well, now here I am a few hours later wondering whether or not I should call 911. (Only, of course, it would mean that I'd have to get up from my current supine state.) To hell with DOMS and that Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness crap. There was no delay whatsoever this time around (though I am VERY fearful of rolling out of bed tomorrow, I must admit). We lunged and we jumped; we squatted and we sprang; we sprinted and we rolled; we dove and we stretched; we pushed and we pulled (often both at once); we somersaulted and we lifted; we laughed and we (in this instance by "we" what I mean, of course, is "me") cried. Man, how "we" cried. The more "we" cried the more everyone laughed at me.

Holy crap.

All I can say is that the US may not win a ton of medals at them there Winter Olympic Games in Vancouver, BC, in just a few months time (and such a statement now assures me of another ass-kicking), but I'm certain our skiers and lugers can kick the living sh!t out of anyone they choose to, like, for example, the Seattle Seahawks or the Calgary Flames or Rambo or even Chuck Norris. (And by the way, what exactly is living sh!t?)

What prompted me to do this, I'm not sure. Boredom perhaps. Curiosity maybe. She wasn't even cute, at least not through all the tears in my eyes. Whatever the reason, I'm sure the same mechanism or gene in charge of the decision is the same one in charge of suicide. Now I'm pondering how pleasant suicide would've been in comparison.

Funny too that I always thought of the luge as a mere game, a joyride designed to see how fast you can roll down a hill on some skateboard-looking contraption. It sounds fun in theory but strength, alongside the full-body skinsuit and the useless helmet, is obviously an integral component to the luge. Strength of mind, strength of character, strength of smell. Truth is, I'd much rather have been barreling down a slippery culvert at 80-miles per hour than jumping atop that stupid Fit-Ball for the seventeen-hundredth time.

For what it's worth I didn't land a single, um, landing. Unless you count the number of times I landed on my forehead. I mean really, what's the point of jumping atop a ball? A round, squishy, unstable ball? I'm still trying to figure that one out. Apparently it makes you a better skier/luger. Or maybe the exercise is just designed to keep the laughs coming and the paramedics busy.

When it Comes to Ironman...

Though I pride myself on being a knowledgeable coach I must also admit that there's little complicated about training. But most multisport coaches, it seems, want you to believe that training is strictly a science---a precision---so they can sell you their services.

In truth, of course, training is only as complicated as we choose to make it (much like life). And this is especially so when it comes to Ironman events. Ironmans are obviously very demanding events; so much so that a few things stand absolutely clear when watching them. While the ideal Ironman performance is hard to nail, it is, nevertheless, quite straightforward. (Remember: simple does not mean easy! For example, the ol' one foot in front of the other routine seems simple enough, but after tens of thousands {or millions} of them, there's nothing easy about it.)

After following the Big Dance in Kona this weekend I decided I'd write a few of these things down in bullet form, not just for your own good but to remind myself in the event I ever choose to walk (er, hopefully run) that line again. For whatever reason, it's easy to find yourself all fired-up after an Ironman. Unless, that is, you competed!

*Train for your worst possible day, not the one you hope to have
*Train to overcome self-doubt and to slay your inner demons
*Train for adversity, as adversity is omnipresent on Ironman day
*Train to want to be done
*Train to suffer
*Train for lock-up, as excessive eccentric loading is the name of the Ironman game
*Train to gut it out
*Train the gut
*Train to resist fatigue
*Train for pain

Group Training

Man, for the most part, is a social creature. It's why cities are spawned and why babies are born. (For what it's worth, these are two things I've never really gotten "into". Regarding the latter, an athlete buddy once said that he never really knew how selfish he was until he had a child, to which I responded that nothing could be more selfish than having a child...a direct replica of yourself! Needless to say, that friendship fizzled. The worst part is I suppose I never really cared as my tendencies prove less social than most. As the hikers I met along the Pacific Crest Trail {PCT} would say when describing ourselves, "Nonsocial, not antisocial." I guess you could say selfish. But why choose to serve society when you don't really like "it" or where it's heading?)

For the most part though it cannot be denied that we humans are social. I've only really ever met a few people who truly don't like being around others, mostly while on the PCT. (Chances are, those souls are still out there, meandering to the beat of their own drummer! And yes, I envy them.) Then again, it's admittedly hard to meet people who don't like people.

Triathlon itself is a social sport, with upwards to 5,000 self-serving people competing in a single event. Training for triathlon can be an either/or proposition---a lonely endeavor or a highly social one. A long look back at my old training diaries (which were---get this---written on that archaic means known as PAPER) showed that I trained alone more than 90% of the time. Training wasn't always just training but a time for me to escape the confinements of society; to experience the wind and the mountains and the sheer beauty and power of nature, to look deep within and to attempt to complete that most challenging of journeys from heart to head and back again. Things tended to make sense only when I had the time and solitude to make sense of them. Let's just say that my race results weren't the only thing to improve when I went it alone.

But social training has its advantages too. For one, I always laughed more around others (though it must be stated that most elite athletes are about as dry as they come, devoid of any signs of personality). Social training always helped when the meters or miles seemed longer than ever. On a typical solo 100-mile ride I would struggle though an equivalency of 150 miles, while that same 100-miler, when done with training partners, felt more like 50 miles. Not only was the pace higher but the time seemed to speed up, regardless of pace. Einstein would have loved to join us, I think.

Not only do the miles roll by quicker but higher intensities are easier to attain. This, of course, is because we humans are not just social but competitive! I was always able to access another level of intensity (Zone 11, we called it, because just like it was in the movie Spinal Tap, it was "one higher") when it was time to show Mike Pigg how to really time-trial on our group rides. (I must confess: for every lesson I "taught" Mike in training he'd return them tenfold on race day. Thankfully, I've since learned the bigger lesson there.)

Studies now "prove" that social training is, in general, more advantageous, as though it took science to figure it all out. Most of us, of course, have always known better. Training must not only balance all physical components demanded by an athlete's goal event, but so too must it balance the psychological considerations. For it to really work training must not only be work. It must mix work with play. It must be hard and it must be easy. It must be social and it must be nonsocial. Most of all though, it must take place for a long, long, long time. And that's easy to do when it's enjoyable.

PS: As for me, I can do without society. Just give me a bike or a backpack and a few friends.

NormaTec

Jordan Rapp wrote the following on SlowTwitch's Forum today. For those who cannot afford something quite so elaborate your next-best option---the poor man's choice---is to wear compression and elevate your legs, along with self-massage and soaking in an ice-bath as often as practical, or to do contrast baths after your harder training. I do, however, have a theory that those who have endured a series of stress fractures in the past should avoid icing (as should hockey players, in general) but I won't go into that right now.

For what it's worth, most of what I push and prescribe to those I guide ain't so much about swim, bike or run or the fun part of training but rather RECOVERY...and how to go about speeding it up. Without speeding recovery up, you will never speed up. And those who put the 'very' in recovery will always beat those who do not. Just look at Jordan or those he mentions below.

++++++++++++++++++++

One of the best parts of being a pro triathlete is that the UPS and FedEx men occasionally bring you awesomeness packed in corrugated cardboard. Today was one of those days. I'm now officially very excited to announce that I'm joining Team NormaTec for the rest of this year and for all of 2010. I was introduced the NormaTec MVP product at a race expo early this year. Since then, I've seen it on the legs of Lance Armstrong and other members of the Astana team, Team Garmin, and a bunch of top level triathletes like Simon Whitfield and Greg Bennett. My initial experience with the product was very positive, and with a ~$1000 consumer version targeted for release around the TdF in 2010, I'm really pumped (pun intended, for those that know how it works) to be a part of the team.

I've posted some photos below of the unboxing. I'll be doing a "recover diary" during my lead in to IMAZ, which will talk about some of the different things I do to recover during training, and the NormaTec will be a part of that. To give a brief overview, NormaTec MVP is the "sports" version of the NormaTec pump, which was developed by an MD/PhD physician who specializes in rehabilitative medicine. It's basis comes from lymphedema pumps, but the system is quite a bit more advanced than those pumps, using a patented "Peristaltic Pulse" pneumatic waveform, which basically means that the way that it inflates and deflates is very specific and much more complicated than I can explain fairly. I know that your legs feel a lot better afterward. :)

I don't yet have extensive experience with the system, but please post any questions you have and I'll do my best to either give an answer, get an answer, or endeavor to find an answer through my usage.


The innocuous looking brown box. Only the words "NormaTec. Normal Healing Through Technology" reveal the goodness inside.


Everything is neatly packed in the box. Going by the UPS label, everything weighs 30lbs, the majority of which is the pump in the MVP control unit (the orange "suitcase").


Everything that comes in the box. The blue things are the arm sleeves. The black things are the legs sleeves. Then there is a minimal amount of hardware, the instruction manual, and a nice black carrying bag (bottom right).


A closeup of the control unit with the arm sleeves. The control unit has a little quick reference guide attached to it so you don't have to memorize everything. It has quick set-up guides for injury rehab as well as pre & post workout settings. There are also some quick trouble shooting tips and the NormaTec phone # in case of emergency. The power cord packs up into the control unit, which has a nice carrying handle.


The boots and the nice bag to carry your sleeves in. The sleeves and all other hardware fits in here so you can easily transport it with you. The airlines seem to be okay with letting you carry on the control unit, but be prepared to spend some extra time in security as they will definitely want to ask some questions.

For more on the NormaTec MVP system, check out http://www.normatecsports.com/

Stevia Blog

What is stevia?

While it's easy to confuse stevia with Stevie Wonder or Stevie Nicks or Stevie Ray Vaughn or Steve Perry or even Steve Miller, stevia is none of these, um, things. Stevia not a person or a rock star, though I once named one of my gerbils Stevia, but he or she (I was never really sure) escaped his (or her) cage one day and ate the rest of the Larabars in my kitchen cupboard and was thereby punished accordingly via CAPITAL PUNISHMENT EXECUTION-STYLE, but never mind all that. The stevia I'm talking about here is a plant that is about three hundred times sweeter than sugar and is, I'm willing to bet, sweeter than any of the aforementioned people or my deceased gerbil, the little twerp.

Technically, the plant is known as Stevia rebaudiana but is more commonly known as sweetleaf, sweet leaf, sugarleaf, or quite simply, stevia. Originally discovered by those bad-ass cavemen in South America the plant is one of about two hundred and fifty species of herbs and shrubs in the sunflower family and is now grown and harvested around the world, both for it's sweetness and it's zero-calorie content; not many sweeteners found in nature are devoid of calories. It is essentially a replacement for refined sugar and those nasty artificial sweeteners (which, when you think about it, aren't really artificial at all since they do indeed sweeten whatever it is they're "designed" to sweeten). (By the way, foods that have been "designed" are foods not designed for your health but for PROFIT; let nature take care of designing what you eat and make these designer companies $uffer!). Finally, stevia's taste has a slower onset and longer duration than that of sugar.

Why use stevia instead of sugar?

• Stevia is alkalizing, as opposed to acidic. (Your body prefers alkalizing foods.)
• Stevia has no calories (this really only matters if you need to reduce calories, fatty)
• Stevia won't rot your teeth (or your health)
• Stevia has no effect on blood sugar levels
• Stevia has been shown to help reduce hypertension
  
• Stevia has been used successfully in the treatment of skin disorders
  
• Stevia is a thorn in the side of the sugar industry
• Stevia retards (no offense to the retards amongst us; note video below) the growth of various types of bad bacteria that live in the mouth and gums
• Stevia is just as appealing to the taste buds as any other sweetener
  
• Stevia is not attractive to gerbils
  

Why not use stevia?

• Stevia is banned by the FDA. But since the US government doesn't know squat about food or what to recommend to its citizens (based on the food pyramid and by looking at the "health" of our populace) this matters very little. Truth is, stevia is banned as a food (and can only be sold as a supplement) because the sugar and artificial sweetener industry is so (politically) strong.
• Stevia is processed. Your body prefers foods that need no processing prior to reaching your stomach.
  
• Stevia has no calories. As such it provides no energy whatsoever and therefore ought not to be used when energy is needed (e.g., as an athlete on the go...or as an athlete on the stop).
• Stevia, not unlike sugar, is highly addictive. (The human brain {and heart} tends to crave sweetness, whereas the human body generally despises it; though this is not the case with stevia.)
• Stevia is expensive, but since it's three-hundred times sweeter than sugar the cost is comparable.
  

Race Week Reminders

Below is an e-mail I just shot out to an athlete (a highly competitive athlete, I might add) I coach who's competing at the Hawaii Ironman this coming Saturday---that big, sweaty spectacle that encounters endless lava fields and thousands of inner demons lurking somewhere within. The key point I wanted to get across, as you might imagine, is for said athlete to relax, to trust in the training that has been done. As they say, "The hay is in the barn", though, honestly I've never actually heard someone say this, not even a rancher...maybe it's because barns are becoming so rare in this day and age, replaced by shopping malls and parking lots, I don't know. At any rate, there's not much an athlete competing in Hawaii can do at this point to help his or her performance, but there is plenty that can be done to help destroy it. (All one needs to do is sit and watch the multitudes blaze up and down Alii Drive right up until race day to see just how many fools fail to understand this basic perspicacity. "Until race day" is the pertinent phrase here.)

++++++++++++++++++++

How are you feeling?!

Be sure to wake up earlier and earlier all week, so that when race morning arrives it's second nature. You can always nap midday; we really want to set your internal clock! Don't let race morning adrenaline mask any grogginess or sleepiness; get this timing ingrained beforehand.

It's all smooth sailing from here! Stay relaxed and off your feet as much as possible. Just sit and watch the waves roll to shore, or watch those whose asses you're going to kick as they run and strut up and down Alii Drive, showing off their hairless wares. Macho!

Don't eat any foreign food (i.e., pre-race buffets, restaurant visits, weird seafood, etc) and keep with the alkalizing stuff, but definitely increase your non-fibrous CHO intake all week, as well as your sodium stores. Also have your planned pre-race breakfast at least once or twice this week.

In terms of fitness, little you can do now will help your race, save maybe for a long, steady swim today or tomorrow, so go easy on everything for the most part. Just stay loose and relaxed and throw in a race-like effort here or there as planned. For what it's worth, race-like efforts are not all that hard except when they last for race-like distances! If the impending three-hour ride seems overly long or it's especially hot that day then cut it down; I'll let you decide. The idea is to keep your legs loose, your mind loose, and your blood volume high. You're an Ironman so don't be too fearful of momentum! But, that said, be rested on race morning. Rested, not fresh!

Have a good day today and let me know how it unfolds.

-Coach

My Top Five* Training Manuals (*and then some)

Aside from George Dallam's Championship Triathlon Training there are approximately NO (nil, none, nada) specifically-designated multisport books in my unofficial top-twenty ranking of "best training-related books". These reads are ranked primarily on technical merit, much like a figure skater might get judged. Looks don't count! Just give me content and depth and perhaps a little inspiration, though truth be told my "inspiration manuals" are categorized differently, as training-related manuals are about as inspiring as is cancer of the esophagus; there is little by way of emotion or artistry in these mostly scientific manuals. Still, that's not why you should own (and have read and reread) them. You should own and have read (and reread) them because they are self-help books and badness knows, if you're like me, you could use the all the help you can get.

Okay, enough blabber. In order, my top five* training manuals are...

1) The Science of Winning by Dr. Jan Olbrecht. That's right, a swim book. This book is next to impossible to find in this day and age, but well worth the trouble, methinks. Olbrecht, of course, was the coach to Luc Van Lierde amongst many other champions. This book pretty much covers it all, though it is explicitly understood that swimmers can bear a larger brunt when it comes to training intensity, due to the nature of the sport (i.e., less impact, better cooling, more scantily-clad bodies in the vicinity, etc). Still, there's lots to learn and apply within this little gem.

2) Swimming Fastest by Ernest Maglischo. That's right, another swim book. Thanks to Alan Couzens for advising me to pick this one up (which, by the way, isn't such an easy task, what with its heftiness! There are 792 pages contained within and a picture of yours truly on the very last page; if that isn't reason enough to pick up a copy, I don't know what is!). (Oh, and since I've mentioned him, Alan's blog is, without question, a top-five training-related blog and well worth your surfing time. On this note I might post a "Top-Five Blogs", as according to me, though you already know three of the top five: this one; Alan's; and of course, Gordo's...that is when he's not waffling on about financial crap!) Anyway, Swimming Fastest is about the thickest book you'll ever find on training, right up there with the next top-five book on this list. (I had to pore through its entirety when I first received it to make sure Maglischo didn't accidentally include a chapter or two on cycling or running. He did not.) But don't let this frighten you. Both books are well worth a look (or a couple thousand looks, as that's about what it'll take to get through 'em).

3) The Lore of Running by Dr. Tim Noakes. Not much to say here. If you don't own this, you're not really serious about your training.

4) Distance Running by Robert Lyden. If you're a runner here's your cookbook to success. If you're a triathlete, here's your cookbook to better running. This unknown book is still easy to find and is one of my "go-to" manuals when I need to sound or write something smart.

5) *Please note that I have a five-way tie for the fifth book in my top-"five" list; standard Chuck affair...

a) A Scientific Approach to the Marathon by Renato Canova & Enrico Arcelli. This little pamphlet of a book is even more difficult to get your hands on than is the first book on this list, but is also worth the trouble, particularly for the marathoners amongst us. Triathletes probably won't find too much use in it but coaches can...and should.

b) Running the Lydiard Way or Run to the Top by Arthur Lydiard & Garth Gilmour. Lydiard, of course, needs no introduction. If it weren't for him I'm not sure I'd have been an athlete. I have multiple books of his, all personally signed on my behalf, and they actually sit inside a safe! Along with my international condom collection (no comment), they are my only possessions that warrant such, um, protection.

c) Run Faster by Brad Hudson & Matt Fitzgerald. The most "readable" of reads and perhaps the best book for the self-coached runner. There are plenty of applicable lessons for the triathlete here within.

d) Run With The Best by Irv Ray & Tony Benson. This is the book I'd basically use if I were attempting to beat my old high school track PRs. But even though I'm not attempting to beat my old high school run PRs, I still use it. Benson and Ray are finally updating it and the new edition should be out soon.

e) Running Your Best by Ron Daws. Another gem and one not a book to be loaned out. You won't find this one anytime soon, if ever, as Daws passed away long ago and quit writing around the same time.

PS: Not that this has anything to do with anything, but today is National Coffee Day. Wow. Too bad I quit drinking the crap or else I'd celebrate. What are us non-drug users supposed to celebrate I wonder?

Bad Bacteria

PS: Happy 95th Jack!

The Week(+) in Photo Form

1) Fat kid inhaling a bag of chips near me
2) Yours truly: ham'r time
3) The "grounds" for Park City: mining
4) Mining iron near the middle of nowhere
5) Park City's own Ironman
6) Mountaineering on Hwy 150
7) Mountain biking the Mid-Mtn Trail
8) Cows somewhere near Francis, Utah
9) Angie hiking one of the many ski runs
10) Traffic-less Amore
11) Alpine Reflections
12) Fall has fallen
13) Home Accupuncture = not Hocus Pocus
13.1) Egrit: an Unusual Roadkill

Go Jenna, Go!

Say what you will, but you have to hand it to Jenna Shoemaker. Had eBay been around when I was competing I'm sure I'd have tried a similar approach. Jenna, you see, posted an auction on eBay where the winner gets to take her out to dinner, for the low sum of $250. Or at least that's what the opening bid was "valued" at. As a professional triathlete, Jenna is struggling to survive like any other young pro.

This drug called triathlon is a challenge in so many ways, but particularly for those who aim to make a living doing it. I know very few (perhaps 10-15 all told) who have been able to, and not a day goes by that I fail to realize I was so very fortunate I had been one of them.

Just about twenty years ago I was a reasonably-paid professional cyclist competing throughout Europe. There I witnessed the sad realities of the sport and soon decided to choose a different path. Drugs and deceit weren't for me (or at least not performance-enhancing drugs, anyway). While I didn't know where exactly my new path might have led me, I knew it was the only one I cared to be on. Often times we don't know where we're headed but if the trip is deemed worthwhile, then there is little to worry about. Or at least this is how I've always seen things.

Well, what a trip it would end up being. In just two short years I went from being in a similar position to that of Jenna (worse, I'm willing to bet, since after my cycling funding ceased I was living in my car, sleeping in cemeteries, eating out of bulk bins and down to, I kid not, $2.13) to being the highest paid triathlete in the sport...or at least the highest paid athlete making his living from the sport. I'm sure many other competitors were making (and earning) more, not to mention the race organizers (which, of course, I have now mentioned). Ours, it seems, is a country club sport with little room for the struggling athlete or the poor people.

But if there's one thing I learned about sports over the years it's that the "poor" almost always end up being the fastest athletes, not just because they're typically the younger competitors but because they can more closely identify with what it takes. Jenna will succeed, I'm sure, and she is proving she is willing to do what it takes, at least in a survival sense. As I look into representing athletes as a potential source of fun and income, she, no doubt, will be the first one I approach. And not just because she's attractive. Though that she is.

By the way, her auction has received two bids thus far and it ends tonight.

The Tri-Dash: A True Sprint Triathlon

Triathlon, by its very design, is an endurance sport. In general, the capacity to go fast is inferior to the ability to last. But it needn't be this way.

And so it is I hereby propose a true sprint triathlon, the Tri-Dash. And this is what I have in mind…

First, the rules. Then the events.

The rules are essentially like any other swim-bike-run triathlon but for one primary difference: there are no transition areas or transitions. That is to say each of three events is a separate entity, occurring as its own competition. Each event is separated by a number of hours, though all three of these events are to take place in the course of a single day. The results of each event are judged not on a points system (as per decathlon, heptathlon, etc) but strictly by time standards. Athletes qualify for the final through a round of qualifying heats. There would be a women's race and a men's race, of course.

The events…

The Swim: The swim consists of a single 100-meter freestyle sprint, from the blocks. It takes place in an Olympic-regulation-size 50-meter pool and each athlete competes in his or her own lane and through qualifying heats.

The Ride: The ride consists of a 1-kilometer time-trial on an Olympic-regulation 333-meter velodrome. Tri(athletes) are to start individually from a standing start and compete on a fixed gear bike with the gearing ratios of their choice, though equipment is strictly regulated as per UCI (cycling's international governing body) standards. Aero-bars are allowed.

The Run: The run consists of a single 400-meter dash, from the starting blocks. It takes place on a 400-meter track and essentially follows the rules as that of the International Olympic Committee's track and field rules: each athlete competes in his or her own lane against seven other runners. Runners also qualify through a series of heats though qualifying standards are not based solely on run times but rather combined swim, bike and run qualifying times, so that the final is a true final among the eight fastest sprint triathletes. Runners in the finals all start at one time, despite the "standings" (i.e., time differences) going into the final. That it to say there is no "handicap" start in the final run event as per modern pentathlon.

How I see things…
Fast and fun! Any male capable of breaking 3-minutes would likely be deemed "world-class" and perhaps can consider himself one of the truly fastest triathletes in the world. Female times would likely hover within seconds of the male individual event times.

My best attempt in the Tri-Dash is as follows (as noted, I only possess any semblance of speed in the pool)...

• 100-meter freestyle swim (Santa Barbara, CA 1999): 57.2
• 1-kilometer time-trial (Colorado Springs, CO 1990!): 1:10.7
• 400-meter dash (Boulder, CO 1993): 58.5

Total time: 3:06.4 (though these times occurred over a nine-year period rather than in a single day, thus rendering me disqualified).

Baseline Fitness

September is the Sunday of summer. What a bummer. Up here on the northern hemisphere of our mad world autumn is but a few days away. Behind it winter tailgates, rapidly approaching. I've decided that someday, when I'm rich beyond belief, I'm going to skip winter altogether and just keep hemisphere hopping…up and down, up and down. Be like the sun. Follow the sun. I've done this in the past, despite being poor beyond belief, when race directors actually offered me a nominal amount of funding to track the sun and join the fun. Chile. Argentina. Australia. New Zealand. Those, no doubt, were the good ol' days. Buenos dias, mate. Fair dinkum!

But these too are the good ol' days. Fall and winter are not only opportune times to justify that inherent laziness lurking within you, but also a great time to ingest colossal quantities of food and alcohol. I mean, why not? After all, you'll be dead before you know it (alas, you probably won't even know it then)...nothing more than food (and alcohol) for worms. They'd certainly appreciate any extra meat on your bones.

Well, there is at least one compelling reason as to why not: Next Year's Performance. Next year's performance depends wholly on what you do this fall, this winter, this year, last year and in the years before it. Sucks, don't it?

Now this doesn't mean you should skip out on having some fun or partaking in some good eats (or drinks), but simply that you need to preserve a baseline level of fitness if you take next year's goals seriously and/or expect them to be met. This only sucks if you loathe winter or wintertime training. And if this is the case, you should lose yourself and join me in sunny Solvang this winter! Four seasons of summer!

What is a baseline level of fitness, exactly?

A baseline level is that which allows you to jump into "base-building" (however you care to define that) when the time comes, without incurring injury or illness (typically about the time you look into the mirror and hate what you see, or about the time the scale breaks.) It's the earthen underneath the foundation, if you will. Without it or any semblance of fitness, you'll not only delay next year's early-season development but most likely only come to attain a level of fitness you've previously reached, if that. It's best to build upon it and not just repeat the same results time after time, year after year (unless, of course, you're Chrissie Wellington or Craig Alexander or Simon Whitfield; these types are exempt from such a round and round clause).

How would one define a baseline level of fitness, exactly?

Exactly, I don't know. (There are no "exacts" in this sport, except at the finish line.) Only you do. But here's what I suggest. (First, the small print: the following is based on years of experience and can only be applied to those who give a sh!t.) Okay, back to my suggestion: if you trained fifteen hours a week during the height of your season this season, aim to train half of this. This will give you a "baseline level" of fitness. So, let's see, 15 divided by 2 equals, um. Uh. Hmmm.

Hold on; let me go get my pocket calculator.

(Insert Jeopardy theme here…)

Okay, I'm back. The answer is seven and a half hours. So, if you trained fifteen weekly hours this summer, aim to do seven and a half throughout fall and winter. This same equation can be applied regardless of the amount of training you did (see the chart below). So, for example, if you trained twenty weekly hours this summer, aim to maintain half that throughout fall and winter (whatever half of twenty is; math has never been my forte...along with art, science, womanizing, patronizing, realizing or hypothesizing). And if you trained thirty hours a week shoot for half of that weekly figure until next spring arrives. Again, sorry, I'm not sure what half of this figure is ("..is fig.."?). The sun just snuck behind a cloud and my calculator runs on solar, sorry. That's the last time I buy one from a cereal box.

This Be Not Half-Assed equation (as I hereby now call it) will allow you to come back to a fitness level to your liking (a "baseline" level) that much sooner, when spring rolls around. The way the years fly by these days (that is if years could fly by in days), it'll be here before you know it, so stay motivated while the time is right. And it's always right.

The "Be Not Half-Assed" equation for wintertime fitness maintenance…

35 weekly training hours in summer = 17.5 weekly training hours throughout the winter.

30 weekly training hours in summer = 15 weekly training hours throughout the winter.

25 weekly training hours in summer = 12.5 weekly training hours throughout the winter.

20 weekly training hours in summer = 10 weekly training hours throughout the winter.

15 weekly training hours in summer = 7.5 weekly training hours throughout the winter.

10 weekly training hours in summer = 5 weekly training hours throughout the winter.

05 weekly training hours in summer = 2.5 weekly training hours throughout the winter.

1 weekly training hour in summer = Quit the sport, you half-ass, you.

Ill-advised, Ill-adjusted, Ill-equipped

I coach a few athletes competing at the Hawaii Ironman next month and this is a time of year when their training can be considered "ridiculous". I know this to be true since I hear this often-misspelled word over and over again (though truth be told, it's hard to know whether it's been misspelled when it's only been heard). It comes from the athletes themselves, of course.

Me: "…so you'll need to push during those last four hours, or else the workout just won't count."

The athlete: "That's RE-diculous, dude. Haven't you any regard for the training we did yesterday? Last week? For the last month? This year?"

Me: "What, that training?! That wasn't training! That was simple to prepare you for this! Jeeez."

The athlete: "Okay, I guess."

Me: "No guessing needed. Look, if you want to succeed---and isn't that why you're paying me?---then you'll need to do your best. And now is the time for it, just as it's been all year."

The athlete: "You suck."

Me: "That's irrelevant. The key thing is that we don't want you to suck. Capisce?"

The athlete: "Capish."

But what is ridiculous training? Is it even required?

Ridiculous is, as Forrest Gump might say, what ridiculous does. And let's face it: ridiculous is an Ironman. And so when aiming for something ridiculous it only makes sense to do ridiculous things. Two wrongs can make a right.

For example, I once decided on a whim to scale a large mountain in the Andes that would not only challenge me but also, quite possibly, kill me. It was, no doubt, ridiculous, especially considering my then mountaineering "skills"…at the time I was known to put the "ills" and even the "kill" in skills. With that in mind, I decided I'd prepare by donning a heavy backpack and running up at fifteen to sixteen-thousand feet elevation as often as I could. During my very first outing in such rare-air, I fainted and landed face-first in a pile of donkey dung. It smelled like ass. I'd wake up two hours later covered in a light dusting of something white and cold (and no, I'm not talking about Joan Rivers). I knew what I had done might be considered ridiculous by some people's standards (and I also knew I could've died had I slept much longer, though it'd still beat being anywhere near Madam Rivers, but never mind that), but then ridiculous too was what I was preparing for, an ascent of a mountain known to kill those ill-equipped (and even some of those fully-equipped). Only ill-advised or ill-adjusted individuals go into something ill-equipped. (Life notwithstanding, of course.)

Like a 22,000-foot mountain, an Ironman is not something to be taken lightly. Especially one in such a foreboding place like the big island of Hawaii. While finishing an Ironman might not necessarily be considered life-threatening, it is something we must respect when placing it in our crosshairs, no more so than when we want to kick some serious ass during the event, as do the athletes I'm guiding. You don't go kicking a mountain's ass (they don't have asses, last I checked) but you can kick the asses' of those you go against come race day. But the only way for this to happen is to periodically step beyond the realm of comfort and routine and achieve the re-diculous, no matter how you care to spell it. Only then can Ironman day be spelled out the way you want it to.

How to become a Champion Endurance Athlete

I still believe that in our sport of sports there is a place for the champion athlete. While triathlon may be defined as a participant sport, and while it rewards those who simply take part (which of course isn't so simple), there remains room for those who aim for the top, a platform in which to achieve greatness, if only for a brief moment in time.

Tangent! ...

Ours is a society made up of decreasing standards for the individual (and yet from a young age we're all led to believe that WE ARE WINNERS!). Illiteracy is increasing here in the US, as is almost every known (and soon-to-be-known) disease; our standards of healthy living are dropping. The Army has lowered its enlistee standards (not surprisingly; I certainly wouldn't ever sign up in this day and age). Same too with the Navy, the Boy Scouts, most major universities, our government's "Body Mass Index", numerous state high school graduation requirements, the Presidential Physical Fitness Award standards, and so on. Our inmates receive better healthcare than the majority of our population. Our environmental standards remain archaic (though in archaic times we were less abusive to our planet, of course). I think the whole affair is deplorable, but then I suppose if we're truly all winners, I should just quit worrying about it; we'll find a way to win! We're Americans! We're Number One!

What a joke.

In all honesty and back to my original thought, I still believe there is a place for the (real) winners amongst us (and I hope one day to join your ranks). Moreover, we should not apologize for wanting to be better than good enough, especially as standards continue to decline. Finishing a triathlon is commendable, no doubt, and victory may be defined by the individual, but we mustn't frown upon those who desire something more, something greater. For those who dream of becoming a champion athlete, the following is "all" it takes. (Please note that though the standards may seem excessively stringent, they help to weed out the rest of us losers.)

How to become a Champion Endurance Athlete

1) Pick the right parents and be sure that they've picked the right parents and that their parents have picked the right parents, and so on. Inherent ability is, quite honestly, the Lottery of Life. (And to an extent we've all won it, though some more than others.)

2) Start young and dedicate yourself entirely. Failing this, dedicate yourself entirely, no matter your age. (Training) time is of the essence. Be in a hurry, but be patient. See #10 below.

3) Believe that anything is possible.

4) Be enthusiastic, motivated, willing to suffer and able to make sacrifices. Develop an immense work ethic and then take uncompromising action. Work relentlessly and outwork those you'll compete against. Train first; ask questions later.

5) Know your destination and how to reach it. Have complete clarity of purpose and use the SMART principles in choosing your targets. Are they…

• Specific?
• Measurable?
• Achievable?
• Realistic?
• Time-Sensitive?

Setting mileposts along your path to success is another key to achieving it, so choose some goals en route to the big one. Conversely, if you'd rather be a loser like me, you can always just wing it.

6) Stay focused through setbacks. Expect pitfalls but don't fall with them.

7) Speaking of falling, don't fall for the façade that is luck. If you're reading this you probably have the opportunity, now do something with it.

8) Know thyself. Be honest with thyself. Confront that which you do not like about you and what which needs to change in order to achieve your goals. If you're unsure ask a friend or a coach or better yet, someone honest.

9) Given this knowledge of yourself, train wisely. Training wisely is harder than training hard, which is hardly surprising. So don't just train for training sake; train for victory, not some arbitrary physiological or psychological response. Finally, remember that training is everything and everything is training. In other words, everything you do as a human being affects everything you do as an athlete. Understand your responses to training and all else.

10) Give it time. As per Gladwell's book, 10,000 hours of practice is about all it takes to shine! But time isn't enough. You must determine your future by doing things correctly NOW. In other words, practice doesn't make perfect…perfection does.

11) Never neglect the placebo effect. If you believe in what you do, whether it's right or wrong, the chances are it will work for you. Just be sure of this before believing in everything you do! Demand proof not from others but from yourself. See #3 above.

12) Avoid or ignore critics, cynics, pessimists, doubters, detractors, scoffers, skeptics, naysayers and negative people. Unfortunately, the world is full of these types, no more so than on the Internet (this, I believe, because they're trapped at a job they do not like), so you will need to hone your skills accordingly.

13) Eat as though your life depends upon it, because the truth is, it does. Today's dietary habits will likely not affect your immediate goals or health; the effect will be felt many tomorrows from now. See #10 above.

14) Get enough rest en route. Even champs need a break every so often.

15) Enjoy the journey (though this isn't always enough when becoming a champion is the objective).

16) As I've quoted in this book…

The bottom line…
Is the finish line.

Unlike the lab sometimes does, the finish line never lies. It is the ultimate measuring stick. All else is conjecture and verbal diarrhea.

++++++++++++++++++++

PS: The picture is of my first-ever book cover, though with a little more weight I could easily be a candidate for the next version of this one.

++++++++++++++++++++

PPS: With all this talk of champions, I just remembered today that it's been a year already since my bud Evan Tanner passed away, when his KLR650 motorcycle (the same beast I own) ran out of gas in the California desert. For those of you fortunate enough to know him or know about him, he was a rarity in this world: a world champion UFC mixed martial art fighter who yearned for something more. Just read his penultimate blog entry...

"Today, I ran to the store to pick up a few things, and with the lonesome, quiet desert thoughts on my mind, I couldn't help but be struck with their brutally stark contrast to my current surroundings, the amazing congestion in which we exist day to day. The landscape as far as I could see, crowded, choked, with me and the rest of the species, an almost writhing mass of organisms, fighting over space and resources....on the highways, in the parking lots, on the sidewalks, and in the aisle of the stores. And to think, there are still places in the world where man has not been, where he has left no footprints, where the mysteries stand secure, untouched by human eyes. I want to go to these places, the quiet, timeless, ageless places, and sit, letting silence and solitude be my teachers."

RIP bro.

Half Full or Half Empty? Who Cares!

The optimist sees the glass as half-full. The pessimist sees it as half-empty. The triathlete sees it and asks, "Um, can I drink the rest?"

But all the meanwhile the triathlete wonders whether that might be a wise choice since there may not be enough sodium in the drink to prevent hyponatremia. Moreover, the triathlete must also question whether its fructose and glucose mixture will affect his or her gut during the marathon. But never mind all that...

Bottoms up!

More IFAQ (Infrequently Asked Questions)

Below is an encyclopedic set of questions (in italics) that recently befell me. Each is followed by my responses, some of which might be benefit you, the blog reader (all one of you). There are more links than you might care to visit, so don't go suing me if you develop tendonitis and the dreaded Swollen Mouse-Clicking-Phalange Syndrome. Ask your doctor if this blog is right for you. Then take ten and enjoy! Side effects are unknown at this time.

++++++++++++++++++++

Hi Chuckie,
I've got some rather lengthy questions for you. You usually are pretty good about answering everyone's questions on your comments page, so I figured I'd give it a go. I'd really appreciate any of your help.

Last year I started to train for triathlon, and I eventually found your blog and the wonderful information in it. I think I became addicted to following it as I procrastinated from schoolwork. I've read about 90% of your archives! We have similar thoughts on many things, including the thoughts of anyone in the "certified establishment". Eventually I overcame the addiction to your blog as I concentrated on training and not sitting in front of the computer. Obviously I still follow you quite closely and your training styles. My goal is to be a professional triathlete and I've always thought you would make a great coach for me, if I had any money to pay you. Maybe someday! I do not train socially but I am thinking about coming to one of your camps down in Solvang. I could use the sunshine in the spring, as I am up here in beautiful and misty Portland Oregon.

I've decided in order to reach my goals I need to accelerate my learning curve and reach out to the experts and the people who know a lot more about training than I do (you).

I've bought a lot of books on your list and I've started moving through them. Although the only place I can find Jan Olbrecht's "The Science of Winning" is at a swim shop in the UK. There are many philosophies out there and reading through all of them makes for headaches. But I enjoy learning about the training.

1. I had a question about peaking/periodization and how that relates to off-season training. If peaking exists, and one develops a periodized plan (whether non-linear or linear) in order to arrange that peak, how do you reconcile the off-season (or just non-race season) training with that? Basically my question revolves around the fact that I don't want to stop training this fall/winter, I want to build off of my fitness that I've gained this summer training for races. But all this peaking crap I've read has jumbled up the ideas in my head. If I keep training right now (at a relative peak) can anything bad happen? If I train hard for 5 months this winter will that bring about a peak too early in the season? Some periodization plans call for no training for a long extended breaks in the off-season...So that you're "rested" and ready to begin building again. I say why not build on a peak? right?

2. And would you say you agree with the non-linear periodization or linear periodization? I just read Brad Hudson's book "Run Faster" and a lot of it makes sense, his ideas about doing a little bit of everything all the time, and developing a overall run fitness before introducing 8 week peak builds. But I don't know how much of this applies to Triathlon training. That brings me to my next question:

3. What do you think, are the notable differences between training for the single sports on their own, and doing it all together for triathlon? I understand that run strength is more important than pure, fresh speed, and bike endurance is very important to not interfere with the run. Swim volume in triathlon training can't really approach pure swimmer volume for more than a few weeks, and since the distances are way longer than a 200IM event, strength is again required over speed. Am I on the right track with this? What other ways are good to train to run fast off the bike? jacking up the bike mileage? doing transition runs? At the same time I think, well, I need a little pure speed in everything if I'm going to run bike and swim as fast as the top people in the sport. A low 30's 10k off a sub 1hr bike ride is fast. A low 30's 10k is fast relative to everyone else. Even a 2:45 marathon by itself is an achievement. Those guys have got to be able to be very very fast, maybe not elite runner level fast, but certainly right around 30 for an open 10k, and 2:25 - 2:35 for a marathon. (And I'm not even talking about the ITU guys). So certainly it takes a lot of strength to run a 2:45 off a bike ride in which you averaged 24 miles an hour. Anyway I'm getting off track. Just wondering what you think about how close triathlon training comes to just being single sport training x3 (or maybe just x2). I have read that back in the day, pro's did this type of training...and they were really really fast back in the day...

4. I am going to get a power meter, what kind do you recommend? Right now I am riding a Cervelo Soloist Team (the aluminum ...GASP... kind), Figured I would tell you in case it mattered as to what kind of powermeter I can/should get. I know this is a lot. Thanks for anything in advance.

-Dan, an Aspiring Caveman, Portland, OR

++++++++++++++++++++

Hi Dan,
Thanks for the considerate words and the questions, I think! Despite the winter weather woes, Portland is a great area for tackling your goals in this sport since there's a surplus of active people and a plethora of fun, challenging events. You could certainly be worse off! Oh, and with regards to Olbrecht's book, yes, this is a tough one to unearth. You could find a friend ("mate", in English) in the UK and have him buy it and send it your way but for such a hassle and expense there are comparable works that perhaps equate to a wiser investment. For example, quite a few people (many of whom I respect, like Alan) recommended I procure a copy of Swimming Fastest by Maglischo, as it's apparently another first-rate manual. It should arrive in a few days. I have a personal list of favorites and I suspect it will coexist with them nicely.

I'll try to tackle your questions in the order you've posed them, along with some of my customary thoughts and lengthy tangents (how's that for a disclaimer?!)…

First though I'd like to emphasize that there's an overload of information on the Internet and much of it is unadulterated crap, so be careful spending tons of time reading or perusing; over-thinking is synonymous with under-performing! This particularly applies to forums, where any ol' idiot can post...and usually does. You're better off simplifying and learning from your own experiences, especially if you're young and especially in light of your goals. And, of course, the best way for that to happen is to pull yourself away from the computer and get out there.

In this context, I often preach to those I guide that "You're your own best coach" and each of them seem to understand this. All I really mean is that no coach can truly know what's going on inside an athlete like the athlete himself can, not even when the coach is standing right beside him or having the athlete piggyback him to the top of the hill (no comment).

Insofar as each athlete is his/her own best guide they must also come to realize that an adviser is there only to assist in the learning process. It's not always easy, of course, because there is no single "right way" for each of us to train or race. But that's the advantage of employing two or more heads instead of just one: it'll speed the process of finding YOUR best way to. Always surround yourself with help, whether or not you think you need it!

The biggest reason we cannot (and indeed should not) all train alike is that our responses to training affect each of us differently. And when you factor in individual lifestyle responsibilities and pressures it's no wonder few athletes respond similarly. Because of this the athlete/coach should take everything into account when considering future training requirements. You have to weigh your recovery needs and outside responsibilities (i.e., "reality") to help form your training load, and of course, such loads will need to frequently change, as life continually does. I once wrote that…

"One must train hard in order to learn how hard one can train. Likewise, one must race hard in order to learn how hard one can race. Once these lessons have been learned they must be repeated over and over again and then completed disregarded, as, with changes in fitness, the lesson also changes…"

Now, with that said, there are a few physiological and psychological principles that apply to each of us; remember, we're more alike than we are dissimilar. But one problem is that we cannot all take full advantage of reaching our true ultimate physical and psychological peak, so adaptations or alterations must be made. If, for example, you work and attend school and only have twelve hours a week to dedicate to race preparation (i.e., training), then there's little point in applying the same stresses or tactics or principles that a pro who trains twenty-five or thirty hours each week might otherwise do. But, like them, you should consider the following...

1) Your current level of fitness
2) Your overall ability (strengths & weaknesses)
3) The objective for any given workout
4) Your short and long-term goals

Anyway, long lead-in aside, and to answer your questions…

>>>>If peaking exists, and one develops a periodized plan (whether non-linear or linear) in order to arrange that peak, how do you reconcile the off-season (or just non-race season) training with that? Basically my question revolves around the fact that I don't want to stop training this fall/winter, I want to build off of my fitness that I've gained this summer training for races. But all this peaking crap I've read has jumbled up the ideas in my head. If I keep training right now (at a relative peak) can anything bad happen? If I train hard for 5 months this winter will that bring about a peak too early in the season? Some periodization plans call for no training for a long extended breaks in the off-season...So that you're "rested" and ready to begin building again. I say why not build on a peak? right?

Like most coaches I'm of the mindset that peaking exists, but there are those who do not (and yet they produce top-notch athletes). One thing is for certain: fitness is ever-changing, if only slightly. A myriad of considerations affects our fitness, and motivation often (as in almost always) leads the way. If an athlete can remain motivated year-round there is little point in holding him or her back. I coach a few athletes like this and their results show that there's no harm in it. But!

But in terms of physiological adaptations, you need to recognize that fitness does not/cannot depend on constant or continual sameness, as mentioned above. To build it you must challenge yourself and doing so when already challenged or have yet to fully absorb the load (i.e., benefit from) is a sure-fire way to introduce the risks you've probably read about. Remember: training is basically: load/unload/reload (i.e., two or three steps forward, one step back), both in a micro-cycling (short term) sense and a macro-cycling (long term) one. So while you might find yourself more race-ready tomorrow because of today's actions, you have to ask if this will mean you'll be that much better off a week or a month or a year from now. To answer that you can look to your training gains, by using the power meter, the heart rate monitor and the pace clock. They don't lie, but they don't always tell us the entire story.

The worst that can happen by trying to maintain a super-high (i.e., peak) level of fitness is that you get injured (risk is highest when you're continually striving) or find yourself losing motivation en route. The latter can easily happen when living in a rainy climate or when the hormonal responses to hard training start to wear on the brain and the rest of the body. You have to learn to recognize the signs before you find yourself hating the sport, whether its moodiness/irritability, inability to sleep, general fatigue, a lowered immunity, and so on. Motivation, or the lack thereof, is often preceded by overtraining. (By the way, I don't believe at all in the whole notion of "overtraining" but for a rare few cases. Rather, the problem is known simply as "under-recovering". This, however, goes well beyond the scope of your questions or my response.)

Even if neither were to occur, injury or motivational woes, you'd need to be sure the fitness you're trying to maintain (or attain) relates to your long-term construction and outlook, and not just in preserving a foothill-like peak that has you fit in January but flat when it matters most, in June or July. You'll want to make sure it won't leave you shy of your ultimate intention, which, in sticking with the theme of all this stuff, isn't always easy to understand. For what it's worth, almost all the great coaches advise their athletes to take some sort of a break at some point of the year. The question is for how long and of what sort---full rest, active rest, cross-training, what? (In general, I rarely advise complete rest or inactivity except for those focusing on one big race a year, and usually an Ironman at that.) Often times a full break has the athlete hungrier than ever when it matters most, and this is perhaps what matters most.

All said, the issue here is in mixing physiological principles with psychological events as they transpire. My advice is if you're motivated don't ever refrain from training. Just be sure that it's the kind that has you building toward future goals and not just immediate ones (and there is a difference). In order to be sure of this, measure your training responses and keep track of your motivation…and roll with it! Again, it's all a learning opportunity, so don't look at any of this in anything less than the most positive light.

>>>>And would you say you agree with the non-linear periodization or linear periodization? I just read Brad Hudson's book "Run Faster" and a lot of it makes sense, his ideas about doing a little bit of everything all the time, and developing a overall run fitness before introducing 8 week peak builds. But I don't know how much of this applies to Triathlon training.

Hudson's book really hit home with me but so too does Lydiard's, and each man has his own approach. Like all coaches I blend an array of approaches into one...mine. But even then it evolves continually and is applied differently to each individual. To claim I have "an" approach is to limit myself and those I coach; there are no absolutes. It's worth noting, however, that there are more commonalities in Hudson's and Lydiard's respective approaches than there are differences, as with any two endurance coaches. To boot, they are (were in Lydiard's case) both run coaches. Triathlon, particularly the Ironman stuff, is an entirely different entity, as explained further down, below your next question.

For the most part, if I've been working (or am going to be working) with an athlete for 2-3 years we'll lean more toward a slow-to-build linear approach. But the truth is there's also always some non-linear aspects involved, so to call it linear in the purest sense simply isn't accurate. But the problem with trying to achieve all the training responses desired at once is that the body can't really maintain them all; certain responses take years to develop, others just months, so it might just be a "sprinkling" of some training components/necessities/considerations and a near full-on focus on others. While training might be simplified to something as basic as "load/unload/reload" or "stress applied/stress removed" each component is far more detailed and involved than that, and of course there is evidence that Lydiard's approach works and evidence that Hudson's works, both scientifically and anecdotally (naturally). Finally, and back to the simplicity thing for a second, it's important to keep in mind that training is really nothing more than RACE PRACTICE; this should help you see how silly it is to debate training methods. Debate only yours.

But I digress.

All said, there's little point in training a single aspect at a time and I know of few coaches, if any, who do. Maffetone preached sticking to a specific submaximal heart rate cap in the early build-up, but even then he prescribed short downhill or alactic efforts to those he coached (one of which was the guy writing this blog). So while his theories might be viewed in such a manner, his practice wasn't strictly about a single component at a time.

In general, and due to the non-abusive/low-impact nature of it, I have athletes swim fairly hard year-round (with a wide mix of intensities and skills involved). I also typically have them ride long year-round (which is good for building their aerobic engine, not only allowing them to be stronger cyclists but stronger runners too) with less of the intense stuff but always a little when it's required; those who work or attend school still ride long but maybe just once a week on weekends, as opposed to three or four days a week for the pros I guide. Finally, I have them run frequently but with far less intensity or overly-long stuff, for obvious reasons. But it depends on the individual and his or her strengths, weaknesses, tendencies and needs. There are simply too many variables for a one-size-fits-all response or a one-size-fits-all template here.

So while it might not be wise to be doing a whole bunch of run sprint training in December when your next race is an Ironman in July, it can make good sense if you're focusing on an Olympic-distance event in early March. Understanding your own physiological and psychological responses helps to identify which of the two---predominantly linear or predominantly non-linear---might fit you best. My suggestion: include a little of everything but a LOT of what matters for your long haul objectives.

>>>>What do you think, are the notable differences between training for the single sports on their own, and doing it all together for triathlon? I understand that run strength is more important than pure, fresh speed, and bike endurance is very important to not interfere with the run. Swim volume in triathlon training can't really approach pure swimmer volume for more than a few weeks, and since the distances are way longer than a 200IM event, strength is again required over speed. Am I on the right track with this?

You've just about answered your own questions here, but in truth they are such a loaded set that there's no easy way to answer them. But since I have no life, I'll take a stab at 'em!

First of all, the biggest difference between triathlon and any of the three individual sports that comprise it are the duration of the events. Only cycling events and ultra-marathon swim or run events can be considered comparable. Because of this, the training must be adapted and directed to it. Endurance (the ability to endure) becomes paramount, regardless of speeds sustained. Speed is a relative term, of course, and speed can only be built by training near the speeds you hope to compete at, but you have to understand that speed isn't (or shouldn't always be) the sole consideration; if there's a cost to that speed, then it must be taken into account as well.

The athlete who wins a triathlon may be the fastest in the event and therefore considered "speedy", but quite often there are plenty of athletes they've beaten who possess more pure speed. This doesn't mean you wouldn't want to be speedy, of course, but that you want to do the appropriate work to beat those who might be speedier or have more raw natural talent. A good example of this is Peter Snell, the great New Zealand middle-distance runner in the 1960s. Snell was fast but nowhere near as fast those he went against. He "snatched" his Olympic gold medals by wearing the others down, and this in just 800 meters of running, an event that demands FAR more speed than any triathlon! So it becomes especially critical in something lasting as long as a triathlon to reframe your thinking into speedy over the course of the goal event and not simply "speedy".

To illustrate this, I'm sure at any given point in a triathlon I could ask you to sprint faster for a short while and that you'd be able to (e.g., almost every competitor can sprint toward the finish line if necessary and almost all of them do!). But could you sustain even a semblance of that speed? Probably not. This, therefore, is an endurance or stamina related issue, not a speed issue.

Basically you have a few different kinds of speed…

• Pure Raw Speed (e.g., up to 200 meters while running; up to 50 meters while swimming; and perhaps an all-out 20-second power effort while cycling)
• Race Goal Speed (e.g., 19-min 1,500m swim; 10K race pace goal; 40K ride wattage goal)
• Current Race Capacity (e.g., 22-min 1,500m swim speed; current 10K pace capacity; current 40K wattage capacity)
• Relative Speed (as compared to other competitors)
• Aerobic Speed (determined by physiological cost and the athlete's ability to sustain it)

Naturally, to be at the top level in an endurance sport like triathlon, each consideration is important but pure raw speed is nowhere near as decisive as one might think. And anyway, you can only do so much to increase your God-given speed, whereas the others are all highly trainable. It's important to understand and appreciate all this, as you seem to, since you basically answered your second part of your #3 question here. Yes, you are on the right track!

>>>>What other ways are good to train to run fast off the bike? jacking up the bike mileage? doing transition runs? At the same time I think, well, I need a little pure speed in everything if I'm going to run bike and swim as fast as the top people in the sport. A low 30's 10k off a sub 1hr bike ride is fast. A low 30's 10k is fast relative to everyone else. Even a 2:45 marathon by itself is an achievement. Those guys have got to be able to be very very fast, maybe not elite runner level fast, but certainly right around 30 for an open 10k, and 2:25 - 2:35 for a marathon. (And I'm not even talking about the ITU guys). So certainly it takes a lot of strength to run a 2:45 off a bike ride in which you averaged 24 miles an hour. Anyway I'm getting off track. Just wondering what you think about how close triathlon training comes to just being single sport training x3 (or maybe just x2). I have read that back in the day, pro's did this type of training...and they were really really fast back in the day...

Damn you Dan! Another multi-part question with so many variables that need to be considered…

Let me first reiterate that you (plural: an athlete) need to weigh your current capacities/incapacities and immediate objectives before proceeding with any course of action. If you know right now that you're not a fast runner off the bike, for example, then you will need to figure out precisely why. A fast ride beforehand will show that your bike strength might be fine, so you can narrow it down somewhat, to either poor ride pacing (which relates to lack of stamina…when it's required you run well afterward) or to your run strength/stamina. Pure run speed is irrelevant, as your swim affects your ride and your ride affects your run. But, that said, if you ride and swim well (and well within yourself) and proceed to run poorly, then we know it's your running that needs the focus. Still, because triathlon is an endurance sport, this relates more to run strength than run speed.

(Now, as a quick aside, if a race comes down to a dash for the finish line, pure speed will probably matter but methinks, at that point, it's still as much correlated to stamina and tactical elements as it is pure speed ability…ask Simon Whitfield about this.)

I've witnessed plenty of athletes capable of swimming or riding or running well (hell, with a sub-17-minute 1,500m, a 400+watt FTP and a 31-minute 10K, I was one of them). But when all three activities took place in succession (i.e, a triathlon) the weakness would often manifest itself late in the ride or during the run. So would this mean the athlete is a poor runner? No, not at all. It simply means he or she is a poor triathlete or has performed poorly when it mattered most…i.e., either poor training or poor execution.

Now, if race day pacing is/was well executed, only then can you assume that running is or might be the issue. Let me give you an example. We've all seen good swimmers and/or cyclists (whether they were triathletes or single-sport athletes) who just can't seem to run, despite their motor and given abilities in those other events. Well, this is as much due to body type and biomechanical "issues" as it is due to his or her pure run capacity and speed. Any such issues that come at a cost (i.e., affect the athlete's economy) will therefore also need to be addressed. Running (or any other activity) isn't simply about moving through space in quick fashion. The activity's cost has to be considered, particularly the longer an event becomes…and particularly when fatigue might already be considerable (i.e., following the swim and ride). Again, this relates to stamina and endurance and not so much just speed. Less economical runners might be able to "fake it" for a while but it's those who've closed the gap between their aerobic speed and their pure speed who are more likely to reach their goal race speed.

A lot of this, of course, depends on endurance and training volume but a lot of it also depends on skills and doing things correctly in training…and not just going through the motions for vast chunks of time each day or week or month. The bottom line is that an athlete must become efficient at carrying out the exact activities required so that less energy is wasted during competition and long hard exertions remain less stressful…that the effort doesn't compound too soon. And a focus on "speed" is not always the right way to go about it since the cost tends to increase exponentially with increased effort.

In my assessment and experience, pure endurance should come first. Ask yourself: can you go the distance? Then go about the rest of the considerations: how fast can the distance be accomplished? How fast can each discipline (the swim, the bike and the run) within that distance be accomplished? What glaring weakness stands out? Are there more than just one weakness? How is my pure speed? How is my aerobic speed and economy? How close am I to my race goal speed?

Know that there are numerous routes to your long-term personal summit but the one you chose must be one you believe in 100% and one that proves en route that you're on the right track. The hard part isn't the peak but in finding the right route for you. As I once wrote in an old magazine article, "There are many ways to do your best and of those, one of them is best." But I think when attempting to find your way effort is the key, not speed.

Oh, and as per your last question---what kind of power meter do I recommend?---I'd let your budget decide. The SRM is the crème de la crème while the PowerTap is a tad more affordable. Because most those I guide consider the sport their profession, I typically advise the SRM (as it tends to be less finicky and more reliable). But the folks at PowerTap are quite helpful and closer to home if any evils were to arise. As mentioned, the PowerTap is much more affordable and still very reliable. Either way, I wholly recommend getting one or the other, as they'll vastly speed up your training learning process and as we know, speed is what it's all about!

Thanks for writing and making me think! -Chuckie

Ill-timed Illness

"This sport is tough. So many things need to come together; and when they don't the heartbreak is proportional to the tremendous amount of time and effort invested in all your training." --Heather W

All year I've been working with Brynje Enderle, in preparation for today's Ironman Canada. Month by month she made the gains necessary to reach her goal of qualifying for the Hawaii Ironman, winning a race en route, her first ever, and picking up a paycheck for it, also her first ever. Not bad for someone who has a real job and works full time. So as today's race drew closer I had all the confidence in the world that she'd be booking her tickets to Kona shortly afterward. Only her swimming concerned me, as the gains we'd labored toward never quite materialized. But swimming is swimming and, at just ten or so percent of the athlete's overall Ironman finish time, it's really just a prelude, a warm-up of sorts, for the remainder of the day. I told Brynje to just race her best race and stay out of trouble early on. She's a strong cyclist and an exceptional runner and if she could just make it through the swim, she'd be okay from there forward.

Well, she never did. On Wednesday before the race she picked up a nasty flu virus, only the second time she'd fallen ill all year. I told her not to worry and to do her best to combat it, and that by Sunday it would likely have run its course. Well, it never did.

This morning, she awoke and made the decision not to compete. It wasn't too tough a conclusion, given that she barely possessed enough strength to make it through the pre-race registration process the day or two prior. Still, she picked up her race packet and hoped for the best. It was what she had to do.

This is one of the infuriating things about Ironmans. They're not just some affair you can decide to do on a whim. One cannot just enter the day before. The choice to compete is almost always made a year in advance (by necessity, as fast as the events fill up) and so they become a year-long procedure. Brynje contacted me last winter, with the sole goal of getting to Kona at this very event. I agreed to take her on because I saw straightaway that she possessed the necessary drive and, as I would come to learn, the necessary dedication. With lots of her input I mapped out a plan and she went to work. But sometimes hard work isn't enough. Sometimes luck can have a bigger effect. Getting sick cannot be avoided in life, for it's how we grow stronger. But not participating when it's what you set out to do a year in advance, well, that's just sickening.

Hang in there Brynje. It'll make the next one that much sweeter.

++++++++++++++++++++

Congrats to Jordan for winning the race and to Trevor for hanging tough to the end. Kudos also to Evan at Ironman Louisville for running a frickin' 2:54:03 marathon and placing fifteenth overall and second in his age-group again (dammit!), just weeks after having done so at Lake Placid. Also, congrats goes out to my friend Anu for competing in Penticton today, just a few short weeks after the Ultra-Man up there.

Pre-Race Planning: Patient, Fueled, Smooth & Strong

Three athletes I advise are doing Ironman events this weekend, in such exotic locales like Louisville, Kentucky and Penticton, British Columbia, which is in neither Britain or Columbia (boy, those wacky Canadians sure know how to throw us all for a loop, eh?). For what it's worth, and based on their recent racing and training results---not to mention who their coach happens to be---I wholly expect each of them to kick ass and takes names. Where those names go nobody knows, but nonetheless it's always fun to take them and then worry about what to do with them.

One athlete I coach, a particularly fast guy named Evan, was requested (by me) to write his race plan down in detail. I think it wise that the athlete do this not only so I don't have to, but because it helps him or her in actually following-through with what has been planned. You see, when we read something (especially something written by our coach, and especially if that coach is yours truly) we tend to remember only a modest portion of it. To boot, some of what's been written is lost in interpretation and some, if you're like me, due to good ol' Attention Deficit Disorder. But when we write it ourselves we stand a better chance at it getting into our brains, where it can then be acted out at a later time (i.e., race day).

Below is Evan's race plan and under it some of my notes regarding it...

IMLouisville Plan Wake up at 4:15 AM or so. Breakfast at about 4:30 AM. 900 calories in the form of two English muffins with peanut butter, a glass of OJ and a V8. Also, two cups coffee. Carry a water bottle with me from here until the race starts and drink as thirst dictates, but not forcing fluids.

Swim start: The swim start at Lou is unique in that it's a time trial start. Everyone is supposed to be in the water within a half hour. I'm not going to rush to try to get in line early. Instead, I'll just get in line when I am ready. As far as pacing goes, there isn't much of an option except to use RPE. How deep of breath I require is a good indication at the start of the swim or at other times when adrenaline may override RPE. In addition to pacing, I MUST FOCUS THE ENTIRE SWIM. No letting my mind wander to other parts of the race and letting my effort slide. Maintain a steady effort through the second half of the swim. Focus on effort, arm entry, extension, catch, and pull (though not necessarily all at the same time).

Transition 1: Grab the correct bag. GRAB THE CORRECT BAG! I've screwed up a transition in each of my last two IMs, and my screw-up in LP cost me probably a minute a so and potentially the AG win. Otherwise, relax. RELAX! Saving two seconds by sprinting isn't going to win the race. Be calm, yet attentive, and keep the HR down.

Bike pacing: Early in the ride pace based on RPE, but let power control. Don't go much above 220 W on flats. Don't work too hard to pass people, as I may have a lot of passes to complete. Do not be afraid to sit 7M behind an overzealous rider that passes me. Try to figure out how many W are going to be required for a pass before making it - do not kill myself just to pass one rider. As the ride goes on, settle into a steady IM effort. DO NOT CHASE WATTS! Do not try to sit at 220 W the whole time if that effort feels hard. If that effort feels easy, be very, very cautious. Cross-reference HR if it is available (on that note, I believe I simply need to change the battery in my CPU to get HR going again - I'm making the change today). Cadence should be 80-85, but don't worry too much about checking this because that's where I typically naturally ride. Be prepared to begin feeling fatigued before 80 miles. You've ridden hard before and still been able to run, you can do it again. That said, ride my own race and don't pick up the effort to make passes that will only save a few seconds. Sit 7m back from anyone that passes me or is going a good speed. Spin a high cadence and decrease the effort the last two minutes or so of the ride.

Bike nutrition: Begin drinking fluid whenever I feel like it, likely just a few minutes into the ride. Drink Gatorade as thirst dictates, but ensure that I'm going through at least one bottle per hour, providing 200 cal/hour. (That's about the bear minimum I ever drink, so I doubt drinking less than that will be a problem.) If I don't have to pee by mile 60, considering increasing fluid intake. Eat Powerbars at the beginning of the ride. Carry 2 bars (>400 cal total) and the bars in pieces over the first two to three hours. That gives me a minimum of 300 cal/hour, and I'll almost certainly drink another 50 cal/hour or so in Gatorade (i.e., in addition to the 200 cal/hour mentioned above) because I'll probably drink more than 1 bottle/hour. I will also carry 5 gels in a gel flask. That's 500 calories. Begin supplementing Gatorade with gel once Powerbars run out. Drink water instead of Gatorade as taste dictates. Consider grabbing water to wash down Powerbars and gels if an aid station is approaching. Reduce calorie consumption around mile 105 to give my stomach time to settle.

Transition 2: Same as transition 1. Relaxed, not hurrying, calm and attentive. Hurrying is more likely to cost time than save it here.

Run pacing: RPE is my guide. Override RPE during the first mile or two. 160 HR expected. If it is hot, be cautious and start slow. Start a notch below where RPE would dictate if the temp feels warm. Slowing 30 seconds a mile for two or three miles only costs 1:00-1:30. Going too fast could cost 20:00. Do not chase a split - let RPE and the conditions be the guide. Quick cadence.

Run nutrition: Carry salt tablets. Eat them frequently. Each pill only include 40mg of sodium, so even 10 pills/hour isn't too much. Otherwise, have coke and water. If I feel like Gatorade, gel, etc., have it. If I have a gel, eat is slowly between aid stations. Pay attention to how I feel and let that dictate how much to consume. If I'm really thirsty, that's a sign that my body needs water. Slowing a bit to drink more is going to be faster in the end. Think and be aware and attentive. Have a flat Red Bull in a sports bottle in my special needs bag. Red Bull is tasty, and I'm told it "gives you wings", whatever that means. Put ice down my shirt. Dump water on myself. Do whatever cools me down.

Always: Stay positive. STAY POSITIVE! Repeat a mantra if necessary. Know that I can run every step of the race. Know that I can finish no matter how I feel. Keep going. The point is to have fun - have fun. Smile and embrace the pain - I may not know I'm doing my last IM until after the fact.

Result: Win AG. Set a new PR (yeah, yeah, there are no PRs). Enjoy the finish, no matter what. Go get some beer and pizza and ice cream.

+++++++++++++++

My notes...
Ice cream!

It's hard for me to focus after reading those last two words.

No, in all honesty, he's touched on everything he needed to. Obviously in an Ironman the two biggies are pacing and nutrition. Again, PACING and NUTRITION. Other than fitness these two will have more effect than any other component of your performance, including that silly-looking aero helmet you just dropped $200 on. We've all seen plenty of fit, capable athletes reach race day as prepared as they could possibly be, only to completely blow race day execution. Hell, I did it more often than not...by swimming among the leaders, riding in front of them and then promptly hopping off my bike and walking 42 kilometers. And while I enjoy walking, there's nothing more humiliating than doing so on race day.

Regardless of fitness, pacing and nutrition can make or break the Ironman athlete's day (and night). They are that important.

Also important, of course, is to have a plan, as per Evan's fine example above. But a plan must be malleable or adaptive. Just a handful of weeks ago Evan competed in Ironman Lake Placid, where things did not quite go according to plan. Still, he understood this going in and made some on-the-fly adaptations to his plans as the race unfolded on its own terms. Because of this, the bad-ass mofo qualified for the Big Dance in Kona (but yet passed on his qualifying spot because he knows now he can get there again) and came away having learned a few important lessons. And learning is as successful as success itself. This time around, he will appreciate that little dietary mineral known as salt, and take his plans with a grain of salt, perhaps even a handful.

My suggested mantra for him, Brynje and Trevor...

Patient, fueled, smooth and strong.

Only then can they start to worry about what to do with those names they've taken.

PS: I leave you with a few thoughts of Ironman day...

1) I theorize that 30-40% of athletes will defeat themselves on race day, from the fastest of the fast to the slowest of the slow. Don't be one of them, no matter your speed.

2) When you come to that dark, frightening spot in the road where you begin to question yourself and your reasons for signing up for such self-inflicted hardship, only then are you capable of becoming an Ironman. Embrace the chase.

3) Ironman is a test and indeed a metaphor for life itself. Live it.

What? Me Worry?

I carry the curse of countless afflictions but perhaps the worst is my complete inability to turn my brain off. I don't know what it's made of or what keeps it charged, but the damn thing is always on---thinking, worrying, worrying about thinking and thinking about worry. Even when I'm not thinking or worrying or thinking about worrying or worrying about thinking my brain is still actively pursuing some sort of chaos and commotion.

One would think that as often as all those brain waves fire---constantly---that I might be fairly astute, maybe even smart. All that thinking has got to amount to something, right? Unfortunately in my case the answer is no. Instead of accruing aptitude, my brain would rather choose to continually fret over trivial matters, aiming to focus on remembering only what is entirely useless, as my life's history has repeatedly proven. Whereas I worry, for example, about what might happen if I were to misplace my wallet, my brain instead chooses to forget where I actually set it last. Weird how that works. Weird too that I worry about this since my wallet has nothing in it!

Mark Twain once said that he'd suffered a lot of troubles in his life, most of which had never happened, and this has been the very premise of my existence. Worry consumes me and never more so than when I lay my head down to sleep. Of course, my head doesn't actually go to sleep when I lay it down and as such it presents me with another of my many troubles. It's why I night hike as often as I do. But maybe I'm being too hard on worry. After all, as Twain sort of suggests, worrying seems to work. Ninety-nine percent of the things I worry about never happen! Yet I worry.

So how does one go about removing worry? Is there a trick to it that I'm simply unaware of?

As an athlete this nonstop worry essentially erased any genetic hand-me-downs I may have been given. When race day came I was often simply relieved to have made it that far! I didn't care what transpired next, so long as I wasn't eaten by a shark, run over by a Mack truck while on the bike or passed by Rick and Dicky Hoyt during the run...all legitimate concerns if you ask me.

But seriously, where does worry become too much of a worry?

"When it keeps you up at night," a friend once answered. He was right, of course, but he's also the type who snores, so I couldn't take what he had to say too seriously. Snorers will never earn my respect. Why we were sleeping together, I'm not sure.

Still, I knew that when worry affected reality, I had to confront what worried me. If only that didn't worry me so much!

If you're like me, the worrying type, you must know that worrying is really just a waste of time. We have to know this. But yet it remains.

So, in my latest tactical maneuver to combat it, I've developed a seven-step program I plan to employ…maybe it'll help you too.

Step 1: I'll isolate the precise origin of my worries. When I'm feeling anxious or agitated, I'll rummage through my emotions and try to determine exactly what's bothering me. Once I know what it is I'll take action to eradicate it or better the situation.

Step 2: I'll do what I can to prevent or avoid stress. I must admit, however, that this might not work, since I already live more simply (and undisturbed) than any other individual living in America that I've met, with the possible exception of a few of my thru-hiking pals.

Step 3: I'll continue to appreciate that worrying never helps to improve the situation. This simple realization will one day get through to my brain, I'm sure!

Step 4: I'll deal with the worry point-blank. This sounds hard though, so I might just skip over or triple-jump this step.

Step 5: I'll look at my past and remind myself that I've made it this far (despite, quite honestly, not expecting to twenty years ago). Life is funny in that when we look ahead we tend to do so with worry, and yet when we look back we tend to do so with glee. I'll try to look back and look ahead with excitement. What if, right?

Step 6: I'll try to develop confidence in my ability to endure challenges. I'll look at my strengths and the challenges I've dealt with in the past and surround myself with those who might care to offer support (like, for example, my hiking shoes or my full-suspension 29er mountain bike!).

Step 7: I'll end it all with a bottle of Jack Daniels and a couple of handfuls of sleeping pills. The problem here, of course, is that suicide puts a sudden stop to all of life's possibilities, most of which I enjoy…

Laughing 'til my stomach hurts or laughing without reason, love, movement, sleeping in, sleeping under the stars, hiking in the rain, touch, skiing in neck-deep powder, mountain biking, hope, meeting new friends, reminiscing about the good ol' days, listening to a song you can't wait to hear again, listening to someone who inspires you, reading inspiration, watching inspiration, sneezing, farting, ice cream, surfing, writing, being in a true-to-life rock band, climbing trees, climbing rocks, skipping rocks, rafting, coaching, learning, picking at hangnails, picking at a good booger, shaking hands with those you respect (after picking your nose, of course), camping, cow tipping, descending on tiny tires at 50mph, laughing at the notion of "miles per hour", giggling, playing the only three chords my booger-picking, hand-shaking fingers will allow me to, watching a good battle, rooting for the underdog, partaking in a good debate, building something of your own design, inventing something, reinventing it, making fun of those less fortunate, making fun of those more fortunate, making fun of yourself, tailwinds, sewing your own tent and using it for a year straight without trouble, watching wildlife, making wildlife, asking the big mysteries of life, wondering, waiting, wanting.

The list is long, and worthwhile.

A Night Alone

Pardon me if you would, but the following has little to do with multisport.

Late last night, long after most of humanity had settled down into their Sofa-King-comfortable couches (say that three times fast!), a wave of energy broadsided me. This is not all that unusual---I've always been a night owl, consumed by a vicious contempt for early birds and their worms---but my decision to do something with that energy was. I suited up and went for a hike.

It was a lovely night, with the temperature perfectly situated between just right and borderline nippley…cool enough to warrant further wake-up. The temperature injected some pep into my stride so I sped toward the trails, where the personal invite has, for whatever reason, always remained. "RSVP," they beg.

First it was necessary to negotiate Park City's expanding waistline. The place has exploded with growth ever since the Winter Olympics were held here back in 2002 and town is no longer town, but rather city. It's depressing, no doubt, but as they say, change is inevitable (except from vending machines); change for the better, however, is equivocal. Anyway, I always laughed to myself when I heard the name Park City but now it rings oh-so-true.

As I sauntered through various neighborhoods of McMansions and pseudo ski chalets, guided only by a dimly-lit moon and my dim-wit ambitions, my thoughts turned toward my old roommate, Steve Larsen. It's been three months since his passing, already. It's been nearly a year since Barbara Warren asked to die through a series of blinks and nods after crashing and breaking her neck during in the Santa Barbara Triathlon. Life marches on, I guess. I would too, thoughts ablaze.

In the distance I could hear a lone coyote crying out for his friends. Alas, he had none. Or none would answer. I stopped to listen and, while doing so, took a glance around. A strange, rapid-fire flicker of blue and white light emanated from every single household in the vicinity. Televisions. Apparently something good must have been on because all but two households were watching the same thing.

"What a weird world," I thought to my lonesome, watching the strobe-like lights flash in unison. "Everyone is being intrabrainously fed the same information."

"Why don't I care for that information?"

The thought made me feel isolated. A sea of stars above intensified the feeling, as did the lone coyote. His cries continued to echo off the denuded ski slopes. Panic struck and for a brief moment in time logic told me to turn back and head home…to the safety net within walls and behind locked doors, back to closed windows and "climatically controlled" air-conditioning, back to the Internet, and to television. But I've never listened to logic (or watched much TV) and so I walked on, in search of answers no one else seems to ask in this day and age, and in search of my four-legged friend.

Rest in peace Steve, Barbara.

What is Pro?

Jasper Blake, a past Ironman Canada champion and all-round nice guy, wrote an interesting piece in his blog today, basically challenging Ironman Canada organizers to either raise their professional prize purse (which has essentially remained the same for years on end, despite inflation and steeper entry fees) or drop it entirely. He's since removed the write-up (as to why, I'm not so sure, though it did come across rather irrational and illogical) but had raised a few good points in it, one of which (at least this is my take on the matter) was basically what it means to be a professional triathlete.

I've wrestled with this very theme for years. As an ex-"pro" it didn't take long for me to realize that the sport of triathlon, at least when it comes to Ironman competition, is anything but a professional sport. And why should it be? That's the question essentially posed by Jasper and here now.

Does it matter whether there is a "professional" field at a triathlon? What exactly does it bring to the race, and to the organizers? What does it bring to the other competitors? Do more spectators/potential athletes find interest in the sport because there's a pro field? Does it bring more mainstream media and exposure? Do pros provide value? How?

Over time I learned my own definition of what it meant to be "professional" and it had little to do with exposure or money or the potential for money. After all, if the sole goal were money, competing in triathlon would clearly not be the means in which to attain it.

Being pro was simply about the desire and courage and effort to become the best athlete that one was capable of becoming, whether it meant winning, losing or, after giving it an honest effort, limping away broken and broke. So while triathlon, as a sport, didn't (and continues not to) seem to care about the definition, it mattered not. At least the sport provided the platform. And while the goal may have been less tangible it was no less meaningful. Survival as a "pro" triathlete is tough but if "making a living" is all you're after you're probably in it for the wrong reasons.

And at any rate, chances are you'll survive, just as the sport will.

With or without you.

Lake Stevens 70.3 Women's Results

1 Lavelle, Becky 2/3/2 00:25:58 02:35:35 01:24:29 04:28:16
2 Wurtele, Heather 8/2/3 00:28:11 02:32:56 01:25:39 04:29:24
3 Jones, Michellie 4/4/4 00:28:02 02:36:10 01:24:37 04:31:07
4 McQuaid, Melanie 9/6/5 00:30:10 02:35:34 01:28:29 04:36:19
5 Warriner, Samantha 3/5/6 00:27:16 02:37:29 01:32:31 04:39:23
6 Corbin, Linsey 10/10/7 00:30:11 02:42:11 01:24:22 04:39:25

Nice job Heather! Her taper for the race? A five or six-hour drive on Friday.

PS: Congrats also goes out to Cindy for winning her age-group! And although I know he'll be pissed about it, I'd like to shoot out a shout-out to Mr. Twisted Disturbed, for the 2nd place performance in his age-group. Sheesh, you guys make me look like I know what I'm doing.