The Week In Pictures

Now that the weather is finally cooperating I've been able to snap some photos of the gang out training this past week. The gang at this point is Brynje Enderle (pronounced Brin-ya eN-dur-Lee...a very nice-sounding last name for an endurance athlete, not unlike Indurain or Veylupek, which means "strong like bull" in Czech) and Heather and Trevor Wurtele.

Click on the pictures for greater detail. First, though, I must sound out a warning! They may make you want to relocate to central coastal California. Yes, it really is this nice here and no, I did not "Photoshop" any of these images! To me, Photoshoppers might as well be dopers. If you have to doctor your performance, whether it's in an endurance competition or by doing so to a simple photograph, perhaps you need to rethink your chosen activity, cheater.

Paying Paybacks Back & Paying Them Forward

In training for an Ironman it's relatively easy to push yourself to the point of overdoing it. You can train too much or too intensely, or you can under-recover. You can even do all three. I myself am not training for an Ironman and yet, oddly enough, I realized today that this point can still be easily reached.

I reached it today on what was easily (bad choice of words) the hardest, most drawn-out ride I've done in the past two years. It wasn't an especially fast ride, nor was it overly challenging in a topographical sense: there were few hills to impede our progress. The wind wasn't extreme and my companions, three athletes I guide, Brynje Enderle and Trevor and Heather Wurtele, were benevolent enough to follow my coaching orders---to not drop me.

I felt as though my tires were under-inflated from the get-go, but they were not. I looked to see if my brakes were rubbing, but they were not. I stopped to check if the bearings in my hubs had seized, but they had not. My bike was fine; my excuses were finite.

The problem was me. Specifically, my stomach. Actually, I take that back. It was also my legs (or lack thereof) and my skyrocketing heart-rate, along with my will to live. All day I labored like a overloaded oxen and not just because I'm out of shape. There was something different, something more, this time. If I'm getting sick, I'll know soon enough, but it didn't feel like that. It felt like I made a bad decision to ride with these three when their "easy" was/is my "hard"…that's what it felt like. And because of this incongruity, I am now paying the price. It's been two hours since our daylong ride ended (in the dark, mind you) and my heart-rate still hovers in triple digits, three times its typical laid-back tempo.

Suicide is an option but there are actually---and I am not making this up---a few people on this planet who care about me, and one I really care about. To do that would really make her mad, I think. I even suppose Brynje, Heather and Trevor might miss me. They wouldn't have somebody to punish quite as much, just themselves. So suicide is out. Besides, I'm their boss and as they say, paybacks are hell. That payback shall be paid back. Not only that but I shall pay it forward (as I am forced to when sitting off the back all day). Even though I'm not quite sure what exactly the stunt was, they won't pulling that sh!t again, that much I'm certain of.

Tomorrow, for example:

• Weights
• Hard swim
• Hard run
• And one of the ol' coach's super secret sufferfests

It's good to be boss.

(PS: The picture was the only time I was in front all day, I swear.)

Getting Into Coaching?

This post is from comments left here on this blog a little while back. Chris was asking me how one gets into coaching.

Chris said...
I recently read your post from a few years back about coaching and for once I agree with ya :-) But I'm curious (and maybe you've answered this and I missed it), short of building an impressive racing career how does someone 1) break into coaching and 2) acquire hands on practical knowledge. Do any coaches offer mentor relationships, are there any certifications that are worth the effort or are there any collegiate programs that are worth their cost? Thanks for taking the time to respond!

Chris,
I'm not sure I know what post you're referring to, but I'm glad you agree with me...for once! It sounds as though you don't care for much else of what I write but yet you carry on reading! I'll take it as a good sign.

By the looks of it anyone can call themselves a coach in this day and age. In fact, it seems a great many of them do! So, in that sense, all you really have to do is call yourself a coach and voila!...you're a coach. The truth is, of course, is that it takes much more than that.

I think the first order is to figure out if you want to do it to make money or simply to love your new low-paying job (this, of course, refers to TRIATHLON coaching and not football or other high-paying sports). If you want to build a business it is probably best to study business rather than coaching. I understand the need for survival but coaching can be a cutthroat manner in which to attempt to achieve it. I personally coach not to survive but because I enjoy it, and I think this should be a coach's first priority, alongside bequeathing worthwhile counsel. Others think differently, of course, judging by the "empires" they've established. I've personally worked under some big name marketers and came to the conclusion that they weren't really coaches at all...or at least not at the level I'd hoped for or anticipated. I needn't name names.

As for your question about gaining experience it reminds of the job/experience argument. How do you get the job if you have no experience? And how do you gain experience if you can't get the job?

No doubt that getting into it all can be simple and it can be difficult. It was a natural progression for me after competing at a professional level for so long. I've trained alongside some big name athletes over the years, from Lance Armstrong to Mark Allen to Mike Pigg to Mark Plaatjies and I learned a TON from each of them. But even that might not have been enough if I didn't first coach as a teenager. I was 19 at the time and one of the local junior high schools needed a cross-country coach. I offered my services, which at the time were skimpy at best. Still, I was given the opportunity (and even paid a little!) and it taught me a lot about coaching. The first lesson I picked up was how differently everyone responded to an identical stimulus. So it forced me to change my thinking---just like that. There were some girls who could run everyday while others needed their efforts spaced further apart, else they'd run smack dab into stress fractures and a whole host of other ugly and avoidable problems. The boys were much the same, only they were a little whinier (this, by the way, is a trend that still holds true, right up to this very day). It may sound obvious but you'd be surprised how many college coaches hand out the same workouts...to the detriment of the athletes.

My suggestion to you, if you're serious (and it's always hard to tell whether this is the case when someone chooses to hide under the veil of Internet anonymity), is to volunteer at this sort of level, at least while starting out. There are way too many triathlon coaches today who've never even coached on-deck or on the sidelines, and I find it utterly laughable. They're good salesmen, however, and they con athletes into believing that they're good coaches. It's bad business if you ask me, but then again, I'm NOT a businessman and I'm sure they're making more money than I...so maybe it is good business.

Another thing I've found that helps...reading. Do it. A lot. I find that the more I read the better I'm able to appreciate or decipher what it is others might be trying to tell me, or the better I'm able elucidate my thoughts (or the new ones I just learned) to them. You don't have to read "How To" books or even training manuals (though it probably wouldn't hurt) but you should read all there is to know about the human condition (and there's a lot to know; so much so that you'll never finish reading!). Communication and an understanding of psychology is a big part of successful coaching, not just exercise physiology. Of course, the "You can do it" shit is nice but it doesn't show the athlete how it can be done. You need to develop your way of getting it done and then set about conveying this to the athlete. The athlete who believes in what he or she is doing is the one I'd bet on.

I also think GETTING coached can help. I've been fortunate enough to work under a wide array of coaches over the years. Some had big names and some did not. Some were good and some were not. But all of them taught me something. One thing I remember learning that will always stand out is that coaches are not gurus. They're prone to err just like anyone else and it's important to realize this. Those coaches who fail to believe this make for some of the worst trainers.

On this note, you need to let go the ego if you have any hope of being a reputable coach. Showing others you're proficient enough is one thing, but advertising it is quite another. It's probably best to leave that up to the athletes you guide. Let them be your best form of advertising because, quite frankly, they are. There's little point in advertising if you don't have a product or service worth selling! The ego is NOT necessary in coaching (or even in athletics, believe it or not) and is, in fact, only a detriment. You can't learn much when you already know it all, and believing you do is a sure-fire approach to becoming an unemployed coach.

As for the whole Internet coaching thing, I am free to admit that I generally despise it. In my mind it's a poor substitute for eye-to-eye or face-to-face coaching. Sure, as an athlete, you can learn a lot from afar or from reading. But as a coach the learning process is severely impacted. If you want to learn to be the best coach you can be you need to be in close proximity to those you work "with". Otherwise you're just a stranger writing arbitrary schedules or training plans, looking at a bunch of numerical responses. You can, however, learn how to look for various signs and responses and then develop your ways in which to figure them out from afar, but I'd say that it pays to be a decent writer and/or phone user if you're going to coach in this manner. Ideally, you'd want to meet your athletes at races or at a "hand's-on" or "mano e mano" camp and establish a bond as early as possible. Then you could get a better idea of who they really are, and what their weaknesses truly are. All said, while modern technology makes coaching (or dating!) from afar a little easier (video analysis, training software, power and/or heart rate data, etc) it still lacks in true human interaction. And that's when coaching is most effective and enjoyable.

So, in a nutshell...

1) Go coach wherever you can. Soccer, little league, swimming, personal training, etc. All these activities can (and will) teach you a lot.
2) Read. Learn. Develop.
3) Get coached. Listen. Learn. Confer. Question.
4) Be true to your athletes.
5) Be true to yourself.
6) Be true to what works.

-Chuckie

What I Can Tell About Wurtele

I've learned a few things about Trevor and Heather in the past few days.

One. They are competitive sorts. Not just in their chosen profession, but in most everything they set out to do. Neither of them likes losing...which completely contradicts their association with a loser like me, but we won't go there just now (then again, anyone who hangs out with me can't help but feel like a winner...). Most interestingly, however, is the fact that they are competitive with one another, despite their obvious differences (one of them is male, while the other is female, for example). A few days ago I had them swim a "Pursuit" race here at our beautiful Lompoc Aquatic Center, where they each started at opposing walls and tried to chase one another down while swimming circular in a single swim lane. They are evenly matched and it showed to be a good race on paper. Indeed, this is how it turned out and when he finally corralled Heather (which, sorry Trevor, I had not predicted) Trevor was rewarded by designing her next swim workout, up to 5 kilometer's worth. Trevor was modest in his victory but I know deep down he's quite satisfied to have stomped his authority this early in the game. I'm sure he's already come up with a vicious swim workout for poor Heather. Meanwhile, I'm equally as sure she is just toying with him.

Two. Trevor speaks fluent French. This is good since I am fluent in a number of languages as well: mostly what is known as "Bullsh!t". When not speaking Gibberish or Nonsense or Claptrap or Humbug or Bunkum or Twaddle or Drivel I speak loads of Bullsh!t and Trevor can easily decipher (and thus ignore) it all.

Three. They are TALL. At 6'7", I am not exactly vertically challenged myself (the ladies particularly like the 7"), but these two tower above the likes of me. (Quick English Lesson 101: "the likes of me" is a pathetic phrase and a waste of perfectly good words. A simple "me" would've have sufficed. However, to keep the reader on his or her toes, assuming the one reader reading this has toes, the author wanted to add some spice to the aforementioned, albeit butchered, sentence.) Anyway, if Heather and Trevor ever decide to have children (and I have NO idea how this works), the little sh!ts won't be so little and will dominate in basketball, volleyball, tennis, swimming or any other sport where height is considered an advantage. As to whether triathlon fits this designation, I'm not so sure. My theory is that the taller you are, the shorter it is to get to where you are going. If you were a hundred feet tall an Ironman would likely not be so difficult. Sorry all you midgets.

Four. Both are "talented". "Talented", to me, means having chosen the right parents, who were also fortuitous enough to have chosen the right parents, and so on. Untalented people like myself managed to pick parents whose combined IQs total that of Trevor's shoe size. I'm still mad at them both (my parents, not his shoes).

Five. Modest. Both of them put the 'mo' in modest (to be certain, I'm not sure what the 'dest' is). For example, when Heather crushed the competition at Ironman Coeur d'Alene last year she looked puzzled and pleasantly surprised (it was no suprise to her coach). Upon crossing the finish line she asked aloud, "Excuse me. I hate to bother you, but did I do both laps of the marathon?" Their modesty is not unlike my own manner of thinking. For example, not only am I great and awesome and intellegent and fast and sexy and downright debonair, but I also share their extreme humbleness. It's no wonder we get along.

Six. They can keep the hacky sack airborne for minutes at a stretch. By this point, I have pulled more muscles than I care to list, just bending down to pick the damn thing up every time it comes my way. Not only that but those stupid beanbags HURT when they hit you at full force. I never really knew the rules of hacky sack but apparently Canadians are allowed to throw the thing at you from point blank, as though it were a hockey puck. At least this is what the two keep telling me. I should have a pretty good shiner for at least a week.

Seven. And this is the only thing that annoys their coach. They have yet to fully learn what "easy" means. "Zone one," I tell them, "is stupid easy, like you're almost wasting your time." Zone one, of course, is not a waste of time. It is what easy recovery swim drills are to butterfly. It's bike touring compared to time-trailing. It's walking compared to all-out 400 repeats. It is not a heart-rate or a power output (though these can be utilized to set strict caps) but rather an effort without effort. It is what we experts call "active recovery", and at the top levels in sport there is no recovery but the kind you actively pursue.

I thought by now fatigue would have prevented them from wanting to push any harder than they had to, but I was sorely mistaken and am, in fact, still sore-ly mistaken. Now, all this aside, since it's still very much their base phase I'm okay with them embracing the gray; the more training time spent in zone 2-3, the better. Soon, however, they'll need to either rip down the road or putt down it; to escape the gray and go black or white, all or none! If they can't putt down the road easily they'll never be able to do so at their highest efforts. This very subject will eventually lead to a blog, methinks: the importance of taking it easy. Active recovery is the name of the game. As usual, Alan Couzens beat me to the punch and wrote about this in his latest blog. People, if you're not reading his stuff, I pity you.

Anyway, I have learned 'mo' about the two (Mac users) (cat lovers...yikes) (avid readers) (outdoorsy types) and I am sure to learn mo yet. Mo, mo, mo. Just like the training they're doing. Now pardon me while I go tend to my black eye.

All or None

It's a quantal affair, with just two choices. All or none. Get busy living or get busy dying.

For the most part, the former is how I aspire to live my life. I wake from my dreams each day, yawn, scratch my privates, pick the eye crust out (yes, after scratching myself) and then go try to find the bathroom. Once there I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. But after solving the matter at hand (in hand), I retrace my route and head back to bed.

Some might say that such a life is a "waste" or "completely lacks purpose" and to them I say, "Shush, I'm trying to sleep."

But when I rise for the second coming, I do so in earnest, with all the fervor and expeditiousness of a three-toed sloth. After a luke-cold shower and an unshod, undressed sprint, in which my sole aim is to retrieve the newspaper before a neighborly neighbor catches glimpse, I am equipped to face the day. Whether or not it's ready to face me, I'm not sure.

You see, I am an all-or-none guy. I live life with gusto. I am gung ho. I am enthused and enthusiastic. I kick ass and take names, even when I cannot pronounce those names or don't know where I'm taking them. I just do it. I make it happen. I believe that impossible is nothing, and then some. I make onions cry. If you're a boat, I will rock you. If you're about, I will mock you. I am ambitious and amphibious. I put the strain in restraint, the laughter in manslaughter. I keep my cool, even though there's more than enough of it to go around. I am intensely intense and passionately passionate, times infinity plus one (point five) (give or take). No man is an island, but I have a long peninsula. I have a tattoo of a tattoo being tattooed on me. I have lit farts with the Olympic Torch, some of which were even my own. I am public enemy number seven or eight, though it could be nineteenth (I don't keep track). I rage against the machine, that is when I can get the damn thing started. I don't follow suit, nor do I wear one. I am unwittingly witty. The sun never sets on me (otherwise I'm sure I'd have some third degree burns, and I don't). I don't just seize the day, I squeeze the day. Nighttime too: Carpe pm! I eat the rich with plasticware and then s(p)(h)it 'em both out. I pee in the pool. I drink paint thinner by the gallon. I never beg to differ. I possess the eye of the tiger, only I use a magnifying glass. For me, eating humble pie is a piece of cake. I can outthink myself. I can watch 60-Minutes in half an hour. God and Chuck Norris both ask my advice. Women swoon. I am the devil's attorney. I am legend. I tip cows back up. I clearcut the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I do all my own stunts. I refuse medication and yet re-use it. I am faultless to a fault. I am pointless to a point. I do things full ass. I am toothless but toothsome, handy but handsome. I take the fun out of everything (and keep it all to myself). My pen is mightier than a swordfish who tries to write with it. I do crossword puzzles in pen. When it's mine, I heed advice. I break new ground but leave no trace. I sleep in my talk. I'm the life of the party I never even attend. I am the devil's advocate's advocate. I don't tell time; I command it. My to-do list was done at birth. I live vicariously through me. I learned my lesson, because I taught it. I set the stage, but cannot recall where. I am the master of disaster relief. I can ride my bike with no handlebars. I don't take showers; they're already mine. I run with scissors.

And then I realize it was all but a dream as I make my way to the bathroom for real, but not before picking the crust out of my eyes and not before scratching myself where the sun doesn't shine, despite the fact that the sun is already at its apex when all this happens.

This, I'm telling you, is the life of luxury. All or none, as always.

Dammit. Out of toilet paper again.

As I See Fit

With one full week in the no-work/new-work training bank, Heather and Trevor have settled into their new work routine in fine fettle. Their new work doesn't involve a desk or a lab but instead revolves around their bodies' responses and not some uninformed calendar or clock that forces them to disassociate their requirements. And while they may wake up earlier than their bodies might like---thanks to Lompoc's ludicrous pool hours and a cranky insomniac coach who forces it upon them---they're able to fit naps in whenever they see fit. They see fit often and will do so more and more. But here's the thing: when you see fit, you get fit. And when you get fit, you are fit. And when you are fit, you lay down the law come race day, no matter what the calendar says.

Oh, and about the calendar. Today is Friday the 13th, a day that is believed to bring bad luck or no luck or something like that. But I don't see it this way (and not just because of this damn hockey mask obscuring my view). If you're lucky enough to be alive, there are no bad luck days, particularly ones that fall on a Friday. Basically, I don't believe in stitions, let alone super ones. One superstition I might believe in, however, is the old 'apple a day keeps the doctor away'. So far I've ingested enough apples to keep the poor pickers working nights and, well, I'll be damned if I haven't needed to see a doctor yet in life.

Knock on wood.

Yin/Yang

One of the athletes I coach is a dude named Ryan Denner, as "seen" in the video below. He's a busy guy, always having somewhere else to be it seems. Despite this flaw, the ladies love him and he and I fully connect. You see, he is busy not simply to stay busy or to impress (the ladies) but to achieve some lofty goals in life. And yet, this still isn't the reason we connect.

We connect because he knows how to disconnect.

This disconnect is so hard for so many athletes, and so many people, to grasp. They cannot disconnect from society, from their training numbers, from electricity, from their preconceived notions, from Boulder, from themselves. But Denner gets it. He sees both the trees and the forest, not to mention everything else within the forest and all that surrounds it. A recluse cannot do this and nor can a societal slave. The societal slave knows only society and so in truth doesn't know it at all. You can't fully come to terms with something unless you know its antagonist, its counterbalance, it yang.

Yin/Yang
Good/Bad
Success/Failure
Black/White
Happy/Sad
Science/Faith
Peace/Chaos
Fast/Slow
Night/Day
Work/Play
Ryan/Ryan

When you see the world in only one way, you are blind. Most people are myopic and therefore completely blind. Religious types and Americans are especially afflicted, it seems. Ask another of the athletes I guide, Andrew Gowans from South Africa, what he thinks about this and I'm willing he too "gets it". He knows there is nothing to get, and you either get it or you don't.

The Yin/Yang symbol above represents this. It is basically the understanding of how things work. The outer circle is everything, while the black and white polliwog-looking creatures swimming around in the middle represent the interaction of two energies, the yin and the yang, the black and the white, the good and the bad, which essentially cause "everything" to happen. Of course, thanks to their "eyes", these polliwogs are not completely black or white, just as most everything in life isn't completely black or white. But even if they were they could not exist without one another. They need each other to strike a balance, just as you need air to breathe. Finally, the polliwogs would completely lose their meaning if they were both gray. There are two extremes to every story and the truth lies somewhere in the middle, in the gray. The gray might be darker or lighter but it is clearly gray. And of course if it were all gray, it would be black or it would be white and there'd be no balance.

We should all aim to be so fortunate and sagacious and balanced as Andrew and Ryan, to laugh at ourselves while taking ourselves seriously, to congratulate ourselves while berating ourselves, to work and play at the same instance, to live and yet know that at the very same moment we are dying. Get busy living and get busy dying. Because anyway, as it stands, from the second you are born, you're always doing a little both. Lean down the middle, and to both sides.

Day One Report Card

Trevor and Heather are, without a doubt, troopers. The property they were/are to park their RV on is a giant quagmire right now, so they're forced to wait it out, parking where they can: the local Wally-World, behind the library, down by the river…you name it. Waiting it out could mean doing so for a while, alas, as the forecast is looking downright downcast, with no less than ten days of this utter nonsense laid out before us. Go figure, eh? I plan to slap God with a lawsuit on this one. But again, these two don't seem to mind at all and are simply excited to get their training going in style…or out.

Today was our first "real" day. First up was an hour forty-five swim workout, with a brutal main ingredient…

800 timed, all-out
8 x 100s on 10-seconds, attempting to beat T800 time.
600 timed, all-out
6 x 100s on 10-seconds, attempting to beat T600 time.
400 timed, all-out
4 x 100s on 10-seconds, attempting to beat T400 time.
200 timed, all-out
2 x 100s on 10-seconds, attempting to beat T200 time.

Heather started a bit too hurriedly and paid a price when the T400 rolled around. I decided to remove her from the remainder of the workout when her 4 x 100s couldn't match her 400 time, despite the full recovery between the two sets and the rest after each of the 4 x 100s. But in the end all she missed was 400 of the entire workout, which hovered around 5K. The two both claimed to have never swum as far or as hard but by the looks of it, they're ABSOLUTE LIARS! In my estimation they hung without much difficulty, just some early ill-pacing. On that note, here's a simple pacing equation I learned years ago…

Start fast…die fast.
Start smart…dodge that death part.

Now the goal is to add up their times from the entirety of this set (4K) and see if they can beat it again in a couple of weeks. If not, it's only due to all the fatigue they will have accrued from this rude dude in a mood. (Mwahahahaaaaa!!!!)

After the swim it was time for a ride, as pictured. Two hours staring at a blank wall is not only monotonous but also quite simply torturous. In this sense, it's perfect Ironman training. About halfway through I placed my 'Carpe Diem' sign in front of them for a dose of motivation, but they hardly seemed to require it. And while Heather and Trevor seized the day riding in place, I seized it by working on some oft-neglected chores around the house, none of which actually came close to reaching completion status. I like knowing I can seize the day everyday.

A lengthy trail run completed their first official training day, a day that easily earns them a passing grade. Trevor commented that he never usually runs "this slow" as I was leading the charges (at full-bore, mind you). It was the second time he alluded to the pace at which I expect him to do most his running for the next few weeks, so I kindly reminded him that the (soon-to-be jacked-up) volume alone will "take care of that concern in no time at all, maybe even quicker."

I'll see how he feels in a few days, after riding up some of our local inclines in his microscopic 23-tooth rear cog-set. All I can do as coach is smile and shake my head. Three days. Of course, DOMS (Delayed Onset Muscle Sufferage) often only takes just two days, which might just be enough time for me to finish my chores.

Carpe Diem, Rain or Shine

Damn you Heather and Trevor, bringing the wet weather with you like that!

For close to two months it has been no less than absolutely stellar here, with but a few wispy clouds and an endless chain of record high temperatures. But as luck would have it, with their arrival comes the "inclement" weather. The funny thing, though, is that they haven't even noticed. Inclement, my ass.

Time to harden the f%^# up, Chuckie.

If coaches aren't hard, their athletes will never be. Carpe diem, rain or shine.

Bike Amore

Even when I used to train and race for a living, and deal with all the struggles that such a lifestyle necessitates, I loved riding my bike. In this sense it's never been "training". Thanks to the bicycle, no matter where I was, I was right where I wanted to be. By pedaling, I wasn't aiming to be somewhere else but rather in a different personal condition. You see, the bicycle, to me, provides the perfect amalgamation between man and machine, yet without removing the rider from his or her surrounding environs. And it's the sublime, surreal, scenic environs---inside or out---that I seek most. By "inside" I don't mean indoors, of course; I mean within my very soul.

Soon after discovering the bicycle as a pre-teen I came to the realization that I wasn't hopping on it to take flight to or from anything so much as to take flight. I was out to seek something within. That something, whatever it was, transcended words, and still does. As a teenager I'd end up pedaling solo across the country and most the way back, and I remember thinking the whole way that I wished ours was a bigger country. And when I became a competitive bike racer it wasn't solely about being comparatively strong atop the pedals but rather the process involved. There has never been a grander invention, though sailboats, rowboats, surfboards, nordic skis and snowshoes all come pretty close. They all assist in the pilgrimage within.

Places like the one shown here make me especially love riding, even when I'm not riding at all…and instead just gabbing away in front of the video camera. "Bike assisted hiking," I call it. Along with getting lost in the mountains on foot or on the end of a rope, I live for it.

Okay, you've been warned: I, um, "sing" in this...

Reads

The picture here represents roughly 15% of my book collection that falls under the broad categories of "endurance sports" and "nutrition", which comprises about 15% of my entire library. I've read them all and then some (I've actually worn out my last library card!). While other coaches are training themselves or marketing themselves or busy getting certified or delving deep into exercise physiology I am reading or---get this---coaching.

So, what have I learned?

Well, for one thing, I learned that reading a lot makes your eyes hurt and your posture turn to sh!t. No, in all honesty, there's some good stuff that has been unearthed in this library. Here's a sliver of the sequoia I've harvested...

Lydiard was ahead of his time, and may still be even after his death. Tim Noakes is severely under appreciated and will one day win a Nobel Prize. Exercise physiology textbooks place too much emphasis on lab results and not real world ones; let life be your lab. Jack Daniels, we deserve more! Maffetone is as quirky in print as he is in person. The world is outside. Kearns actually believes Lance was clean! Joe Friel needs to do an Ironman. The Art of War is the shit. Jan Olbrecht is brilliant. Be you. Chris Carmichael and Dr. Michael Colgan both need to tone down the sales pitch a notch. Eat real (recently alive) food. We need more coaches like Brad Hudson. Livingstone provided me with more Lydiard insight. Matt Fitzgerald can write but needs to follow his own advice. Ray Browning should come back to triathlon. There are a lot of books for beginners that can't---or don't---achieve what the Internet can, though they make searching easier. Tinley, I fear you're losing us but write to the end, old friend! N=1, though you and I are more alike than we are different. Jeff Galloway was a better runner than writer, but he was a damn good runner. Bompa wrote the bible...for anaerobic activities. Reading about success often delays the process in finding it. Peter Janssen needs to update his work. Eddie B, my first coach, my first cycling book, well...we need more like you. Michael Pollan can really write. Reading about swimming is tougher than learning to swim. Peter Coe=yes. Cedaro=whoa. Terry Orlick is another must, while anything labeled "101" or "for beginners" is a bust, including this one with some UGLY dude on the cover. Pfitzinger works for me. Be in the moment, no matter how boring it may be. Millman is worth a look, but not worth all those follow-up books. Train lots. Brad Lewis: indeed. Wooden: a must-read. George Dallam...finally, a good triathlon training manual! Read more. Jerry Lynch is a favorite, while Lao-Tzu is the ultimate.

There are plenty of others, but I've got to get back to reading. Any recommendations?

PS: I have spent the vast majority of my life's income on two things---food and books. I'm still hungry for both.

Styling & Smiling with Stuart Sato

A couple days back, when the world seemed at a standstill, I rode with another athlete I guide, a 52 year-old dentist from Santa Barbara named Stuart Sato. The two of us rode hard. Or I did anyway. I suspect his pace setting was just a ploy to get me into his office, as I was gritting and grinding my molars down to a fine powder, in a desperate attempt to hang on to his back wheel throughout the ride. Next time I'll combat it by wearing one of these. (I swear, it was her decision to wear it.)

Stuart was the athlete to whom I sent the caveman workout mentioned in a recent blog. In fact, this was that workout. The goal we were after was for him to ride hard enough to be fast (as determined by the two of us) but not so hard as to compromise his ability to run strong off the bike. Minus a brief bout with cramping, he achieved this in fine fettle and is indeed honed-in to the effort needed to accomplish this in future workouts. On race day he'll need to apply this skill as it's easy to overdo it on the bike, no thanks to all the early excitement race day provides, the energy tapering affords, and an elevated level of fitness heading into the event. Ego is also typically a problem (when improper pacing occurs) but Stuart is a humble, modest man and would never fall into that trap. He'll leave that up to all the idiots in the 25-29 and 30-34 age-groups.

On another note, I train two triathletes beyond the age of 50, Stuart and another local loco named Jesse Leyva, who's getting back into the sport after a long, long layoff. Both are tremendously fast dudes but each of them is inhibited not by their ability to motor but by their respective (though not self-respectful) chassis's. In a future blog I plan to write a little about working with older athletes, or those whose capacity to recover isn't what it once was. (This, I'm starting to learn, is a trend that befalls us all. Dammit!)