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. And anyway, I made it to today and today is the tomorrow I was so worried about yesterday.

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 continued my noctivagant ways 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 moxie 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.

Injuries don't Just Happen

It's not easy to read the last three or four blogs that Matt Fitzgerald has written. It's not that he's suddenly decided to write poorly for the first time ever, or that he calls me bad names (which I would understand, quite truthfully). Nor is it through the use of a bunch of weird words with scores of syllables and hidden meanings. It's hard to read because he touches on a subject I don't ever care to relive, but one I must occasionally deal with as a coach.

Matt is a beaten down man, mostly because of an innate and unquenchable desire to perform well at a silly little (well, not so little) triathlon, so he can qualify for the big dance in Kona. But as "fate" would have it his head is writing checks his body can't cash---specifically his Achilles tendon, his knees and his __________(fill in the blank). Injuries have left him sidelined and missing out on what he loves doing most: running, cycling and swimming.

So there on his little corner of the wireless world he's opened his wounds for all to see and read. Advice, of course, poured in.

As is usually the case with the injured athlete, Matt freely admitted that anger immediately surfaced (this, as expected; first comes denial, then anger, then disappointment, then acceptance, and then, hopefully, the drive to solve the issue{s}). And while I tend to think that anger is a necessary element of athletic performance (particularly at the top end of sport), there's definitely good anger and bad anger. And anger caused by injury is never good (unless, perhaps, you're cage-fighting a chimpanzee).

Because he's such a nice guy and offers so much to the sport, one can't help but hope that Matt flips a quick U-turn. But I fear he won't (after two and a half decades in sport I've come to know the type). Not only does he appear to harness too much of the wrong kind of anger but he also seems a trifle impatient, and while the former may be a helpful ingredient for success as an endurance athlete, the latter never helps. When injured, the endurance athlete must make use of his time and shift his or her focus on to solving the problem and not just feeling sorry for himself or asking "Why me?" or trying to work his troubles out during subsequent workouts. Often, time is all it takes, and time is something we know we have but worry we don't.

Contrary to what Matt writes injuries don't just happen. They happen for a reason (and often times, because of a number of reasons...as is the case with him, what with a number of injuries). The athlete who can see through his rage and watery-eyed disappointment, and through his own stumbling subjectiveness, is the athlete who can begin to solve them.

I should know. I was one of them.

The Young Pro Triathlete’s Guide to Survival

From someone who's "been there"...

1) Consider the sport a hobby until you can generate enough income through it, but treat your hobby dead serious.
2) Generate enough income else how, whether through mooching, coaching (hell, everyone else is doing it!), or by---God forbid---getting a REAL JOB.!!!
3) Solicit financial assistance, whether through sponsorship, mom and dad or your soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend. See #2 above. Make it worth their while and be sure to pay them back or the "ex" thing will be assured.
4) Keep your expenses low. Live in your car. No car? Live in a friend's car! And eat in.
5) Enter only the races that pay. Stop cherry-picking at events that feed only your ego. See #11 below.
6) Race competitively. Don't participate when you're not going to be competitive.
7) Aim to gain experience, despite the two aforementioned recommendations.
8) Bond with other pro triathletes and create a union. Or continue fighting for scraps. (Admittedly, this is like herding feral cats.)
9) Train wisely. See #10 below. Improve your weaknesses, whether they're in the sport, the wallet or in your head. By the way, they're not limiters, they're weaknesses.
10) Hire a competent coach, or, better yet, a SET of competent advisers. (Depending on your goals, I know of about half a dozen or so qualified individuals here in North America, though there may be one or two more; do your research.) If the mean$ aren't there, strike a deal that's beneficial to both parties. Two heads are better than one, especially when one of them isn't yours. Find out who coaches those beating you and then find a better coach.
11) Drop the ego. Ours is a niche sport, known only to us. Our numbers, while growing, are insignificant…just like you. Bite your tongue 'til it bleeds; pry open your ears 'til they bleed.
12) Ask questions and read all you can (but use caution on forums; they're filled with terrible advice from anonymous and well-known sources). Be a student of the sport. Respect your elders. Reread #11.
13) Understand not just your physiological responses to training but your psychological responses as well. See #10 and #11.
14) The choice to be an "elite" is yours and yours only. It is a CHOICE. If you feel entitled to anything just because you are a pro, you are anything but pro. Look. At the top level triathlon is a job, akin to any other kind of hard physical work, only all other kinds of hard physical work pale in comparison and nobody deserves to write you a check; don't ever lose sight of this. Read #15.
15) Don't do this half-ass or your results will be half-chance. Do everything full-ass, as the line in my band's magnum opus goes. The clock is unforgiving, as is your competition. And thus they should be. Pro triathlon is a mean business; you need to mean business.
16) Give it time. Stay the course.
17) Learn to love to kick ass. Love learning to kick ass.
18) Know that somewhere out there somebody is out-working you: now, then and then again.

PS: I leave you with some quotes, courtesy of yours truly...

Success isn't just sweet; it is SWEAT. And the sweatier it is, the sweeter it is.

Inflict pain on yourself when training, so you can inflict it on others when racing.

Train hard and it'll make you hard…and you'll be hard to beat. Train too hard and you weren't training hard enough. Harden up.

Oh, and finally...one should always play fairly when there is no risk of losing.

Performance

Extending Yourself (by 7 Kilometers)

I'm not sure of the event name or its low-budget website but this morning Heather and Trevor took part and parted waters in a 7-kilometer open-water swim race near Kelowna, BC, in that big beautiful body of water known as Lake Okanagan. A few weeks back they asked my thoughts on the matter, whether doing the event was wise…or otherwise. At first I thought otherwise but then did some excogitating and changed my mind.

"Why not?" I replied a day or two later.

"Cool!" Trevor wrote back.

I've said it before (e.g., the last paragraph here) but I'll say it again: in training it's important to set out some big challenges every once in a while, ones that test the athlete in new and different ways. Sticking to routine can only develop routine results. We must extend ourselves from time to time and hope to God we don't drown in the process. And then we must recover enough to ask ourselves, "What the hell were we thinking?"

I look forward to hearing what the hell they were thinking! (And I take no part in the decision!)

When Nice Days are a Problem

Riding indoors is a form of punishment, whether self-inflicted or otherwise. Since I'm not a mean coach (this is debatable, I suppose) I typically have athletes ride outdoors when given the choice. After all, most triathlons take place al fresco. The thing is there are some advantages to riding indoors that cannot always be had in the "real world", primarily in having the ability to control the workout without interruption.

For this reason I wanted Angela to ride indoors this morning. The problem was that it was a nice day outside (if this can be considered a problem) (I personally think they're all nice days when spent outside, regardless of the weather).

She was not pleased with the decision, my decision, and argued valiantly---"It's 80 degrees outside!"---but to no avail.

We struck a compromise and set her up on my back patio, so she could at least see that it was a nice day. Here she is approaching her third hour of riding in place, doing her best to ignore her coach.

Ouch.

PS: Don't ask what the bucket is for.

To Endure

It's pretty easy to "endure" long bike rides or runs when you enjoy them like I do. After all, you really wouldn't be enduring something if it were also endearing. To "endure" makes it sound as though you abhor what you are doing, that you are being victimized. Naturally there are plenty of things in life to be "endured". Work, homework, traffic, in-laws, boring people, lines at the grocery store and the dentist (no offense, Stuart) all come to mind. Hell, I don't even like having to endure my own appearance but at this stage in life I've pretty much resigned myself to it…I'm not going to suddenly wake up good-looking after all these years. C'est la vie, Chuckie V.

But back to my point. To "endure" something that you find endearing changes everything. The enjoyment you obtain from enduring self-imposed suffering outweighs---or should outweigh---any struggle involved. And so the word "endure" takes on a whole new meaning. And this is where triathlons and triathlon training come into play. We do them because they are exactly that: play.

Still, our choice of play comes awfully close to resembling work and so it is we must endure, if not always, certainly quite often! To "endure" in triathlon is simply a matter of hanging in there and making it to the end, whether that end is the end of a hard interval or a hard workout or a series of hard workouts or the end of a hard race (all races, by the way, should be hard...especially since the real race is the one against yourself). Often times, making it to the end of a workout is not easy to endure but then nothing should be, else you're not enduring it. I know this much: rarely is making it to the end of an Ironman easy to endure. (Of course, what is hard to endure is often pleasant to recall.)

So what is it about endurance? Why do we choose to endure something, anything?

That, I fear, is beyond the scope of this piddley little blog and perhaps best left for the philosophers to discuss. I'd join them but then I can hardly endure those types. Unfortunately, I am one of those types. And just as it is with my appearance, I'm forced to endure that…and not by choice.

PS: Of this I am sure: to succeed all you must do is endure.