The Effect of Eric Ryback

Back when I was a prepubescent whipper-snapper, I didn't read much. As far as I was concerned, books were for nerds. Plus, they simply involved too much work; if I wanted to learn about someone else's story I'd wait for the movie. Only stories good enough to become movies were worthwhile anyway, I figured.

One book I did read, however, would change my life from there forward. It was called The High Adventure of Eric Ryback, written way back in 1970 by a 17-year old boy named, well, Eric Ryback. The story was of his epic adventure along the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT), the first time anyone had ever hiked it in one go. He would do so in solo fashion. Weighing in at 130 pounds and lugging a 75-pound backpack for much of the way, Ryback had no guidebook to guide him and, for the most part, no trail to guide him! The trail in those days, you see, was more of a theory than it was an actual footpath.

How the book landed in my hands a decade or more later, I cannot recall. How I ended up actually opening it I also cannot recall. How I ended up reading it in its entirety I can easily recall. The book captivated me like nothing I'd ever read before. (Never mind that I had read nothing before it!) Then, a year or two after reading the best-seller, I was hiking near Echo Lake, just south of Lake Tahoe in Northern California near where I attempted to grow up, when my buddy Jon Sadler told me about the trail we'd been hiking over for the past day---the Pacific Crest Trail.

"If we keep going this way," he said, "we'll end up in Canada."

"If we turn around and head south, we'll end up in Mexico."

I knew at that very moment I would one day do the trail (not knowing, quite honestly, that it would take far more than one day!).

So, anyway, long segue aside, this weekend I stepped away from my usual triathlon duties and partook in an event that celebrates the Pacific Crest Trail and those who have hiked it. More individuals have stepped atop Mount Everest than have hiked the entire PCT, but there were nearly 300 of us thru-hikers in attendance, one of whom went by the name of Eric Ryback, now about 58 years of age.

I HAD to meet him and approached while he wasn't being mobbed by other hikers. As I'm sure had been the case all weekend with other hikers, I told him of the effect his book had on me---that it would forever alter my life. As we talked I learned much about the man. He had been the first to hike all three major long trails in this country (the other two being the Appalachian Trail and the Continental Divide Trail) and then, just like that, walked away from long-distance hiking (so to speak). He would become a broker and never give the Pacific Crest Trail a second thought.

Of course, the PCT doesn't really allow for that.

In fact, when I first hiked it I did so to "get it out of my system". Naturally, all it did was get INTO my system (along with all the junk food necessary to sustain the hike) and I would be forced to do it again (as I will assuredly be so and do so again!). And so here Ryback was some forty years later. He'd never forgotten about his adventure, of course, but moved on to the rest of his life, as life often dictates.

Thankfully, he had been hunted down by other past PCT hikers and was asked if he cared to join in on the fun and witness the culture that he helped to create. And so here he was, chatting with some ex-pro triathlete guy, cordially answering his never-ending questions. Eric, ever the gentleman, would respond to each and even asked me as many, even as a line of hikers grew behind me. When I mentioned that it took me years to finally attempt the trail because of a little side-step known as triathlon, his ears perked up. It turns out that Eric Ryback, my childhood hero, is competing in Ironman Saint George this coming Saturday, his first Ironman! The tables had turned and the line of questioning was now directed at me!

I told Ryback everything he needed to hear---not to try anything new now and to just enjoy the week ahead---and for that he seemed grateful. Of course, he knew as much already but was appreciative of what I could offer. It was all I could do, after everything he had done for me. I'll be cheering him on as much or more so as those I coach! Just as it was on the Pacific Crest Trail his goal is simply to complete it.

It's a noble one, methinks.

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PS: I've received more comments than I'd ever imagined I would after my last blog's post script. Nearly every single one was positive. Thanks for that. I'll be responding to as many of the questions within them (in regards to training) in coming weeks. Now that triathlon (and hiking) season is here I suspect I'll be a bit slow to do so, so please forgive me in advance.

Big Wednesday

If I had my druthers every athlete I tutor would get/take Wednesdays off. Off from work, that is; their training would be anything but off! They'd be dealt a midweek challenge to augment the usual one or two (or three or four) they face each weekend. It could be branded Big Wednesday or Black Wednesday. You see, it's wise to space harder workouts (i.e., "challenges") apart but with the typical age-group athlete this isn't always so facile or feasible.

We coaches space "important" workouts apart (though not always) to allow for recovery and development. And it takes time to recover (and thus develop). In general, and because of the "abusive" nature of the activity, it takes longest to recover from running. So a few easy days may be in order following a challenging run. Cycling, of course, is less abusive than is running but characteristically demands more recovery time than does swimming. Knowing this about yourself (and whether it all seems to hold true) can allow you to set up a training schedule that works for you and this is just about Rule # 1 for me as a coach, after getting to know the individual.

(With the above paragraph in mind, and to expound upon all this a little further, a strong age-grouper might, for example, run hard once every four days, ride hard once every three days and swim hard every other day, with a "floating" {flexible} rest day sandwiched somewhere within. The rest of the training load would be "filler" and/or active recovery type of training, which, as you should know by now, is imperative.)

Anyway, here are a few ways one coach (the guy writing this blog) (me) combats his athletes not having Wednesdays off from work (Sonja notwithstanding). Keep in mind almost every athlete I guide is an Ironman or stage racer or ultra-runner type of individual (read: nuts). I no longer coach couch potatoes or cigarette smokers or fat people trying to lose weight. Crack addicts, maybe. But you'd have to ask them that. John?

1) To 'free up' their weekend for two longer, harder rides (which I deem essential much of the year) I have most those I guide do their "weekly long run" midweek, since long runs aren't nearly as time-consuming as long rides or brick workouts. Often (particularly in winter and spring), this long run is done in the dark, before or after work. Or it might occur indoors on a treadmill. Or I might even have the athlete divide it into two or three more chronologically convenient ones. At any rate, it's a schedule shift that I'm sold on, and with years of success to show for it. The whole 'Saturday long ride, Sunday long run' thing does not necessarily make sense. And sometimes we should probably make sense.

2) Throughout the week I swim them what is technically known as "a lot", in addition to running them a comparable amount. (Again, both activities tend to be less time-guzzling than bike rides.)

3) Due to necessity, I condense the bike workout(s) that "must" occur midweek. Of course the catch is that these efforts are quite often HARD, so much so that weekends are eagerly anticipated, and just not because the athlete doesn't have to spend time at the office and deal with their dickhead boss or fellow employees, but because training becomes enjoyable again! Here's a sample main set: 20 x 1-minute "on" + 1-minute "off" followed by 20 x 30-seconds "on" + 30-seconds "off" followed by 20 x 15-seconds "on" + 15-seconds "off". "On" is as hard as the athlete can go while "off" is easy enough to keep the power up above 85% of their first few "on”"efforts. If they can't do that, they often get to try again a day later!

I am not always a likeable coach, at least not until after the finish line. (Lickable, perhaps.)

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PS: On a serious note I've noticed that each time I post a blog entry as of late---one I may even be personally quite proud of---I receive an ever-increasing amount of criticism and cynicism, in addition to the usual abundance of advertisers and spammers. Though I know I shouldn't, I cannot help but take these comments personally and will thus likely be disabling this function in the future. Most folks are perhaps not angry at me personally (though they certainly come across this way) so much as what I evoke in them. This is not this blog's aim (which is to educate, to enlighten and to entertain. Am I qualified for this? I'll let the reader decide) and I apologize to those who feel it this way. I haven't the time to respond to every comment I receive, nor the skills (or desire) to defend myself.

My Thoughts are Swimming

Recently I joined coaching forces with the gang at Endurance Corner, as I have great respect for the knowledge and experience that can be had within their ever-expanding network. Essentially, EC's coaches (Gordo, Alan, Justin, et al) and I all see eye-to-eye on a vast number of triathlon-related "issues", namely in keeping a positive learning---and performance related---environment. The information shared on the forum alone is absolutely invaluable and I do my part to pipe in when I have something of value to add. (Needless to say, I don't pipe in too often.) I'm not sure if there's room for more athletes at this time---from what I understand, they're already dealing with some growing pains!---but I strongly suggest joining Endurance Corner. Conversely, you could try to peek in from the outside, which of course is not a bad place to be though the vantage peering in is less than advantageous.

Below, JD welcomed me to the team and asked about my swim background (or lack thereof) and how I learned to swim "late" in life...you might find value in our conversation.

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Mr. V, First off, thanks for joining us. I'd like to hear your ideas/thoughts on how you progressed as a swimmer in triathlon without a swimming background. I realize it might not be a short answer, but it would be great to hear what 'worked' for you over the years. Many folks on this forum, self included, lack a swim background before triathlon. Thanks, justin

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This is a question I've been asked a few times JD, and not an easy answer to pinpoint (ergo, my long response). I think the biggest two considerations were constant diligence to technique (mostly in the form of drag reduction and not just propulsion) and patience.

First, a background: I started swimming at 21 (old by swimming standards; infantile by triathlon standards!). Prior to that I had never swam. I grew up in the Sierra and swimming there was known as "freezing", which wasn't something I was too terribly fond of. At the time I was living at the Olympic Training Center as a National Team cyclist (roommate of Larsen, teammate of Lance's, Hincapie's, McCrae's, etc) but had quickly grown tired of what I experienced/witnessed in cycling; no further comment needed there. Leaving cycling left me with limited options, but I had run some in high school and figured I'd at least give triathlon a try. Oddly enough, Steve was feeling the same way but would attempt mountain biking initially (quite successfully, of course). He suggested I try the same...until he saw me ride a mountain bike, anyway.

Anyway, I entered a Bud Light Triathlon Series race in Phoenix to commit myself. When the cycling coaches (Carmichael and crew) weren't looking, I'd snuck over to the swim federation and introduced myself. The guys at USA Swimming took it upon themselves to see if they could make a non-swimmer a swimmer. There was no pool at the OTC in those days, so I swam in my cycling shorts in the "flume", a high-tech swim treadmill. The flume has an adjustable current with windows and cameras and underwater speakers everywhere, a definite plus for stroke critique. I'd receive ample criticism.

The first thing the crew wanted to do, after seeing me attempt to swim and capturing it on film (blackmail!), was to time me over varying distances. They wanted to see if I could kick or sprint and then see what would happen in a 1,500-meter time-trial. To this day I employ a similar protocol with those I guide, to see what their raw speed is like (their pure alactic speed), what their anaerobic speed is like (50-100-meters), what their "VO2 speed" is like (400-meters) and whether their steady-state stamina is in relation to any of these. (I hope to get into this over time here.)

So, over the course of a week, we'd drive to the Air Force Academy, to test in the only 50m long-course pool in the area. The thing looked like an ocean as far as I was concerned! My 50-meter sprint was slow but more promising than anything longer than it. My 100-meter free was worse yet and my 1,500-meter was, in their words, "abysmal". I dragged myself to the final wall in 36-minutes flat.

A year later I swam the 1,500 in a Masters meet in less than half that time, despite a five-second pit-stop to fix my goggles, which had popped off after diving from the blocks!

Here's all I can think of for now and how I think some of it can be applied to each of us...

1) I was analytical to the point of being anal: ANAL-ytical. The guys at USA Swimming led me to believe that ALL swimmers are wired as such, and that that's what the sport required. I basically could not do a single stroke without thinking about was I was doing; or what EVERY part of me was doing.

To this day I simply cannot turn my brain off when in the water. Some people slice through the water in a zen-like state; I never got there. (Where are my feet in relationship to the surface? Am I kicking too hard? Hard enough? How is my head position? Can I breath to both sides equally as comfortable? Can I lift my head less as I breathe? Why so many bubbles upon hand entry? How is my rotation? Am I too flat on the water or about to rotate over on my back? Where are my elbows?! Are my hands, wrists and forearms perpendicular to the direction I'm trying to move myself as I pull? Etc, etc, etc.) I would learn within a week that the only time I could relax my brain in the pool was during non-freestyle recovery type of swimming. Otherwise, it was constant and relentless attention to detail. The gang at USA Swimming said I had done them proud: "There is no perfect stroke, only yours". I took that as a compliment, until I heard them tell every other swimmer the same damn thing!

2) I swam a LOT. I had "enough" fitness on the bike to last a while so instead of riding all day I swam: double-days, triple-days, dry-land practice. What some elite triathletes were swimming in a week we'd do in a day. Of course, swimming allows for this craziness, whereas running does not (I learned this the hard way).

3) I swam SLOWLY. Many of us watch our form fall apart as we increase our speed and effort. The guys at USA Swimming assured me I'd never reach my potential (by now they were telling me I had "missed my calling"!) if I constantly tried to swim my hardest. About 80% of the time I was swimming at 80% of the speed of which I was capable over a given distance. If I could sustain 1:40 per 100, I was doing them in 2:00. Quite often I swam with kids a third my age, even though I could kick their little arses! "Take that, you little maggots!" (I was very mature.) Their parents, seeing a 20-something year-old in the lane with their children, thought I was "special".

4) I swam with GUIDANCE. Obviously I was extremely privileged that I had some of the best coaches in the world in my corner. After a while I felt that I owed them MY best.

5) I swam without gear. Whereas many triathletes over-rely on swim gear (or so I feel) I was taught to learn without it, to pick up on the subtle nuances of the human body moving through water. I could (and would) then introduce gear as I gained proficiency. The coaches used to say that if I couldn't learn to swim without gear, then I sure as hell wasn't going to learn with it. It'd take me years to see what they meant, but thankfully I trusted them before I learned I could trust them!

6) I kept things simple. Despite all the analytics going on inside my head I looked at swimming as little more than me, a body of water, and a pace clock. The goal was to decrease my work rate and the time it took to get across the pool…plain and simple. The clock would never lie, whereas I had to learn to listen closely to my work rate, to be sure I knew what it was telling me.

7) I kept BALANCED. This was one of the things the coaches always preached…"balance, balance, balance"! I thought they were nuts. I mean, really, how does one balance in water? There were no wheels! What they really meant was SYMMETRY. I always wanted to breathe to my left, since for years I'd look back for cars over my left shoulder as I rode. And so it felt natural to breathe to that side. My right side was completely foreign (in fact, the first time I traveled to England for bike racing I couldn't even turn my head back over my right shoulder, to note if there might be any cars coming up from behind). It was something the coaches would not allow for…one-sided breathing. I'm glad now too, as the benefits of bilateral breathing are numerous (improved sighting, breathing away from the current or a "splashy" competitor, more RHYTHMIC, an equal amount of stress placed on each side of the body, etc). The symmetry and rhythm would become everything.

8) I kept MOTIVATED. It was fun to improve and I loved the fact that very few people could swim fast; it made me want to join their ranks. Moreover, it was fun to kick Lance Armstrong's ass at something! (But watch out in Kona next year: he'll be a mid-50's guy.)

9) I was FLEXIBLE, both in terms of learning what it took (and in changing what I thought it took), as well as in a physiological sense. So many world-class swimmers are LIMBER and I had an "unfair" advantage of having that from day one.

10) I LOVED the bleached hair and the "swimmer's build" (both female and male).

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Some of what I learned after my first year…

1) It's as hard to teach swimming as it is to learn it. Worse yet, we never fully learn it.

2) It took another few years to realize that open-water swimming required a different approach than did becoming a fast pool swimmer. Stroke rate is VITAL and a nice, long glide is really only meant for pool swimming. In pool swimming it is better to be slippery than it is to be strong (that is if you had to pick one of the two); in choppy open-water the need for strength and turnover is paramount. With open-water we are dealing with constricting wetsuits, currents/waves, pack dynamics (i.e, gaps to be bridged) and tactics, turn buoys, beach runs (sometimes), a bike and run to follow(!), sharks, eels, jellyfish (i.e., fears), and so on. In the pool there is you and a wall on each end of some smooth water, and, if you're lucky, a coach or two who cares.

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Great stuff Chuckie. Thank you for such an in-depth response. I'm sure that took some time, but we'll archive it! Is there anything you would have done differently as you look back over the years (other than starting before 21)? What would you suggest time-limited non-swimmers focus on? If someone has 3 x 1 hour/week, where would you start? What would you have them do? -justin

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Other than starting at 4 years old(!), I wouldn't have changed a thing, except perhaps to have inserted some more open-water swimming (where possible) into the repertoire, and to have included a weekly time-trial effort.

We make our biggest gains with SUSTAINED cardiac pressure and all that short "burst" swimming (ala Masters practice) simply cannot replace longer, harder efforts.

I firmly believe that for the three-times-a-week swimmer, one session ideally ought to be dedicated to this end: a sustained time-trial type of effort, close to their goal race distance/duration. I don't believe that most triathletes are limited by their speed (in other words, most of us can go fast for short periods, meaning we have the 'speed' within us) but by their lack of true endurance or stamina (i.e., the capacity to maintain speed).

This is what the graphing I mentioned above can help to point out...that if our inherent speed (measured over a short distance) is okay, but our longer efforts are sub-par, a simple range of tests (over a range of distances) will show this.

So, with this in mind, at least one weekly session really ought to address it...

For example:

Monday: Recovery from the weekend (more isolated shoulder-work (i.e., paddles and/or a ankle-restricting band) and lighter "strength work" in the pool (3-4K).

Wednesday: A sustained aerobic time-trial, up to goal race distance. Warm-up, start the TT, cool-down. It's boring, but from what I've seen (and with a wide range of athletes), it's VERY effective.

Friday: Speed work (turn-over, etc), and anaerobic/aerobic capacity (Masters type of swimming!). If not this speed work, a second power or strength-related workout is ideal. Again, alluding to my very last paragraph in the post above, open-water swimming is as much strength-related as it is anything. We should embrace upper-body isolation.

Lastly (for now!), if the athlete is a poor swimmer (in relationship to his or her other activities or in relation to other competitors), he or she really out to hire a coach (i.e., form check; this is IMPERATIVE, as technique is 75-85% of swimming fast) and swim 4-5 days a week. Frequency and consistency are vital, just as it in with running or cycling.

Of course, the logistics of getting to the pool or a lake aren't always easy (like suiting up for a run might be) but the payoff can be quite lucrative, given time. One must put in the time and then give it time! You're keeping me thinking JD! I'm stoked to be part of the team! -Chuckie

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Would you have any preference on the TT distances? Or is the general point that folks should be swimming continuously at a high rate? I really do agree with you in this area. Many folks don't have the ability to sustain a high, even pace for long bouts, but can manage to crank on 50-100s on moderate rest. good stuff, j

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Justin,
I think the goal distance or goal duration (of the athlete's race) is ideal, personally, but I realize that that's a LONG way to swim a time-trial each week. (The mental challenge is PROFOUND, as is having to count laps the entire way!) Thankfully, a 1,000 meter/yard effort often tells us enough---i.e., whether the stamina to sustain a higher percentage of the athlete's anaerobic speed (100-200) is there or not. If not, longer steady-state workouts and sets are what are required.

Toward the end of my career I used to do a twice-monthly 5-kilometer time-trial in a 50-meter pool in Lodi, CA. It was absolute mental hell (the time-trial and Lodi both!). I was lucky though, in that the pool was most often empty and my 500 splits (when swimming well) made it easy to remember precisely how far I'd swum. I broke it up mentally as 10 x 500s done continuously, which helped a ton, as did my watch with a huge dial face. Today, I'd probably use one of those fancy water-proof iPod units!

Music or not, I cannot get the pros I guide to do anything even remotely close to this, no matter how much I try to persuade them; force won't even work! (It would be a case of 'suicide watch' for the lifeguards, I'm sure.) Of course, I don't blame the athletes. But it was these sorts of efforts that made the difference in getting down to the highest possible percentage of what "natural speed" ability I possessed.

Now I don't write any of this to boast or refer it back to me, so much as to bring to light the importance of wisely-applied steady-state training, and how to measure for it. If an athlete is relatively fast at short distances, they can be relatively fast at longer ones, given the correct training approach. Alan can pipe in on this if he would, as there are some individuals who simply aren't "built" (physiologically speaking) for being an endurance athlete, but that doesn't really apply to those of us here. We can ALL swim faster with some of these considerations in mind.

So, JD, ready for some 5K TTs at Scott Carpenter Pool when I return to Boulder?! Give me 12 weeks and we'll get you down to 48-minutes!

As You See Fit...

When it comes to coaching, adding training volume is something I often leave to the athlete. Of course, some of those whom I sherpa for cannot afford the extra time it takes (to add the extra time it takes). These types are known, quite simply, as the "working class"---a class I never passed, since, like most others, it's a class I never attended. But I digress.

I often write to those I guide that "more is fine, when kept easy," because in many of their cases it is true (pros notwithstanding; they train nearly enough). If the extra volume is used simply as a way to enjoy being outside (what a novel concept!) and/or to bridge harder (i.e., "breakthrough" or "challenge") workouts then there is little harm in it (and in fact much benefit). Sure, there are restrictions in place---"Easy means easy" or "nose-breathing only" or "Zone 0" (as I call it), for example---but otherwise he or she is free to do as they want, any old time. Or any old time that the time is there, anyway. So pump up the volume!

When more doesn't work is when more becomes too stressful. In other words, if adding volume adds to the overall stress level of the athlete, simultaneously stunting their potential for fitness growth (or compromising subsequent training bouts, as per those individuals who know not the word "easy"), then there's no point in doing so. But when adding more volume helps relieve stress, as is often the case (despite some coaches and "experts" labeling more training as nothing but more "stress"), then it is something that must be considered when, um, being considered. Know what type of athlete you are and then try to work within that realm (yes, you are a realm). Do you love being outside, regardless of "training goals"? Do you enjoy movement, regardless of its hastiness? Do you enjoy the elements? Do you feel better after partaking in easy movement, or more stressed? Ask yourself these questions and try to answer them. They shouldn't be too difficult to answer. If they are, might I suggest Wii Fit?

Training for long-course triathlons is fairly straightforward (so much so that even I get it!). The basics apply…

• Read Gordo's blog
  
• Apply a stimulus that (eventually) relates to your end goal (specificity)
  
• Note the response (good, bad or ugly?)
  
• Hasten the recovery while noting the response
• Reapply a similar stimuli, if not the same (specificity x 2!)
  
• Re-note the response
• Repeat the process a bunch of times for years on end (longevity)
  
• And, finally, readjust as required; just don't wait years on end (adaptability)
  

...Load, unload, reload...and be sure it's loads of fun.

With long-course triathlons (i.e., Ironmans or half-Ironmans) this loading and unloading zone must relate to the undertaking that is 'RACE DAY'. In other words, those hoping to do their best in a long-course triathlon ought to know that the event is as its namesake suggests: long, which makes it fairly hard, no matter how hard one decides to go. And yet long, believe it or not, is fairly simple to prepare for.

So, when I scribble to an athlete, "Add as you see fit", I almost always follow it up with my age-old lame attempt at humor: "…See fit, be fit." Because seeing fit is being fit and adding volume to a volume-deprived (and self-proclaimed) "endurance athlete" often works wonders.

Where training an athlete becomes tricky is when said athlete has all the time in the world, and has for some time: retired folks, elites earning their living from the sport, those already training 20+ hours each week (what I consider a "cusp") or those classless individuals who simply refuse to join the working class and instead train all day (no comment). I could write about the training necessary for these types, and have at times here within, but I only have so much time.

And yet I write.

PS: Here's a little reminder of how an Ironman compares to shorter events (note: they're more difficult than licking your elbows), courtesy of Ryan...

Race Pace and More

This is a graph of Brynje's half-marathon this weekend, in which she ran 1:23 and change, just missing a PR by a minute or so. It is her heart rate throughout the race. Because she started fairly gently (i.e., hard but controlled) she was able to maintain a hard effort right to the end, and thus a hard pace right to the end. It's easy to push too hard too soon in half-marathons, as they're a distance that lay just beyond most competitors' lactate threshold effort, though this really doesn't have much to do with anything. We often think we can maintain something that feels relatively sustainable at the moment (but yet won't in due time); like any other level of effort, LT levels are often a lot like this. (Incidentally, one would need to complete the event in an hour or so to be indicative of a lactate threshold level, and only a few good men can do that.) Of course knowing a specific level still doesn't prevent athletes from stepping over it. Like kids running a 400-meter dash, we adults don't always seem to know how to pace ourselves. But we're smarter and bigger...or we used to be anyway.

Regardless of thresholds and levels and whatnot (I don't believe in physiological thresholds, just fleeting ones and those manufactured in the brain), what's important here is that she was able to find, then sustain, a true red-line throughout, finishing with her hardest effort toward the end. Many of us let it all hang out too early and then watch as we're "forced to" ease back in response to our overly-intense start. In technical talk this is known as "decoupling" or what I call "slowing down", even though the intensity does not. (I figure a coach's terms ought to make sense of all that scientific mumbo jumbo.)

Anyway, finding the right intensity over any given length of time (or distance) is hard to do. Heart rate alone won't do it. I made sure Brynje quite simply raced HER best and paid attention to her effort more than she did a number flashing furiously on her wrist, or those around her (which few women were...insert coach's smiley face here!). Still, she proved she possesses an innate ability to sustain a given heart rate, without slowing down or watching it drop---or rise---throughout. And, as I've found time and time again, as we get better at doing this, we also get better at racing our own best performances.

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Congrats to both Jonas and Angela at this weekend's SuperFrog half-Ironman for their winning effort$! It was one of the most fun events I've been to and one I highly recommend entering. (Rumor has it that the race's organizers are going to hold the event again this September.) Plus, the surf made for some great spectating! Who knew that body-surfing could be so fun to watch! It was made even more fun when observing those who couldn't body-surf.

I might post Angela's power data from the race in coming days...or may have her do so; it's still up for debate, as I don't care to share too much information! I had her race on her "training wheels" so I could gather all the numeric goods for OUR use. With four bike loops and not too many participants obstructing the way she was able to monitor her output very closely and ride through---and then away from---the field. It was almost as fun to watch as were the waves having their way with the newbies! Of course, wimp boy here watched safely from shore.

M ELITE JONAS COLTING SWEDEN 4:03:15
M ELITE LARS FINANGER SAN DIEGO 4:06:15
M ELITE BRAD SENG BOULDER 4:15:24
M ELITE PHILIPPE KREBS LA JOLLA 4:20:12
M ELITE RYAN CAIN OTTAWA 4:23:58

F ELITE ANGELA NAETH PRINCE GEORGE 4:31:02
F ELITE HALEY COOPER-SCOTT SPOKANE 4:35:19
F ELITE LISA RIBES TUCSON 4:41:13
F ELITE KATE PALLARDY SANTA MONICA 4:44:46
F ELITE HILLARY BISCAY TUCSON 4:48:09

From Start to Finish

You can literally see the high rate of speed in this series of photographs (i.e., digital images). (You have to click on it to see it.) It is a shot or series of shots of Evan, halfway through his marathon in Ironman Louisville last summer, which he completed in low 2:54. This year his goal may be to run it just as fast, but I'm okay if he does it in 3:03 or less.

Why the tolerance for the lowered standard Chuckie? Are you going the way of the US Army or the Boy Scouts or every major U.S. university?

No, I'm not, but thank you. Look. It's because it's not his running that needs work, and if he swims like we both believe he's capable, and chops another five-plus-minutes off his ride time (which he's also capable of), then his run is still an improvement.

Are you smoking crack Chuckie?!!!

No, not at this moment. Remember, a solid Ironman isn't about a fast swim or bike split, or even a fast marathon, but about a fast OVERALL time at the finish line. Actually, even that much ain't true. Our finish time is not so much up to us as it is to the weather gods, so ultimately, we're after a high overall PLACING at the finish line. It's why we (or some of us, anyway) COMPETE. (But back to earning a faster time at the finish line: don't ever forget transitions; they're important too.)

Being a lawyer and all (insert joke here) Evan is a highly astute guy. He knows all of this, and he knows that what needs the most attention right now (and perhaps for a long while ahead) is his swimming, which, as you may recall, is still part of a triathlon. Here's a link to his plan, the plan, our plan.

He knows it's the swim leg that holds him back (it's weird that "legs" can hold us back) in attaining his goals, which is not all that common to see when you consider the brevity of swimming during an Ironman. (His 1:12 split in Louisville last year was basically 13% of his overall finish time...9:20. Nonetheless, it could be closer to 10% of his overall finish time, which is what 58-minutes would've been had he swam that last year. {Most Ironman finishers are in the 11% range.} As he described it back then: "Driftwood floated down the river and passed me..."). This year, that stupid driftwood isn't going to even know what hit it! Now, quit reading this you slow swimmers, and get back in the water. Rhythm, roll, rate, repetition.

Gator-trade/Gator-tirade

For years my biggest financial backer was a company called Gatorade. You've heard of them, I'm sure...the sugary salty "sports drink" made from alligator pee. I used their product not only because they paid me more money than I could ever imagine but because---at the time---it was simple and it worked.

Nowadays, however, Gatorade went out and changed themselves, to keep up with the ever-changing Gen-X market (and to keep lining their pockets more and more, with cheaper ingredient sources). Inside a bottle it's common to find various OILS and colorings, and instead of plain ol' sugar the stuff is now laden with high-fructose corn syrup (by the way, you've gotta love those ads about HFCS! "But it's good in moderation!"), the "worser" of two evils.

Gatorade: you suck! You don't actually give a shit about athletes now, do you? Tiger is lucky you dropped him; he'll live longer.

Signed,
-Chuckie V