Chuckie V

Your Sherpa

2011-12-17T11:19:00.000-08:00

In order...

Let your spirit guide you
Let your body guide you
Let the moment guide you
Let yesterday guide you
Let the future guide you
Let your mind guide you

-CV

In Business to go out of Business

2011-09-06T10:52:00.000-07:00

There are, in my estimation, about eight to ten elite-level triathlon coaches here in the United States. This ain't many, given the number of triathletes (elite or otherwise). I've asked other coaches and athletes as much, and they each reckon a comparable figure. For what it's worth, I consider an elite-level coach as one who coaches elite-level athletes to perform (and win) at the highest levels of triathlon. I do not necessarily consider myself one, although I've helped guide a few such athletes over the years. Coaching, to me, is more about working closely with an athlete, regardless of level, than it is simply producing victors (or, as most multisport coaches seem to think, building a bu$ine$$). A coach's ego should be inferior to the athlete's performance, even if the two go hand in hand.

Interestingly, as coaches, we are in many ways in the business of putting ourselves out of business---a sort of planned pursuit of obsolescence. At the very least we should endeavor to minimize the contribution needed to assure our athletes' performance. The better we perform our responsibilities, the more likely the athlete can move forward without us. We should strive to prepare the athlete to handle the demands and pressures of competition on their own. The best of the elites eventually figure this out: that they can continue to figure things out for themselves.

Two heads may be better than one (and are certainly better than none), but once two heads have meshed into one (not a pretty sight, I realize), that single unit is---or should be---able to proceed without interruption. Nevertheless, I think it wise that all athletes seek to find a (valued) second opinion when possible. Further opinions may even be prudent, but a point should be reached where the athlete's judgment and knowledge must override all others, or the athlete may never accomplish what he or she is truly capable of.

Nine Ways to Prevent Losing

2011-08-26T08:05:00.000-07:00

Over the years I've steadily developed a vast array of specialized skills, skills I continue to expand upon, even as I close in on those pesky middle ages. I play a mean kazoo. I fart as loud as anyone I've ever met. I sleep-in longer than anyone I know (or have slept with). I can walk long distances in a single bound. I can out-think myself. I can find the laughter in manslaughter. I'm even quite proficient at sticking Pop-Tarts in the toaster, but this, I'll admit, depends entirely on the make and model of toaster.

In spite of all these skills and others like them, one of my most effective capacities is knowing how to PREVENT losing. Needless to say, this a very good skill to possess as a coach. It puts me in high demand and, because of it, I'm now able to charge ridiculous amounts of money to boss people around. We multisport coaches call this supercompensation and it's a weird phenomena, really. Most jobs pay you to be bossed around, whereas mine pays me to do the bossing. Life is good.

Anyway, the whole preventing losing thing is one area in which I'm most confident. You might even say it's my forte. (And I'm okay with you saying that.) But rather than horde all this arcane knowledge for myself I've decided to share nine of my most proven ways to prevent losing. Please, have pencil and paper at the ready. You will be quizzed later, as to which is the best way to prevent losing (and there is one best way). By the end, you should know.

#9) Don't enter. Remember: it's impossible to lose if you don't enter. Plus, this will save you tons of money, what with today's crazy entry fees (there's that supercompensation word again).

#8) Enter, but don't try. After all, trying is the first step to failure.

#7) Try to wreck the race. Think of ways to sabotage the event. Without a race you simply cannot lose!

#6) DNF. A 'Did Not Finish' not only enables you to avoid losing, but it also allows you to avoid that awkward finish-line embarrassment.

#5) De-emphasize the race. Enter to play, but downplay the whole experience. It's only a race, after all. Nobody cares where you finish, so why should you?

#4) Prearrange to have an excuse. If you're male you may already be an expert at this. Good thing too: excuses are always worthwhile and laudable.

#3) Keep others from winning. This is essentially just a corollary of wrecking the race, only instead of wrecking the entire event, you are to focus on the few others you'd like to see lose. You can't lose if no one else wins.

#2) Play the nice guy. Let others beat you to the line; they'll likely appreciate it, leaving you feeling like anything but a loser.

#1) Win.

Seek and Destroy

2011-08-15T09:15:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been fortunate enough to act as a consultant of sorts to a few of the bigger name professional triathletes here in Boulder and abroad, including one hombre de las cavernas I pick to prevail in that Big Dance in Kona this October. You see a lot of this sort of behavior among pros, particularly with the faster folks: they seek counsel from multiple sources, only to filter out the crap (i.e., most of what I have to say) and stick with the good stuff (i.e., most of what Dave Scott has to say). They read what they can get their hands on; they talk with other pros; they talk with those who've walked the walk before them; they talk with other coaches; and they learn by way of themselves...the hard way. In a nutshell, they seek (to learn) and destroy (their competition). I do the same as a coach, although I don't really compete against other triathlon coaches.

While this conduct is precisely what I recommend to others (that is, learning from as many sources as you can, then filtering through it all and finding what works best for YOU), it's only a small part of what makes these fast mofos fast. Genes help, as does opportunity, but the truth is that those at the top have simply formed the habit of doing the shit that the losers don't like doing. Indeed, this is the most prevalent commonality I see among the sport's best, many of whom call Boulder home.

Excellence, of course, is predicated on acceptance of the most difficult challenges. If an athlete claims she wants to make her way to the top of the sport (or her age-group), she cannot afford to shy away from the toughest of tasks, be they physical or psychological. If she expects to perform on race day, then she will first need to perform daily, if not hourly. Hourly tasks help to fulfill daily tasks, daily tasks help to fulfill weekly ones, weekly ones help to fulfill monthly ones, monthly ones help to fulfill yearly ones, and yearly ones help carry out ultimate ones. Race day performances don't just happen. They happen every single day and for many, many, many days (read: months, years) in advance. An athlete should understand all this, if he or she desires to reach the top.

Desire, however, isn't always the issue. Plenty want what few have (or have done). But few will do what it takes to have earned it. (Thus, they don't have what it takes to have what they want!) In all sincerity, desire, or a dearth of it, isn't usually the reason an athlete fails to achieve what they've set out to do. It is more common that he or she…

Lacks proper direction
Sees no use in training well
Has little or no incentive to train well
Finds training more aversive than gratifying
Gets easily distracted from his or her goals
Is inattentive to the purpose in/of training

Years ago I would question an athlete's motivation if he or she appeared to lack desire. But the truth was it was usually one of these factors.

While I tend to think that the athlete is in control of his or her sporting destiny, some of these considerations aren't necessarily under the athlete's control. If, for example, an athlete lacks proper direction, it could easily be the coach who's providing poor direction. In triathlon, this is not all that uncommon, especially with the surplus of inexperienced coaches here in the US, those who pay good money to become certified by a governing body that has no real interest in developing athletes so much as developing the sport (ergo, their profit margins).

Now, if an athlete sees no use in training well, or he or she possesses no incentive to train well, well, this too is something the coach must help to instill. If the desired outcome of the entire process isn't worth shooting for, it's likely the process won't leave the athlete fulfilled, and the athlete will train in vain and soon leave the sport. Athletes, by their very nature, are goal-oriented people, and without targets, many of us start to lose interest (particularly after we lose races).

I often espouse, in an overly cliché-ish manner I'll confess, that the destination is the journey. But without a destination, there is no journey (especially if the journey is the destination!). Goals matter. And the athlete needs to see the point in daily ones, in order to fulfill longer term ones. A good coach can help with this, even when the athlete's motivation wanes. A coaching buddy of mine once wrote that he's not a "Rah, Rah!" sort of leader, and that if the athlete can't find the motivation to perform as they wish, perhaps he or she should find something else other than sport.

I don't quite concur.

Athletes are human (some, anyway) and humans are emotional, hormonal creatures. As such, we're prone to fall prey to emotions. We come complete with highs and lows and a plethora of points between. We are each an emotional roller-coaster of sorts, and it's important to accept and embrace the lows, but yet all the meanwhile continue to plow forward through them as you make your way back to the peaks. We train for the peaks, but it's the valleys that help lead us there.

A sport psychologist buddy of mine echoes these sentiments and claims that without the struggle, there can be no real gains. This is a corollary of my belief that "it's not really positivity if it occurs in positive environs."

"Strength does not come from winning," he says. "It's the struggles that develop your strengths. And when you go through hardships without surrendering, that is strength."

And that's exactly what it takes to fulfill your potential (meaningless as though potential is): a never say die attitude. That, and an unquenchable thirst for better understanding.

Of the sport.
Of your competition.
Of the science.
Of "what it takes."
Of yourself.

Seek and you shall destroy, but only if you grasp it first.

The Potential Pretense

2011-08-09T04:45:00.000-07:00

In one of my last little write-ups/blog thingamajigs I touched on a few different topics, but launched the whole thing with some thoughts about potential, and the nobility in striving to reach our ultimate level of it. Nobility is of course way too strong a word, since true nobility lies outside ourselves (i.e., helping others, helping those who cannot help themselves [like the animals], or perhaps helping our planet [assuming it needs it], etc.) but that's not my primary purpose here, and I'd likely scare away the few readers I have if I were to drone on about anything other than triathlon, particularly important shit. No, my point here is about potential and reaching ours. Now pardon me for a minute, but I'd like to say a few things about potential.

Potential is absolutely meaningless. This, whether yours is (mislabeled) "limitless," or is noticeably lacking. No laboratory in the world (ours or anyone else's) can accurately calculate potential. Sure, we can gather a pretty good idea of what someone’s capacity might be, and we can identify his or her talent (greatness is often recognizable early), but we cannot determine his or her potential, especially his or her "ultimate" potential. Not unlike excellence, ultimate potential is an illusive target, one we can never be certain of. This is of course a good thing, as it leaves us filled with hope. If we knew we had capped out our potential, we'd be a lot less happy, as there'd be little to strive toward, and little to hope for. (Remember: the journey is the destination, but happiness is a way of travel, not a destination.)

Like a dark cloud, potential hangs over the heads of countless numbers of talented athletes. Plenty of people are filled with potential. We all have potential. We are potentially capable of anything. I'm a firm believer that anyone can go sub 9:30 in an Ironman, if they only spent the time to prepare themselves accordingly. But few do. I also believe anyone (possessing enough digits) can learn to play the piano. It might not sound all that good, but I'm sure we could all play the thing if we took the time to learn.

But here's the thing. We don't.

And so it is that potential means squat. Nada, nil, nothing. Zilch, zip, zero. We are what we do or, more precisely, what we have done, not what we hope to do or what we plan to do. That's right: you are what you are (hell, even those wise men Jesus and Popeye both came to this same conclusion years ago), and your potential is only measured by what you have accomplished, not what you wish to achieve. Coulda, woulda, shoulda are little more than excuses and like potential, they too mean nothing. You can lie all you want to those around you---"Man, I could've easily qualified to turn pro had I only finished those last five races"---but when you start to lie to yourself, you'll never find happiness or harmony. As Nike's advertising department coined: "Just do it."

The thing is, few of us actually attempt to "do it."

Why?

Because "doing it" takes dedication and discipline and diligence and enough desire to override and overcome all the hard work necessary. And yet we possess the wherewithal---the audacity---to complain that we have chosen not to do it. "Boy, but if I did make that choice…"

Potential outcome is not governed by physical potential, but by choosing to reach said outcome, then committing to it, then having actually reached it. That is how potential is measured, at the finish line. It is past tense, or it is all pretense.

You Got Chicked!

2011-08-02T13:39:00.000-07:00

Guys: I'm not sure if you've received the memo concerning "getting chicked," but if the phrase "you got chicked!" (or any variant thereof) is something you've uttered or even thought about before, well, perhaps it is high-time you have...

1. Don't be so small-minded and chauvinistic; women are athletes too.
2. Swim enough and you'll be fully accustomed to being chicked.
3. Run against Chrissie or Caitlin or Mirinda or Melissa and trust me, you'll get chicked.
4. Play tennis against the Williams sisters and you'll be chicked, times two.
5. Ski against Lindsey Vonn and you'll end up chicked, if not in the emergency room.
6. Dance against Ellen DeGeneres and you'll be chicked. Then again, is it really being chicked if the chick in question is a lesbian?!
7. Pit yourself against Lynn Hill and climb a big rock, and your world will be rocked.
8. Drum beside Sheila E and you'll be chicked (not to mention booed off the stage).
9. Play a game of chess against Grandmaster Susan Polgar and you'll be chick-mated.
10. Race your piece of shit car against Danica Patrick and your car (as well as your ego) will burst into flames.
11. Break 2:15:25 in the marathon or Paula Radcliffe will have chicked your PR.
12. Go under 8:18 in an Ironman or Chrissie Wellington will have chicked you.
13. Host a talk show and become a billionaire or Oprah Winfrey will have chicked you.
14. Get married (or not) and you'll frequently be chicked.
15. Do anything against Jackie Joyner-Kersee and you'll be chicked. This, even in her "retirement."
16. Try earning a '10' against Nadia Comaneci in her heyday and you'd score useless.
17. Gina Carano would not only chick you; she'd likely kill you.
18. Try to ingest more food than Sonya Thomas and you'll be chicked (and sick).
19. Meet Jeannie Longo for a bike ride and get used to riding alone.
20. Try to outlive Julia Butterfly Hill in a tree-home and you'll be chicked. (It's doubtful your convictions are as strong, as ego doesn't allow for that.)
21. Diana Nyad is more of a man than you or I will ever be, and I mean that in the nicest of ways.
22. Only one thing is more fragile than the weakest of women: the male ego.

I'll leave it at that for now. Keep in mind however that this is but a drop in the bucket of women who can chick you. Merely reciting all these incredible women's names only sanitizes their greatness. Indeed, it proves ourselves unworthy as men, if not pathetic representation of human beings. Guys: we best get over ourselves.

Happiness, Ambition and Pursuit

2011-07-26T07:11:00.000-07:00

Of all the goals an athlete might possess I believe the most noble is that of reaching our ultimate potential, or at least giving an honest attempt in reaching our ultimate potential. Basically, making the most of our capacity. By the way, capacity is what we're capable of; capability is what we actually accomplish.

Other goals can be worthwhile as well, but one I've never really understood is in trying to attain material goods (and yet so many spend their lives doing so; incidentally, the so-called American Dream is my worst nightmare). Another misguided goal to me is to aim for specific race placings, when we know all along that others---those we compete against---are beyond our control. Ultimately, we should endeavor to do our best, both while racing and while preparing to race others.

In working with age-group triathletes I've come to the realization that there will always be limitations involved: we're simply trying to see how good we can get, given the rest of our life's responsibilities...i.e., given the choices we have made. We want to see what we're made of, but without undertaking the sacrifices that may leave a void in the rest of our life. (It's not unusual here in Boulder for me to hear age-groupers, when talking about pros, proclaim something like, "but I like to have a life!" or that pros "lack balance," because they're fully committed to such a one-dimensional way of life.) (Please note that not many pros are actually fully committed, and this is generally what sets the truly professional apart from the lifestylers, the successful and the not-so-successful, the productive and the unproductive, the pros and the Joes.) Anyway, as an all-or-none kind of coach, this semi-committed approach is often a hard pill for me to swallow, age-group or pro. As I've written in the past, why go half-assing it, when you can full-ass it?!

Now this isn't to say I don't understand the half-ass approach. I was once an expert, in fact. As an athlete I never really pushed my boundaries. I accepted mediocrity because it was comfortable and familiar, not to mention that I was very successful at it! I relied heavily on a high capacity but did little to nothing to demonstrate capability. To borrow a thought from Nietzsche, I became who I was and not who I thought I was. Thankfully, I've long since come to accept my failures, yet it's hard for me to watch others repeat such mistakes, when I now know better: to actualize oneself, one must strive.

But sure enough, I see these same behavioral patterns oh-so-much in this day and age: that good enough is good enough. For example, so many pro triathletes coach not because they're good coaches (they are not), but because it enables them to continue to live the lifestyle (please note that it's tough to live a lifestyle when you are dead). They're no more committed to being a good coach than they are to being a good athlete. They are lifestylers. This, whether they're a good (i.e., performing) athlete or not. (Remember: some athletes are merely successful because they are lucky: they've chosen the right genealogy. Of course, at the top levels of sport, this is pretty much the case across the board, and it's the hardest working who win, not the most talented. A pro becomes a pro because he's talented; he wins because he outworks everyone else.)

Now there's really nothing wrong with being a lifestyler. Life, after everything is said and done (and, to be sure, more is generally said than done), is about trying new things and experiencing as much as we can during the short time we're here. But how quick are we to tear down the winners because of our "balance"! We criticize those on top because they're easy targets: simply aim high! We claim that our "balance" makes us winners, because we've tasted a wide variety of flavors, despite having never tasted victory. After all, variety, it's been said, is the spice of life. But to me the behavior of tearing down the successful (or anyone else) tastes of bitterness, not spice. Are we truly successful if we need to lash out at others? Are we successful because we possess good "balance" in our life? Or are we only kidding ourselves?

Maybe as humans we're meant to give 100% to a sole passion and abstain from dividing our attention; divided attention could be looked at as a lack of focus. Our primordial ancestors were focused, since their survival fully depended on it, whereas today...not so much. And indeed, the focused souls I know, those who pour 100% of their very being into a sole cause (i.e., a soul cause), seem to be happiest. (And happy is a good aim in life...maybe our only aim.) But then again, they wouldn't pour themselves into something if they weren't happy doing so.

Happiness is what drives our ambition and yet our ambition is happiness. We are happy when we're active in pursuit of choice---those worthwhile goals that we, in some measure, might achieve. But yet there is no happiness without contentment and inner peace, which essentially requires less or lessened ambition. Perhaps when all is said and done (and again, more is usually said than done) the pursuit ends up being the goal. It's just that at the time we don't see this with our success blinders on.

Greg LeMond, a neighbor of mine back in Sacramento many moons ago, and the guy who inspired me to take up this whole damn lifestyle, once said, "I fear that with success it is never enough." This, after winning the Tour de France three times. He found more success than most ever will but yet needed more, and he's been looking ever since.

Is that happy?

Maybe. Maybe not. One who longs for what is constantly out of reach will be constantly unhappy, eternally striving but never arriving. Not only shall he not attain that which he desires, he will fail to appreciate that which he has. And there's bound to be no happiness in that.

Strength or No Strength

2011-07-22T15:00:00.000-07:00

My last blog included a lot of words that ultimately declared nothing. Like a dog barking aimlessly at the wind, I make a lot of noise sometimes. It's not because I like the sound of my own voice or anything (I do not, be it spoken or written or recorded while "singing" in my true-to-life rock band), but because it's more beneficial for me to think clearly when I do so aloud. Hell, even when I exercise alone at a conversational pace, the conversation rarely ceases.

Anyway, soon after writing and posting that last entry, I received some correspondence in which I was asked, somewhat predictably, whether I have those I guide lift weights. We triathletes like things broken down to a simple, "yes or no, should I stay or should I go?" The fellow who'd asked was obviously one such person. My answer ("it depends on the individual") was not precisely what he wanted to hear, since, I could only presume, he's an individual and yet doesn't know where he might fit in to the "it depends" part. (This, incidentally, is his responsibility, and no one else's; know thyself...or get to know thyself better, always).

Over the years, of those I've acted as an assistant coach for (note: they're each their own head coach), about half have lifted weights and half have not. Some are persuaded to steer clear of weights and some are pushed against their will into the gym. For the most part, here are those who do and those who do not lift…

Skinny folks: yes
Older folks: yes
Nonworking pro athletes: yes, depending on gender, build, responsiveness & desire
Working pros: generally no
Working age-groupers: no, not typically
Nonworking age-groupers: maybe
High-injury types: yes, but exercises are geared toward eliminating injury
Low-injury types: no
Weaker types: yes
Stronger types: no
Big units: no
Greyhounds/whippets: yes
Bulldogs: no
In-betweeners: maybe
Chronic "aerobic overtrainers": yes
Chronic "aerobic undertrainers": no
Those who "bulk up": no
Those who could afford to gain weight: yes, only after eating more first
Those who could afford to lose weight: possibly
Those who could afford to lose muscle mass: no, never
Those who'd over-train aerobically if it weren't for the gym: yes
Those in need of better "hormonal balance": maybe
Whipper-snappers: no
Those endowed with mostly fast-twitch fibers: no
Those endowed with mostly slow-twitch fibers: maybe
Those better off swimming, running or riding more: no
Those better off swimming, running or riding less: yes
Germ-a-phobes: no
Vanity types: no
Females: more often than men
Men: less often than females
Charles Atlas: yes
Arnold Schwarzenegger: no
Me: no
You: maybe

The exercises prescribed generally run the gamut but are specific to the individual and his or her requirements, wishes and goals. If an athlete has a weak back, for example, we don't spend time doing biceps curls. No, they work their back instead (it's not too confusing now, is it?).

Most importantly perhaps is that everyone I've helped guide has done {and indeed does} sport-specific strength work (hill-work, big-gears, paddle work in the pool, etc), and this ALWAYS overrides the non-specific strength work. (Yep, the gym AIN'T specific to race day, you heard it here.) Specificity of preparation plays a major role in the specificity of performance and a triathlete should best work on that which limits his/her performances on race day before worrying about hoisting a bunch of iron. We're Ironmen, not men of iron. Prioritize and let your race results show you your best course of action (or inaction). Lifting weights (i.e., resistance training) is well down the scale of importance for competitions showcasing our aerobic capacity and/or economy/fuel efficiency or overall bad-ass-ish-ness. Weight-lifters may be bad assess, but they aren't triathletes. You can be both, but something's usually gotta give.

Measure, measure, measure (in the pool, on the bike or while running, not in the weight-room) if you're still not sure. As they say, the proof is in the putting out. Put out or get out.

Is Stronger Faster?

2011-07-13T06:40:00.000-07:00

True or false? If you are stronger, you are faster.

Of the many topics that multisport coaches like to chatter on about, few stand out like "strength training." Indeed, the matter habitually provokes heated dialogue, with numerous coaches in favor of it and a seemingly equal number against it. Even the well-schooled scientists, those with all those abbreviations after their names, whose very job it is to prove that which works (or to disprove that which does not), stand divided. Because of this great divide amid coaches and scientists alike, who's to know where to stand? All told, it seems the whole notion of "strength training" is merely a matter of opinion, or choice. As a fairly dogmatic dude, I know where I stand. But, just the same, I understand where others stand, whether they stand in front of the weight room mirrors or not.

THOSE AGAINST the typical notion of strength training (i.e., the weight room) say that there's little specificity involved for the endurance athlete. They claim to be "with science on this one" and cite studies that back their claims and argue that the limiting factor in an endurance sport is aerobic capacity, not strength or lack thereof. Among other things, they cite that strength work dictates a consequential decline in sport specific stress, resulting in performance impairment.

THOSE FOR IT say that they "know" it helps, because they've seen it work with themselves or with those they coach, and they too claim to be "with science on this one," referring to studies that back their claims (as written about by Friel, et al). If all else fails, they might argue in favor of it as a preventative measure against injuries or to help correct muscular imbalances or to help release growth hormone (helping older athletes maintain muscle mass) or to increase bone density or to get the girl, further adding to their argument by showing that so many top professional endurance athletes also lift weights.

Here in Boulder, the self-titled Endurance Athlete Capital of the World, I know this last point to be pretty damn accurate. As I stroll through the local clubs or gyms or rec centers on my way to the ladies locker room (no comment), I have seen almost all of triathlon's biggest names (those living here, that is) hoisting weights. But are these pros any faster because they lift weights? Or are they fast in spite of the fact? It's a tough question and I know not the answer (despite having developed my own opinions on the matter).

(Incidentally, it's easy to look at the very best in any of life's microcosms and decide that what they're doing must be right, but this isn't, well…right. In fact, I personally know quite a few fast athletes who don't know what got them there! And even if you knew what got them there, I doubt it would get you there too.)

What's more, over the years, I have amassed a vast assortment of books written by some of the planet's leading exercise physiologists and/or coaches and/or endurance athletes. (This planet.) Most these books include pieces or paragraphs or pages on weight-lifting or other ancillary strength training, like that old, pervasive "core work." Few of the books argue in opposition to strength training, particularly the body-building ones. Wait! Who put these in my bathroom?! And what's with the Men's Health magazine? And the Playgirl one?

Of course, the very definitions of 'strength' and/or 'strength training' must first be fully understood in order to hold any real merit. For some reason, wording is valued in sport and sport science. But, like personal opinions, these definitions run the gamut. Each of the books adorning my reading room (i.e., bathroom) has its own definition it seems, and I'd need to possess some serious strength---of both character and of hand---to type them all here. I myself have called some of the skinniest endurance athletes in the world "strong," but this is a relative connotation, basically a euphemism for "frickin' fit." Example: "That skinny Andy Schleck dude is one strong motherf*cker..." Truth is, Schleck is a weakling.

One might argue that, in an endurance sport, the faster athlete is the stronger athlete, but this is not accurate. Hell, the fastest athlete may not even be the fittest athlete. Classifying the fastest athlete at a given race as anything but the fastest is simply erroneous. He or she was merely the fastest. Nothing more, nothing less. (Personally, I like it like that. Call me a purist if you will, but screw those lame judged "sports" like ice dancing, freestyle skiing, gymnastics, body-building, the snowboard half-pipe and synchronized swimming! I'll concede that those competing in these activities are all athletes, and perhaps I'm just being a poor sport, but I honestly couldn't care less about the winner of a judged sport. If I want a judge deciding my destiny I'll commit a crime, thank you very much.)

Remember, irrespective of distance or duration or course layout, racing is measured in terms of swiftness. Its simplicity is what makes it so alluring. It's about a starting line and a finish line and perhaps a clock, in an attempt to find out who gets there first. It's about competing and beating others…or about beating our previous best self. (Victory doesn't always end with the first person across the line.)

And so it is, with this in mind, I tend to simplify things by having those I guide train to become FASTER, not to become stronger or more powerful or fitter or more balanced or better at arguing about training methodology online or better looking (this would be tough anyhow, since I only guide good-looking people) or even more efficient at going fast. Their training is designed and executed so that they can each reach the finish line sooner, period.

Does "strength training" help with this?

You tell me.

I shan't let them tell you.

Now pardon me while I go squat. In the gym? Nah...in my, ahem, "reading room" once more. I have some books to finish up.

Routinely Training Routine

2011-07-07T08:29:00.000-07:00

Perhaps it's a deeply rooted fear of monotony or ennui brought on by an itinerant childhood as a military brat, but I have never been one for routine in life. The square-jawed Colonel V (think The Great Santini) would move our family unit every year or so, and with the constant uprooting came the fear and distaste of stability. At least it did with me. Stability is too much a liability. I'll be ready for change by changing things first.

Cliché as though it may sound, I've always held steadfast to the notion that life should be an adventure, or the voyage is hardly worth living. Routine is the deathbed of the soul, I proclaimed. Of course, for the athlete, routine is anything but fatal. In fact, the repeated way is the only way to seek meaningful insight into ourselves, and seeking meaningful insight is an adventure of its own.

Ultimately, routine is the very foundation in determining success. Athletes who lack routine lack consistency, and consistency, despite what Oscar Wilde may have had to say, is the cornerstone of accomplishment. Few things of value are accomplished without prolonged, unwavering effort. I repeatedly tell the pros I guide to distrust the value of things that come easy. What I essentially mean is that value is only found in that which takes work: "Success might smell sweet, but it first smells like sweat." In other words, if it's worth having (i.e., achieving), it's worth working for. Over and over and over again.

If you're a triathlete intent on reaching some lofty goals, I advise elevating your intent from mere intent to being hell-bent. For I can tell you now: hell-bent intent is how the best train, and they do so consistently and indefinitely. In short, they commit. Their routine is a derivative of that commitment. It is not a routine based on comfort (i.e., many of us stick with routines to avoid being uncomfortable) but rather one based on control.

Here in Boulder I can tell you exactly where you can find Chrissie Wellington on any given training day (note: they're all training days), because the routine of her existence is more than evident; indeed, it borders on ritual. The simplicity/anti-intellectualism of her weekly training schedule would literally frighten most multi-sport "coaches" right out of a job (if their athletes didn't fire them first, knowing how uncomplicated it really all is). But Chrissie's routine works because she works, and continually so. She's cut out the extraneous crap in her life and honed her routine. After all, success has to be a habit in order to be.

Those who don't commit don't last long, and ours, by its very definition, is a sport of outlasting one another. When routine is constantly out of order, so too are dreams and goals.

But what disrupts routine?

I've broken it down into what I most commonly see as a coach, and what I frequently failed to observe as an athlete…

1) Lack of commitment
2) Life (Other people, appointments, errands and so on…)
3) Lack of motivation
4) Illness/ Injury

Obviously, the commitment one is the biggie. Without it, what's the point? You cannot be partially committed, or there is no commitment at all. Your routine needs to reflect your commitment.

Life is a poor excuse to disrupt your routine, as it is what provides the opportunity in the first place. When people claim that they're "too busy" or that "the time just isn't there," they're essentially just advertising their failure to commit, which is their choice. Sure, life can be disruptive, but nothing like death will be. So don't play the blame game; nobody wins.

Lack of motivation is a common cause for failed dreams. Without motivation, nothing gets accomplished, other than failure. If you're not motivated, you've quite simply chosen the wrong route. Sure, motivation will ebb and flow at times, but it should not be lastingly disruptive. More importantly, if your motivation is constantly disrupted, you need to question it…and your commitment.

Finally, injury and illness. I see these occurrences interrupting the training routine all the time, particularly in those who know not how to avoid them (often because they've chosen a regrettable routine). The routine needs to reflect the risks, period. Your training habits need to be constantly altered in response to your own personal responses and requirements and the requirements of your goals. Ultimately, a stubbornness to change confirms the athlete's lack of commitment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Commitment is the only real answer, as you can see. Your training routine is your commitment. It should spur consistency and growth both. Moreover, sustaining a routine doesn't mean that each training block has to be exactly like the last. While the basic skeleton may be similar or even identical, the day-to-day adjustments are what allow you to hone in on what works best for you and your goals. The bottom line is that your routine must not be so routine that it stunts your growth. Allow it to allow you to grow. Then repeat the process and the modifications, ad nauseum.

Before I go I wanted to touch on one last thing: if the training routine is so important and yet so simple, then who needs a coach?

This, you'll need to ask your coach. If he or she cannot provide a suitable answer, uproot yourself and move along.

A Matter of Principle

2011-06-22T08:08:00.000-07:00

The following are some principles the sports scientists don't always mention (or know about)…

The principle of keeping it simple. This principle states that if it can be done, it can be done more simply. Simplicity is not the end-goal but rather a means to an end. Remember: for every detail-oriented, ANALytical athlete sitting at a computer staring at software and endless files and graphs, there is an athlete outside laying the foundation to greatness, learning in the lab. As is stands now at the zenith of our sport, few athletes use heart rate monitors or power meters! (Macca: no. Chrissie: no. Mirinda: no. Et cetera). If it works for them, it can work for you, assuming you do the work.)

The principle of keeping it fun. Competitive sport is only a job for a select few. And even those few need to understand that all sport is a game, not unlike life itself. You can be serious but don't go ruining mine or other people's fun!

The principle of variety. This is essentially a corollary of the above. Spice things up! For the athlete this is especially vital (as in life giving), since we tend to adapt and plateau to previous workloads somewhat rapidly. Vary the load and vary the mode.

The principle of ignoring your critics, even if at times your biggest critic is you. Focus on positive progression, not solely upon where you've gone wrong or where you suck. Ignore those who tell you it cannot be done or kick their ass, as the principle below states. Winners know better than losers, period.

This fits in with the above principle: The principle of ignoring those who, in theory, know better. (You know yourself better than anyone else, or at least you should. If you don't, well then, this is your biggest lesson in sport and in life. Get going, time is short and the lesson never ends.)

The principle of kicking ass. This principle states that you must do your best to kick your own ass when required, so that you may kick the asses of others when the appropriate time is reached: race day. Don't leave it all on the training table; leave it all on the line…the finish line. We train to compete, to fight, and ultimately to win (however that may be defined).

The principle of limiting your losses. This principle states that if nothing is going your way, you should know when to say when. In life and in sport, you're going to incur some losses and some setbacks. Learn to deal with them or when to cut them short. I've known many athletes to train themselves straight into the same old injuries, rather than limit their losses by cutting the workout short or altering it altogether. Don't be one of these types. (This leads us to the next principle.)

The principle of learning to read your body. Your body is not made up of numbers or thresholds or "systems," but yet numerical data may offer you a better understanding of what goes on inside you. (I'm not sure it does.) Still, the best athlete's in the world all know what's going on within themselves, even when batteries fail or the extraneous technology craps out on them. Use your head to read the rest of you. If your head needs work, uses someone else's to help guide yours, as the next principle states.

The principle of creating a network. Surround yourself with losers and you are bound to appear a winner. Surround yourself with winners and you are bound to win. Go with the victory and not the appearance façade. Create a team that believes in you as much as you do them. There may be no 'I' in 'team,' but there is a 'me.' Surround yourself with good me's and avoid the energy vampires.

The principle of open-mindedness. Don't disbelief everything you see or read or hear. Try it first, then you can decide whether to dismiss it. Belief is a powerful tool, especially when you've witnessed proof of what you believe in. And even if you have not, the placebo effect can be very, very real.

Are there any principles I've missed?

The HERE NOW Method of Coaching

2011-06-06T09:19:00.000-07:00

"In preparing for battle I've always found that plans are useless, but planning is indispensable." ~Dwight Eisenhower

"It is a bad plan that admits of no modification." ~Publilius Syrus

Lately there's been a nice development going on in the coaching world, thanks mainly to a recent article written by Wayne Goldsmith, and it's good to see other coaches (one of whom I respect greatly) bringing more attention to it, as it helps to reconfirm what I've believed and enacted all along.

Plans mean nothing! They serve only as an illustration of what might be. And lots of things might be. Case in point: you might be fat and lazy and dumb. But you're not. (After all, you're here reading this.) Plans are merely wishful intentions, holding no merit whatsoever, unless they're immediately replaced with hard, intelligent work.

For the past half-year or so, I've been working alongside a young, soon-to-be-speedy, semi-professional triathlete. Our rapport is rock solid and we get along in a copacetic, cordial kind of way, which could be considered of appreciable significance in a student/teacher (teacher/student) relationship. Naturally though, there have been a few ups and downs, as coach and athlete need not always be friends. Besides having to deal with my incessant thinking (and farting) aloud, the poor kid's got to deal with the matter that I don't draw up detailed long-range plans.

Yep, it be true. Sorry Joe Friel!

But isn't failing to plan planning to fail?! Say it ain't so, Joe!

The young buck's conversations have often centered themselves around this fact and I finally had to spell it out to him why plans don't always work. ("'Cause they just don't, man. Even God's plans don't; that's why He seems to have given up on them a couple thousand years ago...") (How's that for eloquence?!)

Sure, we have a long-term wish-list of objectives and whatnot, but what we don't have is a stupid moment-by-moment, week-by-week chart spelling out all the hoped-for occurrences of the next year or more. Sheesh, we don't even know what tomorrow will hold! (Though we can take a step in that direction today, as a shitty plan for now beats a perfect plan for tomorrow.)

Sorry Joe Friel! (Incidentally, while I'm this feisty mood, Your Best Triathlon = My Worst Purchase.)

Coaching isn't about laying down plans. It's about the daily dealings affecting the changes to those plans: the ol' proverbial Plan B. It's called ENGAGEMENT! Of course, you've got to be in constant contact for this to work, but then if you're truly a coach and not just a computer programmer or a "computer scanner," you already knew that, didn't you? On deck, not online!

As a self-coached athlete, the primary skill you'll need to succeed in sport (besides picking suitable parents) is learning how to adapt, adjust and proceed...not plan. To paraphrase John Lennon, "Potential training time is what happens while you're busy making plans."

It isn't just diet plans that fail. Any plan involving your body is susceptible to failure, and highly so. This, because your body doesn't respond to plans or desired outcomes. It responds to training and all other experiences it incurs (and even some of those it does not). As living beings, we operate on the day-to-day reality we call LIFE and, believe it or not, your body's stress levels are made up of far more than just the strain of training (i.e., everything is correlated in that everything you do affects everything else you do). We haven't evolved so that we can somehow sunder training stress and life stress. And natch, they both affect us. You just have to try to maximize the former while mitigating the latter, if it is sport you want to succeed in. But, as they say, "Shit happens," sometimes even when you thought you were just farting around. It's how we react and adapt to that shit that affects how we proceed.

Plans are overrated and as they pass before your eyes of curiosity they'll soon become little more than dust in the wind, not unlike you or me or anything else we'll ever see. Have no doubts about where you want to go (in life or in sport) and definitely have an idea of how you think you'll best get there, preferably written down or mapped out in your mind, but be HERE NOW. Don't be stuck on yesterday or tomorrow or anytime thereafter. Deal with right here right now and then proceed with all your heart (and a little less with your head, except to monitor those bodily signs). Have a mission, commit to the process, and e-x-e-c-u-t-e. Execution wins races, not carefully constructed hopes.

One other thing while I'm at it: Fuck caution! Unless injured or ill or insane, fuck it!

Caution:
Nothing great was ever achieved with caution!

Focus on goals, not on plans. Be positively proactive by being optimistically reactive. Enact then react then re-enact. Seize it, don't plan to seize it. The time is now, and it's doesn't stick around long. The future will soon be a thing of the past.

At the end of the day we all know it's nice to have a plan, as it appeases our neurotic athletic mindset, but plans almost always go awry, falling wide of the mark of that which actually transpires. When the shit inevitably hits the fan, use it as fertilizer, and figure out how to keep from standing in the way of it all. For in life, the fan is always running.

Now, pardon me while I rush off; I have big plans for the day. I'm planning to leave Tucson and head back to Boulder and I'm VERY excited about it.

IN-Tuning

2011-05-27T10:12:00.000-07:00

The following comes to you by way of our Endurance Corner Forum, where -- get this -- forum members actually behave! And they behave nicely! I wrote it after the general trend of one of our threads (on tracking training) started to take too big a technological turn (in my opinion). Enjoy. Or not. Just behave!

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

This is in regards to another thread here about tracking training stress (on software such as WKO+) and some of what Gordo mentioned within that thread...

(First off, I know nothing of WKO+ or any other training and tracking software, and am in no way knocking the product{s}. In fact, I'm currently attempting to learn how to use them and determine whether it will help me as a coach, or help those I sherpa for.)

I would, however, like to say that it's important to build a rapport with your body, a relationship that transcends numbers or graphs or plans. This is a greatly underrated consideration of training, since feelings have generally not been a part of any serious exercise discussion. We're taught to "suck it up" or "HTFU." But being able to precisely gauge one's effort over a specified amount of time is an ability that is the hallmark of all top athletes. These types can run (and ride and swim) the razor's edge, knowing exactly how to deliver their effort and energy to extract the best from their bodies on any given day.

Use WKO+ and whatnot, but be sure to hone in where it matters most, out there on the race course and on the roads and trails and in the water...not the computer screen.

In this vein I'll often prescribe what I call a "caveman day" or a feeling-based training bout, where the athlete is advised to get in tune with his or her inner frequencies, by ditching all electronic gadgetry and going "au naturel." The athlete can go as long as he or she'd like or as slow or fast as he or she might care to. And most the time, when I talk about the session afterward, all I hear is how great it was to run uninhibited. (Cavemen didn't have bikes, alas.)

Here's what the current Ironman World Champ, Chris McCormack, has to say about all this...

When I begin training for any distance in triathlon, the primary thing I am looking for is an ability to feel my way through the speed that I am focused on. I have never used a heart rate monitor and I never use power on the bike. I understand the science behind these tools and they are just that "tools," but I have always found that the key to incremental improvement in this sport is learning to trust your own pace and exertion across the three disciplines. If you ask me to go hard I know what hard is. Do I need to give you an exact number in power to justify that it was hard? No I don't. I can tell you by how it feels. What tends to happen with people who begin to become addicted to these gadgets and numbers is that they lose their ability to trust their own pace and perceived exertion and only trust what this "tool" tells them. As far as I am concerned this is a recipe for disaster. You lose your instinctive tunes that are your lifeline to racing. Training is about teaching yourself to understand your boundaries and then slowly pushing those boundaries up. You need to know how to feel those and where they are!

Now don't get me (or Macca) wrong here; I think tracking of effort and subsequent reaction is imperative and the tools we have today help us do this, no question about it. Moreover, we're no longer cavemen (or at least you aren't). But the most important analysis tool (and the one that will help you succeed the most) is the one between your ears, so long as it's engaged and in tune. And despite all our advances, plenty of scientists believe, as do I, that the cavemen used their brains more than we do today. Google is making us dumb!

Finally, recall that the reason we test our numbers is to update our "grades," to see where we're "at." So if you're comfortable using tests and software and other modern inventions to alter specific training "zones," then by all means use them, and often. These tools, of course, can be surprisingly simple or as complex as you care to make them. The Kenyon runners don't have personal computers, except those between their sunburned ears.

Keep in mind that ultimately we're on our own in competition, reliant on the clarity of communication between mind and body. This "inner coach" is the voice within that knows exactly what we need to do at any point in time to reach our potential. Whether it tells us to back off or pick it up, in retrospect it was always the right thing to do. As we learn to trust the inner coach over time, the clearer its voice will become.

The video below, featuring my main scientific go-to-guy, Dr. Allen Lim, touches on this important subject...

Caveman Guidelines

2011-05-24T09:07:00.000-07:00

1) Eat lots of plants and animals
2) Drink plenty of water
3) Avoid toxic shit
4) Move at a conversational pace often (even when solo)
5) Sprint periodically
6) Lift heavy things; recruit as many muscles as possible
7) Get adequate sleep
8) Play often. Laugh. Smile.
9) Get adequate sunlight
10) Follow the sun's lead
11) Avoid mistakes
12) Engage your brain
13) Stand more often
14) Ask life's big mysteries
15) Digitally disconnect frequently
16) Find yourself in the forest
17) Carry a big stick

Yet More eBay

2011-05-22T09:06:00.000-07:00

Please, will the winning bidder (and all others who bid) contact me about coaching. I currently have a "Kona Coaching eBay Special" going on RIGHT NOW and bidding starts at the low, low price of $2,500 per month* Protect your investment!!!

*Winning bidders are to pay ALL service fees, in full, in advance of any services rendered. Fees are for the time-frame between the time of your winning bid and the Hawaii Ironman but may extend beyond this period, as deemed necessary by my Nigerian bank accounts. Please note that no one loses their bidding war in this auction, as I will not refuse any offer above the opening bid amount! Phone calls, e-mails or any sort of person to person communication is not included as part of my normal coaching fees and will cost extra. Hand's-on training is also not provided. Nor is any sort of financial advice dispensed.

C Different

2011-05-20T09:33:00.000-07:00

Just a couple weeks ago two of my already-Kona-qualified athletes asked if they could participate in Ironman Texas, which takes place tomorrow down in The Woodlands, near Houston---that hot, sticky place I had the fortune of visiting merely a month or so ago.

"Um, let me think about it for a sec-- NO. Besides, you'll never be able to enter this late. You two ought to know that! And I don't think they offer eBay slots!" (They didn't buy their way in to either this race or Kona, parenthetically.)

"You mean you want to go participate by watching, right?"

"No. We would like to guide a blind athlete and maybe bring a little more awareness to the C-different Foundation."

"Well then, of course."

Good luck to Patricia, Michelle and Sonja! Enjoy the experience.

(Patricia Walsh, race number 81)

An e-mail to a couple Young Guns I Guide

2011-05-18T15:11:00.000-07:00

Below is a slightly modified/clarified e-mail I wrote yesterday morning to a couple young male pros I coach, before a hill repeat workout they were to do with one another. Each has been beset by illness a few times this year and each time sickness has struck we've taken a step back from our eventual summit attempt. It's important to learn and know how to balance the risk/benefit equation in life or any other endeavor, like for example, training. Take risks but be sure they'll be rewarding, whether they work out or not.

As evident by the photo (circa 1988) of my "cool guy" helmetless Olympic-level days, I too was once young and could rarely get the balance right. I only wish I knew the older, wiser version of myself back then! Nice hair, dude.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

...One of the hardest aspects in this sport is repeating workouts. Day in, day out. Week in, week out. Month in, month out. Year in, year out. Filling in all the future blank spots is the only truth that will have you closest to your ultimate potential. It ain't much more confusing than that. And the only way to speed the process is to remain consistent by removing the risks that might otherwise put even minor or temporary stops to such consistency. Too many inexperienced Ironman pros train too hard and then miss subsequent training due to illness and/or injury (i.e., their stupidity). Be calm and patient and wise. Enact, don't react. Take the edge off the hardest efforts (those above LT effort, and you should know exactly what this effort is, as it's the foundation of fitness, regardless of those who claim "there is no LT"...that matters not) and instead replace them with longer intervals or training bouts, rather than intensities that don't quite relate to Ironman competition. Specificity! The risks are way too high and the gains are minimal when compared to remaining just under this threshold intensity. So rope in any competitive craziness and then spend your time speeding recovery, not just speeding the workouts themselves.

Let me know how it goes. Be sure XXXX knows to ease into the first couple and measure the hill so he can use the same layout each time: the same start point, the same finish point. Power meters are great and all, but sometimes a clock and a predetermined distance work just as well. After all, time and competition (especially race day placing) are our ultimate measures, not output. And sometimes such simplicity is ideal.

The recovery between efforts is a light spin back down each time, with a minute of light spinning on the flatter terrain if the downhill doesn't enable you to move your legs while going down it. The first minute or two of each subsequent effort should feel like the worst of it, before your body gets the message again. That's okay; the goal isn't an hour straight at just below LT. It's an hour or so in all, with a total higher output by the end thanks to the rest between each effort. If you didn't rest you might sustain 350 watts for an hour of straight climbing. But by breaking this into interval format you can do a slightly higher output, say 360 watts. Ultimately, your body only remembers and responds to the work portion, not the amount of rest between. And that's why intervals work so well and why you're doing them, even though you have more available training time than the average Joe and could instead just pile in another tempo effort.

I'll tell you what...I've CC'd XXXX to simplify this, as all of it applies to the both of you. The way to rush your fitness isn't only to train harder; it's to hasten recovery. So rope this afternoon's efforts in enough to get through all ten or so in the same time/power/HR range and we'll then pile in another big day tomorrow, albeit more Ironman-like (huge ride, quick transition run, and the lake swim before or after it). We'll then use Thursday and Friday as recovery days before another big weekend.

Same as it ever was, ideally without interruption.

-Coach

Origins

2011-05-16T09:24:00.000-07:00

It's been a long while since I've written anything here. Alas, the negative comments I tend to receive after doing so have left me wondering why I publish anything. The world is full of cynics and skeptics and unhappy people, but I never thought that the sport of triathlon was too. I have the utmost confidence in how---and why---I coach, more than most multisport coaches have in themselves I think, but it's hard to always feel like it's worth being on the defense. My skin is too thin for the Internet I fear, as I would never treat others how I'm often accosted, whether face-to-face or anonymously in electronic form. I can only imagine that those who direct such negativity and hatred at others are dissatisfied with their own circumstances and choices in life. I feel for them, if this is indeed the case.

I'm currently in Las Vegas, Nevada, having just watched the Leadman 250 Triathlon (and Angela and Jordan win convincingly). What an event! I'd venture to call it a race, but the only race I witnessed on Saturday was the one pitting each competitor against him or herself and the demons swirling inside each of their noggins. The course and the conditions were quite honestly the toughest I've ever seen in this sport, and it took me back to our sport's incredible origins. Somehow the sport has sadly evolved away from its roots, often opting for generic cookie-cutter courses plastered with rampant over-commercialization, multiple loops and slower and softer competitors. I miss when the hardest of athletes were the only ones crazy enough to enter or finish events, like the old Bakersfield Triathlon or the short-lived Redding (CA) Triathlon, where ropes were needed to assist participants on much of the "run" course. Thankfully, the Leadman 250 takes over where these types of events left off.

We shouldn't fear new or different events, or different ways of thinking, but as a society (and as a sport) it seems the trajectory we've decided to take. I find it depressing in a way, but thank goodness there will always be a few hardened folks to help incorporate some cross-fiber friction against the grain. And I'll be right there with them.

Ang: Distrust the value of things that come easily.

More eBay

2011-05-09T14:59:00.000-07:00

I don't know what to say.

eBay

2011-05-01T00:23:00.000-07:00

Do the Rest

2010-11-30T10:09:00.000-08:00

This piece was originally boxed into a corner over at the Endurance Corner site. I've since added a few bits here and there but the overall gist hasn't changed one iota. All told, it's about the importance of true recovery in the training plan, a favorite topic in my coaching regimen. So relax and enjoy!

All work and no rest makes for an injury-prone and weakened weekend warrior.

Time and again the athletes I guide are forced to listen to me talk about "hastening recovery." "It's not enough to just wait until you're feeling better," I'll bark. "You need to do better. You gotsta puts the 'very' in recovery."

The gist I'm trying to get across is that instead of just waiting for recovery to occur, as many athletes tend to do, you're to grab the bull by the horns and actually do something to assist your cause. Incidentally, grabbing a bull by the horns will NOT assist your cause. I'd also advise not grabbing him anywhere else, particularly anything that dangles.

To be strong like bull you need to quit bull-shitting yourself and treat recovery as though it were training. It is, after all, and this is no BS. What you do when you're not training determines what you can do when you are. Quite simply, non-training time affects your training, and fatigue is a choice. So don't just do your best Sitting Bull impression…get moving! Take part in some intentional recovery.

Intentional or active recovery, it is well established, is a much more optimal way to enhance recovery than is inactive or passive recovery---that malevolent chronological assassin. Now you don't need to do anything drastic, you Raging Bull you, but simply get the blood pumping a smidge, to assist in removing all the inflammatory metabolites and damaged proteins, all the meanwhile delivering a fresh supply of carbohydrates and amino acids. The priority is to heal (much like a dog might), and not to "train" per se. You're basically trying to download, rather than strictly unload (or reload). And you certainly don't want to do anything that delays recovery. Go too hard and all you're doing is delaying your body's supercompensatory capacities, and thus its potential for growth and increased fitness. And that's what recovery is essentially for: to promote your adaptation to training, so you can improve your performance sooner. So go easy or go home.

Ultimately, movement is the best medicine we have (along with laughter and, for us old guys, Viagra), but it's not enough in and of itself. You need to do whatever it takes to enhance recovery, so long as 'whatever it takes' is deemed legal; thankfully, most recovery-boosting options are. And better yet, many of them are free. And though there's very little scientific research to show us which recovery strategies are proven to work, it's important not to disregard the accumulated experience of veteran athletes and coaches. Below is how I generally work recovery into the overall picture.

But first, I need to stress (but not too much, as stress kills) that after twenty-five years in sports, I've only ever known three or four to five athletes who have ever truly over-trained (I am one of them, having suffered from a severely tapped endocrine and immune system). Most of us have never reached this state and never will. We are never really over-trained but simply under-recovered or "over-reached" (i.e., we bit off more than we can chew, and certainly more than we can swallow). And so I preach the enormity of recovery, and why it should never be neglected.

Incidentally, the difference between over-training and under-recovering is straightforward: over-training is simply the imbalance between stress and recovery, regardless of scale (and regardless of the source of stress), whereas under-recovery is quite simply too little recovery. Keep in mind that under-recovery could have very little to do with training stress and may involve life's myriad other stressors.

Now, onto hastening recovery…

1) Planning. To understand the significance of recovery, you need to grasp the fundamental principles of progressive overload. It's important to draw up a training plan that incorporates not only higher degrees of stress/training stimulus (of which you can actually absorb…i.e., benefit from), but also consists of adequate bouts of recovery. And while you don't always know how you're going to respond to training (and therefore, when you might require additional rest), you'll have a pretty good idea that if you've planned a hard training block, you'll need to back it up with the appropriate amount of rest. But again: rest as needed, not as planned. Insert a "floating rest day" or "recovery on demand" as it's needed. But be sure to plan to rest as well. This is not a new concept here but so many athletes fail to embrace the "hard/easy" rule (which may very well be the "hard/easy/easier" rule or the "hard/harder/hardest/easy" rule and so forth). These overly compulsive types like to train themselves into the ground each day just so they can elevate their fragile confidence. Remember that fitness isn't suddenly erased because of a day without training; in fact, that's when it's built, assuming you did the work beforehand. Now do the rest.

Moreover, planning should not only incorporate a broader range outlook on progressive overload, but also a more immediate, pinpointed view. Essentially, what I mean here is that if you train with no regard for your recovery, or with little regard for tomorrow, you'll assure yourself of limiting what you can accomplish then. As I like to croon, "Your recovery begins the minute the workout does." (Unlike your workout, it doesn't end.) And it begins with hydration and nutrition, along with a close cross-examination of exercise intensity and duration, respecting ALL factors that may lead to impaired recovery (cadence choice, clothing choice, etc.). Call it recovery-based training if you will, but the point is to continually look ahead by looking at what you're doing now…and why you're doing it.

2) Sleeping. Thankfully, sleep is free of charge, yet can recharge your batteries. (Keep in mind that sleep is not free when staying at the No-Tell Motel.) Skimp here and you'll eventually be skimping on your best efforts elsewhere, in training. Sleeping includes napping, a learned skill but one that helps release more of that ever-important human growth hormone, your body's very own recovery drug.

3) Relaxing. Relaxing is also free, but it's truly amazing how few people know how to do it. (e.g., we run errands, when we could be walking them!) Sometimes in life it's important to spend some time doing nothing, and perhaps even less. I mean, how great is it to do nothing and then rest afterward! Ask yourself: are you capable of doing nothing today?

4) Hydration. It's crystal clear that rehydration is imperative when attempting to augment recovery. And while drinking can be very expensive---particularly when it's alcohol or bottled water---municipal sourced water (albeit overly chlorinated) remains gratis, and that's good.

5) Eating. Eating is not free, nor should it be. But we need to eat to survive, so there's really no point in looking at its cost. And anyway, skimping here will ensure that the cost will be much greater later. The key thing with recovery-related nutrition is to know that your immediate recuperation needs depend on what you shove down your gullet (and when you do so) and that your long-term wellness also greatly depends on it. Food is the only source where we humans get our energy. Take in nutrients, not just stimulants.

6) Elevating. The heart pumps blood through the body, but it takes work. (The soleus muscle almost acts as a second heart, while it fights gravity and pumps blood back up the body.) You can (and should) make this an easier task by laying down or elevating your legs whenever possible. Another cheesy Chuckie/Chuckie Cheese saying, "Elevate your performance by elevating your legs."

7) Bathing. Lots of reputable coaches like to dispute the benefits of cold-water soaks but I'm of the mindset that they help. And anyway, if you believe they do, they do. Contrast baths (hot then cold back to hot again) also fall into this same category. I do believe, however, that ice baths are not all that wise for those whose immune system is already on red alert (i.e., half-Ironman and Ironman finishers and overly skinny folks with a propensity to remain cold for hours afterward.)

8) Compressing. Triathletes adore trends and today's latest, greatest is to wear compression "gear". It's one trend I'm actually all for, except of course in the fashion sense, and, trust me, I know ALL about being fashionable. Lame attempt at humor aside, compression can help. Whether or not it does, doesn't matter. You should decide yourself, like with all things in life.

9) Massage. Massage is not cheap in this day and age, but self-massage can help hasten recovery. I typically advise "stripping" the lateral quads, site of much of our training abuse. If you cannot dig into your muscles without grimacing, you are not 100%. Use your hands or a high-density foam roller or perhaps a device like The Stick or one of those high-tech thumping electronic massage thingamajigs.

10) Warming-up and cooling-down. While I don't always emphasize the importance of these factors to those I guide, I absolutely have them do it. The only time I neglect including a warm-up or cool-down is when additional workouts precede or ensue. The first workout of the day ALWAYS involves a long enough warm-up (i.e., however long it takes), while the last workout of the day always incorporates a lengthy cool-down (and rarely do we finish the training day with a more abusive exercise bout like a run).

11) Stretching. I myself am not a fan of stretching (with the exception of my imagination) and typically do not recommend it. (I believe that a large range of motion plays a trivial role in endurance sports and can add to what I affectionately call muscle "slop".) But with enough caution applied, there is virtually no risk. Some studies show that stretching can speed recovery (by way of increased glycogen uptake) where others demonstrate absolutely nothing. If you believe it helps, keep doing it. If you'd rather not, keep doing that---or something else---instead!

12) Thinking. Without over-doing it (a tendency of so many triathletes), thinking can certainly facilitate your cause. Use your brain to look for ways to enhance your recovery. The brain is the most critical organ involved in training (and remember: training is everything, including recovery), but also the toughest to train. Unfortunately, some of us have limited potential in this regard. If you're one of these types (and I shan't name names), I advise copying smarter athletes. Hell, that big-toothed character Tony Robbins has amassed a substantial fortune by simply looking at the best performers in various walks of like and noting what their common traits were. He then copied it all, packaged it and pawned it off on those too afraid to copy one another.

13) Fun. Laughter. Delight. Smiling. Joy. Happiness. Pleasure. Bliss. Ecstasy. Hugs. Take part in these vital parts of being human as often as possible, and you WILL recover more quickly. Fun is free and 'free' is my second favorite four-lettered F word. (My absolute favorite four-lettered F word is also free of cost [sometimes, anyway], but involves another person. And one needs to be sure he or she is also having fun while doing it.)

In addition to thee methods there are plenty of others ways in which to speed recovery, including IVs (to speed rehydration, bypassing the gut and going straight into the bloodstream), NormaTec "Boots", medicine/drugs, and so on. Cost often ends up the biggest inhibitor to most these options, but if money is of no concern I typically advise doing everything (legal) in your power to speed recovery. As my old teammate Lance Armstrong likes to say, "Recovery is the name of the game…whoever recovers the fastest does the best." Here's a guy, incidentally, who needn't worry about money.

Ultimately, it's important to recognize that an athlete who repeatedly overloads his or her body without allowing adequate recovery time will eventually reach a state that requires a much longer period of rest. And this is no place to be if you want to be competitive or do YOUR best. Training isn't just about seeing who can hurt the most but who can gain the most. And so, as they say, "it's not how hard you train, it's how hard you recover."

In subsequent write-ups I hope to touch on the different types of fatigue (to which there are plenty) and talk about recognizing when to cut a workout or training block short, or to back off to an easier, more appropriate load, one that may not help you as much in the short-term as over the long haul. I may also talk some about quantifying and tracking your recovery (which I deem far more critical than keeping track of your training stress, since life outside of training can be equally as stressful, ergo affecting your recovery).

In the meantime, don't just stress. Do the rest.

Riches to Rags

2010-11-11T12:37:00.000-08:00

Race directors often try to cut corners wherever possible, to save money and therefore make themselves more of it. (Of course, if we competitors cut corners as often, we'd all end up DQ'd.) One place they're known to skimp is in the finisher's shirt they hand out post-race (if they even hand them out, that is). Finisher's shirts, of course, are often god-awful affairs. They either advertise a bunch of race sponsors you really don't give a shit about or they come in colors not normally seen in the natural world. Most remain cotton, a material that, for the athlete, is about as useless as waxed toilet paper.

And so it is that nearly all my race shirts end up becoming bike rags, except in the rare case I actually like the color and/or design (of which just three shirts come to mind over the past twenty odd years: Ironman Lanzorote's all-black one, the Junior Olympic's glow-in-the-dark picture of our globe and a tie-dye one from a race I did in Lithuania, presumably designed after the famous 1992 Olympic Basketball squad).

Today I decided to pull out an old malodorous stash of tees because it's snowing here in Boulder and I am so bored I actually decided to clean my bike (even though it hasn't been soiled much at all of late, unlike my underpants). Apparently though, my stash has dwindled down to the bare minimum. Thankfully, one of the shirts was perfect for the job: an aged, wrinkly Gatorade design with my ugly mug on it. Chuckie, meet chain; chain, meet Chuckie.

And to think there are some poor (as in rich) saps out there who actually pay for rags!

On the Road with Chuckie V. from Anne Pazen on Vimeo.

Monkeying Around

2010-10-30T14:03:00.000-07:00

Triathlons and running races are often pricey affairs these days, with athletes dishing out upwards to $700 to enter them. It is my belief that the participant doesn't receive a whole hell of a lot for his or her entry fee (e.g., a finisher's shirt, a medal, some gels, a pat on the back, a sunburn, some blisters and perhaps some fond memories, though these aren't guaranteed and tend to be short-lived anyhow), but then the races seem to be filling up faster than ever, which shows you that few people share my opinion.

Today I decided that I don't even share that opinion. Call me crazy but somehow I decided to dish out a hundred-plus smackers---$108 to be precise---to run a little more than 5K down in Denver's crowded city center. And I haven't even been running lately; in fact, the last time I ran further than to the bathroom was nearly a year ago. (That said, when one runs to the bathroom, the urgency and intensity is usually quite high, which more than makes up for any lack of frequency or consistency.)

So, why would I hand over $100+ smackers to run?

Because race organizers furnish each participant with a nice suit, just for entering. (You don't even have to finish!) As is my style---a style utterly lacking in all style---I've never owned a suit (or tie), so I figured, why not?!

Pardon the double negative here but not only have I never owned a suit, I've also only ever worn one on just two occasions (swimsuits notwithstanding, of course). There was the one time I got all spruced up since I was forced to stand before the Honorable Judge Skinner, but that's quite another story. That particular suit felt awfully constricting, but I'll admit that it could very well have been the circumstances of which were about to unfold, circumstances that had wrongly placed me in the wrong place at the wrong time. And, with the exception of the resultant stint in that damn orange jumpsuit, I haven't donned any sort of suit since.

Until today.

Today, you see, I paid $108 so I could wear this suit…

And to me it was well worth it. The race is called the Denver Gorilla Run and it helps raise funds for a good cause, or what I think is a good cause: The Mountain Gorilla Conservation Fund. The organization is devoted to the preservation of the Mountain Gorilla and has been ever since Dian Fossey spearheaded the effort, prior to her murder.

There are just seven-hundred or so Mountain Gorillas left in the world today (and yet the race had close to eleven-hundred gorilla wannabes…go figure) and, like so many other wonderful creatures, the primates are rapidly facing extinction, due in part to human expansion and poaching. Like so many other stories this planet faces, it is a sad state of affairs.

But this morning was the exact opposite: a festive, glorious day, though the unseasonable warm temperatures made wearing a gorilla suit a pretty unbearable experience. Not only that but the stupid eye holes on my suit's mask were slightly off kilter the entire 3.5 miles (and situated closer to my nostrils) and I only found my way to the finish line thanks to a keen sense of hearing. Gorillas are known for their keen sense of hearing.

And while I did run smack dab into the back of a parked car at one point, all the meanwhile setting off its annoying alarm system, I was able to reach the finish-line in my three-piece suit in one piece. Hungry and hot, I promptly refueled with a plethora of bananas and took refuge under a self-induced water spray, a lone gorilla in the mist.

I strongly urge all Denver and Boulder runners (and non-runners) to quit monkeying around and take part in this event next year. You'll laugh your hairy ass off and maybe even meet a gorilla you'd like to mate with (so you can do it like they do on the Discovery Channel), though I must admit: it is fairly difficult to decipher gender differences. (Oh, and unless you're a silverback, you really don't have much say in the matter.) In any case, I was not so fortunate, but I did manage to get my picture taken a bunch of times on the drive home. That is until I ran straight into the back of a parked car. Damn eye holes! See if I ever wear a suit again!

PS: Congrats to Sonja for finishing fourth overall and winning the women's Gorilla Gal division, more than ten-minutes ahead of her coach. I'll try to post additional primate pictures in the next day or two.

WTC Ironman Access

2010-10-28T10:32:00.000-07:00

In the natural world it is bad form for the parasite to feed off the host to the point of having killed the host; the parasite then perishes as well.

It is no different in the business world, as "business" is man's way of survival, albeit invented. If the employee or customer steals from the business the business will have a tougher time of surviving.

But what happens when the business acts as a parasite? When the business steals from the customer?

Believe it or not, such behavior is commonplace in the business world, and in my relatively short lifespan I've witnessed numerous businesses go down---most because the market wasn't there, but many due to their own flawed conduct.

Borrow too much and make too little and voila! You're done.
Pay your employees too much and earn too little. Same result.
Pay your employees too little and your CEO too much: ditto.
Ignore your target market...

Well, you get the picture.

The WTC (World Triathlon Corporation) may very well have fallen prey to such a gaffe with their latest tactical maneuver, their "Access" program, a plan enabling their customers the chance to enter their events before their other customers do, all for the low price (read: sarcasm) of $1000. You read that right: One THOUSAND dollars, says Dr. Evil in his wavering little voice.

Here's essentially what you'd receive for that hefty sum…

• Exclusive advance registration to Ironman events (i.e., you get to cut in line!)
• Two VIP passes per registered event (some free pizza and soft drinks)
• One-year subscription to LAVA Magazine (in attempt to control the media, they've begun creating their own, while banning "outside" media at their events)
• 2011 Ironman Lottery entry plus second chance in the Ironman Lottery program (doubling everyone's chances leaves us all at odds…the same odds)
• 2010 Ford Ironman World Championship NBC broadcast DVD (a long-winded WTC advertisement)
• 20 percent discounts on Ironman partner products at shopironman.com and on-site event retail stores (but yet no discount to race entry fees)
• Official membership ID card (WOW!!! A membership card!!! Hold on while I go throw my pants in the wash; I just peed myself laughing…)

Benefits are valid for a year, starting from your activation date.

Again, the WTC may have made a judgment error here but only time and the market will tell. Hitherto they seem to know their market well, perhaps even better than the market itself does. (Many customers cry foul but yet continue to $pend.) If nothing else, I believe they made an error naming their new series the "5150", which is essentially California police code for criminally insane. Insane indeed.

I am no longer a part of their market (and would, in fact, take my dollars elsewhere if I ever decided to compete again), except to help athletes qualify for the events they host. So, in a way, I have a very small dog in this fight. It's a "fight" I don't care to lose (I rarely fight, but when I do I've found that it's a good strategy to try not to lose), as it may very well affect my own business (I'll admit: possibly for the better). I urge potential Ironman Access members to consider---and then reconsider---their spending habits carefully. Though I'm not a direct customer, those who are need to seriously weigh the decision long and heavy before dolling out a grand just to cut in line. It may sound like a first-class opportunity, but when the plane goes down we all die, and those leading the way usually die first.

No Excuses/No Regrets

2010-10-06T10:57:00.000-07:00

Kona Day Three

2010-10-05T22:10:00.000-07:00

It is great that Hawaii is west of the US mainland. For a guy who loves sleeping past 10am every single day, I'm able to travel here without any of the negative effects that usually accompany air travel. My internal clock is automatically adjusted to the new time zone the second I step off the plane. This morning I was up at 6am sharp…exactly 10am in Denver. I almost feel like a type-A kind of guy.

Type-A indeed; after waking so early we returned to Dig Me Beach, sight of Saturday's race start, for another swim. The goal wasn't to improve our fitness, or even to maintain it for that matter, but to work on our pathetic tan-lines and perhaps catch glimpse of some sea turtles. The creatures are magnificent in every sense of the word and are known not just for their mellow demeanor but for the fact they often outlast their human counterparts, growing as old as 200-years. That's the true definition of an Ironman, if you ask me. (This proves that it pays to be mellow.)

Alas, we were unable to see any. They seem to know to avoid the island this week, what with all the hoopla. Turtles aren't the type to enjoy hoopla. Sharks, maybe. Turtles, no way.

After the flop, we headed back to the condo for quite a bit of relaxation and quite a bit of breakfast. And because breakfast ended up being so big (it grew as we continued to eat, as breakfasts tend to), so too did the need for more relaxation. The postprandial effect was pronounced (in technical terms it's called a "food coma", something all triathletes know well) and all I could do was lounge around like a ten-toed Hawaiian sloth afterward. This would affect the remainder of the day in fact, and the planned bike ride was no longer planned but scrapped.

So instead of acting like Type-A triathletes, we sprawled, slept, sunbathed, snorkeled and surfed. This is the Hawaii I've come to love.

To end the lazy day we drove an hour from Kona to Waimea (elevation: 2,500-feet) for dinner. There, we feasted on lobster (brought in from Maine, oddly enough) and foods I could never afford had I been the one to pay. (Had I been the one to pay, it would've been rice and potatoes for everyone. Again.) Brynje's dad and step mom had invited us (us being Angela and I) and we'd have been fools for declining. Fools we were not. At least not this time around.

All told it was another shitty day in paradise, and tomorrow brings more of the same. But there will be some business to attend to as well: parties to catch, hands to shake, schmoozing to be done, beaches to comb. I'll be sure to have those I guide to balance it all with enough downtime.

PS: As sleek as they look, the mongoose is nothing more than a glorified rat.

PSPS: I've been asked to write down my race predictions for Saturday's main event (there is no other event). I may do this come Saturday afternoon or Sunday morning. No, in all actuality, it could be fun to speculate for once. I'll give it some more thought before Saturday, but for now...

Women:
1) Wellington, though she looked a little under the weather when I saw her today
2) Carfrae (a favorite to show)
3) ? Steffan?

Men:
1) Raelert (Andreas; his little bro will get his turn soon enough)
2) Alexander
3) Henning

Kona Day Two

2010-10-04T21:14:00.000-07:00

The rain here seems to be a bit of a night owl, as more of it fell last night...enough for me to call off this morning's ocean swim. The risk of picking up a nasty microscopic bug is elevated when this happens and even a coach with half a brain (a description that fits me well) should know better than to have his/her athletes put themselves at risk. So, instead, it was off to the pool, where we discovered that it was closed for the day. "Furlough" was all the makeshift sign said. A leave of absence, how nice.

Back to the bay and Dig Me Beach. We'd have to swim and take our chances. I opted to take my own leave of absence and remain anchored on land so I could coach from afar, by sitting under the shade of a banyan tree and reading a study about the athlete ego. It was like reading an autobiography!

After the "coaching", I set out to ride the bike course with Angela and Gant. (Brynje was to chillax all day! That's Angela and her in the picture.) We motored from the get-go, but were held up by numerous traffic lights, lights that all seemed to conspire against us, lights that weren't around a decade ago. But once we made our way north of the Keahole International Airport we were free to set sail. Angela pulled us the entire way and would end up riding the bike course in five-hours flat, though we did stop our watches to refuel for five minutes in Kawaihae. I wouldn't have made it home without that stop, I kid not.

It was fun to watch Angela do what she does best and I could sense her excitement to enter this race someday. That someday will likely be in two years, if her coach has his druthers (he always gets his way, by the way). It was also fun to watch the plethora of male cyclists look over at the 53-kilogram Angela as we passed. Talk about a study of the athlete ego! As is natural for the male ego (read: fragile), a few would try to re-pass and "race" her, attempting to assert their dominance and yet, at the same time, assure that they wouldn't be racing at their best on Saturday.

To me, this behavior is utterly laughable, and I cannot, for the life of me, understand why so many young and middle-aged guys hate being passed or beaten by females. Hell, all a guy needs to do is go train with the local high school girls swim team to realize that he's gonna get chicked more often than not. So why is it any different on the bike? Chrissie is going to beat all but twenty or so men come Saturday, so you better get used to getting chicked guys. Until you do the work these ladies have, it's an inevitability. Gender, schmender...work works, regardless of genitalia.

We do more of the same tomorrow and if a guy cares to compete again because he hates being chicked, well, he can certainly kiss his best effort goodbye come Saturday. Let go the ego, gents. Focus on the task at hand. Chances are you're gonna get chicked anyhow, so why let it bother you now?

Kona Day One

2010-10-03T17:50:00.000-07:00

For the next week or so I'll try my best to post a short write-up each day from my current whereabouts here in Kona, Hawai'i, mostly about some of what I see each day and some thoughts regarding the whole Ironman experience.

It's been a while since I last hopped on a plane (does anyone actually hop?) but it was time to return to the islands, and I wasn't about to row or swim. (To boot, colder climes were imminent in Colorado.) Island life has always been my cup of tea, even though I usually surround myself with mountains. Hawai'i, thankfully, has both. I'll drink from both cups.

After arriving late last night, in a reasonably serious rainstorm (a special note to Saturday's competitors: it's not wise to swim in the ocean here after rainstorms; all the microbial crap floats downstream, and there is no more downstream once you're at sea level), I was able to catch up on much needed sleep. Airplanes, as cool as they are, don't allow for sleep, or any other form of rest.

Upon waking it was time to build the bikes up and head out with the gang. In today's case that gang was Brynje Enderle, who's competing on Saturday (she qualified at the Saint Croix 70.3 earlier this year), her Husband Gant, myself, and Angela Naeth, who is not competing on Saturday, but will come here in two or three year's time and kick some serious arse (mark my words). Our mission was to ride a moderately hard four hours, the last long-ish, hard-ish ride of the year for Brynje. We were to each be her domestique, entirely at her beck and call, even though none of us knew what a "beck" was. Jeff Beck? That annoying Glenn Beck? Or is it just Beck Beck?

Ultimately, I was the weak link in an otherwise robust chain gang, but we managed fine, despite the truly horrific winds out past Waikaloa. I know everyone always talks about the winds here on the Big Island but holy crap, these were the kind you can only pray for on race day if you're a strong cyclist. (Or not...if you're not.) At one point we looked down to our bike computers/GPS units to note our "speed". "Speed", of course, isn't the correct word. We were doing a whopping 4.6 miles per hour, despite the fairly hard effort. I drank four bottles in a four-hour ride, whereas I normally do with half of one in that time (Veylupek means "camel" in Chinese).

Toward the end of the ride we were blessed with a sprinkle, ever so slight though it was. The sun remained camouflaged by darkening clouds and the temperature was actually quite pleasant.

The island has morphed a bit since I last visited in 1999, the year race organizers asked me not to return (for having drank a beer during the event). There are far more buildings and cars now, with plenty more coming and staying. When I first visited Kona in the early 90s there was only the small downtown pier area and not much else. Now there's a Costco and a Sports Authority (a store that probably knows nothing about triathlon, I'd venture to guess) and a whole host of other big box retailers. It's a sad sight but welcomed on the wallet. Like everyone else, I support what I oppose. When I first came here I showed up with a tent and a bike (in a cardboard box). Now, there are few places one could camp. Malls have replaced those places.

One conclusion I've drawn in just my first day here: Ironman is definitely now a rich white man's activity but boy, can some of these rich white guys go fast! Up and down the main strips---Alii Drive and the Queen K Highway---they run and ride (a bit too fast if you ask me). It's a spectacle for sure, and I plan to do all the spectating I can, right up until midnight on Saturday. It's good to be back.

Proceed with Caution

2010-09-30T09:33:00.000-07:00

We had a great day of training here in Boulder yesterday. (Or near Boulder anyway; 'twas our last high-mileage day.) It's now officially "taper time" for those who are competing in the Hawaii Ironman. And so I took a few minutes to brief those I guide...

"I hate to use negative reinforcement but now is not the time to do anything stupid. Please don't do anything new or crazy, as new or crazy is stupid at this point. Remember: stupid is as stupid does. Take care of yourself and avoid stupidity and stress; don't try to cope...just avoid it. Watch your step."

This last one seemed pretty obvious---"watch your step". And when I tell someone to watch their step, I'm not threatening them like some guy out for revenge might do. I'm essentially saying when it's time to watch your step, it is time to tip-toe (i.e., proceed with caution).

So imagine, if you will, my concern when I was out riding beside GoSonja during her transition run yesterday afternoon when she decided to go airborne thanks, in part, to a whopping one-centimeter protuberance in her path. ("In part" because the real cause for the fall was her inattentiveness.) Luckily, she broke her fall with her chin, nose, teeth and forehead, sparing precious body parts like her knees, elbows and wrists---those needed for an Ironman. And thankfully, my concern was all for naught when she bounced back up laughing.

Nonetheless, today I shout out another reminder: It's nine more days 'til the Biggest Dance of the year, folks. Please, no tripping until then! That day is enough of a trip as it is.

VolunteerMan

2010-09-27T09:06:00.000-07:00

A couple of months ago I was chillfully but cheerfully situated atop a 14,240-foot mountain, minding my own business. Though I possess no business, it's crucial that one occasionally minds it. Anyway, while laboring to suck in enough oxygen and make sense of the fact I just pedaled up said mountain, I was presented with a gift. It was a plane ticket to Kona. A few of the athletes I guide chipped in to buy it for me, so I can watch them compete in the Ironman World Championships, now less than two weeks away. Not a day goes by where I don't ask myself, "What did I do to deserve this?" But this isn't why I write. And anyway, it's up to each of them to decide what I did to justify such a nice gesture. (I impose hard work upon them; they bestow gifts upon me...weird.)

Ever since that wonderful day I've slowly prepared myself for my trip. I've pulled the surfboard out of storage and picked up some sunscreen, a snorkel, a pair of fins (courtesy of the local pool) and a big enough beach towel (also from the pool's Lost & Found). The suitcase is packed and my plans are set.

So when another athlete I coach (who's also heading to Hawaii to observe the race) asked if I planned to volunteer during race week, I first thought, "And ruin my vacation? No thanks!" only to reconsider and ask myself, "Why not? That could be fun!"

But then I started to reconsider my initial reconsideration…there's NO WAY I'm going to volunteer.

You see, the Ironman name is a trademarked brand, owned by a for-profit conglomerate known as the World Triathlon Corporation (WTC). You've probably heard of them. They're good at what they do and, as such, have stuck around a while, circa 1990. In the business world this isn't always such a straightforward task. Nowadays the WTC runs close to a hundred triathlons around the planet and more with each passing year, as they continually buy out existing events to add to their collection. With this comes a monopoly of sorts and with that, less respect for their customers and an increase in entry fees.

But here's the interesting thing, and my justification for not volunteering (though the truth is, I need not justify my inactions). Unlike most businesses that actually compensate their workforce, the WTC enlists complimentary labor---labor provided by volunteers who are each required to sign a waiver (suckers, I call 'em). Most these poor suckers have no idea they're providing free labor for a for-profit company, believing instead that they're helping support the sporting community, or perhaps a charity associated with the WTC-owned race. But, despite the millions of dollars that WTC makes each year, the organization raises few for charity (they leave this to the non-profits crazy enough to associate with their brand), as its investors care only for their own charitable trust. And who can blame them? After all, it's 'for-profit', not 'for free'.

Now I'm all for free enterprise and profiting, but I hate to think that the exertion I bequeath is not only done for free, but to the benefit of a corporation, especially one that persists in having me sign a waiver each time I care to help their bottom line, a corporation that continues to raise already-steep entry fees, a corporation intent on squashing the little guy, a corporation that gives out little more than advertisements and race flyers to other events owned by the corporation. No thank you. WTC: WTF?

PS: Now, with all this said, if on race morning body-markers are needed for the women's 20-24, 25-29, 30-34 and 35-39 age groups, well, mark me down as your guy. In fact, pardon me for a minute here while I go add a few magic-markers to my suitcase.

PSPS: Falconhead Capital is another corporation unworthy of your free time and labor. They too own an increasing number of events (including the Muddy Buddy series and the Rock-n-Roll marathon moniker), in addition to owning Competitor, Inc., holders of Triathlete Magazine, Inside Triathlon Magazine, VeloNews Magazine, Competitor Magazine and other periodicals. It'll be interesting to see where this 'corporate takeover' mentality ultimately leads. Will more people be turned on to our sport? Or will they be turned away?

Open-Water Mixed Martial Arts

2010-09-16T05:01:00.000-07:00

Of all the things I've learned about swimming over the years—approximately two, though possibly as many as three---one of them stands above the rest: you can't really compare pool swimming with its open-water cousin. To me, that would be a lot like comparing road cycling and mountain biking, or bicycling and unicycling, or wine and beer, or apples and oranges. While there are similarities with all these things, so too are there major differences. Especially with mountain biking and apples. (One provides calories, the other scrapes and bruises.)

In all seriousness, or some seriousness anyway, one of the biggest lessons I had been taught when I first hopped in the pool was that form was EVERYTHING. Form, as in technique or skill. Without grasping the concept of proper technique, it's difficult to become a proficient pool swimmer. ("Proper", by the way, is only ever individually proper…think optimal.) Keep in mind though that at the top level of competitive swimming (i.e., the Olympics), there are far more similarities in stroke mechanics than there are differences.

Open-water swimming, however, is as much about drafting and stroke rate and muscle as it is about technique---if not more so. You can forget all that nonsense about "distance-per-stroke" and "rotation" and "hand entry" and whatnot.

This is especially the case with long-course triathlon, where the swim is really only ever about setting ourselves up for the remainder of the day...oh, and dealing with the masses trying to drown us. And of course in addition to other swimmers/flailers, we're also forced to negotiate cold temperatures (though the pools in Europe tend to be colder than most oceans and lakes), currents, waves, tsunamis, sharks, electric eels, Orcas, man-eating turtles, microbial secret agents, floating debris, a lack of lane lines (humans NEED lines!), fishing line (humans NEED lines!), kelp, undertows, salt, runaway buoys, turns, boats, toxins, jellyfish, a lack of lifeguards, wind, sailors (and their incessant cussing), the Navy, submarines, whirlpools, the enormous intense orb to the east, mermaids, icebergs, wetsuits, oil spills, sand, sea horses, volunteers, and a whole host of other predicaments and impediments, all of which would easily be overcome with enough firepower, if only fire worked in water.

Open-water swimming, you see, ain't quite the safety net that is pool swimming. Indeed, it is more like mixed martial arts than it is swimming, though thankfully there are no cages. (One might argue that a cage would be nice to have when sharks are present.) And to think there are still some folks who believe that triathlon is a non-contact sport!

In this vein, let me share with you, if I may, a short aqua-account from the days of yore, back when MTV actually played music videos…

Years ago I was safely situated in the lead swim group during the Hawaiian Ironman. I had found myself there because of a deep but wholesome fear of the ocean; the sooner I could escape its immensity and its ferocity, the better off I'd be. Fear works wonders like this. Anyway, there were about fifteen of us there, with a couple of speedier swimmers a minute or two off the front. I'd have joined the amphibious pair---Nate Llerandi and Wolfgang Dietrich---had I been able to, but reasoned that sharks were more likely to strike had I been the one leading the charges. (One never knows.)

So I stuck within the safety net of the school. And life was good until I found myself sandwiched between a guy named Dave Scott and another by the name of Tony DeBoom. Both, you see, are "strength swimmers", muscling their way through the water and anything that happens to be floating in it. Well, I tried gently to persuade the two, through various gestures and tactical maneuvers, to depart my side. The splashes they'd been creating, along with the knocks to the head and ribcage, were just too much. At one point the two even criss-crossed over the top of me! Here we had an entire ocean and here we had a problem with crowding. Lots of bubbles…lots of trouble, as the B-52's might sing.

Finally, I decided that I too could play their game, throwing a hard elbow at one of them. It was Tony I could tell, as Dave possessed a much uglier turn-over and continued his splashy tsunami-stroke. I eventually decided to defer, settling in on Dave's feet. I wouldn't see Tony again, at least not until mile 80 or so on the bike, when he rode up beside me. He had a steady stream of blood flowing down his face. I played dumb (a feat that normally doesn't require much acting on my part).

"What the hell happened?!"

"Some asshole broke my nose during the swim!"

Indeed it did appear abnormally large and off-kilter, but then I'm not one to speak. At least my schnozz hadn't created a potentially lethal curiosity among the local shark population. Nor was it staining my singlet.

Since it's well-known that misery loves company, I considered consoling Tony and mentioning my aching elbow, but then thought better of it. He had, after all, been an Army Ranger at one point, the sort of guy who could kill a man just by staring him down long enough. Not even Chuck Norris is as tough. I pedaled hard and left him behind once more, throbbing elbow and all.

Which brings me back to my point of open-water swimming. (Actually, it doesn't, but I had to get here somehow.) My point is that there's virtually no need to look smooth or worry about your stroke or your efficiency in the ocean or in a lake; the fish certainly don't care, and the spectators waiting on terra firma can't even see you. Efficiency is measured only by the race-clock and your proximity to other competitors.

The key is to get through all the aforementioned obstructions as quickly as possible, conserving enough energy to ride and run to the best of your abilities. This way you can reach the med tent that much sooner, where you'll be able to tend to your bruised elbow before the guy with the broken nose shows.

Run Gait Analysis

2010-09-07T16:44:00.000-07:00

Here we have a picture of two top elite female triathletes, during a recent run gait analysis at Tri-Massage.com. You may have to click on it for a larger view. One of the athletes happens to be one of the faster runners in the sport (if not the fastest), while the other happens to be of the fastest cyclists in the sport (if not the fastest). You can probably guess which is which, though neither is a witch. (Actually, neither just "happens to be" as fast as they are; they work hard for it.)

I'll let you, the viewer, decide who looks like the more accomplished runner (and indeed is), and who looks like a cyclist running. And yes, I realize they're not in the same phase of their strides. Nor is this a very good photo, but I don't care.

Good luck!

5-Hour 5-Minute Energy

2010-08-30T21:09:00.000-07:00

Had I known today's bike ride was going to last five hours and five minutes, I would have never drank that 5-Hour Energy drink before leaving home.

Those last five minutes lasted an eternity, or what seemed like five hours.

Ironman.com & Ironmanlive.com

2010-08-29T18:59:00.000-07:00

Note the sarcasm in the following sentence.

Nice work Ironman.com, for the incredible race coverage with both Ironman Canada and Ironman Louisville!

Perhaps had the-powers-that-be (the WTC...World Triathlon Corporation) thought through the realities of holding two Ironmans on the same day, they might've realized the one website tracking both events would've crashed. Yes WTC, there is some outside interest in these events. Of course, I'm sure there's an excuse that has yet to be formulated or announced, but this isn't the first time for such a crash.

If I crashed as much as Ironman.com's website did, I'd be dead by now.

Sincerely,
-Chuckie V

The Work Week: Weekend Warrioring

2010-08-26T14:25:00.000-07:00

I've been lazy of late ("of late" being my entire life, but more recently I've been lazier than normal) and blogging has taken a backseat to doing nothing, which is something I do better than most. Lazy is as lazy does...not do. Today, however, I finally decided to scribble down the remainder of my thoughts with this, the third wheel in a three-wheel series about setting training up around a "real job", a job that requires you to train "around" it. Before I delve into the details of weekend-warrioring, I'd like to first assert that contrary to what you may have read into my first blog on the matter, possessing a job is NOT a crime. In fact, it's man's manner (albeit an invented behavior) of assuring his continued existence, enabling him the capacity to buy lots of stuff before he departs this place and transfers his (borrowed) energy unto other life forms. (Interestingly, some of the stuff he pays to procure will outlive him. Like, for example, paperweights.)

I myself have a job, helping to assure my own survival (though it's never fully assured). What's more, if I don't do what I'm paid to do, I will not only fail myself but also those who've hired me. But, to this end, I'd scavenge neighboring garbage bins if I had to; pride does not intervene. Nor would it you, if your survival depended on it. Survival is not always a matter of pride, save for the lions. And like the animals, we work to survive. For me, it's coaching and living off savings gathered from years back. (Incidentally, my plan is to live forever. So far, so good.)

Segue aside, the intent of this particular write-up is to talk about the time we're not working, when we finally get to "balance" all that work with play. "Play" has plenty of meanings, but for those of us who like to touch base with our animalistic instincts (particularly those fight-and-flight responses hardwired into our very being) we do nutty things like, well, Ironmans. Some of us, it seems, like to play as hard as we work.

And here's to you!

On Saturday you'll ideally want to incorporate your toughest training day of the week, a challenge that closely relates to your goal race and all that it necessitates. For the Ironman athlete this essentially means a brick, whether it's a swim/bike/run ordeal or a bike/run challenge. The goal, of course, is to emulate the demands you'll face during your goal race, both in terms of effort and environmental conditions. Of course racing involves a sympathetic nervous system/adrenaline response that won't necessarily take place here, but it's important to make this workout as race-like as is possible: the early morning start, your fueling and hydration practices, your pacing tactics (yes, you should incorporate tactics even in training), employing "mock" competitors, the conditions (by over-dressing if necessary), your transitions and your overall execution. If you're finishing the bulk of your workouts slow and hungry you need to investigate and instigate the necessary changes here on this day. Think of this as race practice. After all, that's what training is. We don't train to get better at training. We don't train to improve specific physiological metrics. We don't train because it's fun. We train to compete.

Now, if you happen to wake up on Saturday and feel like a ton of bricks---instead of doing a brick---you can postpone this workout until Sunday, swapping the two days as though God screwed up the whole 'seventh day of rest' thing. Incidentally, when it comes to the triathlete's needs, He did. Church on race morning?! Give me a break!

Assuming Saturday went without a hitch, Sunday would simply be a "Cavemanesque" bike ride, entirely done by feel, or as I like to say, "as you see fit" (to teach you to develop a more intimate rapport with your body). The goal on this day is to scare the body into believing it has to sustain this type of weekend workload (i.e., a serious dose of iron) for days to come. It does not, as all that would do is ensure that you get fired from your job or divorced from your spouse, in addition to prolonging your training recovery. But "stacking" training days like this every so often is precisely what an Ironman insists upon. They ain't easy, folks!

So, in full (and as shown in my previous two blogs), your "optimal" Ironman training week might look a little like this (and probably should, if you care to do well)…

Monday: Run (1:00) + Swim (1:00) (detailed in previous blogs)
Tuesday: Ride (1:00) (detailed in previous blogs)
Wednesday: Time-consuming Run (2:00) + Swim (:45) (detailed in previous blogs)
Thursday: Ride (1:00) (detailed in previous blogs)
Friday: Run (1:00) + Swim (1:15) (detailed in previous blogs)
Saturday: Time-consuming Brick (4:00 Ride + 1:00 Run)
Sunday: Time-consuming Ride (4:00)

Oh, and you'll note there is no weight-training in the mix. This is because you're on a time-crunch and have better ("better" as in more beneficial) things to do with your time. If you're not on a time-crunch, swim, ride or run more. When you've maximized your training load (and your potential) with these activities then consider the gym.

PS: Today's link of the day is to an Xtri.com interview with an athlete I help guide. You may have seen her name around.

The Work Week Part Two: Captain Plan It

2010-06-07T12:19:00.000-07:00

Before I get going with the subject matter du jour, I'd like to make mention of a triathlon camp that we fine folks at Endurance Corner are hosting here in Boulder, Colorado from June 20-26th. Check it: not only will you be surrounded by outstanding coaches and phenomenal scenery, but you'll also eat pretty damn well and get to listen to talks by Chrissie Wellington, Craig Alexander, Laura and Greg Bennett, Matt Reed and others. Plus, it's cheap as far as camps go: $875. See here for more information and drop me a line (by leaving a comment here on this blog) if you're interested. I may even be able to finagle a deal for you, like $874.

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Now, onto today's blogalicious, a continuation from my previous one…

In that last little brain fart, I spoke briefly of "quality". It's a term we often hear in training talk, particularly when emanating from the mouths of exercise physiologists and coaches.

But what is "quality", exactly? I mean, really? Is it the opposite of quantity? That's certainly what so many coaches make it sound like---that quantity is in direct conflict with "quality", that you can't have one without destroying the other. This, of course, is utter nonsense, but you already knew that. So, again, what is it?

As I've already proposed in my last blog, IT IS ONLY QUALITY TRAINING IF IT ELICITS QUALITY RESULTS, and those, of course, are defined entirely by the individual. (Recall that "training" is preparation for something else, not a goal in and of itself.) So "quality" can be a number of things: hard efforts, easy efforts, no efforts, sleep...you name it. In training everything is affected by everything else (i.e., the holism of training), so quality's ultimate definition comes down to what occurs at the finish line (i.e., the bottom line), and whether it makes YOU happy with your performance…or not.

All this aside, let's pretend for a minute that "quality" simply means "intense". Intensity is, after all, one form of quality training and can surely spike fitness levels (much like a mohawk spikes the curiosity of the passerbyer). After all, if it's intense, it's challenging and challenge is what helps us grow. But where does intensity fit into the training week? I'm glad I asked!

In the previous blog's weekly template I mentioned three "key" challenge days: the midweek long run and the weekend bike rides. By "key" I basically mean those ever-important workouts that are designed to push us to the brink. The workingman's (or workingwoman's) training week ideally ought to be built around these, when an Ironman looms ahead. All else pales in importance, but yet remains important (again, training = everything; everything = training).

For those of you who can afford to implement the previously suggested 18-hours-a-week training template, this is how it looks…

Monday: Run (1:00) + Swim (1:00)
Tuesday: Ride (1:00)
Wednesday: Time-consuming Run (2:00) + Swim (:45)
Thursday: Ride (1:00)
Friday: Run (1:00) + Swim (1:15)
Saturday: Time-consuming Brick = Ride (4:00) + Run (1:00)
Sunday: Time-consuming Ride (4:00)

And again, the three primary challenges within this are the midweek long run, and the weekend rides. (The real challenge, however, is in repeating such a week ad infinitum. Remember, constant dripping hollows out a stone.) The long run is (or should be) self-explanatory: get out and run for a long time. If you run it too hard (or you go too long), you'll know a couple days thereafter. Be in tune with this and be aware in advance of next week's long one. The bike rides are ideally set-up in a manner where the challenge comes on Saturday (i.e., a harder steady-state effort), with Sunday's ride simply done as a "Caveman day" or a "feeling based" ride, followed by a transition run (we are, after all, triathletes). If you feel (and are indeed performing) like crap on Saturday the two rides can easily be swapped…in hopes you won't feel poor again on Sunday.

Now, as to where the rest of the challenge should lay, that's up to the individual and the coach, assuming the individual has a coach. If not, this is what I advise…

But first a disclaimer! It's imperative in training that you don't become mired in protocol or in a specific code of conduct. Protocol simply cannot prepare you like an adaptive response to reality can. (Reality = events that unfold; life.) This adaptive-ness is essentially the "art of training" and is every bit as important (if not more so) than the "science of training". And though verified to generate desirable outcomes on a wide range of athletes, the following is merely a suggestion based on principles and fundamentals and can only work if you make it work. And alas, making it "work" is NOT entirely up to you but rather your body and its fickle, ever-irregular responses. Amend where needed, when needed, as needed.

Okay…

Since the weekend is big enough Monday really ought to be recovery focused, a day free from the rigors of leg abuse. The hitch, however, is that we must continue to get the weekly load in, and starting the week with just a swim (regardless of what came the day prior) is a sure-fire way in which to fall short by the end of the week, and so Monday also includes an easy jog in the afternoon, preferably as late in the day as is feasible. And depending on how challenging the transition run was the day before, Monday's bout ideally ought to remain relaxed and slow, preferably on dirt or some other soft surface (rubber, pillows, babies butts, etc). As far as the swim goes, it's a good day for some "upper-body isolation" or "sport-specific strength work". Strap your feet together, throw on the paddles and a small pull-buoy and do a simple but challenging main set, like 10 x 250s @ 90% effort. With about two hour's training time in all, that leaves Monday a done deal.

As far as Tuesday is concerned, this is where the midweek bike challenge ideally fits in, at least on paper. (Keep in mind that everything is easy on paper, even an Ironman and even the Pacific Crest Trail, though you'll need that much more paper for the latter! And since everything is easy on paper, I plan to do my next long hike entirely atop the stuff.) In all truth, your body (and your drive) must always have the final say, but planning a hard strength-related ride here allows you to make the most of the restricted amount of time you have (or, more precisely, don't have). Warm-up approximately 10 or so minutes, then do 40-minutes at 95%-98% of FTP/UHOP in interval form (e.g., 5 x 8-minutes on 2-minute's rest), all the meanwhile seated in the aero-bars (not literally though, that'd be weird and hard to balance the bike) at slow, smooth cadences, roughly 65-70RPM. Cool-down for a minute or two and be done with it. Tuesday…check.

With regards to Wednesday, you'll need to find a way to squeeze the midweek long run here, particularly if your idea of a long run is two hours or so. If a long run to you is to the refrigerator and back, be sure to place the refrigerator in a town about 6-10 miles away. I advise waking up earlier than normal and setting out at 5am, before the rest of the lazy-ass world has even thought about waking; that way you'll feel pretty damn good about yourself (which is always an important consideration) when 7am rolls around, and the world still slumbers. The long run should be paced so that you could theoretically repeat it in 48-hours or so, without a hitch. If your recovery is compromised you went to hard. Later in the day (ideally at noon) a recovery swim is in order, to hasten recovery from the run (in a perfect world, you'd never finish the day with an abusive bout of exercise). This ought to be little more than a moderately challenging "flop" or gravity-removed movement. I usually have those I guide do more strength work with some light kicking (e.g., 20 x 75s pull {all gear} at 80-90% effort on a 5-second rest interval + 10 x 50s kick, alternating with kick-board and no kick-board. Include some backstroke and breaststroke to stretch things out.) Wednesday: done.

Thursday: If you're already a reasonably fit cyclist (relative to those you compete against), this ideally ought to be swapped for another swim or another run. If not, stick with the ride and go entirely by feel, ala the Caveman. Cavemen did not ride bikes (or their bikes had square wheels, anyway) but it's important here that you do, or at least do something, whether easy or not (don't be afraid of easy; in Ironman training, it ALL adds up, even the easy stuff). I don't believe in taking a complete day off each week when time is of the essence, as it's doubtful your competition does. (Check this: One day off each week = two months off each year. Good luck goal-tending with that approach.)

As for Friday, this is where the hardest swim of the week comes, though your other swims should be tough too (recall that swimming is "easier" on the body, in terms of recovery). You needn't anything extravagant, just something challenging. My personal favorite was a 5,000-meter time-trial, but I'm known to suffer from a series of mental maladies, so I advocate something a little more stimulating, psychologically speaking. (The physical stimulus of a 5K TT is profound.) In general this means a workout that relates to your goal race: if it's an Ironman for example, then 20 x 200s on a paltry 10-second's rest will do the trick, so long as they're all paced faster than your intended race pace. (Remember: unlike this workout, an Ironman Day swim = extended warm-up; whereas here now you must present yourself with a challenge in order to set yourself up for fitness growth; development follows demand.) Today's run, however, is like most triathlon-related running and is simply about remaining consistent and strong; routine in running is perfectly fine (though sameness is not). Fast running is okay only if recovery isn't compromised and if injury/illness is averted. The 48-72 hours following a given run will tell you if you ran too hard; look back to look ahead.

I'll get to the weekend in my next blog; this one is running long, just as I hope to be again one day soon. One step at a time.

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PS: The link of the day is not a link at all, but the full kit and caboodle. I've cut and pasted it for all to see and it comes our way via Joe Friel, one of my many ex-coaches (by the way, it wasn't that I was uncoachable; I simply had a number of coaches so I could take the best from each of them and then apply it in my own coaching...sneaky!)...it's called Basic Training Assumptions. Read and learn.

1. Training must be physically stressful. The whole purpose of training is to physically and appropriately challenge the body. From this challenge the body adapts and becomes more capable of handling a given level of stress. To be effective the training challenge should be specific to the stress anticipated in the goal event for which you are training.

2. Adaptation to a specific physical stress is called "fitness." This puts to rest old arguments about who is more fit - a golfer, weight lifter or marathoner. Each is equally fit for the unique physical demands of their sports. For example, if you want to define fitness as the physical skill required to hit a ball a long way with a stick then the golfer is the fittest.

3. Another product of stress is fatigue. If you challenge the body many physiological changes other than fitness can occur. You may have depleted carbohydrate stores, damaged muscle cells, altered body chemistry, etc. Taken as a whole these changes are called “fatigue.”

4. Fitness and fatigue trend similarly. You may not have thought about this before, but it is important to understand. There is a strong link between fitness and fatigue. If you are fatigued from training then you stressed the body adequately enough to create the potential for fitness. If the workout did not cause any fatigue at all then it also did not produce the potential for fitness. So, when fatigue is rising you can expect the same thing from fitness.

5. In order to race well one must reduce fatigue. This is what tapering before a big race is all about – reducing fatigue. You don’t want to go into important races tired. There is no benefit from doing that. Racing when tired most assuredly will produce less-than-stellar performances.

6. Reducing fatigue is called "coming into form." The term “form” came from late-nineteenth-century horse racing. Before placing a bet you would check the form (sheet of paper) provided by the bookie which showed how each horse had been racing recently. When a horse was racing well it was said to be “on form.” Bike racing which started in the late nineteenth century adopted this term early on. In recent years other endurance sports have begun using it.

7. Coming into form requires losing fitness. This is where I was taking you with the above assumptions. Don’t believe me? Then go back to #4. The bottom line is that you must give up some fitness in order to shed fatigue and therefore race at the highest levels. The trick is to limit and control how much fitness is lost in the tapering process. I've probably put more time and thought into this single aspect of race preparation than any other. But what I do is far from perfect. Peaking is as much an art as a science. The protocol I use isn't 100%. This is described in my books. It may work for a given athlete for one race but not as well for the next. That's because we are humans and not machines. There are many variables in our lives. Actually, I'm glad it's that way.

The Work Week

2010-05-25T11:15:00.000-07:00

Even though I've been offered one or two in the past, I choose not to work a "standard" 40-hour-a-week job. It's not that I refuse to, per se, but just that I usually find better things to do with that time.

In truth, there are a number of reasons I don't work the "standard" job. Laziness is the primary one but fear is also on the list. Oh, and for what it's worth, I define the "standard job" as an occupation that requires 40-hours a week indoors working for someone else. Worth fearing indeed. My apologies for those of you who choose to be occupied as such.

I prefer to be occupied else how.

Here's how I see it. Of the 168 hours in a week, 40-hours is too considerable a chunk to invest in surviving the rest. That's roughly a quarter of our time right there, gone. And when you factor in sleep (which also allows us to survive the rest, so to speak) there's another substantial chunk of our lives gone. Another one-third of our lives, kaput! (Please don't misconstrue me: sleep if my absolute favorite part of living.)

That leaves us with less than half our time, to do as we please. Of course if sleep is doing as we please (and it is with me, depending on whom I'm sleeping with) then it can hardly be looked at as a "waste," but let us disregard that for now.

Naturally (or unnaturally to be more precise), getting to work is also a big chronological killer. The working class spend much of their time just commuting, getting to and from work. Indeed, we waste another big piece of our lives in our cars (it's no wonder we like 'em big). Then there's bill-paying and errand-running and the whole array of chores and tasks and duties that we, as a society, have designed for ourselves. When you get right down to it, there's not much time left to do as we wish. Perhaps now you see the reason for my worry. Unlike most my fears---and there are plenty---I wear this one on my sleeve (though said shirt possesses no collar, be it white or blue).

If one of your wishes is to do well in triathlon, but yet you can only do so much due to the above "realities" (i.e., "choices"), then time management takes precedence. I personally have no skill at this whatsoever, since I have more than enough time to do all the nothing I want (i.e., I reject your reality and substitute my own), but I have figured out a few things for those I guide who are constricted by time availability.

As alluded to in this blog, when it comes to training for triathlon, specifically an Ironman, time is of the essence (after all, it's all we really "have"; weird, since it's not even tangible and we have no clue as to when it---ours---will end), and so our schedules must reflect this. I suggested a shift of the "weekly long run" to midweek (particularly during summer), to "free up" our weekends for more bike riding, something a solid Ironman performance or Kona qualification generally imposes.

Here's what it might look like…

Saturday: Time-consuming ride/brick
Sunday: Time-consuming ride
Midweek: Time-consuming run

So, the next step is to build around this. By "build around this" I mean fill in the rest of the training load, with whatever workouts (and allotted time) YOU have available. Let's say you have enough time (and energy) to do three additional runs, each about an hour long, along with three swim workouts and another bike ride or two, all squeezed into your "standard" work week. (Parenthetically, if you have time for weight-lifting but yet cannot seem to reach your triathlon-related goals, you might want to rethink the time spent in the gym, that is if you ever gave it any thought to begin with, you he-man you.)

Monday: Run (1:00) + Swim (1:00)
Tuesday: Ride (1:00)
Wednesday: Time-consuming Run (2:00) + Swim (:45)
Thursday: Ride (1:00)
Friday: Run (1:00) + Swim (1:15)
Saturday: Time-consuming Brick (= Ride {4:00} + Run {1:00})
Sunday: Time-consuming Ride (4:00)

That's 18-hours for the week, or roughly eleven percent of your week. (Work = 25%; Sleep = 33%; Errands/Commuting/Chores/Tasks/Etc = 15%; Family Fun = 16%; Training = 11%)

I've written this training template merely as an example, but it's this very sample in which I've had great success with as an Ironman coach. Por que? Because it makes sound physiological and chronological sense; the runs are all spread apart enough to allow for recovery (recall that running typically demands more recovery than does cycling or swimming), as are the swim and bike workouts. With the realities of a Monday-to-Friday work schedule the longer riding an Ironman requires has been moved to the weekend, when work is but a recent memory…and a future concern a day or two later.

Since this blog is already dragging on too long, I'll continue this in my next write-up, when I hope to talk a little about where the "quality" should generally go, (remember though, it's only "quality" training if it produces quality results), how to "stack" the weekend rides and when changes need to occur (no training template should run on endlessly, unless results are forever deemed satisfactory). For now I need to go put some pants on; the UPS guy just showed up with some more schwag from Rudy Project!

PS: Today's blog link of the day, by Mary Eggers, "How to Succeed in Business without Knowing what You are Doing". She must be snooping in on me.

Verdict: Villians

2010-05-20T05:31:00.000-07:00

Wow. Despite having written a thick book claiming otherwise, and despite having spent millions in his own defense, and despite that his devotees donated that much more in that same hapless defense (a fact I find particularly amusing...and all the meanwhile quite sad), Floyd Landis finally admits guilt. He even calls Lance out on his "practices".

PS: I was once a fan of pro cycling and was, in fact, a pro myself, even a teammate of Lance's back in the early 90's. Now I stand back in amusement and disdain.

But hey, if they're all doing it, is it really cheating?

LIVECLEAN!

PPS: It's been a year since Steve Larsen's death, continuing to prove that ALL our journeys move too quickly. Ride on in peace, Steve.

Boulder Revisited

2010-05-17T17:04:00.000-07:00

After driving the old jalopy for 26-hours straight, we pulled into Boulder late last night. The trip might have taken half the time on my big, bad motorcycle (i.e., the rural assault vehicle), but it would have been tricky lugging everything else needed to sustain life had I gone that route. And so it was that Angela and I loaded up the ol' Chuck-Wagon (and a brand new trailer being towed behind said wagon) with all our worldly belongings. (Admittedly, we own few belongings not of this world.)

It's good to be here. For one, we've left the Land of the Plastic People (technically known as "California") behind. Sure, Boulder has its share of the same type (they're everywhere nowadays, it seems), but the plastic here is more organic. And there's no question that the plastic here is far more fit.

Every which way you turn is a bike or two loaded atop a car's roof-rack (it's almost like a rite of passage or a status symbol, it seems). And if it's not bikes piggy-backing cars, it's people atop bikes (which is why bikes were designed in the first place, I think). Then there's the running crowd. Like Forrest Gump, they run everywhere, only to end up at the same place they started. Those who run for transportation (in rural Kenya, for example) would likely laugh at all this running around. I know I do, even though I do it too.

There will be plenty else to laugh at here I'm sure, especially now that I'm in town.

PS: Boulder isn't the only change that has occurred of late, but the others involve business crap---parting ways with a few athletes; negotiating with a "big name" athlete; joining Endurance Corner {though this is not yet finalized} and the like---and nobody wants to hear about business (or hear the word "finalized", for that matter). I learned long ago that it's bad business to talk business. This is precisely why nobody knows what I made as a pro triathlete, not even the IRS! (It must've been a decent sum though, as coaching sure hasn't paid the bills. Maybe I'll start street-performing down on the Pearl Street Mall!)

PPS: Thanks to Frank Pucher and his comment following this write-up, I came up with an idea; it's called the "Link of the Day", where I plan to post a blog or article link (if not the entire piece) to the end of each of my blogs, ones that I think may be of benefit to the few that follow this blog (mine). Today's Link of the Day? Why Frank's of course! The 3 V's of Life. Enjoy!

Professional Triathlon: The Fittest Shall Survive

2010-05-03T17:01:00.000-07:00

Now that the triathlon season is fully underway, it is interesting to see how the World Triathlon Corporation's decision to withhold prize money from those who don't finish within 8% of the winner's time (both the male and female victors, that is) is starting to affect those who compete professionally and don't quite make the cut. (See the Saint Croix 70.3 women's results and subsequent payout for an example.) (The prize money is redistributed among those who do make the cut.)

I personally feel that it was a poor decision on WTC's part to implement such a mandate (an Ironmandate?), and that it will assuredly kill the hopes and dreams of numerous aspiring/wanna-be pros, but then WTC has always been much more adept at business than have I. Plus, I have to admit that I do like that it fits right in with the whole Darwinism thing, that the fittest shall survive, a notion I wholeheartedly (cardiovascularly speaking) approve of. It will be interesting, to say the least, to see where professional triathlon heads from here, if anywhere. Maybe it won't survive. Maybe it isn't meant to.

Does it matter that there is a pro field? I mean, really? What exactly does it provide to the sport?

I know this much: it was fun watching Julie Dibens (UK) and Michael Raelert (DE) put on a show of dominance---a veritable tour de force---this weekend at Wildflower (sidebar: a race older than the WTC and one of the few not owned by the corporation). I feel they each deserved all they won (earned) and then $ome.

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PS: Congrats to Brynje, who qualified for Kona after two years of hard work.

The Effect of Eric Ryback

2010-04-26T12:10:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-21T11:00:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-20T10:12:00.000-07:00

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...

2010-04-15T19:36:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-12T17:50:00.000-07:00

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.

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

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

2010-04-07T09:53:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-03T16:35:00.000-07:00

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

2010...A Season Start(s)

2010-03-28T11:53:00.000-07:00

The triathlon season kicked off yesterday in fine fashion, at the Ironman California 70.32754. Moreover, Sonja finished her 100-mile run "race" in Moab, Utah. (The "race" is to see who can survive the 100-miles on foot, over some of the most rugged terrain imaginable). In fact, not only did she survive but thrive. She did it in 21-hours and change. But today she's hurtin' for certain. Her e-mail this morning sums it all up...

"I haven't hurt this month since child birth."

The things we do for love!

Congrats to Trevor for picking his way through the field as the race (CA70.3) wore on (and the others wore out), finishing 12th. This was what we called a training race and he did much better than I had anticipated, given a recent cold and the subsequent (and necessary) volume ramp-up. Just a few days ago he was laying down some hard training, as the big goal wasn't yesterday's event but Ironman Saint George in five week's time. Here's a guy who will come to surprise a few people before too long, but he and I both have high expectations, and rightfully so.

Brendan's situation is much the same. We chose this same event as a "trial run" before he too hits Saint George. A look at his results shows he was consistent across the board but needs more work in the water. And that he shall receive! As is my typical taper protocol for an Ironman, I decrease the running first, then the cycling volume, while the swim load actually increases right up to race day. If Brendan doesn't know about this, he will soon! It's nice knowing exactly what needs to be done to improve, though of course this doesn't make it any easier.

Angela out-rode all comers again on the bike, making her the fastest female on two wheels, though Heather was hot on her heels. Again, though, it's the water where work is required. It seems I coach fast cyclists but need to make them faster swimmers! (Maybe this is because their coach raced in a similar manner throughout the early stages his career, I know not.) This, by the way, is about as competitive a race that you'll see in pro triathlon. Only Kona gathers as many big names.

Evan also fits the above mold. He survived the swim, and was consequently forced to mow down (my words) the masses in his way! He just missed qualifying for Kona but had been debating whether he'd take his spot or not. It must be nice to debate things like this!

Lastly, but not leastly, I want to congratulate Micah on his 8K run race, in which he removed more than a minute from last year's time. This, by the way, is hard to do when you're already fast.

2010's season has started. So far, so good!

Mount Figueroa Run Pictures

2010-03-18T16:36:00.000-07:00

Why I live here.

FTP and UHOP

2010-03-16T12:26:00.000-07:00

'Functional Threshold Power' is a term coined by a smart guy named Andy Coggan, Ph.D. Commonly abbreviated as "FTP," it is basically the highest power output you can sustain for an hour or so while pedaling a bike. Yes, it hurts.

It appears that many coaches like to estimate an athlete's FTP with various protocols and/or calculations (e.g., 2 x 20-minute time trials x .95 or some such nonsense, etc). They claim that an estimate is good enough in finding out what they need to find out---that good enough is good enough. But I say if you're going to half-ass it (no matter what "it" is), you might as well expect half-ass results. Full ass it! I've always figured that if you've got the fortitude to enter an Ironman, you best have the fortitude to do the full FTP and not just an abbreviated estimate.

Anyway, the primary reason these half-ass types claim an estimate is good enough is due to one inalienable truth: because doing an all-out effort for an hour hurts like a mofo. I liken it to sticking a six-inch replica of the Empire State Building up your…left nostril. OK, not really, but hurt it does (fortunately it elicits far more benefit than my pitiable pain example). This hurt must be real and not an approximation of pain; the whole meaning behind a "functional" "threshold" power test is to see what power you can sustain for an hour---an hour of power, regardless of your pain tolerance or lack thereof, you wimpy coaches and athletes.

(Incidentally, the reason I've encircled "functional" by quotation marks is simply because there's only as much function in one hour as you put into it. Is it a "functional" test for someone who hopes to time-trial for five hours, then run a marathon afterward? It can be. But just the same, methinks too many triathletes place too much stock in it. For example, what exactly is the significance behind an hour? Why not an hour ten? Or fifty-one minutes? The test's function---and functionality---is whatever we choose it to be.)

Moreover, since the human body knows no spot-on thresholds, the term "threshold" is also somewhat moot. There's considerable day-to-day variability in threshold power. (Yes, I've tested it...talk about hurt!) But the truth of the matter is that even a fluctuating threshold like your hour of power remains better than knowing no threshold at all. But don't worry: I'm not sitting here on the porcelain waste management system to sell you on power meters or the "need" for them, no. I'm here to wipe. Hold on.

Okay, excursus aside, all this talk came to be because about a week back I had Angela test her FTP. She rode one hour on the nose (it seemed a reasonable enough duration, arbitrary as though it may be) and on the nose of her saddle at 245 watts throughout. This is her current UHOP---Utmost Hour of Power (a better name, I think, than 'FTP', which really ought to be called UHOP or "maximal steady-state power")---and a very impressive one at that, particularly for someone weighing in at a buck fifteen.

Interestingly (at least to she and I), she only averaged a heart rate of 161, which is about 16-17 beats-per-minute lower than what it could have been (given the duration) and what we've witnessed in past UHOP tests. But of course heart rate is often quite variable from one occasion to another, even at constant pace or power outputs. (This does NOT make it a meaningless metric, however, since everything that affects heart rate affects YOU and ergo your performance, as you are what generates power or pace or weird thoughts, amongst many other "things.")

Her average cadence was 86, which I felt was too low given the power output and in light of the fact that we've recently moved her down to crank-arms 5mm shorter than what she had been riding. (More about this, possibly, in a future blog. Basically, we've seen some noteworthy power increases with shorter cranks, let alone the more obvious aerodynamic advantages of preserving the same hip angles with a lowered front end; I strongly urge you to read Dan Empfield's stuff on this.) So…

1) As workload increases, so too should cadence (remember: power is cadence x force upon the pedals). So, when Chrissie Wellington speaks of making the 2012 Olympics for the cycling time-trial, she'd best understand this, or ask for a special rear cassette to be made so she can grind at 70RPM in her 56 x 9.

2) As cranks get shorter, cadence is generally faster (though this depends entirely upon the athlete's brain and the speed at which the force applied).

Now, as coach, it's my role to set up subsequent training that allows her to increase this UHOP or "functional threshold" and everything around it ("everything around it" being the operative phrase).

By and large, FTP proponents believe that a high FTP equates to a high level of fitness at all intensities around it, and I do too.

To an extent.

You see, if daily training volume on the bike rarely exceeds one hour it is still possible that the athlete can possess a high FTP, even though said athlete probably lacks enough endurance to ride well for four or five hours. (Presently, I'm living proof of this.) We call this the Specific Adaptation to Imposed Demand(s), or "SAID," he said.

So it's important to understand that an hour of power is just that: a measurement of what you can do over that semi-arbitrary period of time. This is why estimates of FTP can only be considered approximations, and why FTP cannot accurately calculate power over, say, four or five hours. There are differences that occur over five-hour efforts than there are during one-hour efforts, and the length of time, besides being the obvious one, is not the only one. Think energy systems; think concentration (which is an important part of output the longer you go); think pacing (which is an important part of output no matter how long you go); think fueling (which is obviously an important part of pacing long durations).

Therefore, to aim for a specific percentage of FTP while doing an Ironman ride is to miss the point entirely. Why not just test your intended ride time power? (Here's why: because it's frickin' hard; at least that's what so many triathletes and coaches claim. But so what? So too is an Ironman, last time I checked. Toughen up, girlymen! Find some fortitude, dude.)

The end point is that an increased FTP proves fitness gains (though it could possible prove lots of weight gain), but those fitness gains do not entirely relate to much other than riding all-out for an hour or so. Still, it's worth testing and worth seeing. Especially when the triathlete has put in some serious volume (i.e., miles) to secure those gains. Then, not only will his or her UHOP be hopping along nicely, but so too will their longer, more "functional" efforts.

The Art of War -- Triathlon Style

2010-03-09T07:16:00.000-08:00

The Rules of Engagement

1) If you want post-race peace, be ready for war. You must prepare accordingly and carry out what the race and your race goals demand of you. As it is in the original Art of War, the will to win means nothing without the will to prepare. Victory belongs to those best prepared. Come to terms with this before you come to blows, or you will blow your chances.

2) Be sure you have secured the proper army of supporters to back you: confidants, guides, medics, scouts, and the like. Though triathlon is contested amongst individuals it is generally those with the greatest support network who rise to the top. Build your forces to the utmost or you will be fighting a losing battle.

3) Concern yourself only with yourself and your forces. Disregard the politics of war or what your adversaries claim to be doing, except when it furthers your cause (rarely does it further your cause). Utilize scouts if groundwork is deemed essential; focus upon your personal responsibilities.

4) Strive to be ego-free and humble. Laugh at yourself more than you do at those arrogant souls who take themselves too seriously and incessantly sound their battle cries. Then, so as to obtain the last laugh, be sure to quietly kick their ego-ridden ass. Let your performance stand on its own ass-kicking legs as you batter their battle cries into them.

5) Divulge nothing (e.g., training details; race plans; secrets; beliefs; principles, practices, etc). Reveal only that which returns to assist your cause. If a training partner can be of benefit, forge an alliance and share with them as they do unto you, and not a scintilla more. If not, abstain from the "assistance", as he may be an infiltrator.

6) Be intimately familiar with your competition, particularly that which lay inside you, but also in others. (This may sound incongruous with Rule #3 but it is not; you must know your competition's capacities and believe them to be comparable to yours.) Cultivate relationships in accordance with the aforementioned rule (Rule #5), with the understanding that ours is an 'every-man-for-himself' affair once the cannon is fired and war is waged.

7) Whether you win, lose or draw, respect your rivals. For it is when you least respect them, so too is it when you least expect them. In a historical perspective you must also respect those who've fought the hard-fought battles long before you. (This relates to the first seven words in the last line of Rule #9.) Moreover, you must absolutely respect those who will come to replace you; for if not, they will come to do so that much sooner. The bottom line: respect your competition, for without them, there can be no winner.

8) Be intimately familiar with every element of the battlefield: the rules, the swim currents and/or tide, the transition areas, the wind, the potholes, the layout of the land, the finish chute, the element of surprise, the potential problems, the possibilities...or you may end up a causality in the medical tent.

9) Nourish yourself accordingly: nutritionally, emotionally, psychologically, spiritually, and cognitively. Put the "stud" in study; be a student of the sport and all that it entails. Learn from those who have "been there" and from those who have not.

10) Choose your battles carefully. Fight when all your reserves are in place. Entering a war ill-equipped to defend yourself may precipitate your demise, if not engender post traumatic stress disorder. Know precisely why you are fighting and what you are fighting for. If you fight merely to preserve ego (by "cherry-picking" for example) know that you're ego is not prepared for the true hardships of battle. (See #4 above.)

11) Choose your weapons wisely. Be intimately familiar with each of them, but do not overestimate their need. Use your internal weaponry and aim high.

12) Play fairly when winning or while being monitored by race marshals! Humor aside, you must strive to fight the good fight, both in deliberate practice and on the battlefield.

13) NEVER apologize for waging war. Whether victory is all but lost or completely secured, be sure to fight for all you are worth. The corpses of your enemies always smell sweet. Pummel them all.

14) Limit your mistakes, for they may be fatal. Understand too that he who has committed no mistakes has not fought for very long; exploit him.

15) Finally, you must come to terms that the war will not---and does not---last forever. It is an ephemeral affair, and one day (soon) you may come to miss fighting the good fight. Fight hard. Fight well. Fight to the bitter end. (Do all this and there shall be no bitter end.)

PS: It's a long way to the top.

Driver Carries No Cash

2010-03-08T11:17:00.000-08:00

The Desert Classic Duathlon

2010-03-02T10:43:00.000-08:00

This weekend's Desert Classic Duathlon was not your typical run-bike-run race. Ma Nature had Her say in the matter and made it more of a race of attrition. A sizable number of the competitors decided not even to go that far and never showed up to to fight the good fight. I don't blame them, honestly. The "problem" in their eyes (and mine) was the weather. In a word, sh!tty. The fancy readout in my yet-to-be-recalled Toyota rental car said it was 48-degrees at race start. The rain was obvious enough and the car's windshield wipers looked borderline hyper; they needed to be just to see out the damn windshield. I personally thought the wind would be the big challenge but few athletes made mention of it.

The two athletes I guide who were competing are from Montana and Canada and so to each of them, Brendan Halpin and Angela Naeth, the weather was a non-factor. In fact, neither even uttered a word about it prior to the race; as a coach this is something I love to hear (even though I never heard it!). Their PMA (positive mental attitude!) showed at race's end, with Angela finishing in third behind Sam McGlone and Michellie Jones (beating a few other big names) and out-riding all but a few men (bike sponsors take note) and with Brendan's 6th place finish.

Brendan, it's worth noting, competed on a road bike without any fancy wheels or handlebars (i.e., not a tri-bike, as his sponsor is slow in getting his to him; I might have to go bang some head for him) and he was about as aerodynamic as a barn when I saw him fly by. Still, much like the weather, this didn't faze him one iota and he hung on to earn a small amount of cash, a pretty good way to kick off the year. Neither of them has had a single workout this hard just yet, making their results that much more impressive. Base miles work.

As a spectator/volunteer I suffered as much as I ever have. Not from the desire to compete (as per usual) but from the conditions. I ran beside some folks not just to encouragement but also to warm myself up. It didn't work, though the encouragement seemed to.

A few things I learned about the race, sport and duathlons in general:

1) Duathlons are FAST events and a great measure of your overall speediness. Sam McGlone won the women's race and will win Ironmans galore before her career is over. To win, whether long or short, you need to be fast. Slow athletes may be strong, but they will never win.

2) The best athletes are unfazed by the harshest of conditions. I now see why I never became one of them and I can see why some athletes will.

3) The desert is absolutely stunning (minus the part with all the buildings and roads). So much so that I've decided to coach there next winter/spring and depart "sunny" Solvang. Brendan: start finding me a place!

4) The Desert Classic is a GREAT event, with great volunteers (though they did enlist my help, so not all the volunteers qualified as such). If you want a good early-season test, this is the one. A surprising number of fast athletes show up every year.

5) It's hard to drive 11 hours after standing around in the rain for a few hours. Next year's drive will be much easier! I can hardly wait!

Overly Aggressive Progressive Overload

2010-02-25T11:19:00.000-08:00

"I've always been able to train thirty-five hours a week, only now my weeks last closer to seventeen days than they do seven." ~CV

Pardon me here but I'm all jacked-up on sugar and caffeine, two substances I normally eschew. Every so often though I like to "shock" my body with something it's not familiar with: coffee, alcohol, concentration, lethargy, hitting the gym and squatting ass-to-the-floor style, bowling, sex---you name it. I do this because life is short and I'd like to experience as much as I can while I can. In life, you see, there is infinite possibility but a rather inopportune finite amount of time and I'd like to take a stab at as many of those possibilities as is, um, possible.

Most of us, it seems, come to this realization too late, after spending a vast chunk of our lives working to buy "stuff" and for "security." When we realize that stuff is just stuff and that security is little more than a feeling, we look back on all the time we wasted in the pursuit of them and often wonder what we were thinking. Time is the wealth, of course, and time well spent is the ultimate form of success. But enough pontification. I promise I have a point here and if I don't get to it before long I may lose you, the reader. By the way, thanks for reading, whoever you are.

My point is that it's important to "shock" the body every so often, to step outside our routines and our comfort zones and to extend ourselves, else we do not, and cannot, grow. And life is about growth. This is especially important as athletes. If we don't "shock" ourselves---our bodies, our minds---we rust.

"Unless you test yourself, you stagnate. Unless you try to go way beyond what you've been able to do before, you won't develop and grow. When you go for it 100%, when you don't have the fear of "what if I fail," that's when you learn. That's when you're really living." --Mark Allen

By "shock" of course I mean "challenge," just as Mark mentions.

It is important to understand this very basic principle of training: that without a challenge we do not improve.

Without a challenge we do not improve!

But how to challenge one's self?

It's not as complicated as it seems (e.g., you can head to the gym and squat ass-to-the-floor style). In the simplest sense you can take a close look at what you've been accomplishing as of late and amplify that load. Voila! A challenge!

For example, if you've been running 25 miles a week, try upping it to 35 miles or even twice as many. Forget this 10% crap---that you're not supposed to increase your load by more than 10% a week. To hell with the rules! Rules are convention and if we all stuck to convention we'd all still be living in the dark. The light bulb came about because one man decided not to stick to convention and then worked his ass off to change the way we see things (so to speak). And so it is that you too need to turn on the light bulb in your head and invent your own rules, your own challenges. Forget convention.

Thomas Edison's teachers said he was "too stupid to learn anything." He was fired from his first two jobs for being "non-productive." As an inventor, Edison made thousands of unsuccessful attempts at inventing the light bulb. When a reporter asked, "How did it feel to fail a thousand times?" Edison replied, "I didn't fail a thousand times. The light bulb was an invention with a thousand steps."

Pull an Edison and start taking steps.

If your "functional" "threshold" is 200 watts, then go out and sustain 210 watts for a longer period of time. What's that? You're crying that that's not possible?! Sure it is. Break it up into achievable steps. This might mean 210 watts as 12 x 6-minutes on an 8-minute "send-off." As soon as you achieve this, then achieve it again and again, right to the point your body "gets it." Then take a bigger step and up the ante again, after your body stagnates at this stimulus level. This is what those of us in the know call progressive overload, by the way.

Progressive overload is basically how your body adapts to new levels…how you grow. It is an important part of becoming a better athlete, perhaps the most important part. But it's important to understand that the words progressive and overload both need to be looked at in a manner that allows you to truly know what they mean.

Progressive need not mean from workout to workout or day to day or even week to week. It can mean that it (such progression) needs to be looked at from a longer range point of view, perhaps from month to month or year to year. (Or even decade to decade if you started all this stuff early enough.) As most prudent coaches would acquiesce, if you're sure you'll be involved in this experiment called triathlon for as long, then a long-term outlook is your best look. (If you're new to the sport or young, you can assume you'll be better later than you are now, assuming of course that you continue to introduce progressively greater levels of training stress to yourself, and subsequently absorb them, of course.)

By "absorb" I mean instead of a constant, quick progression, you need to allow your body to adapt to the workload you're currently doing, by doing it for a while. This essentially implies that you need to start to see a plateau at a specific workload before progressing to a greater workload, until you see those gains plateauing. Constant, quick progression is not adaptation but rather a one-way ticket to breakdown or staleness or performance decline. And any intense training that can be done without a solid fitness foundation can be done far more effectively after that base has been acquired. Good things come to those who wait. But better things come to those who work while they wait! As I've said before, the correct training is like the steady fall of raindrops slowly forging a hole in a rock. Some days the rain falls harder and some days it doesn't fall at all, but the process cannot be rushed.

So progressive is very much real and required but also highly subjective and individual. If you try to progress too aggressively (i.e., you apply too much of an overload) you'll incur a setback in one form or another (or through more than one form or another). Overload must therefore be controlled and wisely and patiently applied. If you overload too soon or by too much, or with too little recovery between tough bouts of training, your "progress" will stall or even go backwards, leaving your chances of progress as good as over, and anything but progress. You'd essentially need to let injury and illness be your guide.

And so overload really ought to be considered "load" so long as that load still presents you with more of a burden than what you're already capable of dealing with, over time. That's the "over" part in the word. It does NOT mean "overdo."

And that's the interesting thing: we adapt and grow from our mistakes so long as they aren't so great as to completely break us. There's a fine line between overload and overdoing it, and an even thinner line between fatigued and f%^ked. Such a line is highly individual of course, and your training partner's line might be well beyond or well before your line. Your line even differs from day to day! The key here is to know your boundaries by consistently stepping over them ever so slightly in attempt to push them outwards, upwards. So when I write "to hell with rules" as I did previously, it's important to understand and respect your body's rules. Break those and you will break down time and again. We all know athletes like this; I even know some guys like this who make their living as coaches, publishing books and/or blogs on how you should train! Train how YOU want, but you best obey the fundamental rules of exercise science and the even more fundamental rules of your body, else it'll be at its peril: your own.

Smart and steady will have you ready. Press on.

"When you improve a little each day, eventually big things occur. When you improve conditioning a little each day, eventually you have a big improvement in conditioning. Not tomorrow, not the next day, but eventually a big gain is made. Don't look for the big, quick improvement. Seek the small improvement one day at a time. That's the only way it happens – and when it happens, it lasts." -- Coach John Wooden

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PS: I'm off to the Desert Classic Duathlon in Phoenix tomorrow, for the first multisport race of 2010. As coach I will not be competing, just silently observing those who are. Now if it were the Dessert Classic, well then, I'd definitely enter! Kobayashi has got nothing on me! Anyhow, if I have any thoughts on the race I'll post them on Monday or Tuesday. I personally feel that duathlons are tougher than triathlons, but the word "duathlon" is lame, no doubt. I'm not bisexual, I'm dusexual. What the...?

The Success Process

2010-02-23T05:55:00.000-08:00

For the triathlete and humans in general (which most triathletes seem to be) there are basically three kinds of stress. First, there's the stress that benefits you, like intelligently applied training stress. Then there's the stress that doesn't benefit you. This type of stress can include detrimental choices like inappropriate recovery; poor nutrition; worrying about things you have no control over; repeatedly hitting yourself in the head with a two-pound block of pepper jack cheese; listening to country music, etc. Finally, there's the stress that I like to call success stress (not that I know much about success, but hey, I once knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a fairly successful guy. I also played a successful guy on TV once, but the show was pulled after one unsuccessful episode.)

"Success stress" is basically the stress of having achieved something you set out to do (e.g., reintegrating back into society after having walked from Mexico to Canada; the post-Ironman blues; the "now what?" process, etc.) Such a task involves (involved) plenty of stressful work (winning your age-group at a big race, for example) but the rewards of having done so far outweigh (or should outweigh) the stress of the attempt. Success stress, needless to say (though I will anyway), is also beneficial to the triathlete, even though it's still a form of stress. (In today's lethargic seek-comfort-at-all-costs-culture we tend to view stress as a bad thing, whereas as athletes it is very much necessary; ultimately, I've found that it takes stress to be happy.)

Where things get tricky, of course, is in defining success and moving on after it. Bear with me as I try to explain.

In the past I've coached a few athletes who made enormous gains throughout the year, and I ain't talking about the steroidal body-builders I used to spot for (Big gym guy: "Spot me!" Me: "Yep, there you are, I see you."). I'm talking endurance athletes, those who like to inflict long, drawn-out pain to themselves. Everything worked for these athletes because they worked. They watched both their health and fitness increase, while they became leaner, stronger, faster and more tanned (which, of course, is always a bonus, whether you're a steroidal body-builder or a twiggy endurance athlete). They met new friends and managed to drop training partners that they'd never dropped before, including their coach. They enjoyed the process all along and found themselves waking with anticipation of the day ahead, nearly everyday. But then, when race day arrived, they failed to meet their goal.

I posit: is that failure?

Not to me, it isn't.

And this is precisely why coaching is risky business…a risky business.

If an athlete is concise with his or her goals, success often hinges on a single result (e.g., qualifying for Kona) and it not only puts a lot of pressure on the athlete's scrawny shoulders but on his or her coach's shoulders too.

"If I don't win this race, I suck," the athlete might tell him/herself. In this instance I usually point out that, "Maybe, just maybe, you suck anyway," but they usually miss my point and me, well, I usually find myself with yet another black eye.

"Because you didn't win today means that you suddenly suck?!" I'll ask.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm all for winning. I've even done some of it myself, having won more Scrabble tournaments than anyone in my current household, and I know what a great feeling it is, especially when I partake in my customary post-tournament celebratory dance around the house for the next six or seven hours, banging my opponent's head with a two-pound block of pepper jack cheese as she tries to sleep. "Of course 'jo' is a word, fool!"

But because I've won, does it really make me BETTER than the next player? I mean, if she sucks (because she didn't win), then wouldn't I also suck, since I was in close proximity to such a loser? Suckyness by association? The whole thing seems laughable to me. Really, success is as much a process as it is a result. It is a moving target and it is never final, just as failure is rarely fatal. And besides, this whole sport (and all sports, not unlike life itself) is just that: a sport. A game. Fun. Recreation.

So let recreation be re-creation and recreate the person you were when everything was a game…when you were a child. Stress to be happy. If you continue to grow and learn, there will be no failure. Unless you were to play me in Scrabble, that is.

PS: I'll leave you with one of my favorite quotes from years ago...

"Live your life so that when you wake up in the morning, Satan says, 'shit, he's awake.'"

And whether you're hell-bound or heaven-bound be sure to raise some hell en route.

The Losers in our Sport

2010-02-12T11:10:00.000-08:00

In the sport of triathlon there really are no losers*. Sure, there are nerds, dweebs, geeks, dorks, assholes, egos, stick people, loners, know-it-alls, whiners, gabbers, idiots and obsessive-compulsive types, but there really are no losers.

*Except, that is, for one type of participant. Enter the cheater.

Only the cheater, who too plays an unplayful part in our sport of sports, can be classified as classless, whether he or she even believes it. Yes, the cheater can be considered a loser, regardless of outcome. In fact, not only can they be considered losers, they are losers. Now naturally the cheater isn't just confined to triathlon. He (or she) can also be found in every other sport out there (every sport, actually...not every other). He or she can be found in corporate boardrooms, in the classroom, in government, in the courtroom (quite often here, in fact), behind the cash register, in your town hall, and, well, everywhere else you might care to look. Yes, cheaters can be found in all walks of life (though it's my guess they're trying to find a way from having to walk).

What is it with cheaters? Why do they exist?

(Disclaimer: I do not claim to be a sanctimonious sort or holier than thou. No, no, no. In fact, there's a very good chance that I wouldn't be alive today if I hadn't cheated death once or twice, not to mention having cheated my way out of my third consecutive year of third grade, amongst other things.)

Cheating doesn't exist in the animal kingdom but for humans. You see, animals have no egos to protect. Plus, they already know that life is unfair, and they get on with it. It isn't cheating when the hyena takes down an innocent gazelle, only to have it pilfered from her by a big, bad-ass lion. It is survival.

But humans, for the most part, and in particular those PLAYING in a game or a sport like triathlon, needn't really concerns themselves with survival. After all, triathlon is a country-club type of sport and those participating in it aren't exactly starving (though one might think otherwise when eyeing them). And yet there are those of us who enact these dirty deeds---cutting corners when no one is looking, taking performance-enhancing drugs and the biggie: drafting on the bike---essentially breaking the rules that are supposed to apply to us all.

Right around the time the first humans began to establish the rules of/for ethical behavior, so too did some scheming caveman start to work out ways to bend or break them. Cheating has evolved right alongside humans ever since then. Perhaps rules themselves are the problem, but I think we can all agree that the majority of rules are needed. I mean can you imagine what sort of chaos would exist without them? It'd be fun, that's for sure, and I'd have never been reprimanded for purposefully taking down a few wheelsuckers back in the day.

Statistics show that cheating is on the rise in almost every facet of human existence. But then again, whoever calculated those statistics probably cheated a little while doing so, so who knows what to believe! I personally like to do as our ol' Solvang (P)resident used to say, "Trust, but verify." (That's Ronny Reagan for those of who don't care to google; you're only cheating yourself.)

I tend to think that society's emphasis on getting rich, coupled with fears of financial "insecurity", has helped to foster the spread of cheating, and it's trickled down to everything and just about everyone. We cheat at work; we cheat our children; we cheat ourselves (i.e., diet); we cheat on our taxes. I find it interesting about financial security though; most people would feel terribly insecure on my income (an income that hardly ever comes in; I think I better go looking for it) and yet, for some reason, I do not. Like you, I stay afloat.

But I digress.

The triathlete may think he or she is special in their deceitful ways, but in truth they cheat for the same reason anyone else does (and I'm NOT talking about Tiger-like transgressions or cheating within a relationship here). They do it to make things easier on themselves. To get ahead. To boost their ego (which is obviously fairly fragile to begin with). To "earn" more money. To guarantee defeating someone they don't like. To see if they can. To remain "secure". Some people even cheat to become famous.

Take Rosie Ruiz, who, for a short while, had been declared the women's winner of the 1980 Boston Marathon. It turns out, of course, that Rosie took the fast track to the finish line (i.e., the subway), although to this day she still denies it. Thanks to Rosie and others like her, the timing chip became a part of almost every race, and video cameras are seen at all the big marathons. Rosie is an anomaly though; most cheaters aren't usually looking for that kind of public attention. In triathlon, only the top finishers get much attention anyway, unless your story is worthy of one of those cheesy human-interest sagas that run every December during NBC's Ironman coverage. (I actually like some of these, particularly one of the ones that ran during the 1993 Ironman.)

But once again, I digress.

One thing you frequently hear in triathlon, with regards to drafting, is the ol', "Well, everyone else was doing it" cry, as though this makes cheating completely justifiable. While it may be acceptable to the race director (let's face it: he's banking the big buck$ regardless of what goes on during the race) it should NOT be deemed acceptable for the competitors who enter in the name of fairness and fun or for the race marshals. One thing I learned years ago about excuses and justification is that the more excuses you need in order to justify your behavior, the more compromised your ethical compass will wind up pointing you. Ultimately, these types end up feeling like frauds---ala Nina Kraft---and find ways to fail...regardless of race results (believe it or not there is life after sport). Just look at Floyd Landis or Tyler Hamilton today, if you don't believe it.

But what is one to do if indeed everyone else is cheating?

Honestly, I wish I knew. You can do the right thing, but then you might end up feeling like lone chump who raced an honest race ("Daddy, why did so many people beat you?"). Or you could join the crowd. Hell, it might be impossible someday not to join the crowd, since the crowd continues to grow. After all, the more people cheat the more it becomes accepted. And the more it's accepted, the more people do it.

I know what I'd do, and let me just say I wouldn't be entirely proud of it. Moreover, I'm sure I'd be reprimanded for having taken such actions. Irrespective of their actions, purposefully taking down a few wheelsuckers at a time is really not all that nice. Still, I'm sure I wouldn't be able to help myself. They shouldn't have been sitting behind me so closely.

High-Maintenance Athletes

2010-01-28T07:15:00.000-08:00

In all my years of coaching I have come to the conclusion that male athletes are far more high maintenance than their female counterparts. I'm not sure why this is but a historical look back shows this to be the case and overwhelmingly so. For this reason (and others), if I were ever to have a child---and it's doubtful at best since I feel this planet is crowded enough with humans---I'd pray it was a girl. Then again, if she were to have a schnozz as haunkin' as mine she'd be cursed for life, so perhaps a boy wouldn't be so bad.

But I digress.

Nearly every multisport trainer out there, with the exception of those conniving coaches who lie (and thus vie) for your bu$ine$$, will admit that there are high-maintenance athletes and there are low-maintenance athletes. And every coach I've ever spoken to regarding this confesses to favoring the low-maintenance types. After all, it makes their life a little easier and I've known few individuals who choose to make things hard on themselves (though we Ironman wackos certainly seem an exception to this rule). I myself appreciate the easy life as much as the next person, and it's for this very reason I opt not to "own" things or impregnate women, because these would both necessitate work (like, for example, the work involved in planning how to escape the country in which I'd just impregnated a woman). Work, all told, has never worked for me and truth be told, I'm getting all worked up just thinking about it.

But when it comes to coaching I actually prefer to work with high-maintenance types. "The hell," you say? It's not that I'd rather work with men just because I happen to be one (and a high-maintenance one at that), but simply because a high-maintenance athlete is, to me, an athlete who genuinely gives a sh!t how he does, assuming the maintenance has to do with performance improvement. Often times an athlete is simply being high-maintenance for the sake of it, and not really all that concerned with his performance. And indeed, this is an altogether different type of high-maintenance athlete. You see, there are two types of high-maintenance athletes: good high-maintenance types and bad high-maintenance types.

The good high-maintenance athlete asks a lot of questions and reports in more often than requested, often times when I'm in the shower or enjoying a nice spell of rapid eye movement at 3am local time…his local time. {Please understand, as per my opening sentence, that it is not without reason I use "he" in all of the above instances, though "he" can just as easily be a "she"…and I ain't referring to those fancy surgeries they can do nowadays. I've known plenty of high-maintenance women athletes and, in fact, I'm currently living with one. I better put a smiley face here so I don't get my arse kicked.} :)

But back to the good high-maintenance athlete for now. Often times I have no answer to "his" questions but it's at times like these I use my comprehensive understanding of the English language and respond with, "I don't know". Sometimes I employ my erudite adroitness to finagle my way out of answering his inquiries altogether. The ol' 'I never got that e-mail' is always an option for the good (or bad) high-maintenance type. And if neither of these two fine techniques do the job then I get by with a little help from my friends at Google. Thank God for Google! You want to know all about mitochondria? Go Google!

The good high-maintenance type, of course, asks all these questions (and plenty others) to learn…not just to be skeptical, as per the bad high-maintenance type.

The bad high-maintenance type asks questions so he has something additional to doubt. Then, as is his nature, he disagrees with any answer provided because he's enveloped in his own self-doubt. And because of this he feels the need to share this doubt and disperse it unto others. The bad high-maintenance type doubts everything, but of course he mostly just doubts himself. Never in a million years, however, would he admit to this. You see, not only does he doubt his doubt; he denies his denial.

Because of these traits the bad high-maintenance type is fairly easy to identify. But it's really only easy if you've dealt with those types in the past, as I have. You might even be one!

If you're not sure whether you're a high-maintenance type, be it good or bad, I've written the following to help you along.

Here's how to tell if you're a good, bad or neutral high-maintenance athlete…

1) If your coach hardly ever responds to your incessant inquiries you're a bad high-maintenance type.

2) If you compete as a professional there's a high probability that you're high-maintenance.

3) If you're more concerned with proving others wrong than you are with yourself, you're most likely a bad high-maintenance type. At the very least you carry those tendencies.

4) If you're more concerned about the numbers and the minutia in your training log than you are with your race results, you're not only a bad high-maintenance type, you're an idiot.

5) If you're always making adjustments to your coach's training plans, you're a bad high-maintenance type, though there is the possibility that he or she is simply a sh!tty coach.

6) If you put your trust in technology more than you do yourself, you're apt to be a bad high-maintenance type.

7) If you skip training because everything wasn't "just right" you're a bad high-maintenance type and I'd likely not coach you for long. (e.g., "the water was cold", "I didn't feel right", "This is such a hard sport", "The weather wasn't worth fighting", "Why are we doing hard sprints when triathlon is an endurance sport?", etc)

8) If you pretend not to be high-maintenance, you're high-maintenance, and probably of the bad ilk.

9) If you spend your "work" hours arguing on triathlon forums, rather than training or actually doing what you're being paid to do while at the office, you're the worst of the bad high-maintenance types and I hate you, you pitiful pathetic piece of poo.

10) If no one agrees to coach you, you're a bad high-maintenance athlete. Or an ass.

PS: If I sound livid, it's only because I am. Anger is a good motivator however, and I vow to get even with all you bad high-maintenance jerks trying to rain on my parade. Wait! Parades are stupid! As you were. And anyway, I'm not really angry: while I may be living in a world of hurt, I have that world by the balls. Bring it. Caveman up.

Weather...or Not

2010-01-25T11:44:00.000-08:00

The weather. It is the most prevalent topic in contemporary conversation, despite the fact that modern man is only marginally affected by it. (As compared to our ancestors.) This, thanks to his ingenuity and desire to overcome "obstacles".

I personally don't view weather this way. Even when I resided in the woods for more than a half a year at a time, the weather was never an obstacle to overcome, but simply part of what I chose to "deal with" by being out there (the emotional roller-coaster of long-term self-imposed hardship was the chief component/opponent, naturally). Whatever Ma Nature did, I was perfectly fine with (despite the countless curse words flowing freely from my frothing mouth at the time!). I adapted and enjoyed what the gods presented me with, whether it was stifling heat or hurricane-force winds or thick snowfall, or all of it in the course of one day. Such is life on the Pacific Crest Trail.

As triathletes we expose ourselves to the perils of the climate (along with plenty of other risks, like texting teenage drivers) more than most people do. While so many in our society sit inside watching their screens---TV, computer, EKG, etc---we're out there, "dealing with" the "forces" of nature.

Nature, of course, is whatever we want it to be (including tele-visioning and computing and our seemingly intrinsic inclination to become obese) but in this case I am referring to the "natural world" that man has always been a part of: the wind, the rain, the snow, the trees, the dirt, the heat, the waves, the cold, the calm and the risk and emotions that come with exposing ourselves to it all; the same natural world we (believe we) see disappearing. (In this vein, and to quote George Carlin, "Nature provides a free lunch, but only if we control our appetites.")

As athletes we know most elements better than most (people). A short bike ride in Portland this time of year will teach you all you care to know about drizzle. Here in supposedly sunny Solvang ("sunny fields" in Danish) we know all about downright downpours. (Downright, I'm not so sure; they keep coming down, but they just don't seem right.) Head to Calgary or Denver and you'll learn all too well what a "chinook" is. Move to Minnesota and you'll know just how to deal with bitter cold (by accruing layers of insulating fat or by training indoors…or both!).

We expose ourselves to all this in this day and age because we like exposing our souls to ourselves. But we often look at the weather as an "obstacle", particularly those of us here in North America. One thing I saw years ago when I was competing and traveling professionally, and it still seems to hold true to this very day, is that we North American endurance athletes tend to view weather as an "obstacle" or a "force" of nature, whereas our European counterparts look at it as a challenge.

To me, this is an important distinction.

The Norwegians have a saying that there is no bad weather, only bad clothing, and they'd perhaps know better than any of us. Norway essentially means North Way and the further north one goes on our little planet, the more the weather has its way. (The same can be said toward that other pole, which may not even be north or south if you give it enough thought. I mean, really, what is north or south or up or down when you're just a ball floating through infinite amounts of space? Ours, no doubt, is a Eurocentric world). They know the weather is what it is, and will be what it's going to be, and so they get on with their lives. So too do their athletes, who choose to be athletes...and champions.

Most the rest of Europe has a similar climate---often harsh this time of year---and yet the athletes do what they've chosen to do. One little bike ride with Thomas Hellriegel during a Bavarian winter showed me just how much of a wimp I really was. (Of course, Thomas eventually wisened up, and started heading south for the winter.) "Man up," he told me, as I started whining about the frost accruing on my face.

It was an attitude he possessed and I lacked; a killer instinct to attack that which held us back, which wasn't the weather at all, but whether we had what it truly took to be our best: a drive inside that was affected by nothing the gods could challenge us with.

PS: As an athlete living in a cold climate, you must meet that challenge and slay those demons. Or move south. But even then there are no guarantees, as our weather here in sunny Solvang has proven ever since I wrote and posted my little camp idea/invite. My concern is that if I were to make this camp a go, the weather gods (and their lightning) would strike. While we could all pretend to be tough, the fact of the matter is that some of us simply are not (I am, especially when situated comfortably in a follow car with the radio, heater and cruise control each doing their thing). And since the weather may continue to turn south, I care not to extend an invite to those types, as they may conspire against those who are indeed tough. Or, worse yet, they may be mad at me for having done so.

The truth of the matter is that one must first be tough in order to tough it out (which in turn makes he or she that much tougher, though that's not the point here). It's a decision we make and it's a truth not all of us can handle. And so I shall deliberate a while longer. If it appears as though I'm being wishy-washy, it's only because the weather is too.

Over-Thinking Thought

2010-01-20T07:32:00.000-08:00

Thought (-noun): the product of mental activity; that which one thinks.

"I think, therefore I am." -Descartes

"I think, but not often." -Veylupek

Thought is generally believed to be a good thing and it's assumed (by man, anyway) to be what separates mankind from those not-so-kind animals. Whereas animals can outrun us and outswim us, we, as humans, can kick their asses on a bicycle and can also make use of reason (in addition to high-tech gadgetry, like strain gauges) when doing so. Animals cannot reason, the noetic neophytes. Having said that, I know some very unreasonable people as well.

But before I forget my reason for this screed let me forget reason and get back to thought.

In most cases thought can be thought of as a pretty darn good thing. For example, thought brought us the space shuttle and the light bulb. (One must contemplate exactly how an idea was depicted before the advent of the light bulb; were there no ideas pre-Edison?) Thought also brought us the atomic bomb and the fly swatter, along with other notables like the anvil and cheese in a can. Thought is responsible for the microwave oven, pepper spray, the laptop computer and the toenail clipper. No doubt, thought has done a lot for mankind.

But thought also possesses a much darker side. For example, while thought has done a lot for mankind it has done very little for animal-kind, other than lay waste to one poor species after the other. What's more, thought has led many people straight behind bars (when said thoughts were acted out). Thought has also led others to suicide, which in turn put a stop to the thought process thereafter. Thought even leads the faithful to hedge their bets on a better life to come, sometime after this one, somewhere up in the sky. And thought has guided many athletes through a revolving door that has no exit. And that is the topic of today's, um, thought.

But first a little primer on the subject.

It is thought that thought is necessary to sustain life, though we've all known some pretty stupid people who seem to get along fine without any (e.g., the author of this blog). These types end up with the same fate as those who put more thought into their existence (unless the faithful are indeed right about their final destination; let's hope for the sake of the stupid that they're wrong) and so we must ponder just why we spend so much time thinking. If we can assume that thought doesn't change our fate---our final destination—we must posit: does it get us anywhere? Does it make us happier? Smarter? Wealthier? Faster?

With regards to the last one, I'm inclined to think (though not much, being me and all) that there is a thought process necessary in becoming faster, however slight it may be. But (speaking of faster) I'm getting ahead of myself, and I'll get to that in a minute. Maybe.

While thought may or may not alter our final destination (we won't know until we're dead, though it's my guess we won't even know then) it can change the quality of the life we're currently experiencing. As per the opening definition of thought, we know it (thought) to be an actual authentic action, tangible in every way, and one that can (and indeed does) lead to subsequent action. Our thinking is not just where our thoughts begin to take thought, but where our actions start to take action.

But where does the line get drawn when one drifts over from thinking and into over-thinking? What happens then? And why is it that one man's supposedly uncomplicated thought may be another man's overload?

Paying no heed to the last question for now (or even from here forth), I like to think (there I go again) that if we can just narrow things down to the fundamentals, our performance, no matter the activity, will improve as a consequence. And when performance improves we are generally thought to be happier. But as humans, and in particular as triathletes, we rarely do this. Why, I'm not so sure. Perhaps just as commonsense ain't so common, maybe it's not so simple to do things simply.

Instead of being wise we act otherwise, making a mess of the process and over-thinking what may not even require thinking in the first place. And, as they say, when we overanalyze we're more apt to suffer from analysis paralysis, assuring ourselves that body and mind won't find ever accord, raising our doubts. ("They", by the way, must be some serious thinkers themselves, as they come up with some pretty thought-provoking thoughts.) Moreover, when we overanalyze and think about everything all the time we simply cannot find that seemingly elusive peace of mind. And then, when we can't uncover it, we dutifully dig for it even deeper, reducing our chances of finding it that much more. Persistently pertinacious, we people.

Years ago someone---they, presumably---thought up what's known as the KISS principle, or 'Keep It Simple, Stupid'. By and large, I like this scheme, but for one thing: if you're stupid, maybe things aren't so simple. And so maybe, just maybe, those of us who cannot keep things simple are not just incapable of doing so but are, quite simply, just stupid. That's all I have to say about that, I think.

PS: Before I leave you I want to leave you with one last thought. If only I could think of one.

Art: the Truth Behind Science

2010-01-15T08:55:00.000-08:00

Okay, after finishing another overly scientific training book last night, this time about training for bicycle road racing (a sport that is every bit as much artful and tactical as it is physiological), I need to do my best Little Engine That Could impression and blow off some steam. No offense to all the scientists out there, especially you AC! I value exercise science greatly, and I continue to learn from it, gently tweaking my craft as I go.

But!

Despite its meaningful and quasi-necessary search for "TRUTH", science does not---and cannot---weigh or measure the human spirit. You want truth? Here's the truth: science will never be able to take human emotion into account. This is because human spirit goes beyond boundaries. Science simply cannot measure emotion. And emotion is what runs human life. Hunger and emotion.

Unlike the insipid scientist's lab rats, human emotion cannot be poked or prodded or predicted; nor can it be squeezed or squashed. So while science seeks the truth, we, as humans, must respect that we'll never come to the whole truth but only a means in which to seek a sliver of it. After all, science seeks facts, not truth, not absolutes. Beware those in sport (even coaches) who take absolute stances; they're absolutely wrong.

Take science with a grain of salt when applying it to you (except when applying it on top of any open wounds of course, because that really stings). Use it (science, not salt) and the equipment that allows you to use it, but be sure to learn more from YOU than from it. Although you may generate numbers, you yourself are not a number. Just as the heart rate monitor cannot measure heart, a power meter cannot measure willpower. Regardless of its technological advancement or how scientifically sound it may be, NO device can ever tell you what you are capable of. Only one person can. And that individual is far more advanced than modern science. Don't ever lose sight of that. The space shuttle has nothing on you!

To reiterate from an earlier blog of mine: training is not about science. It is not about precision. There is no perfect recipe. You must 'eyeball' it. Respect the adaptive artistry. (Art, after all, is an Adaptive Response Taken.)

The athlete who knows "how" will always compete.
The athlete who knows "why" will always perform.
The athlete who doesn't worry "how" or "why" but does what's needed will always win.

Winning is NOT a science. It is an art that uses science. And there are very few artists who understand that. And those who do generally kick ass.

SlowTwitch: The Movie

2010-01-13T15:02:00.000-08:00

Hard Swimmin': a Man & Two Women

2010-01-12T11:35:00.000-08:00

Well I'll be damned if I didn't have to make a side-trip straight after today's swim workout. I needed to pick up a few Carlos V candy bars (since I had long ago inhaled the stash sent to me by Nestle) to reward Trevor, Heather and Angela for their performances in the pool. It was a job well done for each of them.

We did a "power workout" today, one designed to awaken the fast-twitch muscle fibers as well as the nervous system and the brain (what important people in lab coats now call the "central governor").

I've posted the workout below.

After a 1,000-yard warm-up, I had them do a hard 300-yard kick set, to remind the legs that they were going to be called into duty today. Next came what I like to call a "Coffee Equivalent" Set: 4 x 25s ALL-OUT on :45 (approximately 30-seconds rest for these guys). If that doesn't wake you up, you better skip coffee or the hard swimming and move straight onto injecting crack.

Finally, after a little more hard swimming and some blathering on by yours truly (about swim form and effort and how cool I wish I was) the "Main Set" arrived, a short but highly intense one consisting of 8 x "broken" 150s on 3:00 as (75 MAX on 1:00 / 50 Moderately Hard on 1:00 / 25 MAX on 1:00), without the use of any pulling paraphernalia. It is a pure power set and for these three there's just enough rest to keep it that way, unless they're swimming sh!tty. Today, they were not swimming sh!tty.

As has been typical Chuckie fashion of late, I was dumb enough to try my hand at swimming with them. In fact, I was dumb enough to try both my hands at swimming with them. Regardless of the number of hands I tried, I failed. Hell, I could've had ten hands, each attached to their own arm, and I still wouldn't have kept pace.

As a coach, I love to witness performances like these. It proves that hard work still counts for something...and that particular something is everything. Hard work rules. And applying yourself 100%, regardless of outcome, always ensures a better outcome later. And later is always sooner than it sounds. Work hard, rest hard, be hard.

"Remember," I told Angela, who was bringing up the rear throughout the set and growing frustrated because of it, "Improvement demands that you seek improvement...100% means 100%, regardless of what the pace clock says."

Trevor was in a different league throughout practice (different than even his own), but Heather joined that league by the middle of the 24-minute set. They were absolutely annihilating the poor unsuspecting water, hitting the wall (literally!) in 47-seconds during each 75. And ours is a pathetically slow pool, heated nearly to the mid-80s, so that the old ladies doing their aqua-aerobics will quit their griping. It also has loosely-taught lane-lines that love to find their way immediately in front of the arm closest to them. It is shallow and has no spill-less gutters. Even its walls are tiled and slippery, to the point that every flip-turn is like pushing off from buttered ice. Even if you were an all-American collegiate swimmer, consistent 47-second 75s are not easy in such a setting.

I knew right then I had to leave the pool early and head to the store to pick up some Carlos V chocolate bars. Not only because I'd eaten my entire stash, but also because the bar had been raised (...speaking of bars). Old standards would no longer apply.

And while old standards may still be tough to attain during future workouts, we now know where our performances belong on those good days in the pool (or this pool, anyway). Naturally, this does not mean to avoid pushing on those days where it's "just not there" (note to Angela) but to understand that when it is there, you need to continue to strive to re-establish new boundaries. The comfort zone is now that much wider.

But back to the Carlos V bars for a minute.

Before I pulled them out to reward the gang, I told them that such an effort would have had the old school crowd (who actually possessed the audacity to believe they were 'new school' at the time, the idiots!) smiling from ear to ear: "It was one they would fully condone...hard work, pure and simple." I also told them I was very proud of them, because there was no hiding the fact.

Finally, when I pulled the candy out and handed each of them theirs, Trevor mentioned that it was a lot smaller than he had imagined. "They looked a lot bigger in the picture in your blog."

I joked that I didn't think they'd earned the king-sized version just yet. Had they done 16 x 150s on these same send-off intervals, well then, maybe.

With bar in hand Angela balked for a second, suggesting that she didn't deserve one since she wasn't fast today. I reminded her that her best was good enough. I also noted for a second that Heather looked to be debating whether she should eat the one I'd given her. Meanwhile, Trevor's was already being processed at a molecular level deep inside the dark confines of his insatiable stomach.

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

Tuesday's Power Swim for Heather, Angela & Trevor…
a) 1K w-up, minimum.
b) Kick set (300)...3 x 25max/50mod/25max
c) Coffee Equivalent: 4 x 25s all-out FLY on :45
d) Kick set (200)...2 x 25max/50mod/25max
e) Coffee Equivalent: 4 x 25s all-out on :45
f) Main Set: 8 x "broken" 150s (75max /50mod / 25max or fly) all on a 1-minute send-off interval; if you cannot maintain a 1-minute send-off on the 75, you're done.
g) Extended cool-down…no paddles.

My pool pain scale...

Mellow (mel) = easy
Moderate (mod) = moderately hard
Mad = very hard
Max = maximal

"We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence is not an act but a habit." -Aristotle

I Choose Solvang

2010-01-08T10:44:00.000-08:00

I am hereby announcing a FREE OF CHARGE offer (the offer is free; the camp is not) about an upcoming camp I am thinking of hosting. It would be primarily for those of you I coach and for those stuck in climes much worse than Solvang's who are (or will be) in desperate need of an escape. (Never mind that almost all climates are worse than Solvang's.)

The camp is just a brain fart of mine at this point and there is nothing "officially" planned as of yet. I am simply thinking about it and would like to see if there is any interest. I'm interested in giving those interested a chance to see this beautiful area and come out and train for four or five days sometime this February or April. It would be in one of those two months, possibly both.

You would need to house yourself and pay for your food and YMCA visitor's membership and every other expense you might incur while here (and in getting here, obviously) but the camp itself will be free*, contrary to what I wrote in my opening sentence. If you wanted to drive here and sleep in your car, that would be fine too, if you can find a decent enough place to park (there are plenty, and I speak with experience).

If this might be of interest to you, please leave a comment here and let me know. We would ride a few hours or more every day and swim and jog around those miles, all the meanwhile talking training and then heading to dinner on your dime. Yes, *you'd pay for my meal, though you'd divide the cost with the number of camp participants. Warning! I eat a lot and if Trevor were to join us (as he may if he decides to help with this; I haven't even mentioned it to him, so we'll see), you will end up having to take out a second mortgage on your home, as *anyone who were to help me with this (Heather, Trevor, Angela, etc) would need their meals paid! (*That's the small print!) At any rate, it would be a cheap way for you to train with some fast pros and learn a great deal from a good coach (that is if we can find one).

All told, it would essentially be an escape for you from Mother Nature, as She tends to be a bit of a bitch this time of year...unless you live here, that is. Not a day goes by that I don't want to pucker up and kiss the sky. The picture from yesterday's ride sort of clarifies that. That's Angela riding right down the middle of the road without a care in the world. A nice way to live, eh? So come out and play.

Commitment

2010-01-05T04:32:00.000-08:00

Though the clock has never meant much to me (except, of course, on race day), today I looked at it and saw digits I don't usually see. I'm up early and my brain is firing. Pardon me for that. You see, I am not normally a morning person. Nor am I normal, but none of us really are, and so I write. Anyway, I'm currently in the midst of what I like to call "athlete negotiations" and it's what has the few neurons left in my noggin firing at full-tilt. When I woke up at 3:45am this morning, sans alarm clock, I realized what these negotiations were all about:

COMMITMENT

Commitment is something we often hear about in sport, and in life. I'm not talking about committing ourselves to one another or to a god that may or may not exist, but rather committing ourselves to ourselves. This, as far as I'm concerned, has always been far more imperative than any other commitment we could ever, um, commit to.

"Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, the providence moves too. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favour all manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamt would have come his way." ~William Murray

When we commit to something, and we really mean it, the shit basically hits the fan. Of course, as it is with life, with all its hecticness and whatnot, that fan is running. So many athletes, it seems, don't understand this process, or how to use the shit as fertilizer. Instead, they add a clause to all their commitments: "...as long as it's not too uncomfortable."

What so many athletes fail to understand is that this discomfort is one of the keystones of commitment, and one of the biggest reasons for making a commitment in the first place.

As humanoids, each of us possesses an automatic goal-fulfillment apparatus, one that has evolved almost as long as mankind himself has. (Yes, goals were a part of mankind from the beginning, and the goal to survive was a much harsher reality than what any modern day triathlete faces.) When we commit to something, we are telling this mechanism, "This is what I want." The goal-fulfillment apparatus (found somewhere between your heart and your brain) responds and arranges for it, by performing various functions---individually and collectively:

It looks to see what lessons we need to learn in order to achieve our goal; then it sets up those lessons. Sometimes, these lessons come in pleasant ways (the pace clock tells us we're getting faster), while other times, the lessons are anything but pleasant (someone we should listen to---a competent coach, for example---tells us "in no uncertain terms" what we need to know, and what we need to do.
The goal-fulfillment apparatus also sees what holds us back from achieving what we want and helps us remove it. Again, sometimes this can be pleasant or unpleasant. Sometimes it can be both at once.
Most of all, this internal apparatus gives us numerous opportunities to expand our comfort zone.

In order to achieve something new or difficult, we must expand our comfort zone to include that achievement. The bigger the goal, the more the comfort zone must expand. And comfort zones are most often expanded through discomfort. As they say, "No pain, no gain."

Swimming endless laps may seem like a terrible waste of time, a lot of work, and an unnecessary pain for what amounts to very little of our overall time on race day, but swimming those laps makes you strong enough to fulfill the goals you care to achieve. The same is true with expanding the comfort zone.

Some athletes don't understand that being uncomfortable is part of the process of achievement, so they use the discomfort as a reason not to go about it all. Naturally, they then don't get what they want. (Or they don't get what they tell themselves they want, anyway.) We must learn to tolerate discomfort in order to grow!

If we fail to see this, we're essentially training ourselves to ignore our own promise. (My apologies for the play on words here within, but I meant it both ways.) Commitment then means nothing. Just as there is no partially pregnant, there is no "partially committed."

Commitment ain't a one-time occurrence. It occurs daily, hourly, continually. We must choose to commit to our goals and dreams, over and over and over.

The test of this commitment, of course, is action.

If I tell myself, "I'm committed to get to the big dance in Kona this October," and then don't train for it, there's really no commitment there; it's just talk. Conversely, if I'm training hard, I don't need to tell myself how committed I am. My action is my commitment.

When we commit and act, we're confronted by our comfort zone. Naturally, we're tempted to quit and we're very much encouraged by ourselves and others (but never mind them) to do so. If we forge ahead regardless, we expand our comfort zone and learn a valuable (and necessary) lesson, and the commitment grows stronger. Of course, that just repeats the whole cycle and we're forced to push our boundaries a little further once more.

Always more.

October Already?

2010-01-01T16:19:00.000-08:00

To those of you I coach whose cross-hairs are locked upon the big island of Hawaii, whether you've qualified yet or not (and rest assured, you will, if you do as I ask), the countdown begins.

Remember: success isn't just sweet. Success is sweat.

PS: Lazy is as lazy does…not do.

Carlos V: Dark Knight

2009-12-30T14:11:00.000-08:00

Since Y2K + 10 is just around the corner I've decided to implement a few new facets within my ever-evolving coaching role(s). For example, instead of my usual verbal "job well done" I shall now reward my athletes with a Carlos V candy bar each time they achieve something deemed worthy of such acknowledgment. (The rules: not every athlete will be rewarded, only he or she who has achieved a job well done. I am not to be sued if the athlete continually achieves a job well done throughout the year and thus develops one cavity after the other.)

Of course, the athlete's ultimate reward is the satisfaction of knowing he or she gave it their best. Ironically enough, this is exactly what it will take in order for he or she to earn the reward named after their coach. Thank you to Nestle for the sponsorship! Now get to work you putzes, before I inhale all of these. Happy New Year!

PS: A New Year's resolution is almost always something that goes in one year and out the other.

Train Belief

2009-12-23T12:05:00.000-08:00

This morning, after peeling the skin back from my eyes and taking care of my typical Pee & Tea ritual, I turned on the old computer. There I received a great question, perhaps the toughest one I've ever received by way of this blog. Here it is, followed by my attempt at an answer. If you, the reader (is there really just one of you? Ouch!), have anything to add regarding all this, please leave a comment or two, because this is something that NEEDS to be touched on and expanded upon...

How to Train Belief

Craig writes: I have a coach that I truly believe in, however there is no shortage of people (or forums) that feel theirs is the latest and greatest method or technique. This is when the doubt creeps in. The last Ironman I trained for (my second) my coach didn't feel that I needed to train to the full 112 miles on the bike but I didn't believe I could do the race without ever doing it in training. I feel like I didn't believe him and I needed to test my ability. It wasn't until after the race that I realized that I did not need to do that ride in training. As you often stress, training for the swim, bike and run, steadily improves over time given the proper formula of stress and recovery. How does one train themselves in "belief"? Is belief a by-product of good training or is it something I can train up? Thanks.

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

Hi Craig,
Yours is perhaps the toughest question I've ever been asked on this blog! I hope I understand it correctly. How does one train themselves in belief? Do we just simply believe and then head out to achieve? Is it really that simple? Gandhi once said, "Men often become what they believe themselves to be," but it's never really that straightforward. Sorry, Mahatma!

I personally tend to think that belief comes initially through physical preparation, or having set up objectives en route to your goals and then having met them. Any belief worth having must survive doubt, but once you've achieved something that had been considered a challenge you can now check it off the mental list, knowing it can be done. This basically equates to having done the work and now believing in your ability to get that work done. So, once you've done what you've set out to do, you do it again. Then again. Then, once it becomes second nature the belief that you can do it should also be second nature, etched into your subconscious as something completely natural and expected.

Now the trick is to set up the next challenge...one (or more) that tests you just as the initial one(s) had. Perhaps a form of visualization would help, as most sport psychologists tend to tout the merits of it, but I know few athletes, if any, who can visualize as well as what reality presents.

Ultimately we're asking a lot from ourselves on race day: physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, you name it. What we see is so many athletes focusing only on the physical requirements of the event, when in fact they need the whole package to do their best. Mark Allen was an absolute MASTER at understanding this, and he knew that getting EVERYTHING aligned would allow him to deal with the sheer physicality that race day would inevitably entail. He didn't just prepare for the physicality but what that physicality would present, if that makes sense. I learned a lot from the dude and these very things need to be worked on just like swimming, cycling or running do, that is if race day is going to be even remotely successful.

Hell, how many times have we seen athletes all keyed-up prior to competition, only to get slapped in the face by the realities of race day? (I'd be rich if I had a nickel for each of them, I'll say that much.) The pressure of competition almost always elicits problems that don't exist in training. Are we then to race more often to learn to deal with these realities? (Oh, and regarding those problems we only seem to see on race day, I like to solicit: is it really training if it doesn't prepare you for everything a race might present: The pain? The distractions? The doubt? The ebb? The flow? The nervous tension? The threats? The exposure to weakness? The adaptability needed? The focus needed? The confidence required? The failed expectations? The disappointments? The emotions you're to deal with?).

Of course racing more often is hard to do, what with the steep entry fees of today and with the practicalities of long-course triathlons (i.e., prolonged build-up / prolonged recovery). And so it is, really, that training must be more race-like, to learn to overcome ALL the things we're "forced to" face on race day. That means replicating the intensity, the duration, the conditions and so on. Most of all, though, it means replicating the fears and self-doubts you're going to face and then overcoming them far enough in advance.

Race day will obviously always raise questions. It's why we compete...to try to answer those questions. But race day often raises more questions yet, most of which we didn't always seemed to be prepared for. The trick, I think, is to have at least dealt with those questions prior to the test, whether they can be fully answered or not.

-Chuckie

PS: I would never die for my beliefs in the event I might be mistaken.

Is All Your Working Out Working Out?

2009-12-21T11:30:00.000-08:00

Not that this has anything to do with anything but the days are getting longer, the days are getting longer! THE DAYS ARE GETTING LONGER!!! I feel sorry for all you poor saps south of the equator! Oh, and in other news, there have been numerous sightings of that Lance Armstrong guy around here lately. I have yet to pass him on the Fig (though I won't say whether he passed me).

Anyway, moving along. Today's topic, as per the title of this masterpiece (in the event you lose your place, the preceding link will guide you back to where you need to go)...

Is all your working out working out for you? Or are you just doing it to appease that compulsive mindset of yours?

To answer this we must first ask ourselves why it is we workout. In the case of the triathlete it is to take part in triathlon. Taking part, of course, can mean a few different things. Some of us compete to complete a triathlon, while some of us compete to completely annihilate those we're competing against (whether or not they even know they're a competitor). Some of us do it for the camaraderie, while others participate to observe scantily clad women and/or men running around in bathing suits. Some of us even compete solely to win (ergo the video below), whether it's our age-group or weight class we're talking about, or the whole damn enchilada.

As it is for so many of us, I take part in triathlon for a number of reasons (of course, women in bathing suits is unquestionably near the top of the list) and fun is as good as any reason. I compete, on the other hand, to outperform myself...if that makes sense.

Most of us are willing to pay such steep entry fees to play a part on race day because we want a safe, competitive venue in which to measure our improvement (as improving is fun), and to be social. We "train" to improve, as training isn't really training unless you are training for something.

Which brings me to the title of this blog, albeit in a lengthy manner. How do you know if your training is working? I mean, how do you know you're improving? Can it be measured strictly through power and pace data? Or is improvement really only measurable on race day? (Some might raise the question, "What good does it do to improve in training but yet fail on race day?") What other factors are involved when measuring improvement?

As coach to some of the finest athletes our sport has known (according to their coach, anyway), I try to tackle these questions in the following manner...

1) Numerically. Numbers matter and if the athlete (and coach) see that trends reveal consistent improvement it is then the role of both athlete and coach to believe in those trends, and therefore in the training that helped elicit those trends. While I've had some athletes doubt themselves on race morning (and yet still go on to perform well) it is generally those who expect to perform well who indeed do so. (This includes you rock stars about to perform, Tommy.)

2) As suggested above, belief is a powerful tool. One must look no further than religion to see evidence of that. I myself am a devout atheist and in fact don't belief in much, (e.g., politics, country, the afterlife, humanity as a whole, ownership, the Easter Bunny) but when I do belief in something---anything---I am sure as hell a lot happier. (Disregard the paradox in this sentence.) It is imperative come race day that you believe in all that working out you've done. Numbers alone won't prepare you for the onslaught that is race day; you need to believe in your capacities, those that transcend the numeric or physiologic gains, those that should also be worked on in training, those that will be tested on race day.

3) Are you healthy? Do you get injured often? Do you get sick often? Do you get sick of training? Is your "chi" good from morning to night? All these questions will help you answer whether your training is working for you (or perhaps whether you're trying to progress to quickly). I've known plenty of fast athletes who were constantly injured or sick, and therefore full of doubt and often unmotivated. Ultimately your training won't work if this is the case. (Working out - work = ing out. Or find-ing yourself out of the sport.) Be sure you're eager to train each day (not just in a compulsive "I have to" manner) and that your body is ready to too.

4) Do you feel good after working out? This one is hard to answer because the whole point of training is to tax the body and mind, and once taxed, they shouldn't exactly be feeling chipper. But there is a good kind of taxing and a bad kind of taxing. Know the difference (i.e., stimulate; don't annihilate) and be cognizant that most your working out shouldn't leave you passed out. Leave that to the beer.

Follow-Up To the Swim "Cheat Sheet"

2009-12-17T09:41:00.000-08:00

I had a few follow-up comments and questions after my write-up about my little swim "Cheat Sheet". Here's a question regarding the rest intervals after any power or strength type of swimming, along with my response. There is no easy answer (as ever), as we all take our own sweet time (however long that may be) in recovering between hard bouts but if it's true power output we're talking about, then rest is vital. Anyway, Anon (there's that damn name again!) asks...

Quick question: what sort of rest intervals are you talking about. I understand the endurance rest interval as being short, but the the strength and power rest intervals I'm not so sure of. 10-15sec...30 sec? Also, physiologically, what is the difference in doing 10x100 with 5 sec rest vs a straight 1000 (t1000) won't doing the 100's with little rest be pushing your metabolic demands a bit more than a straight swim?

Anon,
If it's true power you're trying to develop then subsequent rest is a major factor. Since power is force applied fast (force + speed) such efforts are pretty damn near all-out, though not quite or else they become speed (not to mention sloppy in the case of most triathletes), though this of course depends on an effort's distance/duration. ("All-out" can mean a lot of different things, since you can certainly go all-out on a wide array of durations.)

Anyway, this means rest is required or else the amount of force generated starts to drop with each interval, as would your speed. Think of power intervals in the pool as one-minute (or shorter) efforts on the bike; they're very comparable. You're essentially trying to engage a wider range of muscle fibers and clear your lactate enough to maintain the same output; whatever rest it takes to do this is enough, but you need to be sure you're truly putting out a powerful effort and not just noodling along so as to ensure repeat after repeat.

Power is an important aspect of the overall training preparation package, but nowhere near as important to the endurance athlete lacking basic endurance. Of course if an athlete is time-crunched, power specificity is a great way to maximize gains in short periods of time., which we see so many coaches touting. Without endurance though, these gains will always be restricted somewhere down the development sequence (which would no longer make it a development sequence!). Nobody knows precisely why endurance takes forever to develop (it's not just the muscle cells and increased capillarization) but it does fit into its very name: one must endure endurance's dawdling development!

Your second question answers itself; 10 x 100s on 5-seconds ought to elicit a faster time for the 1000 yards/meters than would a straight 1,000 (thanks to the 45-seconds of rest interspersed within) and therefore a slightly different/increased physiological stimulus. Most triathletes, especially those swimming an overabundance of Masters practices (with sprints and socializing galore), could probably use more steady-state 1,000's in order to develop their basic steady-state endurance. But this can also be accomplished by increasing the number of 100's (as per this example) one does, especially if they're done on short rest.

Of course, rest intervals add time to a workout and many of us only have so much we can allot to our training, so non-stop steady-state stuff is attractive in this sense...it is very time-efficient. On a personal level I know my hardest (and most beneficial, based on subsequent race times) swim workouts were the ones in which I never stopped swimming (e.g., 5-kilometer time-trials, etc). They also had the added benefit of allowing me to work on form/technique/rhythm since they were only really ever hard toward the end (thus, the subjective "all-out" definition as above), not to mention incorporating the mental component of it all, which is typically overlooked with swimming.