The gang is skiing up in
Flagstaff, so I'm doing the flexible bachelor schedule thing for
48 hours, meaning, when it's still fun. I had a nice run: home to top
of Sabino Cyn and back after work, 14.6 mi with 2,000-ish feet of
elevation gain, in just a little over 2hr. Like many first runs/rides
back from idleness, it felt like a bit of an exorcism.
Monday, December 23, 2013
Friday, December 6, 2013
IMAZ 2013 RR: Sub-10 and Tenth in M45-49!!
10/292 in M45-49, 144/2700-ish overall. Yep, that's the punch line, and a happy one!
But
first things first. The race itself: If you're reading this not
because you have an abiding interest in relatively benign endurance sports-based midlife crises, but because you're considering doing an Ironman, then let me get right to the point: This race is the best, period. It's a pain in the neck to get into the race, but it's worth it. IMAZ
has moderate temperatures, great race support, a flat course, and a hub
airport right nearby. And if you're local, an M-dot branded IM within
driving distance is money in the bank. Unfortunately, so many people
agree with this sentiment. Many sign up almost two years ahead of time
to volunteer a year beforehand instead of paying the $1400-ish dollars
for a foundation spot one year in advance. Try to register 51 weeks
ahead of time, and you just may be out of luck.
There
are a few seasoned endurance athletes who grumble that IMAZ is too
easy, but that's a hollow argument for just about everybody, and a false
dichotomy for most of those who remain. Doing IMAZ doesn't preclude
you from doing Norseman, IM Lake Tahoe, or their ilk. Soak up IMAZ's
flatness, its pleasantness, its SPEED!
Now to the race itself.
Pre-race:
 |
| The steed got a little press from: http://triathlon.competitor.com/2013/11/photos/photos-2013-ironman-arizona-age-groupers_90245 |
Unlike
last year, I got my gear and life together several days ahead of time.
I didn't go to work on the morning of the final day of check-in. This
saved much anguish. The only smarter thing I did was not doing the race at the same time as my wife and fellow parent of three children. Some things seem so obvious in hindsight. But not flailing around like a one-legged man in a butt kicking contest clearly left me more rested and energized for the race. A good night's sleep, a bunch of caffeine, and a big bowl of oatmeal also helped.
Swim:
 |
| View of the swim from Karen's Kayak |
The swim remains a mass start from the water, preceded by several minutes of bobbing and shivering. The
goal was to get away from the crowds as quickly as possible, but this didn’t
really happen. Prerace visualizations involved majestically
soaring to the front of the swim pack with long, smooth strokes. Reality more closely resembled a mosh
pit, more so than the previous year. The first twenty minutes
were bumpy, and I had to deliberately reel myself in, calm down, and slow down.
Things spread out more, and I got a good amount of open
water on the second half. I finished in
59:46, not as fast as last year, but under an hour.
T1 was faster than last year, which made up for the slower
swim. I didn’t fool around with
compression socks or any other gimmicky nonsense. Helmet, shoes, stow the wetsuit, go.
 |
| Just a little ride. . . |
I also noticed that I, and some of my competitors, were
picking up “friends,” some of whom kept the required 4 bike length distance,
some of whom didn’t. The
shamelessness of some of the drafting I saw amazed me: one woman who wound up winning her age group
and punching a Kona ticket, stayed less than a bike length behind the rider in
front of her for more than a whole lap.
Another pro did the same. At any rate, lap #2
went down in 1:38. Even though I’d been
keeping a legal distance, my average power dropped 10 watts for the same speed. I mused at the energy
savings the true wheelsuckers were getting.
At the turnaround, I spotted the fam and we exchanged cheers, which was heartening.
At the turnaround, I spotted the fam and we exchanged cheers, which was heartening.
The sense of impending marathon on lap #3 got me
worried. This led to a couple of
decisions—one good, one bad. I eased off
on my pace just a little, which was good, and I sucked down a bunch of
nutrition in the last 10 miles, which turned out not to be so good. I finished in 5:00:38, almost exactly as
planned, and 39 tantalizing seconds away from sub-5 hours.
 |
| T2: Where you realize that wanting to be done with a 112 mile bike ride and wanting to run a marathon are not necessarily the same thing. . . |
T2 involved a little more fumbling than expected. The waistpack/hat bundle that had netted me a
laser-quick transition at the Soma 70.3 triathlon last month seemed somehow less
intuitive, and I got out in 2:28.
 |
| Only 4 miles into it, and still running strong. |
But then I began to slow.
Inability to hydrate or get down calories was catching up with me. By mile 17, I decided to walk the aid stations
so I could drink two waters and cokes at each, in the hope of catching up and
getting re-energized. It helped a
little. The temptation to give up and do
serious walking loomed large. Again, I
hadn’t imagined this much of a struggle this soon. My goals were in peril if not lost. But it there’s one thing medical residency
training has taught me, it’s to carry on as well as possible in less than
perfect circumstances no matter how grim things looked. I set aside my nascent whininess, brought my mind back to technique, and
started a gratitude list in my mind.
Still healthy, still married, still employed, still alive. How bad could any self-inflicted discomfort
really be, relative to the pain and misfortune I get to see patients and
families experience every day at work?
Soon I was a little happier/weepier/punchier, if not faster.
 |
| The rooting section! |
I decided to run through the aid stations at miles 23-25
with minimal hydration. Not enough fluid
might be a problem, but fluid was making me cramp, so I figured it would be
a wash. At mile 25, I finally glanced at
the overall time on my watch, which I’d been avoiding for the whole run. 9:48.
1.2 miles in 12 minutes to get to the finish line under 10 hours! I knew if I pushed
it, I’d make it. I also knew it would really hurt: I’d kept my pace just below
the cramping/nauseous threshold, and this was a deliberate venture into that
realm. Hopefully it wouldn’t
backfire.
But I told myself, Temporary suffering’s
got nothing on knowing I could’ve gone sub-10 and didn’t give it my all. . .
I cranked it in pretty hard.
At mile 26, a spectator said that I had three minutes to finish under 10
hours. I didn’t look at the watch, as I
was going as hard as I could, and feeling it.
Coming up towards the chute, my buddy Vince greeted me with a fusillade
of shutter clicks and a smile. I did my
best impression of a smile in return.
Turning into the chute, I saw the clock at the finish, mere yards away:
9:58:34. I was going to make it under
10! As much as it hurt, I ran hard through the finish. 9:58:59!!
I was elated.
 |
| Warming up in Medical |
To take stock briefly: PR by 40 minutes, 30 minutes faster
on the run, right on pace for the bike, a hair slower on the swim. Nutrition was better, but still in need of
significant improvement. Antacids, more
nutrition on the bike, less nutrition on the bike. . .it’s not clear to me what’s
best. But the good news is that there’s
some chance that I may not have to wait to turn 50 to contemplate a serious run
at a Kona slot. . .tune in next year.
Battle scars, or something like that:
 |
| Beat up feet |
 |
| Wetsuit abrasion |
 |
| Probably got banged during the swim. And not a very manly looking bruise at that. |
In closing, I want to thank my wife and our kids for putting
up with this nuttiness. It’s easy to see
in retrospect what I asked everyone to give up for a few months, but harder in
the moment. Thanks also to
those who helped me get back from a hip fracture 357 days before this race to
where I am today: My Orthopedic colleague Dr. Jordan Smith, who fixed it, Dr. Pat Boyle,
who too care of me, John Woolf at ProActiv Physical Therapy for getting me
going, Melissa Hollmann at Peak Action Physical Therapy for getting the hip
loose enough to really perform, Charlie Roach Chinese Medicine for getting the energy flowing
again, Brian Grasky for extensive help with running form, Vince and the gang
for the online support and numerous laughs, and coach Bill Daniell for designing
a plan that did an excellent job of making the most of limited time.
Saturday, November 9, 2013
IMAZ 2013 Race Plan
So on this coming Sunday November 17, I'm having another go at
Ironman. This will be number three, and my second in Tempe.
Following is my plan.
But first, a season recap. It's been a surprisingly productive year, given that I'll be 357 days post hip fracture on race day. After a month of recovery and several more of rehab, it's been essentially injury-free. The unintended bike focus has given me more watts to work with. Reinventing my run form, with the personal help of coach Brian Grasky and the virtual help of Bobby McGee, has made speed more effortless. Swim, well, whatever. It's about the same. My coach, Bill Daniell, is a superlatively good swimmer. Maybe some TrainingPeaks osmosis will happen.
It's probable that consistent and unrelenting training has improved the ratio of slowtwitch to fast twitch muscle fibers, increased the number of fat-oxidizing mitochondria in the intracellular matrix of my myocytes, and improved the capillary density in relevant muscle beds. But what is undoubtedly true is that systematic neglect of upper body strength training coupled with 2 1/2 years of SBR has led to a vast improvement in the critical and well-researched Ass to Arm Ratio (AAR). (see http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/19901178 for further details)
Yes, what used to be a fairly balanced physique is looking more and more like that of a competitive triathlete. Observe these actual, unretouched photos:
2010:
2013:
Plus, I've lost THREE WHOLE POUNDS since last year! Look out, world!
Anyhow, to the plan: Start off the morning the normal way, with the core macro- and micronutrients that encourage firm and regular bowel movements: Oatmeal in coconut water; high-dose caffeine; fluids. Maybe throw in a couple of salt tabs for good measure. But not on the oatmeal. After distal GI tract success, it’s time to head down to Tempe Beach Park, so I can mill around with fellow racers and urinate surreptitiously in my wetsuit while consuming sports drink. (Note to first-timers: Wet footprints on the sidewalk are not due to anyone having pre-swum the course.) Then into the water, where if memory serves, we bob around at the start line in the mid-to-low 60s murk of Tempe Town Lake until the race director confirms that at least 50% of competitors have begun shivering convulsively. Then the cannon sounds.
The ass to arm ratio thing hurts me in the swim, but since I'm one of those contemptibly well-reimbursed Age Group triathletes, I can afford a nice DeSoto T1 wetsuit that does a marvelous job of floating my disproportionately dense derriere. My swim goals are to avoid trying too hard and wasting energy, to get clobbered and to clobber as little as possible, and to move on to the fun stuff, AKA the bike and most of the run, ASAP. Some people think there are curves that can be legally straightened on the swim course, and I suspect they're right. Pre-examining the course will be key. I went :58 last year in the swim. It’d be nice to break an hour again, but not nice enough to work hard at it.
After spending roughly an hour in the water warming up the wrong muscles, there's nothing like a barefoot shuffle through T1 to send the HR skyrocketing. Hopefully I can get the bike computer turned on soon enough to see if I've managed to break my personal best for max heart rate.
One key element of the bike plan is to actually have the bike computer on the bike this year, instead of in the pocket of my morning clothes. Also, I plan to actually recharge the 310XT I’m going to use for the run. It was very retro of me to do an electronics-free Ironman last year, but not a do-over.
Mostly, the bike leg is about getting ready for the run. My plan for pre-watering the wetsuit has got nothing on what I’m going to do to that poor bike. Priorities are: 1) Go as fast as possible without overdoing it, and 2) Get so dang hydrated that my back teeth will be floating by the end. This means drink, pee, drink, pee, repeat, repeat, repeat. One thing I’m doing differently is going fluid only (Infinit Custom), all isoosmolar to hypoosmolar, depending on how much I'm sweating. Quite possibly my previous bonks were due in some part to a high solute load in the gut drawing fluid out of the intravascular space, and Infinit has worked flawlessly in training. And if I can manage over the next week to avoid whatever questionable sort of food that caused untimely gastroenteritis last year, I should be good to go from a GI point of view.
The bike iteself: Same one, new paint job:
At the turnarounds, I'll keep an eye out for the fam. But I’m well aware that watching daddy go around in circles for ten-ish hours may very well not be on the tippy-top of our brood's “fun” list. So I hope they enjoy the zoo or whatever, and I’ll probably see them at the finish.
I’ve got my wattage limits, and this year, I’m actually going to stick to them. It’s unclear how fast a well-behaved bike leg will be, but last year was 5:07, with a few minutes of extra stop time to address aforementioned GI problems. Best guess: 5:05, + or - ten minutes. Assuming a well-executed race, this is the wild card with regards to my overall finishing time.
For the run, my last two 26.2 mile death marches were neither enjoyable nor productive, and hopefully the nutrition, pacing, and fitness problems have been solved. With any luck, my new and improved run form will carry me as far and fast as possible before things get tough. Besting a 4:24 split should be no problem if all goes reasonably well. I should hopefully even go a good bit faster than 4:00. Last year was 10:39 overall, and I’m hoping to go sub-10 this year. Given that M45-49 appears to be more stacked than the cast of Baywatch, I imagine I’d have to go a good deal faster than that to be in contention for Kona slots or the podium. We’ll see. Not expecting it this year, but eternally hopeful. . .
Most importantly, I’m going to keep in mind that this is all optional, and all for fun. The jerk who yelled profanities at me on the bike last year because I didn’t hear him and finish my pass/get out of his way quickly enough may have gotten his coveted Kona slot, but if that’s what it takes, I’m not interested. Nothing I do next Sunday will result in a pay raise or cut. There isn't a finishing time so fast that it will improve my marriage, nor one so poor that it will get me sleeping on the couch. So, priorities: Fun, gratitude for health, family support and friends, fun, fun, fun!
Except maybe the last few miles. But after that, it’s dinnertime. For a week or two. Which will be fun.
But first, a season recap. It's been a surprisingly productive year, given that I'll be 357 days post hip fracture on race day. After a month of recovery and several more of rehab, it's been essentially injury-free. The unintended bike focus has given me more watts to work with. Reinventing my run form, with the personal help of coach Brian Grasky and the virtual help of Bobby McGee, has made speed more effortless. Swim, well, whatever. It's about the same. My coach, Bill Daniell, is a superlatively good swimmer. Maybe some TrainingPeaks osmosis will happen.
It's probable that consistent and unrelenting training has improved the ratio of slowtwitch to fast twitch muscle fibers, increased the number of fat-oxidizing mitochondria in the intracellular matrix of my myocytes, and improved the capillary density in relevant muscle beds. But what is undoubtedly true is that systematic neglect of upper body strength training coupled with 2 1/2 years of SBR has led to a vast improvement in the critical and well-researched Ass to Arm Ratio (AAR). (see http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/19901178 for further details)
Yes, what used to be a fairly balanced physique is looking more and more like that of a competitive triathlete. Observe these actual, unretouched photos:
2010:
2013:
Plus, I've lost THREE WHOLE POUNDS since last year! Look out, world!
Anyhow, to the plan: Start off the morning the normal way, with the core macro- and micronutrients that encourage firm and regular bowel movements: Oatmeal in coconut water; high-dose caffeine; fluids. Maybe throw in a couple of salt tabs for good measure. But not on the oatmeal. After distal GI tract success, it’s time to head down to Tempe Beach Park, so I can mill around with fellow racers and urinate surreptitiously in my wetsuit while consuming sports drink. (Note to first-timers: Wet footprints on the sidewalk are not due to anyone having pre-swum the course.) Then into the water, where if memory serves, we bob around at the start line in the mid-to-low 60s murk of Tempe Town Lake until the race director confirms that at least 50% of competitors have begun shivering convulsively. Then the cannon sounds.
The ass to arm ratio thing hurts me in the swim, but since I'm one of those contemptibly well-reimbursed Age Group triathletes, I can afford a nice DeSoto T1 wetsuit that does a marvelous job of floating my disproportionately dense derriere. My swim goals are to avoid trying too hard and wasting energy, to get clobbered and to clobber as little as possible, and to move on to the fun stuff, AKA the bike and most of the run, ASAP. Some people think there are curves that can be legally straightened on the swim course, and I suspect they're right. Pre-examining the course will be key. I went :58 last year in the swim. It’d be nice to break an hour again, but not nice enough to work hard at it.
After spending roughly an hour in the water warming up the wrong muscles, there's nothing like a barefoot shuffle through T1 to send the HR skyrocketing. Hopefully I can get the bike computer turned on soon enough to see if I've managed to break my personal best for max heart rate.
One key element of the bike plan is to actually have the bike computer on the bike this year, instead of in the pocket of my morning clothes. Also, I plan to actually recharge the 310XT I’m going to use for the run. It was very retro of me to do an electronics-free Ironman last year, but not a do-over.
Mostly, the bike leg is about getting ready for the run. My plan for pre-watering the wetsuit has got nothing on what I’m going to do to that poor bike. Priorities are: 1) Go as fast as possible without overdoing it, and 2) Get so dang hydrated that my back teeth will be floating by the end. This means drink, pee, drink, pee, repeat, repeat, repeat. One thing I’m doing differently is going fluid only (Infinit Custom), all isoosmolar to hypoosmolar, depending on how much I'm sweating. Quite possibly my previous bonks were due in some part to a high solute load in the gut drawing fluid out of the intravascular space, and Infinit has worked flawlessly in training. And if I can manage over the next week to avoid whatever questionable sort of food that caused untimely gastroenteritis last year, I should be good to go from a GI point of view.
The bike iteself: Same one, new paint job:
At the turnarounds, I'll keep an eye out for the fam. But I’m well aware that watching daddy go around in circles for ten-ish hours may very well not be on the tippy-top of our brood's “fun” list. So I hope they enjoy the zoo or whatever, and I’ll probably see them at the finish.
I’ve got my wattage limits, and this year, I’m actually going to stick to them. It’s unclear how fast a well-behaved bike leg will be, but last year was 5:07, with a few minutes of extra stop time to address aforementioned GI problems. Best guess: 5:05, + or - ten minutes. Assuming a well-executed race, this is the wild card with regards to my overall finishing time.
For the run, my last two 26.2 mile death marches were neither enjoyable nor productive, and hopefully the nutrition, pacing, and fitness problems have been solved. With any luck, my new and improved run form will carry me as far and fast as possible before things get tough. Besting a 4:24 split should be no problem if all goes reasonably well. I should hopefully even go a good bit faster than 4:00. Last year was 10:39 overall, and I’m hoping to go sub-10 this year. Given that M45-49 appears to be more stacked than the cast of Baywatch, I imagine I’d have to go a good deal faster than that to be in contention for Kona slots or the podium. We’ll see. Not expecting it this year, but eternally hopeful. . .
Most importantly, I’m going to keep in mind that this is all optional, and all for fun. The jerk who yelled profanities at me on the bike last year because I didn’t hear him and finish my pass/get out of his way quickly enough may have gotten his coveted Kona slot, but if that’s what it takes, I’m not interested. Nothing I do next Sunday will result in a pay raise or cut. There isn't a finishing time so fast that it will improve my marriage, nor one so poor that it will get me sleeping on the couch. So, priorities: Fun, gratitude for health, family support and friends, fun, fun, fun!
Except maybe the last few miles. But after that, it’s dinnertime. For a week or two. Which will be fun.
Saturday, September 14, 2013
Iron Run Simulation Lite
Friday was a 5.5 hr aerobic ride, and a bit of a Country/Western ride at that. I dropped my chain
twice, the power meter died, the Garmin battery ran out. Then going up
the last hill home, the chain shifted into the spokes and I keeled over
onto the pavement, getting a bit of road rash.
Upon arriving home, I was relieved to see that the dog was still alive and Karen hadn't left me for a Texas cowpoke.
I worked last night, then put in a 2.25 hr run. To make it interesting, I figured I'd divide it in thirds, start out easy, go medium, then see if I had enough to kick it up to a higher gear for the last part. Poker run versus progressive. Pace for both "laps" 1 and 2 felt sustainable. Lap 3 effort was with the finish in mind: I knew I couldn't keep it up much longer than the scheduled end of the run. It went pretty much as planned, but that higher gear was more of an RPE increase than a speed increase, as my legs were tired and the Mercury had climbed from 81 to 91 degrees. Still able to drink water/infinit for last part, just not as much, and probably not enough for a run of more than a few miles. Here's my little Excel breakdown:
The segment time and the time per mile differed with either segments less than one mile or water bottle refill stops, of which there were many. 17-20 ft/mile up or down changed my pace by about 20 sec/mile, so I adjusted accordingly to get an estimated flat pace. I was pretty happy both with the overall pace and the fact that the first 2 laps felt very sustainable in terms of HR, muscular endurance, and ability to get enough fluid/calories onboard.
Upon arriving home, I was relieved to see that the dog was still alive and Karen hadn't left me for a Texas cowpoke.
I worked last night, then put in a 2.25 hr run. To make it interesting, I figured I'd divide it in thirds, start out easy, go medium, then see if I had enough to kick it up to a higher gear for the last part. Poker run versus progressive. Pace for both "laps" 1 and 2 felt sustainable. Lap 3 effort was with the finish in mind: I knew I couldn't keep it up much longer than the scheduled end of the run. It went pretty much as planned, but that higher gear was more of an RPE increase than a speed increase, as my legs were tired and the Mercury had climbed from 81 to 91 degrees. Still able to drink water/infinit for last part, just not as much, and probably not enough for a run of more than a few miles. Here's my little Excel breakdown:
The segment time and the time per mile differed with either segments less than one mile or water bottle refill stops, of which there were many. 17-20 ft/mile up or down changed my pace by about 20 sec/mile, so I adjusted accordingly to get an estimated flat pace. I was pretty happy both with the overall pace and the fact that the first 2 laps felt very sustainable in terms of HR, muscular endurance, and ability to get enough fluid/calories onboard.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
Attack of the Killer Migraine, er, Virus
Yesterday was an unexpected downer. After a fairly long, brick-filled
weekend of training in Flagstaff, AZ, I was slated for an easy swim in the AM. During the swim, I started to feel
a little hungover (of course without cause, other than a long run the previous
evening). Drinking water didn't help. I left the pool early due to a
splitting headache with nausea. I figured the obvious: dehydration. Work today didn't start until 3pm, so I went home and hydrated like a
fool (lessons of early college years gone by were not lost 
).
Hydration didn't help, and I was feeling pretty wretched every time I
stood up, so by lunchtime, I called out of work.
Next guess was that I had a BAMF migraine. So despite nausea, I threw down some Advil and caffeine, which eventually helped. A head full of medical factoids leads one to contemplate all sorts of heinous possibilities, but I reined it in. It was a migraine, plain and simple. When you hear hoof beats, think horses, not zebras. Unless you're in Africa.
Haven't had a migraine since late teens. But it's suddenly time to figure out how to avoid 'em. Realistically, I did a bunch of stressful things in the last 48 hours, and one of them, or some of them in combo, was/were the trigger:
--3 Hr. Mt. Bike race Saturday, followed by 20 minute run
--Long hypothermic bike ride on Sunday in Flagstaff, AZ: 4.25 hrs in 50 degrees and rain.
--Long, normothermic car ride back to Tucson.
--Long, sweaty 1hr 22 min run Sunday night right before bed with only water, and probably not enough. (Tucson was mid->high 80s, immediately post-rain, which is to say that it was so farking humid that I was growing armpit and crotch moss)
--Not enough fluid after run.
--Generally more physical stress with IM build (big surprise there)
--Not enough sleep lately (not sure that one's getting better until retirement)
--Just used Infinit for the first time.
Hopefully it wasn't that last one, as Infinit worked quite well in all other ways. I think its ingredients are pretty simple, so I hope not.
Most of it was dehydration, I think coupled with opposite temp stresses (haven't really done alternating hypothermic and hyperthermic bricks). I think it's easy to forget that it takes more than a few glasses of water at night to rehydrate after a real sweatfest. But there's no denying that some things trigger unpleasant headaches: diet soda; anything with nitrites; anything with MSG. Dehydration may be the next item, or it may be something else.
A natural part of aging, I suppose: The dietary road grows narrower. But the horizon grows broader.
Edit--A coworker described exactly these symptoms a few days later. His wife got it, too. Seems that the most likely cause was a virus. But I'd still say that the extreme training left me susceptible.
).
Hydration didn't help, and I was feeling pretty wretched every time I
stood up, so by lunchtime, I called out of work.Next guess was that I had a BAMF migraine. So despite nausea, I threw down some Advil and caffeine, which eventually helped. A head full of medical factoids leads one to contemplate all sorts of heinous possibilities, but I reined it in. It was a migraine, plain and simple. When you hear hoof beats, think horses, not zebras. Unless you're in Africa.
Haven't had a migraine since late teens. But it's suddenly time to figure out how to avoid 'em. Realistically, I did a bunch of stressful things in the last 48 hours, and one of them, or some of them in combo, was/were the trigger:
--3 Hr. Mt. Bike race Saturday, followed by 20 minute run
--Long hypothermic bike ride on Sunday in Flagstaff, AZ: 4.25 hrs in 50 degrees and rain.
--Long, normothermic car ride back to Tucson.
--Long, sweaty 1hr 22 min run Sunday night right before bed with only water, and probably not enough. (Tucson was mid->high 80s, immediately post-rain, which is to say that it was so farking humid that I was growing armpit and crotch moss)
--Not enough fluid after run.
--Generally more physical stress with IM build (big surprise there)
--Not enough sleep lately (not sure that one's getting better until retirement)
--Just used Infinit for the first time.
Hopefully it wasn't that last one, as Infinit worked quite well in all other ways. I think its ingredients are pretty simple, so I hope not.
Most of it was dehydration, I think coupled with opposite temp stresses (haven't really done alternating hypothermic and hyperthermic bricks). I think it's easy to forget that it takes more than a few glasses of water at night to rehydrate after a real sweatfest. But there's no denying that some things trigger unpleasant headaches: diet soda; anything with nitrites; anything with MSG. Dehydration may be the next item, or it may be something else.
A natural part of aging, I suppose: The dietary road grows narrower. But the horizon grows broader.
Edit--A coworker described exactly these symptoms a few days later. His wife got it, too. Seems that the most likely cause was a virus. But I'd still say that the extreme training left me susceptible.
Monday, August 5, 2013
XTERRA Snow Valley, Part III: 21K Trail Run
. . .in American English, that's a Half Marathon. . .
The swan song for the XTERRA weekend was an trail run, on hiking/cross-country trails across the street from the Snow Valley Ski Area. It took some searching to find an elevation profile, but I found someone else's file from a race on Garmin connect.
Preparing for the race was mercifully simple compared to a triathlon: Shoes, shorts, shirt, ready to go. Water bottle, holder, 310xt, iPhone and headphones, and HR strap were added as useful but unnecessary extras. Karen and the kids dropped me off and headed for Big Bear Lake for a couple hours of fishing. I was at the starting line with just a few minutes to spare. Time for a quick limber-up, and then we were off.
My legs were initially not so thrilled about the prospect of more hill climbing. Even though I'd been drinking, eating, and replacing electrolytes religiously since the XTERRA Points tri yesterday, I still felt depleted and dehydrated. It seems to take a fair bit more than 18 hours to completely restore and rebalance fluids and electrolytes in all body compartments. No surprise there.
As intended, this was going to be a good opportunity to work on running in less than optimal conditions. So I pretended it was an Ironman Marathon: focus on form; maintain a sustainable pace, and accept what my body had left without trying to force more out of it
It's not always easy on the ego to let people pass me. But it is an essential lesson for racing in general, and far more so for Iron Distance racing, where going just a little too fast can lead to miles of walking during the marathon. And to be blunt about it, I need work on it. So I kept asking myself: Am I passing this person because there's some imaginary reason I think I should be in front of them, or because staying behind them is actually slowing me down? Unless it's come down to a sprint to the finish line, there's really no other good reason to pass.
Running efficiently downhill on trails is not unlike skiing the moguls. It's important to stay balanced and centered, to land feet carefully and with the proper amount of force to guide one down the trail, and like with moguls, to keep one's vision 3 or so footfalls ahead in order to remain smooth. Going too fast equals loss of control and a crash; going too slow and "overbraking" is actually more work than going the "right" speed. There's a balance. Luckily, I've spent most of my adult life running trails, so it was pretty much second nature.
A fellow competitor who was running in front of me for awhile made a video of the race. It's a good overview of the race and the scenery. Plus, I'm in it:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s8_f4hPpGsk&list=HL1375453728&feature=mh_lolz
Somebody's pet pig can be seen at 1:30. The race itself starts at 1:44. I'm running behind him at about 2:50 and I can't hear him because I'm taking acoustic inspiration from iTunes. Then again at 4:30, and we chat briefly at 5:30.
During the last half of the race, I pushed the effort level up just a hair. As with the IM marathon, this was not reflected in my pace. But form stayed together. I went 57 min for the first 11K, 63 for the last 10, for a total time of 2 hours and 54 seconds. Just over 2 hrs. :-\ Makes me wish I'd paid a little closer attention to the watch. . .
Overall, it was a scenic and fun run. It was also a confidence booster in terms of how well I ran tired. But the race awards suffered from the same logistical hassle as the XTERRA tri: I would've had to wait around for 1+ hours to get my little plaque for being 2nd in my AG. I wanted to/couldn't/didn't. It just seemed too selfish to make everyone sit around and wait again. Our vacation had, up to that point, been all about the parents and what we wanted instead of the kids' fun.
But over the next week, we wound up doing OK in the kids of all ages fun department: Speedboating around Big Bear Lake, hitting Huntington and Newport Beach, going to Disneyland, and checking out Street Skating and Freestlye Moto-X at the X-Games:
. . .but that was last week. Today was the first day of school for the older two, and today is the day that I officially start prep for Ironman Arizona in November. We're right back into the full swing.
The swan song for the XTERRA weekend was an trail run, on hiking/cross-country trails across the street from the Snow Valley Ski Area. It took some searching to find an elevation profile, but I found someone else's file from a race on Garmin connect.
Preparing for the race was mercifully simple compared to a triathlon: Shoes, shorts, shirt, ready to go. Water bottle, holder, 310xt, iPhone and headphones, and HR strap were added as useful but unnecessary extras. Karen and the kids dropped me off and headed for Big Bear Lake for a couple hours of fishing. I was at the starting line with just a few minutes to spare. Time for a quick limber-up, and then we were off.
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| Doing some maneuvering at the start. |
As intended, this was going to be a good opportunity to work on running in less than optimal conditions. So I pretended it was an Ironman Marathon: focus on form; maintain a sustainable pace, and accept what my body had left without trying to force more out of it
It's not always easy on the ego to let people pass me. But it is an essential lesson for racing in general, and far more so for Iron Distance racing, where going just a little too fast can lead to miles of walking during the marathon. And to be blunt about it, I need work on it. So I kept asking myself: Am I passing this person because there's some imaginary reason I think I should be in front of them, or because staying behind them is actually slowing me down? Unless it's come down to a sprint to the finish line, there's really no other good reason to pass.
Running efficiently downhill on trails is not unlike skiing the moguls. It's important to stay balanced and centered, to land feet carefully and with the proper amount of force to guide one down the trail, and like with moguls, to keep one's vision 3 or so footfalls ahead in order to remain smooth. Going too fast equals loss of control and a crash; going too slow and "overbraking" is actually more work than going the "right" speed. There's a balance. Luckily, I've spent most of my adult life running trails, so it was pretty much second nature.
A fellow competitor who was running in front of me for awhile made a video of the race. It's a good overview of the race and the scenery. Plus, I'm in it:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s8_f4hPpGsk&list=HL1375453728&feature=mh_lolz
Somebody's pet pig can be seen at 1:30. The race itself starts at 1:44. I'm running behind him at about 2:50 and I can't hear him because I'm taking acoustic inspiration from iTunes. Then again at 4:30, and we chat briefly at 5:30.
During the last half of the race, I pushed the effort level up just a hair. As with the IM marathon, this was not reflected in my pace. But form stayed together. I went 57 min for the first 11K, 63 for the last 10, for a total time of 2 hours and 54 seconds. Just over 2 hrs. :-\ Makes me wish I'd paid a little closer attention to the watch. . .
Overall, it was a scenic and fun run. It was also a confidence booster in terms of how well I ran tired. But the race awards suffered from the same logistical hassle as the XTERRA tri: I would've had to wait around for 1+ hours to get my little plaque for being 2nd in my AG. I wanted to/couldn't/didn't. It just seemed too selfish to make everyone sit around and wait again. Our vacation had, up to that point, been all about the parents and what we wanted instead of the kids' fun.
But over the next week, we wound up doing OK in the kids of all ages fun department: Speedboating around Big Bear Lake, hitting Huntington and Newport Beach, going to Disneyland, and checking out Street Skating and Freestlye Moto-X at the X-Games:
 |
| Mama's Driving the boat like a wild woman. Family facepalm. |
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| The teen is banking hard and fast, imitating mama. Only 2 years and she can get a learner's permit!! :-\ |
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| Huntington Beach on the iPhone panorama feature |
Saturday, August 3, 2013
XTERRA Snow Valley, Part II: Points Triathlon
Saturday was the Points triathlon, the longer of the two tri options. Karen and I were both excited to do our first XTERRA tri. Karen was particuarly thrilled that XTERRANS, if you will, seemed to share her contempt for mornings. The race started not at 5:30, 6, or even 7 am, but at a mind-bogglingly late NINE AM. She and her slacker night people mountain biker cohorts would just be hitting their strides as I started to look for somewhere quiet and out of the way to nap. . .
We arrived at 8am, set up T2 at the bottom of the hill, and rode/walked up the 2/3 mile climb to the teeny, tiny lake and T1. Setup was a free-for-all, so I just grabbed an available slot in the first rack, between a couple of really fast looking people. None of them seemed to be setting out their elbow and hip pads for the bike leg. And they all had clipless (meaning the ones you clip into) pedals. Not this rookie. Platform pedals only. And my Hokas. I'm not that good. Yet. If ever.
I felt pretty casual about the whole thing: It would be a quick swim, a few trips up and down the ski hill on the bike, and then a hilly 6.2 mile run. Not much to stress about, and a good chance to work on pacing, nutrition, and of course, mountain bike skills.
The swim was off fairly quickly. I started off at a comfortable speed and didn't really get going until the last lap. The expected hypoxia for a 7,000 foot swim was mitigated by my easy start. XTERRA tri swimmers have a reputation, and it seemed to me not unfounded. They were both slower and more aggressive: noticeably more jostling; pulling; hitting, a fair bit of it clearly intentional as opposed to the almost universally incidental/accidental collisions I've had in road tri swims. A fellow competitior who had a hard time keeping his hands off my backside (repetitively) got to experience some of my old water polo skills. >;-} Per my watch, the swim was done in 14:30, about 1:28/100 meters. Blah. Pretty much IM pace. Maybe I should have warmed up. Or pushed it like the short swim it was.
Given the official swim split time, T1 took me about 2 minutes, which wasn't bad given that I threw on elbow pads, hip pads, a backpack, and sunglasses, in addition to the usual shoes and helmet.
Conscious of the fact that we had to climb the ski hill three times, I set my effort level deliberately at tempo pace. My new platform pedals with little grippy knobs were money: they gave almost as much traction as if I were clipped in, but with the ability to stop myself from falling over given the high likelihood I would lose balance and/or need to clip out quickly.
Falling on dirt shouldn't scare me so much, but there was that whole femoral neck fracture thing just eight months ago. And on this bike.
I'm going to need to get over that one. Some MTB skills would certainly help that. ;-)
I almost made it all the way to the top without walking, but I pulled out into a more scree-covered track to pass and spun out. Overall, I had to hike the bike three times, all due to poor route selection or biking technique. But mostly climbing went well. With my feet free to move around on the pedals, I found that putting the midfoot, instead of the forefoot, over the center/axle of the pedal made a substantial improvement in my ability to climb. This shouldn't be a total surprise, as I use midfoot position cleats on my road shoes. Except when I leave them at home and need to buy new shoes for a race. . .
I seemed to be able to lean forward with greater ease, which made a pretty big difference on climbs with grades in the 15-20+% range. With the same level of effort, I climbed past people with whom I had been merely keeping pace before. Granted, they shot right past me on the downhill. . .
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| Haven't seen this on a road course. Yet. |
This was, pun definitely intended, the nail in the coffin of any lingering competitive notions for this race, putting me abruptly back with folks more my speed, including Karen. Like pretty much everyone else, she whipped past me on the downhill, but I caught up with her on the uphills.
I wasn't knocking the cover off the ball in terms of raw speed, but neither was I cramping nor hyperventilating with effort on the climbs. There was definitely a range of knowledge of pacing and nutrition out there, and if nothing else, I knew my limits well in this area. Total time was 1:52 for 13+ miles. Running speed. Ouchie.
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| Bike leg elevation, HR, and speed |
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| Exiting T2. The dude's probably all like, whoa, check out the helmet-hawk on him. (Photo by Elissa) |
Speaking of which, the run was every bit as hilly as the bike, and even a bit more so on the 24% grade of "Diablo Hill," which everyone walked on the way up, and skid-slid-walked on the way down. There weren't any flats to speak of on the run course, just ups and downs. I worked on staying loose, efficient, and sub-threshold, even on the climbs. Maybe some day, my mountain bike skills will improve to the point that I get off the bike with people as fast or faster than me in the run, but next I got to do something fun that I hadn't done since my first few months in road triathlons: Run down a bunch of competitors. :-)
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| Woohoo! Passing skinny people! (Photo by Elissa) |
So it was certainly different to do a race in which I had no hope of excelling. And I quite enjoyed it, which I think is a good sign. My involvement in triathlon doesn't seem excessive to me, despite what your average Joe or Jane likely thinks about roughly 12 hours/week of S-B-R, ramping up to as much as 20 for the 2-3 months preceding an Ironman. How this impacts the kids is another question worthy of another post, or two, or three. Soon.
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| Karen finishes! Better-than-professional photo by Josh. |
On the whole, though, it was a good race, a great MTB adventure, and a
do-over. Not to mention the piece de resistance: I won a lottery prize! Yes, that's right, helmet cleaner and deodorizer! The mind truly boggles to think of all those years I'd been living without, toiling under a grimy helmet, in blissful, stinky ignorance of the solution to (one of) my aesthetic problem(s). But no more. Now we'll get to be the family with the shiny, great-smelling helmets! Unless you want it and send me an SASE.
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