So You're Thinking About Triathlon, Eh?

So you're thinking about doing a triathlon event, huh? I'll admit I like the sport a great deal, which makes perfect sense if you've read my postings from a couple of years ago. Multisport is great because it's an inclusive bunch; the type-A folks, the rank recreational participants and even the professionals are all pretty much together on the same course and the same conditions.

I've participated in the sport at a variety of levels; athlete, event volunteer, course coordinator, and race director. Over the past four months, I've worn the red polo shirt of a USAT official and worked the water, transition, bike and run courses of sprint, intermediate and long distance events.

I walked through the transition area of an intermediate (Olympic distance) triathlon during the first week of September and heard someone say, 'oh, the penalty guys are here.' That's one way to hurt someone's feelings, even if they are wearing a red or zebra-striped polo shirt.

The role of a USAT certified official blends two different professions, that of educator and of law enforcer. Before the gun goes off, the referee/s work to make certain the "playing field" is safe and fair for everyone. The head referee for a race wears a zebra-striped shirt and serves as the final authority when it comes to the rules and penalties. Any violation written by an assistant referee (who wear red shirts) is verified or can be nullified by the head referee, depending on the assistant's description. Not even the race director can overturn a violation penalty. The zebra serves as defense counsel, prosecution, judge, jury and (regrettably, sometimes) executioner.

The referees check the water temperature to determine if wetsuits can be used, review the transition layout to every athlete travels the same amount of distance as their fellow participants, checks to make certain bikes are safe, legal, numbered and racked correctly, looks at helmets and equipment to make certain they meet USAT standards, and answers rules-related questions.

Once the gun goes off, it's time to enforce the rules.

Often, new and relatively-inexperienced participants suffer - at the least first-race or tri-newbie angst, at the worst variable time penalties and even disqualification - for mistakes made in training or in training groups. Really.

I think back to my first handful of races; I would have been penalized at least twice in my first triathlon and probably disqualified in my first long-distance triathlon for rules I said I knew and agreed to follow when I signed my event waiver. So, not only am I talking from the perspective of a guy who knows most all of the relevant rules, I'm talking from a guy who's seen or broken most of the easily-broken rules.

So, let's talk about some things you can do to make those first few races go more smoothly.

Before you go inside transition, make sure you've mounted your race numbers on your bike and helmet. Both should be clearly visible from the left-hand side. Make certain your body marking is clear and large. If the race director provides body marking tattoos, place them slowly and carefully. Most importantly, check to see whether your tires are inflated, gears shift and - most importantly - the ends of your handlebars are plugged. If they aren't, ask a transition volunteer to direct you to bike tech support. In the case of the bar ends, they have to be plugged or you won't be able to ride that bike. Of all the rules referees are charged to enforce the bar end rule is one of the three which can lead to a disqualification.

Once you are in transition, it's all about you. Some events are more stringent than others in keeping family members out of transition. It's both for the safety of the racers and the security of their gear; some bikes I've seen are two months' worth of paychecks on skinny tires.

Once you find your rack area, place your bike either with the handlebars on the rack or hang it by the saddle. Now take a look at your bike. Whatever way you have racked it, the space from the rail from where you hung the bike out to where your bike wheel touches the ground is space which is reserved for your gear. If there's no space in the area where you are supposed to rack your bike, talk to the racers in that area, a transition volunteer or a referee to help adjust the bikes. Staggering so every second bike faces the same direction allows each racer to have a space up to 75 centimeters wide (the legal maximum width of a bicycle according to USAT competition rules) for their gear.

Take a moment or two to look at the layout of really experienced triathletes. You'll find they have less gear than the less-experienced athlete. It's not necessarily that they have more on the bike, but they've learned to bring the least amount of gear necessary for their event. I recall the layout of a guy in my age group from my first triathlon; he had a stool for a seat, a bucket for his feet, not to mention the towel, helmet, bike shoes, water bottle, etc. His wife stepped in to assist him in transition, too, but that's another story.

So the gun has gone off and you got through the swim - I'm usually smiling about this point, because if anything is going to do me in it's going to be the swim.

Once you've come out of the water and entered transition for the first time, think: Slow is smooth. Smooth is fast. Put on the helmet first. Set it properly on your head. Facing forward - only the pros are required to wear their helmet properly, but a properly worn helmet is a helmet which might save your life. Buckle the chin strap. Good. Now work on everything else. Once you have the shoes and helmet on, walk quickly and smoothly to the mount line, then get on the bike.

The unbuckled chinstrap can get you in a world of trouble if you mount your bike; it's a variable time penalty in transition and a disqualification if you're on the course. I've seen new racers with buckled chinstraps which hang down like they were playing hockey. Or the helmet is tilted back on their head; especially ladies who have pinned their hair up. The helmet has to fit snugly; a loose helmet is one which won't protect the head in a crash.

I saw an athlete walk through transition toward the mount line at a recent race. I called out, 'racer number (blank)...racer number (blank)...YO, DUDE!' He couldn't hear me. He was wearing an iPod. Another racer had a set of headphones hanging around his neck.

Music headphones are not allowed in triathlon events. Even if they aren't on your ears. Outside of being dangerous on the bike, because it's impossible to tell who or what may be approaching, USAT considers music players, cell phones and radio devices unauthorized equipment, something which can be used to provide a tempo (pace) reinforcement or possibly provide you information on the location of fellow competitors. Either way you want to look at the use, it merits a variable time penalty.

The bike leg of a triathlon has four very simple rules; ride on the right hand side of the road. Pass on the left hand side of the road. Stay back three bike lengths from any rider in front of you. Make the pass in 15 seconds; once you make the pass keep pedaling and move to the right side of the road. If you're passed, move back three bike lengths before trying to make a pass. The hard part, usually, is that inexperienced riders are used to riding side-by-side with friends or being closer than three bike lengths apart from another rider.

Hear those motorcycles? That's the referees. They're riding along to make certain all the riders are following the rules. A group of riders on the road is usually a tell-tale sign for the motorcycle and referee to come watch and make sure everyone is playing fairly.

Sometimes the sound of a cycle will make riders tighten up their distance or position. Other times it will force a rider to attempt the pass because they were too close when we arrived - 7 meters/23 feet is closer than most people think, but once you're within that space there's only one legal way out. Through the front. In 15 seconds.

If someone is drafting off you, don't yell at them or argue. If there is enough referee coverage on the course they'll be eventually found out.

When you get to transition, slow down before you hit the dismount line. Get off the bike, then walk into the transition. Again, remember the mantra...slow is smooth. Smooth is fast. Set your bike on the rack, remove your helmet, then put on your shoes.

We've had many racers ask whether their spouse/child/friend can run with them on the run course. Only if they run with everyone else, we tell them. Impossible? Only one family member and hundreds of runners? I guess it wouldn't be fair then, would it? They can stand along the curb and cheer you on, but don't use your cell phone to chat with them. Remember, those things aren't allowed, right?

And while we're talking about being on the course, make certain that everything you take with you during the event stays with you. Don't toss your empty bike bottles or gel packets unless you're literally in sight of an aid station. A lot of towns really are down on triathlon events because the participants treat their roadways and lots like it is their own personal rubbish bin.

And if you find you've been penalized after the event, the head referee normally stays until the end of the awards presentations to answer rules and violation questions. They might have written your violation, or their assistant/s may have. Either way, they will be able to explain what was seen on course and how it violated the rules.

Multisport is like golf for the high-strung: You can have the perfect race and still find areas which need improvement. You can focus on one area and get really good, then suddenly find out you've slipped in the other two. So, it's a balance of power, speed, technique and smarts...two hours of racing can whip your butt for the day...or you can achieve a state of euphoria after six hours. Find the distance you like and try it out.

Just Because You Can Doesn't Mean You Should...

A weekend in a beach town gives many opportunities for a person to see, um, things they might prefer not to. In order to keep this post family-friendly, graphic details will be kept to a minimum. I'm not really talking about tattoo art; who knew Panama City Beach had so many tattoo parlors, or that a tattoo on a certain portion of the body was otherwise called the "Panama City License Plate?" I'm not talking about short shorts (again!), Speedos, or green swim trunks with the little yellow duckies (Agon Swim?), or post-race party observations from the Slowtwitch web site, either.

As you can tell I probably could hold forth for an entire post on one or all of these topics...but it's something a little more mundane.

Ride with a pack of cyclists, especially on a windy day, and you can tell how much more beneficial it is to be suffering with others than to be out there all alone. As long as everybody manages to keep their wheels from crossing one another things are pretty much all right. However, when it comes to triathlon, unless you're of the caliber of those Olympic athletes, the bike ride is an individual affair. Each rider is responsible to take care of themselves and cannot use another rider to shield them from the wind...legally.

Some bike courses, like the ones for Panama City's half-iron and iron-distance triathlon events, have been described in the past as "pancake" flat. Compared to the NOLA 70.3 course I might call them "blueberry-pancake-flat." Yes, there is a bridge over West Bay, but it's the largest "lump" in 56 or 112 miles of Northwest Florida. A "breakfast-quality" bike course doesn't separate the strong riders from the less strong as quickly; this gives Panama City's races the reputation for being a draft-fest. Strong bikers looking for a chance to make a trip to Hawaii have saved up their nickels and dimes for an early-November race...check YouTube for a bike's-eye-view of one section of the ride. Looked like the Tour de France.

The rules for bicycle riding in most triathlons are simple:

1. Ride on the right.

2. Pass on the left.

3. Stay at least two bike lengths back from the bike ahead.

4. If you want to pass, make the pass in 20 seconds, and,

5. If you get passed, drop back two bike lengths before you try to pass them again.

The rules are very simple when you read them to a person. The theoretically-simple becomes the practically-challenging when you tell the person to ride their bicycle this way. Multiply this challenge by several hundred persons on bicycles over a 50-mile stretch of road and the odds are very good someone will temporarily "forget" one or more of the rules.

Perhaps they won't do what they should because they can? Just because you can doesn't mean you should. Because Emanuel Kant's categorical imperative (live your life like your behavior would become a universal law) doesn't work well with nearly a thousand cyclists, there I was, riding on the back of a Harley-Davidson. Nine motorbikes and race officials, including my driver and myself, did our best to make certain all these athletes worked and played fairly together.

The first hour was fairly eventful, as two waves of athletes merged with each other about 15 miles into the ride. Most of the time the sound of that big Harley and those nice, loud exhaust pipes were enough to "remind" athletes of the rules and "encourage" them to follow them to the best of their ability. It's much like how we slow our cars down to a couple of miles above the speed limit when we see a state trooper on the highway.

However, the occasional rider sometimes "misses the memorandum" or didn't remember the rules from the athlete's meeting. Not else a guy can do but count off time, identify the rider and take down information; the head referee will sort it out at the end.

Near the end of the morning, we would approach a pack of riders and began to think of the old Irish ballad, "Danny Boy," '...the pipes, the pipes, are calling...' One rider near the back of the line, perturbed at what he thought was happening up ahead, looked at me and gesticulated with his left hand.

I know, friend. Just because they think they can doesn't mean they should.

Harley-Davidson is, quite often, an effective tool when you need to remind a crowd of bicyclists about the rules. Well, unless you're riding one bike length behind a very attractive cyclist.

Just because you can doesn't mean you should.

It's a lot like road race etiquette and protocol. There are many things which are - while not completely impermissible - are usually not fair to other race participants, and may not endear you to the race director on occasions...things like banditing (even if you don't go through the finish chute), going back up the course after you've finished to pace another racer in, self-seeding too far forward in the pack (especially with jogging strollers). On a personal note, I would even add arguing about the distance of a certified course (The "my GPS says..." argument?) in that short list. Sure, the individual racer can do these things, but it usually makes life a little more difficult for the rest of the community.

Just because you can doesn't mean that you should. Unless you find those duckie Speedos in your size.

A Thought On Tapering

...or two. I guess this train of thought started last Wednesday evening during our "easy" 60-minute run on the beach. Quite frankly, it felt like a bit of a slog for a good portion of the run; just couldn't get comfortable. The heart rate wasn't going sky high...in fact, it seemed quite reasonable. Just a little bit of lead in the legs. When we got back to the start I had to admit I was glad we kind of went off the beaten path; heaven knows I'd have been tempted to slap it into B-for-boogie...and might have felt like ten pounds of used kitty litter afterward.
That kind of feeling has persisted for this past week, & almost two. I'm certain lots of it has to do with a subconscious effort to conserve energies for the day. But it's not like I'm really going into taper mode. Friends who know I'm (about) three weeks out from the Ironman have hinted, 'yeah, you should be starting your taper next week...' Trouble is, I am not certain what I'm supposed to be tapering from.
The bicycle crash, by necessity, forced me to back off about 30-percent of my intended training volume. I've had to limit my swimming to twice a week, & at an intensity which is just comfortable enough to not strain the trapezius, deltoid, or latissimus muscles on the left side...unfortunately, life has managed to make up for the lost efforts. If you've ever tried to get out of a Mercedes sedan on the passenger side, it requires a certain degree of assistance from the left arm to help roll you out. So, when I whine about wanting to drive it has as much to do with physical comfort as it does with personal autonomy.

I managed to do well through the long bike ride on the IM FL course, so there's little to worry about there. Even running, when the shoulder feels good & hasn't been over-stressed, is all right. The heart rate is good. And now, the weather has become almost nice. So it's not like I'm really going to cut back on volume that much...or intensity...not until next weekend.

At that point it's going to be little more than a single hour of a single activity. Spend a little more time with the feet up, with the coffee pot, with the good book, with the light jazz or baroque music. Definitely. I'll revert back to one of the things I said before...just kind of be like my greyhound: eat when I can, go out when I want, & rest otherwise.

So, I'm not really tapering as much as maintaining.

Georgia On My (Tri Suit) Back...

For the small number of people who really want to know how the coach fared on his training day in Augusta, GA this last weekend, here we go. I'll provide a brief commentary on the host city, the courses, my performance, some possible root causes/lessons learned and what I might try in order to not have a repeat on a grander (and I dare say, a more painful...) scale in five weeks.

Augusta - Venue
Augusta is definitely Old South, with dry town-style blue laws & that roll up the sidewalk, put out the cat at five o'clock feeling. If you're looking for a race venue in which to party during the days immediately before/afterward, this is definitely not the race to choose. However, if you can handle walking down a tree-lined main drag on a Saturday morning to a bakery for coffee, danish (there are only two Starbucks' in town; one's in the Marriott) & a quiet read of the local newspaper/USA Today, this is your kind of place. Even Monday morning traffic didn't come down Broad Street en masse until about nine o'clock, while we had breakfast at a breakfast joint which did open during the week. Yes, there are dining, drinking & clubbing establishments which open later, but don't expect a boatload of early morning joints nearby.

We stayed at the Ramada Inn, about six blocks from the headquarters hotel, three blocks from the swim start, & approximately 1.2 miles from the transition area. What it lacked in facility quality & neighborhood location - the freight train line, which awakened us at least four times nightly, reminded Suzanne & me of our first place - it made up by proximity to the run course just plain good-hearted attitude of the staff working there.

The courses were, in the opinion of this race guy, fairly good. I truly enjoyed the point-to-point swim in the Savannah River, as well as the rolling, often-tree-lined bike course in the vicinity of Jackson & Aiken, SC. The run course was, however, a mixed bag. If I had been the course designer, I probably would not have run the course over the train line four times each ten-kilometer loop. Yes, I'm being a whiny-butt, because I know what happens every time I try to run over a very uneven piece of pavement when I've been moving for the previous four hours. Can you say calf or leg cramps?

Swim - 1.2 miles - 35:00
Swimming in the 72-degree waters of the Savannah River was nice, even though the water was quite murky, with seagrass, sticks & the like. After the first couple of hundred yards I was forced to either do the side stroke or the breast stroke. If your shoulders aren't used to swimming, even a two-millimeter wetsuit (great for flotation when compared to no wetsuit) can pose difficulties. A couple of panicky moments here & there when I caught a little too much water, as well as the drat! I knew I should have used the tinted goggles moment when the sun finally burst through...all I could tell was I was going in the right direction - downstream - but seeing specific signs was another story altogether.

(Talk about a fun swim venue - you probably could have walked on the levee for the majority of the swim & watched your athlete do their thing.)

T1 - Unlike most other 70.3 events according to what I've been told, this event had wetsuit strippers at the transition area. Nice. The downside was the strippers were in the grass; by the time my wave (23rd of 25) arrived in T1 the nice grass had turned more into nice grass and mud. So, I ended up with a nice coating of Georgia grass/mud/dirt on the back side of my bright yellow tri-top. I know. Waah, waah, waah... I didn't know there was junk all over my back until the bike course, when some 40-44 woman I passed told me.

Contrary to my first triathlon efforts, my time in T1 was fairly short, probably about three minutes at the most. However, I did the same thing I've done in every other event. I broke my right little toe during my first triathlon trying to get into my cycling shoes...it's happened every time since then. When I told my wife later she freaked out. Hey, it's only a little toe. I have nine others.

Bicycle - 56 miles - 3:10
The first 20 kilometers of the bike leg went by quickly; I was probably at 30 km/hour (20 mph) average for it. The first climb on the course did not come until about the 18-mile mark, when I heard the first signs I did not want to hear; grinding noises from my chainring area as I started to pull my way up the hill. That's a certain sign I've got a chain issue, caused by a dry chain...not enough lube...exposed to rain the night before while in transition. Stupid! Should have taken my bottle of chain lube to transition & that extra half-hour of TLC; probably would have saved me a good ten minutes of ride. By the end of the bike leg I was limited to probably four gear combinations which did not make a lot of noise. The last 15 kilometers were the price paid for my folly, as I dropped my chain off the small chainring not once, but twice...the second time on the last incline leading back into Augusta.

When we looked at the course profile, the first reaction was one of shock & worry; there were some serious elevation changes on the course, a couple of hundred feet in difference, in three separate locations. Fortunately, the scale of the course profile was skewed in favor of showing all of the elevation...only three of the climbs were tougher than three percent in grade...and only one was tough enough to make me get up out of my saddle for the climb. Looked at my heart rate on the climbs &found I was expending no worse than 77 percent of maximum heart rate, which means I was probably at the high end of aerobic threshhold.

It was on the bike where the first signs of wheels falling off were noticeable, just after the 40 kilometer marker at the second of two U-turns on the course. I almost overcooked the first one about ten kilometers earlier, but managed to pull it back in. The second U-turn was snug enough to slow me down good. Pushing the pace to get back up to speed (into a steadily-increasing headwind) caused a beauty of a calf cramp, one of those cramps that you cannot pedal through & can barely unclip out to let it rest for about ten one-legged pedal strokes.

(Another one of those rides where I wish I had a basket to pick up all of the stuff which was discarded on the course. Danny Turner said he saw a wad of money on the road...dude, you didn't stop!?)

T2 - much shorter than the lead-in from the swim, thank goodness. Yes, I had to walk the bike through the entire transition area, but since there was low grass, smooth gravel & carpeting it was fairly quick & painless. Took the time to kill off the 20-ounce bottle of Gatorade Endurance Formula I picked up at the third bottle exchange - part of the 60 ounces of fluid taken on the bike course to supplement the 60 ounces (40 of Accelerade/Hammer Gel/water mixture, 20 of straight water) I carried on board - and hit the head.

So the answer, Mimi, is: No. No peeing on the bike. I waited until T2.

Run - 13.1 miles - 2:22
Regardless of whatever plans you make, the run leg of a triathlon is uncomfortable. It all depends on how you define uncomfortable. Compared to my previous half-iron experience, this was not so much a kick in the groin as a slap very, very close to it. The first & second miles were just plain awful, but I knew that was going to happen. That's why (most) people do transition runs, or bricks. The warmth of the run course in downtown Augusta made it almost necessary to play it cautious; I already planned to walk through the aid stations which were located about every two kilometers on the course in order to take enough fluids to forestall cramping. Things seemed to work well until mile four, then the wheels fell off. They did not fall off like my previous half, where I walked for a solid hour; they fell off closely enough to the wagon I could pick them up & replace them. And replace them, I did. Every other block for the next three miles; I tried to go further than a block, or as far as I could until the cramp would start, then I'd take a minute or a block & walk.

(How many stoopid people do you know who take a cell phone on the run at a triathlon?)

Every run course, every race course, has a point on it where the crowds are sparse or nonexistent, the view is dismal, & your body begins to debate very loudly with your mind. My point was somewhere between the sixth & seventh mile, on Reynolds Avenue, heading back toward the Augusta Rowing Club. The bad news was I developed a major cramp in my left hamstring, the kind that makes you literally pitch off to one side, hopefully into something soft & comfortable. The good news was that it stopped me dead still rather than pitching me off into the bushes along the roadway. The real good news was that a fellow participant gave me the one Hammer Endurolyte capsule she had left...which perhaps made the difference between walking/jogging the next 6 miles & just walking the next 6 miles.

And this happened at a point where at least three of the aid stations on the course were beginning to run out of cups, cold drink & sponges. I had to forego aid on the southern side of Broad Street because there were no cups whatsoever. (If you're in a later wave of a large triathlon event, consider yourself warned.)

Finish - 6:20:22
Compared to the last half-iron triathlon, I finished two minutes faster...on a less-challenging swim but a more-challenging bike. If I said I was not hoping for a quicker time, you could call me a liar. But I'm pleased with how things turned out (especially the way I feel days later - sleeping without waking up to cramps from the nether regions are a plus).

Lessons Learned/Training Foci:
Swim - more full suit-swims & resistance training - strengthen the arms for longer wetsuit swims and decrease fatigue. Able to make 1.2 in hour, so no need to panic on longer swim, just do one stroke at a time and stay focused.

Bike - check function (air/lubrication/gears/brakes) both during check-in & pre-race in transition. 90-minute bottles worked wonderfully; set-up either one 6-hour bottle or two 3-hour bottles for IM. Use aero bottle for water. A couple of 3-hour-to-4-hour road or trainer rides should work well to get comfortable in saddle.

Run - carry electrolytes of some sort in fuel belt; don't trust race course to have enough good stuff. Use HEED/Perpetuem and/or Endurolytes. Long, easy-paced (8:00min/mile) runs/ short transition runs over next weeks.

Things Which Make Insurers Go Hm...

Every once in a while you feel fortunate to be not in the position of an event director. While driving from Pensacola to Gulf Breeze after the aquathon portion of the Three-Mile Bridge Swim I had the pleasure (or misfortune) to be behind a pack of cyclists who were participating in a veteran's "freedom ride" from Pensacola to Pensacola Beach & back.

Riding 18-to-20 miles is not a difficult task if you're on a road racing or triathlon bike, wearing proper equipment & taking the necessary preparation. It's a tad more challenging on a mountain (fat-tire) bike because of the weight, increased tread contact patch, & stuff like that. Of course, clmbing isn't so bad because of the granny gear; that's the 19-to-25-tooth small, small ring on the front of the real serious mountain bikes which allow the rider to climb most any hill. BUT: If you are on a P.O.S. single-speed Wal-Mart special, without water bottles...riding in baggy cotton bermuda shorts, a t-shirt, & a baseball cap...two words come to mind: Long Day.
As an event director-guy, I nearly shrieked in horror at the sight of nearly a dozen riders in what the Italian cycling commentators would call the grupetto, and what the French would call the autobus...helmetless, plodding away at a cadence guaranteed to blow their knees off at the start of the Three-Mile Bridge's hump. One of the grupetto dismounted from the bike at the beginning of the hump in order to walk it to the top. 'What's that person going to do when they get to the Bob Sikes?'

Exactly the rationale for signing waivers.

I've always wondered why event waivers were not printed in clear, simple language. Why would an event director allow a person who obviously had not prepared for a 20-mile bike ride, much less a 10-miler, to participate in such an event? When does the event director take the participant aside & say, 'while I appreciate your service & I want you to participate & enjoy yourself, I don't believe you've prepared sufficiently for this?' Certainly, I know this was a military appreciation month, veteran-focused event, but you have to set a floor-level standard.

Of course, what would have been even more cool would have been to see the spandex-clad, hard-butt bike monsters at the front of the peloton, who were traveling at 15-20 miles per hour without any effort whatsoever, slow up and ride along with these poor souls. Perhaps teach them a little rudimentary bicycle operation (something my old boss would have called Gear Shifting For Bears of Little Brain); encourage them on the climbs which were soon to come. Perhaps, even, remember the realm from which they escaped.

I've read a few comments about the enmity between bikies and tri-geeks. Bikies think triathletes have no bike-handling skills, & tri-geeks think bikers are a bunch of elitist snobs who prefer to wheel-suck. I'm perhaps painting with too broad of a brush.

But way too often the people who have developed a certain degree of knowledge, skill & ability in their particular sport are less than willing to share what they know with the newcomer. Often the newbie looks at the proficient athlete & believes they are unwilling to share knowledge...perhaps there needs to be more rides like the one the other weekend to get the gung-ho bikers & the I'm only riding my bike to the grocery store bikers together. Hey, it's all the same type of equipment. Perhaps then the average automobile driver wouldn't consider every cyclist as a person who lost their license or can't afford to drive a car (in many cases the economic facts might be true but it's not completely across the board).

Ask the Coach - April 8, 2008

Summer is almost here and it's going to be hot. All of us know to drink more fluids and avoid running in the heat of the day. How should the heat effect our mix of intervals and long runs?

I don't presume every runner knows to drink more fluids; more importantly than this, what fluids to drink. While your kidneys are good at controlling the amount of electrolytes passed in urine, your sweat glands are going to push out electrolytes as well as fluid as part of thermoregulation. This means plain water will do you fine while you're at the workplace, if you have a job where most of your day is spent at the desk. However, plain water can be a little, er, boring to the palate; you're not going to drink what doesn't suit your taste. Sports drinks, such as Gatorade, Powerade, Propel, and so on, are good at making certain you have sufficient hydration; the down side of these drinks are that they have a great deal of high fructose corn syrup, a cheap sweetener, and not so much in sodium, potassium, chloride and other electrolytes, which are the things you need most to be replacing.

Oh, contrary to popular belief, the carbohydrates in most beer are countered by the toxicity of the ethanol. Your liver has to work to process the alcohol and remove it from your system before it can assimilate any carbs. Since alcohol can only be passed through the system by urination, sweat or respiration, like that of caffeine, you'll lose more fluid by drinking alcohol or caffeinated beverages (iced tea, iced coffee, energy drinks) than you would sugary drinks, which take longer to pass through the gut.

You can run during the daytime, but understand that the fluid you lose through cooling your body (sweat) is taken from your blood circulating through your capillaries; that's why you'll see folks looking quite red on a hot day when they've been active. The water loss from your blood as part of the cooling process makes the blood thicker and more difficult for the heart to pump through the circulatory system. Think of it like trying to suck honey through a thin straw, compared to sucking water through the same; it's much harder. Since the blood flows slower through the vessels, it takes more pumps of the heart to move it the same distance it would travel with full fluid volume...oh, did I mention the fact your blood is going to the areas of the body needed most at exercise? That means your leg muscles are probably getting the most blood sent to it, next to the brain. That's a long way to go.

So, hotter and more humid conditions of summertime running mean your perceived effort at a particular pace is going to increase. That's bad news. The good news is there aren't many "important" summer races here. The best thing you can do is continue to run through the year, listen to what your body is telling you, and adjust your effort accordingly. As for track workouts and long runs, I suggest finding a sports drink that replaces the minerals and electrolytes you lose through sweat, and keeping a bottle or two available. You can stash bottles on a long run or get your favorite drink at the local convenience store if carrying a bottle is too much of a problem. If those don't work, then adjust your workout times to take advantage of conditions, or run at places where there are water fountains.Swimming or biking may be a good way to get some exercise this summer since it will be so hot. What's the best mix of swimming, biking and running?

Swimming and bicycling are great cross-training, I like them a great deal because of the reduced impact to the musculoskeletal system. The best blend of cross-training activities depends on your fitness level and amount of time you have available to ride or swim. Borrowing the old phrase "the main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing," there is a limited degree of transfer between swimming, bicycling and running; you need to run if you want to be a good runner. If you bicycle, make certain you wear a CPSC or ANSI-approved bicycle helmet, follow *all* the rules of the road, and (please!) refrain from wearing headphones *in your ears* (there are devices that will allow you to listen to music in your helmet AND hear surrounding traffic).I may want to run a marathon this fall. Is it too early to start training this summer?

Good for you. A marathon will teach you a great deal about yourself; your perceived limitations, strengths and weaknesses. Training for a marathon, especially a first marathon, takes at least 18, and up to 26 weeks, depending on fitness level and goal. If your plan is to do LaSalle Bank Chicago Marathon, around the first week of October, this would be the time to begin marathon training. Before you mention heat as an obstacle, let me remind you of a painfully obvious fact: Chicago in the first week of October can range in temperature from the high 80s (last year) to the high 30s (about five years ago). You never know what conditions are going to be like on the day. There are good training plans available, several of which have been used by ECRT athletes to run personal best times and qualify for Boston. The biggest challenge is not so much choosing a training plan, but to follow it through and make certain you toe the line on the day as healthy as possible. A personal note: Running a marathon while injured is not a good idea.

Nuts to You

Still, we are having what I sarcastically call Climate by Sybil. Our hopes are raised by 60-something degree tempeatures, bright sunshine and nearly-perfect conditions, only to be dashed by the onset of sub-freezing crud. I must admit I felt a great deal of sympathy for my athletes as they went through their paces last Tuesday night in the chill with the 20mph gusts kicking the daylights out of them on the front stretch; I did my workout a couple of hours earlier and had my behind kicked on the back stretch. And it was bad enough I lost count of where I was supposed to stop my repetition during the first part of my run.

Yesterday was even colder during the daytime. I resorted to dressing a little closer to an athlete and a little less like an analyst; wearing a technical fiber (tight) top under my dress shirt. I looked like a cross between Johnny Cash and Johnny Gray. But, why am I complaining? I live in Florida. Because I can?
This week has been enough to make my nut-sized brain feel more like a chestnut roasting o'er an open fire. I'm doing the number crunching on a information professional training adequacy survey, plus trying to make sense of the government contracting process. The number crunching isn't so bad, more mentally-draining than anything else. The contracting process, however...woo hoo hoo...that's the reason there are contract officers' representatives (COR), with requisite educational background and all, isn't there? If I can help my commanding officer to understand this stuff I probably deserve a job working as a COR...or a Purple Heart, or an early retirement.

My lunchtime habit of having french-fried potatoes is probably going to have to come to a screeching halt soon enough. I'm not gaining any weight that I can tell right now, and it's not like I can't fit into my size 32 jeans or slacks. Really, most of the weight I think I used to have as fat has probably been burned down to more lean muscle tissue. I can't tell the difference too much, including the times when I'm in the pool (I still have a hell of a time trying to float, but I'm slowly getting a little bit faster here and there...more strength...and so on...). However, I've got to drop a couple of pounds so I don't have to carry them on the bicycle with me this summer...and the only thing I can remotely think to sacrifice (something inherently unhealthy I eat on a regular basis) are french fries.
Man, is that going to suck. Hard. But I guess that's part and parcel with wanting to be an athlete. Nobody who wants to achieve anything in athletics ever achieves it without a little bit of self-sacrifice.

The Winter of Our Discontent

There's something nice about having a short attention span, multiple interests and a supreme dislike of commercials when it comes to television programming. Well, at least now in the age of on-screen information and remote control. I can always hop about from program to program when a commercial comes on. The only time I even want to watch a commercial (especially during a football game, when half of the time-outs are commercial-driven) is during the Super Bowl. Heck, during some years the commercials are more exciting than the game.

I'm back on a treadmill for a couple of miles a day at a pace that stays aerobic for as long as possible; right now it seems to be working pretty well. I'm not concerned about my own fitness or the long, slow run-up to full-speed running, yada, yada...it will come back in good time...and I'm vigorously swimming and bicycling four-to-six times a week at this time. You can't rush the recovery process, and you probably shouldn't if you aren't making a living from running; if you are making a living from running you probably have access to all of the help and all the time you need to recover as quickly as possible. The rest of us working class mortals will just have to listen to our bodies and err on the side of caution.

But, while I was in the Y working out on the treadmill and the elliptical trainer the first reports came on about the untimely death of the Australian actor Heath Ledger. Once again, all I could think about was what I like to call spiritual vampirism, the tendency of the broadcast media (formerly restricted to radio and television, but in the internet age you can include print) to lurk about, searching for some more blood to suck up. It's bad enough to hear about B. Spears, P. Hilton, L. Lohan, et. al., incessantly, but you have to feel for the family of a notable person who suddenly dies, especially when the circumstances are sketchy. Hey guys, let's leave the situation the heck alone and go find something worthwhile to do, like send care packages to the Rockefellers...

We're having fun this time of year. The climate hasn't figure out what it wants to do; be bone-chilling cold, have uber-blonde (sorry, honey, please don't take this personal...) dense fog, dump boatloads of rain, blow 20-30 mile-per-hour gusts, etc., etc. It makes the thought of training indoors sound very, very good. Sure, I sound like a wimp, but when you're trying to get 60 minutes of consistent effort in it's always more fun to get it inside an enclosed, slightly heated pool or a gymnasium rather than take your chances with traffic and persons who have no clue on how to drive in conditions that are not perfect, dry and sunny.
The only thing I hate is that when it sucks outside I want to be out there...or I've got something that needs to be done out there.

Benchmarks

Listening to the radio this morning on the way to the pool, I couldn't help but think about the difference between the present administration's take on Iraq, compared to the General Accountability Office. The GAO says that 13 of 18 political and military goals have not been satisfactorily met.

If you're doing the math, that's a little under 28 percent accomplished. A baseball player with a batting average of .277 might be nearly an All-Star, however, if that's their fielding percentage I can guarantee you he's not taking the field on my team.

If you're doing repeats on the track, say, 18 of them, and the goal is to hit them in 90 seconds, and you only hit five...I think I'm going to tell you your goal of running 13 of them (that's a 5,000-meter race for those of you doing the math) in 18:40 is not likely; a 20:06 is more realistic. Or, we might start to take a look at whether you need to deal with a longer distance, where a slower pace and greater endurance are going to trump sheer foot speed.

Maybe you, like the administration, cry out in anguish, saying 'but that's not fair to place an all or nothing measurement on a benchmark; just because I didn't make it in 90 seconds doesn't mean a 94-second quarter is a bad thing.' Racing is the purest benchmark of all. Either you make it, or you don't. If you get beat by three persons, and the awards are three-deep, there's no 'close, but no cigar' award for fourth place. You get to stand by and clap.

Hm...beer-drinkers at post-race parties are rather Zen, don't you think? Choose between putting down your beer or providing the sound of one hand clapping. Oriental thought meets western philosophy in one hot, sweaty, alcohol-induced conundrum.

Love of coffee, digestive functions, and...yeah...that sounds like 30 minutes into our old Sunday morning runs. I have a love-hate relationship with them right now; since there's no one at my level I spent most of my run by myself the other weekend. Payback is going to come this Sunday, since Christian, Petra and I are going to ride instead (partly because of the three-day weekend, partly because it's too d@mned hot to do otherwise).

Tomorrow is the last day for my runners to commit to doing/going to Jacksonville in December. What's been maddening this time is the obvious fact that marathons are not something you just jump into for giggles. You have to train. Many of the team are focusing on shorter distances and local events, so there's no problem there. Really. What has been the most galling is the lack of direct communication between some folks and me. If you wanted to go on a road trip and someone was taking care of the reservations, etc., etc., wouldn't you have the decency to say, 'hey, dude, I would love to go on that trip. Can you save me a space?'

Not this bunch. Well, not one or two...they obviously missed the memo with all the instructions, especially the one telling them to contact me directly...no excuses, no exceptions, no whining.

Aarrgghh...enough of this. I need a cup of coffee.

With One Arm Tied To Make It Fair...

Well, not really. It is the inevitable outcome of training. Hubris. That feeling of overconfidence that makes you forget allof the obvious logical things you should do.

Example: Forgetting to unclip at the car midway through an easy Sunday morning ride. I hung onto the car in order to drop my wife's water bottle off. Silly me, I didn't get a good push off from the car. The front wheel flopped to the left and tipped me and the rest of the frame to the right. I reached out to stop my fall with my right hand, but was too far out from the car. My arm was pulled back beyond what could be described as a normal range of motion; two small 'pops' and a gentle topple to the pavement, a'la Artie Johnson in the old Laugh-In skits. Lots of pain.

I felt like I could get a limited range of motion, but it was very uncomfortable. On top of this, I could feel all of the shoulder muscles tightening up as I drove home. Amazing what muscle groups come into play just to keep you balanced in a moving car. At that point, I gave in to Suzanne's suggestion to go to the immediate care clinic...if she drove.

First thought of the doctor was possibly an injury to the rotator cuff; therapy and injected cortisone at the worst. However, after the x-rays, he found a small fracture at the humeral head, the bone that goes from the shoulder to the elbow...up near the shoulder.

So, now I'm in a sling and immobilizer, waiting for an orthopedic consult. Looks like light duty for a while, since I can barely type, and driving (automatic transmission) is hazardous, at best. No trauma, no impact...lots of elliptical trainer and spin bike, maybe some swimming in six to eight weeks. This bites.

Bug Bites

As a runner for over 15 years, I reveled in the simplicity of the sport. It doesn't take much to get started, nor to stay in. If you run 25 miles a week, you'll probably go through three pairs of shoes a year ($300), two pairs of shorts ($60), half a dozen socks - that sounds like a lot, but let me tell you, the dryer eats more running socks than dress ones ($50) and a couple of tops ($60). Toss in a race or two and you probably spend $500 a year on a healthy recreational/fitness running habit.

Now, here's where the small print comes in: Your mileage and desire to race can seriously increase the amount of time, energy and money invested in this sport. If you're a fanatic like me, the total purchases per year goes up another $200 for shoes, and perhaps $200 for races, not counting incidentals such as travel, meals, other expenses. Still, that's pretty small cost compared to NOT being a runner and having the risk of all those nasty chronic health issues resulting from a sedentary lifestyle.

Triathlon is a totally different story. Of course, you can start out with a $20 pair of goggles and a $20 Speedo for the swim, use a $200 steel-framed Sears-Roebuck special, a $20 helmet, then add the single pair of running shoes...so the healthy recreational/fitness running habit can get you through the door of a triathlon.

HOWEVER:

When you see all the slick, sexy gear that the top shelf tri-dudes and tri-chicks are using, and you watch just how quickly some of them are getting from swim to bike and from bike to run... Well, actually the bug bites not long after you do your first tri. After you revel in the joy of finishing all three disciplines without drowning, crashing or bonking (too badly!), you start to realize that getting faster is a result of two functions.

The first one is obvious. Gear. The wetsuit is great for flotation (the first time you get into one and into the water you'll be shocked at how buoyant you are), add another $100 at the very least. A tri-friendly (road racing or triathlon-specific) bike can cost as little as a couple of hundred dollars used. Tri-suits can cost up to a couple of hundred bucks, but usually are less...unless you're looking for a specific brand and aren't willing to settle for less.

Training is the second, and less obvious function. A $5,000 triathlon bike won't make up for a lack of biking skill, cardiovascular fitness or mental toughness. As my friend Robbie Mott says, it's all in the engine. Swimming with a masters' group can cost you in the lowest three-digit range per year, you have to get up in the morning and get it done. Membership with a triathlon group is also inexpensive and can get you hitched up with training and great advice...or at least words of warning on what NOT to do.

Let me tell you, when the triathlon bug bites, it bites hard. Exhibit "A" is posted at the top, a 1998 used triathlon/timetrialing bike...purchased for $770 on eBay. I tried to hold out for Robbie's order of a new Cervelo P2C triathlon bike, but the temptation was too great. Now I feel bad I couldn't hold up my end of the bargain. The only way I can make it up to him is by perhaps getting another set of wheels, I guess...there we go, more money...I am not certain there is a known cure outside of burnout or traumatic injury...maybe finishing an Ironman. Probably not, that's not like marathoning, where some folks say: 'been there, did it, received the t-shirt, no more.'