The ABC (Race)'s of The Training Cycle

What is the most important part of the workout, as far as the coach is concerned? My athletes would say, incorrectly, the second set of the workout.

While I call it "the money set," the second set of our workout - where the longest repeats, tempo or acceleration work is focused - is of secondary importance to me. What's the most important is the first and the final twenty minutes of our Tuesday and Thursday evening track workouts. That's the time when I get to pry, subtly, into what the athlete has done in the previous two-to-five days, or what's in their immediate future.

Both Deena and Jim, my marathoners, enjoy jumping into the occasional road race as part of their training. In fact, they both did fairly well at a recent cross-country 5K event. I chuckled as Deena talked about her race; at a late point on the course she was running with a group and one or two suggested putting a surge in to catch a couple of runners just ahead. Deena said she smiled and let the pair (of guys) go on ahead:

"I was out there to enjoy myself, Coach. I had plenty left in me to push the pace but I wasn't in the mood."

...which to me seemed the perfect time to teach the ABC's of racing.

Run and race for long enough and it is certain the personal best performances will not only be smaller in time increments but also harder won. There are runners who choose to race on a near-weekly basis through the season. Most of them do it in the hope of improvement by the end of the season. Many will race every race the same way. Some may be fortunate enough to improve, but most will eventually be a runner most-frustrated.

When they finally describe what they do I have to bit my tongue and not refer them to the quote attributed to Albert Einstein. He might not have been a distance runner, but if he could figure out the theory of relativity then he certainly could figure out the definition of insanity.

Some races are relatively more important than others:

"C" races, to me, are those early-season "rust-busters" a runner uses to help determine fitness. (Jack Daniels, in his Running Formula, uses personal best race performances or time-trial sessions to determine training paces for long runs, easy running, threshold pace workouts, and interval pace work.) Nothing wrong, in my humble opinion, with running a 5K or 10K as part of or in place of a weekend run in the early season. "C" races are the events at which the runner should be able to shrug off a less-than-stellar effort, or smile and say "I'm on the right track" when it's all said and done.

As the runner gets into the middle of their training cycle; closer to the weeks of the season or the event which is their target, it's time to start plugging in the "B" race/races. The "B" races are used to simulate the effort desired for the target race, can be on a portion of the target event course, or resemble the terrain on which the runner intends to eventually race.

Naturally, the "A" race is that target race or races which the runner has circled in pen on the calendar months in advance. Everything in the training cycle, ideally, should lead up to the runner being their sharpest - four or five weeks if racing shorter distances, two or three for longer ones.

The recreational runner's racing schedule doesn't necessarily take an Einstein to plan. All they need to do is know their ABC's.

Grab Some (Yur)Buds?

Rare is the moment I laud the use of headphones while running. They might be great for staving off boredom during treadmill workouts at the gym, but I do not like them - not one bit - on the ears of the athletes I train. Call me a kill-joy. Call me old-school. But I'm the coach; it's my prerogative to say what I do and do not like.

I don't like my athletes wearing headphones on the track because they cannot hear what I need to tell them about the specifics of their workout, their form or their effort. The last time I recall that particular form of feedback was called "coaching." I don't like my athletes wearing headphones during races because they cannot react to anything around them. Headphone-wearing runners turn into to the pace blaring into their ears rather than to the pace of the pack of runners beside (or in front of them). The last time I recall that was called "racing."

Working with the Road Runners Club of America for a little over five years, I learned the litany of safety reasons which clubs were told about the potential dangers of headphone use. Add to the "tune in, turn on, and lock in the pace" mentality of most headphone wearers at races the sometimes benign, sometimes life-threating approach of racing wheelchairs and strollers, faster runners, and intruding bicycles or other motor vehicles. You can end up with something as inconvenient as a trip-and-fall or as permanent as death.

And really, it's not the headphones which are evil. It's the way we tend to use them.

Several years ago I was at a small neighborhood 5K race; while standing on the corner cheering for my wife and several of my friends I saw a runner turn the corner and approach the third mile. She was running on the right-hand side of the road (not following the tangent, but that's another story altogether); I was standing on the sidewalk on the left. I could clearly hear the blaring from her MP3 player earbuds, at a distance of approximately 10 meters away. That meant she had to have the volume up at eardrum-bleeding, "Spinal Tap"-like volume.

Last year, I saw a product at the Rock n' Roll/Mardi Gras Marathon expo which drew my attention, especially in light of the RRCA work. At the time I was trying to write a white paper on headphone use, so the idea of a company like Competitor Group putting on an event with bands at every mile, yet selling headphones at the expo, seemed a little incongruous. I told the expo booth rep for Yurbuds who I represented and expressed my gentle skepticism about the product. He kindly provided me some print information and the website address so I could draw my own conclusions. However, I didn't want to try the product.

When I planned my visit this year I told my wife I would look closer at the Yurbuds product, especially after they developed an Ironman-branded version of the headphone adapter. If you have a product which gets to be Ironman-branded, you've pretty much made the big time...well, the chance of your product getting more exposure is very good.

The rep fitted me for a pair of the Ironman-branded Yurbuds, which are designed both to funnel the output of your music player, or computer, or whatever device has a 1/4-inch headphone jack into your ears...and allow ambient noise from your immediate surroundings to be heard. He then told me to let him know when I could hear the music and the ambient room noise. He showed me where the volume was set on his iPod; I could hear AC/DC's "Highway to Hell" comfortably at a volume level somewhere around the mid-point. I could also have a normal-volumed conversation with the rep. While sold on the Yurbuds, I did worry if I had a placebo effect; what would happen back home in my neighborhood?

I put the Yurbuds to the test last Saturday while my wife and I were at the gym. Rather than watch Anthony Bourdain's "No Reservations" I decided to talk to her in the middle of my 60-minute elliptical trainer workout. I asked, 'is there something which sounds different about this conversation to you?' She then realized she was not shouting, nor was I. Even this morning, during the walk from the gym back home, I could hear the singing of the neighborhood's mockingbirds, as well as John Mayer. You might not particularly care for my taste in music, but I think you get the picture.

It doesn't mean everyone should pay 20-to-50 dollars for a set of headphone adapters - they're comfortable, they keep the phones stable in the ear during strenuous activity - but if it helps folks turn their volume down on their MP3 player at races, without killing the user's listening experience, then I'm all for it...as long as they're not dawdling in front of my training group, in lane one on the track, or directly in front of me on race day.

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.

Post-Bushwacker...Keeping It Real

It's the middle of a Monday morning & I'm sitting at my home office desk. A temporary situation, due to the fact my loving wife is going on the road again - please, no Willie Nelson music. Thank you. I'll drop her at the airport, then go in to my real office & commence to do my real work.

This last weekend was the running event which (kind of) kicks off the autumn racing season for a lot of local runners; a point-to-point 5K from Gulf Breeze to Pensacola Beach. Most of the folks who participate in the event do so because they know the post-race event is really good. Hey, when you can get over a thousand people (not counting bandits) to run in (EDITORIAL COMMENT: Hyperbole follows) a billion degree heat & near-maximum humidity conditions, you know it isn't for the medals or the race shirt. It really has to do with the post-race party. In my humble opinion, the Capt'n Fun group does the post-race as well as any other large club in the country.

But, talking to my friend Aaron...or at least with Betsy, his wife...the next day, one thing we don't do real well (the same goes for a lot of local events) is racewalking. Aaron racewalks because he's had one of his hips replaced; no running for him, to say the least. It doesn't mean he's slow, though...he's a ten-minute per mile (perhaps faster than that!) kind of guy. The only way you're going to beat him in a racewalk is either work at it - or cheat by running.

How can you tell when a racewalker is running? Simple enough...if you take the time to look closely. I've seen racewalkers with both feet off the ground before - definitely cheating.

Here's the problem. USA Track and Field controls racewalking. They train judges/officials in the technique & lay down the rules. Road Runners Club of America supports recreational runners, as well as walkers who do so because they are unable to run. RRCA clubs & many events - at least the ones here - get themselves in a real kettle of fish because they decide to set up a 'racewalking' division and provide awards for those people who consider 3.1 miles too far (There are some days when I consider 3.106856 miles too far.) to run.

So what do you do, Mr. or Ms. Race Director? If you have an event that's big enough to attract real racewalkers from out of the area...the ones who have seen USATF officials & participated in real racewalking events where improper technique is disqualified, do you tell these folks to suck it up and drive on? Do you make the effort to get USATF judges to officiate your racewalk division, or perhaps restructure & rename it a fitness walker division?
(I would love to use an inflammatory, pejorative term here, but I worry about the ability of my hips, knees, & other joints to carry me at my speeds for the rest of my mortal existence! Hubris tends to bite me squarely in the backside.)

It's kind of a shame to hear we do wrong by a number of people in the community...especially the ones who decide to travel three hours one way, spend a week of holiday time, beaucoups of dough, etc., etc., etc. There are people within the local community who know enough about the sport to judge an event or two, perhaps even enough to teach proper technique.

If we're going to do it, let's keep it real. If not, tap the kegs before the start & have a fun run.

Comfortably Numb

This weekend is what I would call "Anaerobilooza" in most civilized areas. Two events in the course of 10.5 hours. My original plan was to NOT participate in the morning's 10K race because I was going to participate in the 5K that night.

Reason for my choice?

A 10K road race in the morning on the first weekend of May in N. Florida is NEARLY GUARANTEED to be warm & humid. No matter what the conditions are in the two weeks leading up to the event it's going to happen. In fact, the thermostat in my house the afternoon prior to the race was in the 80-degree range; high time to fire up the A.C. Shucks. At that point you know it's going to be UGLY.

I had my goal split times with the (suicidal) hope of running sub-40 written down on a strip of pull tab. However, everything went to hell-in-a-handbasket at the first mile split (16 seconds off from the word go). At that point, I should have tossed the strip, relaxed and had fun. However, I did continue to push the issue for what it was worth...finishing a solid minute slower than my Crescent City performance weeks earlier. I was disappointed for a good 30 minutes, then took a pragmatic look at everything:

1. Too warm/humid.
2. Too little base training in the early year.
3. Tough course.

So you go on from there. Since there are no major races for months around here it's back to base-building. Nice, comfortable long(er) runs.

So, home to relax on the couch, talking to the dog & fold up the abundance of clothes piled up in the clean clothes basket...one very good reason to not have more than a single beer after the race. Well, two or three beers after a 10K on a Saturday is fine if you have nothing better to do for the rest of the day, however...

I almost shut down the idea of running the 5K in the evening...while running an easy warm-up over the first mile of the (out/back) course. The shut-down then almost happened at the first two strides off the starting line...but I talked myself into it. Hit the first mile at the pace I should have run in the morning's race. Probably top 15 to top 20.

DIGRESSION FROM TOPIC FOLLOWS:
As a course measurer, it's difficult if not impossible for me to go to local races. If I go to a race the first question I receive is: 'Hey, Mike...did you measure this course?' If I don't go to a race I get asked: 'Hey, Mike...how accurate was that course?' Once I get through with measuring a course it's up to the race director to communicate to the race organization (volunteer workers) exactly where the start, finish, turn-around & split points need to be. I've been at races where volunteers placed splits & turn points at locations where they always had been rather than at the correct location, without knowing the course had been changed/re-measured. The measurement & certification process, done for the benefit of the individual athlete, at the cost of several hundred dollars to the race, is derailed by something so simple as ignorance & lack of communication.

OKAY, NOW BACK TO THE STORY...
Turn off to the secondary road and I see cones in the middle of the street. Since I measured the course I knew exactly how the course should have been set up. No worries, it only made the course a tad longer than the certified length.

As I was running up the road I knew we were approaching the turn-around point, but it looked like the cones were going on for another 200-300 yards. At that point the ethical dilemma comes to pass: do you run the incorrect course because everyone else did, or do you turn in?

I ran a 10K earlier in the day. I was beat up. I saw the turn point & turned. I'm certain everyone freaked out when I was at the front of the field...going from 15th to first in a matter of moments is NOT NORMAL.

I ran the course I measured. I didn't do the course the RD laid out. It was the wrong decision for the right reason. I won't go into the end of the story in detail, but the RD & I had a chat after the race, & I told him to go ahead & scratch my performance. Better to have one or two people upset than 300.

Of course, then I have persons coming up & telling me I measured the course incorrectly. Damned if I do. Damned if I don't. Guess that happens when you're a guy doing your job.

Recovery Is Underrated

"Recovery. That's the name of the game... Whoever recovers the fastest wins." - Lance Armstrong
Locals haven't seen a lot of me lately; some assume it's because I'm injured or quit running/racing altogether. Nothing is further from the truth. I'm spending more time doing something I could have done better in the past. In order to perform well at my goal events this autumn I'm spending more time on the treadmill, on the elliptical trainer, on the bike, in the pool and - believe it or not - easier efforts on the road. It isn't as fun as road racing. You don't get any awards for doing base training. Maybe that's why it's so overlooked. However, this isn't about me as much as it is about you.

If you participated in every area race since the beginning of the year (Here in Pensacola the first race is not long after New Years' Day, goes until early May, then stops over the summer. Racing then resumes in earnest around the middle of September & reaches it's crescendo right before Thanksgiving.) it might be too late to talk about whether it is time to recover; that time might have been long past. While hard work - long runs, speed work, tempo runs, terrain/event-specific workouts - are important, what is more important (I'm reminded by reading the thoughts of coaches & physiologists) is what Alan Couzens calls "the intelligent distribution of work."The first time we encounter a particular stress during training (say, a workout of 800 meters four times, with 100 meters walk recovery, at "up-tempo fresh" pace) our body becomes alarmed at the assault. Once the body adapts to that stress it compensates to deal with it, making you more fit...for a time. However, extended exposure to the same stress (say, due to a lack of variety) eventually leads to exhausting adaptation; you could end up worse off than when you first started doing that particular workout. That's what makes a variety of training stressors important. The same (4 x 800 in this case) workout that provided a 100% performance benefit at New Years', if done without any change, would provide, if you’re lucky, only a 3% benefit by Memorial Day.A season of hard training - or racing - that is too long leads to a performance plateau, or to fatigue. If you don't ration your efforts wisely over time, you can expect a relative plateau after three months & a decline in performance in five. Backing off the efforts by 1/3 of the normal volume one week each month, & one month each year won't hinder performance a bit.Each athlete needs to know the best length of training period, volume of training, & intensity of training for their goal. This means taking time to quantify not only how far/fast you went, but how intense it felt, & how you felt during the next workout period. You can do this by Borg (perceived effort) scale, average heart rate during the workout, resting heart rate each morning, hours of sleep, relative fatigue...I think you get the picture.Recovery, as the smart people say, is underrated.

Aquatic Alchemy

How do you know when you're fatigued & would benefit from an easier easy day, or a day off? If you have an easy day scheduled and the effort seems hard, or you have cross-training scheduled and the effort seems hard...you understand where I'm going here, I hope. Case in point: I hadn't raced in three months; so I jumped into a local, low-key 5,000-meter road race last weekend to show good-will (the race organizer serves as public safety coordinator on the island where we produce a couple of events) & to test my fitness. At the worst I could call it a hard workout without too much shame. While I ran 15-20 seconds slower than my typical 5K result this time of year (blame that nasty little headwind on the outbound) the rest of the performance was pretty much to my satisfaction.
Sunday morning's eight-miler was a trudge. No worries; a couple of years back, one of the guys I used to run with always said: 'the day after a hard race, run easy; the day after a good race, run easy.' Naturally, it was more difficult to run easy after a good race; you were stoked over your fitness, blah, blah, blah... But I think every one of us were a little beat from recent efforts, so it wasn't a bad morning...if you look past the ten pounds of used kitty litter in an eight-pound bag feeling in your legs.

The one place I always find out how badly beat down (beat up?) I am in the physical sense is the pool. You can fake the track or the road by altering the course to make your effort easier. The pool, however, is another story. Well, I stand corrected. You can fake the pool if you're swimming a solo workout by lengthening the intervals, or in my case, use the entire interval. If you're not training alone and you have a bad day you either pray for them to be hurting worse than you, or hope like hell your lane-mates won't water polo (for those of you who haven't seen water polo, it's a legalized form of the dunk tag you used to play as a kid in the neighborhood pool, with a volleyball added to make it look like a sport) your sorry @$$ when they catch you on the fourth of six 150s or 200s.
A bad day in the pool can be told by how the water feels. For me, the water becomes the consistency of peanut butter; you're getting a good catch on the strokes, but man, that pull is a complete and utter bee-yotch. Maybe I would have benefited from taking Friday - my normal rest day - off, rather than putting my Speedo Aquabeat MP3 player through its paces. I decided, since we had a non-training day (and a 59-minute hit) to make up for missing Tuesday morning's swim; (refer back to my comments in You Love The Thunder...Not!) disregarding my own dictum...to hit the pool for an hour. I decided to do 60 x 40yds freestyle on the 60. For those of you doing the math, that's 2400 yards of swimming. I averaged between 44 and 47 seconds for each repeat. For those of you who coach swimmers or swim well, you know that's not impressive. When you extrapolate that workout out to a 50yd pool, it was probably 40 x 50yds on the 1:15, averaging between 55 and 59 seconds for each.

Ah, but it was fun. Now we can get back to the schedule the way it should be. I'll get a rest day somewhere. Probably while I'm flying to Dubai.

A Matter of Quality

The other week, I came out to the track at five minutes before the start of practice and found a team member jogging laps. Rather than be pleased at their motivation to start early, I was a little less than happy. ‘You’re not going to need those junk miles,’ I said, ‘do you know what I have planned for this workout?’ It’s not so much that I wanted to be authoritarian; I looked at conditions and adjusted my plan accordingly…in this particular case, I moved the warm-up from the track out onto the trails.It’s almost a month before the last races of the late spring season here (we don't race anything other than triathlons during the summer here!), so the time for easy-paced mileage is beginning to pass, at least at the track. The track workouts for my more experienced team members is going to increase (a little) in intensity; higher perceived effort, shorter rest interval or longer distance…two of the three (in the case of some team members, all three) variables more often than not.

I made a comment while writing last month's club newsletter, something to the extent of ‘if you’re not running the repeat at the right intensity level you’re wasting your time.’ This also lends itself to a phrase one of my college coaches used to remind me, ‘you can run hard and you can run long, but you don’t run hard AND long.’ Easy days are where your body - and your mind - makes its gains in fitness. If you hammer all of your workouts, day after day after day…your mind will probably rebel (burnout); hopefully before the point where your body breaks down and you suffer an injury that will leave you frustrated and focusing on rehabilitation.

How do you gauge how hard you’re working; when to back off, when to take it easy? I gauge my workouts by percentage of maximum heart rate above 50 percent (by tens, so 50-59 percent would merit a 1, 60-69 a 2, 70-79 a 3, and so on...) multiplied by time, so if I run for 60 minutes at 50 percent of max heart rate, I score a 60 (1 x 60). Ride a bike for four hours at 50 percent effort would equal 240 (240 x 1), the same as an hour of running with an average heart rate of 80-90 percent (60 x 4), more or less.

You can check your pulse at the end of repeats – rather than your stopwatch - in much the same way as I check my athletes if they have no monitor and I want to know how hard they've been working. A perceived effort scale to “ballpark” your effort works great for weight training, where heart rates are less intense, if you don't want to check your pulse all afternoon.
If you felt the effort on a track workout was 8 on a 1-to-10 scale, then subtract five and multiply by the workout duration (90 minutes, usually), which would give, in this case, a 270. A number in the 100s is an “easy” day; a score above 300 might merit easy workouts for the next day or two, or perhaps a rest day and an easy day. If you’re not doing too much the next day at work you can probably stand to go out and run for an hour, as long as you keep the effort between a 6 and a 7 on that 10-point perceived effort scale.As you approach the racing season, if performing well is your goal, your training focus needs to move away from ‘more miles are better’ and closer to ‘how comfortable am I at this speed? Can I hold this for an entire race?’

Roles To Play

Honestly, the role of a coach is not to eat all of the doughnuts.

I started to slide into deep thought at the end of yesterday afternoon's long (ish) run; much of it caused by the amount of quiet around the house. Fortunately for me, the d-a-w-g has not learned human speech, nor has he developed his remote control operation skills. So, I'm still in charge while Suzanne is out.

If one ascribes to the belief - sport is religion - here are some parallels for running and multi-sport enthusiasts:

Sacraments - Races. As in most religions, there are sacraments performed on a more frequent basis (the local Rancid Possum 5K or Friendly Neighborhood Sprint Tri/Du)...others, are (ideally) once-per-lifetime experiences, your Boston Marathon or your Kona/Clearwater Ironman/70.3 World Championship. Preparing for the sacrament usually consists of a period of trial in order to prove ones' worth. Completion of the sacrament ensures membership into the select or chosen. Ask any Boston or Ironman finisher - some IM finishers will be easy to spot by their paraphernalia; the rest will have to be identified by their tattoos ("Dixie," I'm still jealous, brother...).

Prophets - Research physiologists, physicians and coaches; the ones who wrote the good books. In my humble opinion, there is a canon of literature every athlete should have at their disposal. Timothy Noakes' Lore of Running, anything written by Lydiard, research performed by David Costill, Jack Daniels' Running Formula are high on the list. Humble opinion - any text that has 100 pages of bibliography separate from the book (in re Noakes) is meat for the athlete.

Saints and Martyrs - The great athletes from years gone by, whose exploits become more great in light of being performed in low-tech circumstances; in Speedos, on non-aerodynamic bikes, in kangaroo leather spikes on cinder tracks, and most importantly...without benefit of altitude tents, Gatorade or (heaven forbid) performance-enhancing drugs. Most can be named with a single recognizable name - or diminutive version of it.

Dogma - refer to Prophets. For as many persons who wish to test the limits of their heart, there are as many paths (seemingly) up the mountain from non-athlete to athlete. Wasn't it Chairman Mao who said, 'let a hundred flowers bloom, let a hundred schools of thought contend?' At this point is where great schisms lie, especially in the world of running and runners. Triathletes, however, come from a history of being rebellious, self-coached, risk-taking loners and thus appear to the untrained eye to be less dogmatic. However, the sport has only existed for three decades; provided enough time it could happen there, too.

Preachers - Coaches. Some are willing to provide their credentials whether (or not) you decide to ask. Others feel a calling and take up the vocation in much the same manner as the local storefront preacher learns his trade; slogging away at his/her 8-to-5, Monday-through-Friday and standing trackside once the whistle blows. They try to be like (or better than) their master, despite suffering slings/arrows from those who would say 'isn't s/he the brother/sister of (blank), who we've seen running around here all this time?' The good ones rejoice when the individual athlete rejoices, and weeps when they weep. More often than not, they resist the same temptation as their athletes to find the easy, soft, graded, gentle downward-sloping path. Sometimes, though, it's hard to transmit the message that this stuff can be hard. If it was easy there would be more people out doing it.

So go do it. Prepare so you can show yourself worthy before the unwavering measures of time and distance.

(Someone needs to switch me to decaffeinated, methinks. And quickly.)

Nice... Problems To Have

Every time I hit the road for a race/trip it seems the desk clerk or the concierge assumes everyone who is a runner wants pasta the night before the race. Personally, I'm not in the mood for pasta; I'd rather have Chinese...then I can have rice, and veggies and chicken.

We had some fantastic pasta in the past, I dare admit. One place near Dayton, OH, had some good stuff. But the most memorable thing had to be the abundance of garlic...Chef Emeril Lagasse was asked during one of his shows, 'how do you know when there's too much garlic?' His response almost broke the seatbelt on my couch and risked having me roll on the floor, laughing my @$$ off: 'I don't know. I haven't gotten there yet.' Okay, we were warned about the garlic content of this place's house dressing, so we went with ranch on top of our salad. HOWEVER, the chef must have caught on to our plan to avoid the bulb, because the fried calamari must have been marinated in the stuff. Yes, it was delicious, but (exhale, wrinkle nose) I think I'm still detoxifying five months after the fact.

...sounds like someone in need of a Toastmasters intervention.
My swimming coach and I were chatting after this morning's workout (once I regained consciousness/normal heart rate/normal breathing) about what easily could have been considered the match race for this local running community. Two of the area's strongest runners finally went head-to-head during a 15-mile race at Fort Pickens, on the Gulf Islands National Seashore. One specializes at racing the half-marathon and under, the other races the half-marathon and up. Both are quiet, unassuming, and modest gentlemen; coaching and inspiring many of the area's young adult runners. It's almost funny to see the running community line up behind one or the other when the (inevitable) debate arises each year. The runner who took second place has won his share of marathons. He was the first American male to win the Disney Marathon, and he's won Pensacola's marathon on at least two occasions, I believe. His comment about what happened during the race, 'I still got (sic) a little marathon in me.'
Steve was planning to ask Marathon Matt about his recovery regimen; seems an interesting topic, given the (painfully obvious) fact he raced (okay, ran - his winning time was ten minutes slower than his winning time the previous year) Pensacola two weeks before and Disney several weeks before that.

I think there's probably two or three points Matt would mention:
1. Train to peak at the right time. Know the races for which you want to be the most fit and the most ready, then walk backward as you're planning your training cycle.
2. Follow the hard/easy principle of training. If you train full-bore all year long the odds are high you will incur an injury.

3. Listen to the times when your body says it needs rest. Complete rest, active rest, and regeneration is as important as tempo runs, interval work and overdistance.
I'm certain the races Matt's run this early spring have been signposts on the way to his ultimate goal; a strong finish on Boylston Street come mid-April. You don't see him racing throughout the year. In fact, a long, steady training progression (with a single-peak period) ensures the highest and longest peak he - and most well-trained athletes - can possibly achieve.

Fatigue. Starting to see the possible benefits of massage therapists and "bone benders," especially as there are more miles on the ol' odometer. Funny, running will beat you from the behind down (unless you've got old shoes, and then it can beat up you lower back, too)...it takes that swimming and cycling we use for cross-training to beat up the rest of the musculoskeletal system. I don't get it...yet. But I will soon.
Four days so far, and I've been good on my vow to steer clear from french fried potatoes. I'm not certain whether I'll be able to hold off the entire month, but I'm going to try. I think if I see a couple of extra pounds drop off this frame it'll be the motivation to keep at it. It's an interesting paradox; while fat stores in the body are beneficial to swimming (buoyancy) they are useless excess baggage once you get on the bicycle or out on the run. Get too thin and you might be able to climb or ride strongly, but you then lack on the run...and swimming is a nightmare.
So where do we draw the line? My wife says a little more to the right than I say. There's a happy medium all over the place.

Res Ipsa Loquitur, NSPS.

MB's Gumpian Moment For The Month

'They just couldn't believe that somebody would do all that running for no particular reason.' - Tom Hanks, as Forrest Gump, "Forrest Gump" (1994)

Sometimes as we head into the university track facility, a parent or walker or jogger who has seen one of our three-times-a-week workouts asks the inevitable question, 'so what are you guys training for?' At first, I flippantly told them, 'life,' and left it at that. Now I think to preface my comment with, 'this may sound a little flippant, but...' It tends to win friends and positively influence people a little more, I guess. Perhaps I'm starting to become more coach and less athlete.

I hope not; I love being an athlete. In spite of the fact I pay for my running habit; right now I get $500 worth of Snickers Marathon Bars, a singlet, a couple of technical fiber shirts, a hat and a pair of shorts per year, my goggles, glasses, shoes, bike stuff, sports drink, race entry fees and all the other stuff comes right out of my pocket. I am 90-percent certain that I like it that way. Snickers Marathon Bar asks me to race six times a year in their gear. That's not a lot of races, unless you're a marathoner. Since I'm a 10,000-meter to half-marathon specialist, who also dabbles in multisport, with a conservative training/racing schedule I can do six races a year.

However, it's a sign of weakness around this town should you decide to be conservative in your racing. Fail to show up at every little podunk, rancid possum (approximate) 5,000-meter road race and people start to talk about injuries. Since I only have to race six events a year to please my sponsor, I can be selective on what I want to do and when I need to be ready to race. And, in order to encourage my sponsor to keep me on their rolls, I choose larger regional and national-level races outside of town. Because probably 70 percent of my races are not local, people who don't know when/where I race think I do a whole hell of a lot of running for no particular reason.

I did a local 5,000-meter road race two weeks ago as an early-season fitness test. It wasn't great, but it wasn't a bad start to a season delayed by six weeks of no running whatsoever because of injury (fractured humeri heal slower when you run at the same time they're trying to heal). I managed to stay seconds ahead of a local runner who tattooed a bulls-eye on my @$$ this summer. He told me, straight to my face that his goal this fall was to beat me - why I was his goal I have no particular clue. Actually, I do; the guy is in his early 50s and focuses strictly on 5,000-meter races, which (to paraphrase Sam Mussabini, in Chariots of Fire) is "tailor-made for neurotics." He trains strictly for local events. He's become stronger since he started training with this focus. He's also wound up like a cheap freaking watch, the way I used to be before I got married.

Last weekend, I filmed my athletes at a 'relatively competitive' 5,000-meter race. The guy who has been gunning for me ran a decent race, but was beaten soundly (a minute or more) by a runner who came from New Orleans, who drinks Budweiser like it was iced water (I had a great time the next morning as we all ran an eight-mile run on the Bayou, after which he killed off three Buds.). And boy, was the guy p!$$ed.

Hello? McFly?

It's an object lesson I've provided to my athletes in the past two years, and one thing I spoke of often with my coach in the last year he worked with me:

Sometimes you have to find a new challenge; whether it's a different location, doing races outside of your home turf, a different distance (such as going from the 5,000 meters to the 10,000 meters and up...), a different discipline (from cross-country to track or road racing), or a different sport altogether...in my own case, multisport events. A change of scenery and a change of competition is almost always a good thing. It provides you the opportunity to find out where you truly stand in comparison with the rest of humanity. Oh, sure, we all can be heroes in our hometown. But there are races where I can run a personal best and be fortunate to get third in my age group, after the top-three are awarded in the masters' division. Far be it from me to get arrogant and say I think it's not fair. If there are guys out there who are my age that are training more consistently, are blessed with better genetics, and run smarter, faster races...more power to them. I want to know what they are doing in order to see how I can improve myself.

I've started to think seriously about whether I can run for no apparent reason other than the love of the sport, the visceral pleasure that comes from propelling myself up a hill or around a track. If nothing else, perhaps to pull others along to a fast time. It doesn't seem like a lot of sense in this 'I placed fourth in my age group in this 5K race; all I have to show for it is this stupid ribbon which I'll now use to wipe my @$$ and drop in the rubbish bin' society. Beer glasses break. Medals tarnish. Ribbons fade. Tattoos can be lasered off. Sometimes all we have to show for our sport is what we show up with in the first place.

Desire.

Changing Courses in the Middle of the Stream

Ever have a training plan or a racing plan drafted out in the smallest detail, then suddenly - wham! - bad strangeness sets in? Often I find that what I've laid out works good for me, seemingly, then I encounter a friend or a teammate who says, 'hey, I'm planning on doing...' Next thing I know I'm sitting in front of a beer or two with my wife, trying to figure out how can I do this and not screw up my plan for that? Naturally, I have a number of choices:

One, I can choose to not do the particular activity with the friend/teammate. I might not have the opportunity to enjoy myself by being in their particular presence, but I definitely haven't screwed up on two fronts.

Two, I can choose the activity my friend is doing rather than my originally-planned 'thing to do.' Done that before and enjoyed the daylights out of it. In fact, I've never had (that I can rightly recall) a bad Plan-B-activity. I guess you can say that the social aspects of the event far outweighed the lost opportunity cost of the discarded event. It's not always perfect, you understand. Sometimes you pay the price for not doing what you know deep down you should be doing. There's a handful of x-rays in an orthopedic consultant's office and a velcro arm sling that can attest silently to this.

Three, I can find a way to do both...if I really want to do it. How many times have I jumped into a race at the absolute last minute and sucked bilge, or run two races on a single day and felt beat up afterward? Well, a couple of times. However, I think it's all in the perspective; if you do a particular event on a lark without any preconceived (unrealistic) expectations you'll probably have more fun than you expected to. And who knows? Sometimes that's when those fleeting personal best efforts come to pass.

I guess the lesson you can take from this commentary is to have a good idea when, where, how many, and how long a distance you intend to race during a season. Do what seems best to you, not to the friend who's trying to talk you into the Murky George 100-Kilometer Slog Through The Bog or something like that. Right now, I'm thinking about whether to take a year off from racing, outside of a half-iron distance triathlon or two. Whether or not the hiatus will sharpen my desire to toe the line once again is at question. Right now, the goal is to make it to the end of December...after that, I can start thinking about my racing future. Hey, it might not hurt to take a year and just be Coach.

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.

Someone REALLY Needs A Mental Health Day

Yes, I've seen that look before. Lately, I see a lot of it when my wife comes through the door. Most of the time she can get past a tough day (or several tough days) at work by going out for a run, taking the d-a-w-g for a walk, or slurping on a few cool beverages in the evening. However, yesterday's look took the cake. While she was looking forward to getting out to the beach for a little while last night, she was going to settle for a walk, instead. At first, I was wondering why a walk and not a run. However, the meterological conditions were, as some would say, gawd-awful.
It's difficult, if not impossible, to train hard in triple-digit heat indices. Well, you can train indoors on the treadmill, the spinning bicycle, the elliptical trainer, or hit the swimming pool. Depending on the air conditioning capability in the place where you're at, even a tough workout can be almost tolerable. However, lots of (average) folks don't have access to pools, workout studios, or indoor tracks (memo to self: build an indoor track facility when you hit the lottery.). That tends to turn a planned six-miler into a four-miler, or a sprightly four-miler into a more relaxed-pace (George says, '...this is relaxed pace!?') four-miler, with a short walk at the end.

The saving grace of all this is the fact I have all these training options. Getting back into the pool after weeks away from it has been wonderful. I'm almost back to the fitness level I was before I broke the arm; not as fast in the water, but I think the mechanics are more relaxed. Give or take a couple of seconds, my reps in the pool have not changed for the worse from early June. While swimming might not transfer much to running, it helps me to learn to control my breathing when at speed...if you can come up on another competitor without them hearing your heavy breathing, you just might be able to put a stride or two on them before they can react.

If Thomas Paine were alive today, writing a pamphlet on training in Florida in the late summer, he would begin it: '...these are the times that fry men's soles...' He could still entitle it The Crisis if he wanted. He could talk about the conflict between the conscious and the subconscious mind; it's a little over five weeks until the first late-summer/early-autumn 5,000-meter road race...and the panicky state of affairs that the very competitive local runners may be feeling. Hell, I'm feeling it, and it's only a stepping-stone race toward my main races; a half-marathon in October and a marathon in December. I've also planned a 10-kilometer road race in early November, but...

I haven't run any chunk of distance beyond 400 meters at near race pace for, oh, about two months to be exact. I did some 400s a couple of weeks ago at 95-second pace, but that was a slow ramp-up from the first ones, which were closer to 110. However, we will see how things go tonight. The plan is 8x400 at 95-97sec pace, with 100m walk breaks in between. This will be the first test of fitness. I might tell everyone to extend the 100 to a little closer to 150. We'll see.

Maybe I'm thinking too much right now. Maybe it's me who needs the mental health day.

The Road Back

Fresh out of my second follow-up appointment/x-rays with the orthopedic consultant. While I was certain beyond a doubt he was not going to give me complete clearance (my range-of-motion is almost complete, but my strength is going to take quite some time to return), I'm pleased he considered me to be one of those rare patients he 'would have to slow down rather than speed up.' So, I have at least one more follow-up, in about six weeks time. In the meantime, I can get back on the bike and do some running; I guess that means spinning and running is good.

My doctor's counsel about the weight limitations was not too good, though...'nothing heavier than a can of soup' right now. What that means for swimming, I'm not certain. Guess it means lots of kicking drills and some gentle strokes in the meantime.

The road from injury back to fitness, and training, and competition is not a straight one. There's lots and lots of bends, vectors off the main course; sometimes you think you can see the "archway" of the finish as you're at what you feel is the hard part of the climb, but cannot see the route through the forest...where all of the twists and turns are hidden from plain view. Instead of being in the middle of base-building, I'm two weeks behind. It's all right. I think it means dropping one of the tune-up races this fall, or moving it one week further forward. I'll figure it out by Labor Day weekend.

I never thought I'd say I looked forward to going back to work. The seemingly arbitrary and capricious nature of my present employer is not conducive to workplace happiness. But at this particular time it will be better to have something meaningful to do. Telework and telecommuting would not be such a bad thing, but not when you have to have access to certain dot-whatever web sites.

My dog has been instrumental in making certain I spend no more than 90 minutes at my computer...that's not such a bad thing. I've had the Tour de France on the television over the past days...so I've been able to entertain myself. Given a little bit of entrepreneurial spirit, I could do the 'work from home' thing. This past month has given me the time to think about the positives and negatives of the whole concept.