Me Against The Watch

Before I start talking about the main topic, I have to confess this time of year, with a lead-in to another Olympic Games, is a sports junkie's dream.  It has been good for my recovery.  I’ve initiated my own little ‘occupy the couch’ movement with the US Olympic swimming and track/field trials, topped by the Tour de France as the background. 

While many of the participants of the larger ‘occupation’ movements were nebulous in what they desired, I have two goals:  The first goal is to let the lingering tendonitis in my ankles and knees completely heal.  It’s simple:  The only way to recover from an overuse injury is not to overuse what gets injured.  The second goal is to motivate myself into a frenzy of smart training once the Olympics are over.  It’s still going to be infernal, but I have a gym membership and a flexible schedule, so early morning and late evening training is not a problem.

Track and field events, and the Tour de France cycle race, have more in common than the average television spectator might guess, for a number of reasons:  When there are preliminary and semi-final heats at a track meet, the goal of most every athlete is to finish either in a position where they automatically qualify for the next round or in as fast a time as possible to be selected.  Does the athlete necessarily want to finish in first place?  All they need to do is exert just enough energy to qualify, save their energies for the final heat when a win means something. 

During the years when Lance Armstrong won seven Tours de France, he didn’t win every single stage.  He’d win a mountain stage here, and a road stage there; he would finish consistently close enough to the front of the pack every time he was on the road. 

There were races during the Olympic Trials, like the final of the women’s 5,000-meter run and the 3,000-meter steeplechase, where the leading runners not only had to win (or finish in the top three) to qualify, but also had to push the pace of the race in order to make the Olympic qualifying standard.  Some of the athletes collaborated with training partners and co-competitors to ensure a fast pace.  Others felt the need to go “off the front” and do it alone. 

Road stages of the Tour de France (and other cycling races) are a collaborative effort between teams and individual riders, both to push the pace or to hold the pace back…depending on their own best interests.  But there also is what is known in cycling as the race of truth.  Many stage races, including the Tour de France, begin with a short prologue individual time trial and also have one or two longer individual time trials during the course of the event.  The ‘race of truth’ sorts the good from the great athlete.  A rider can win a grand tour without being a great individual rider but there’s no way to win without being a good individual rider.  The time trial exposes every weakness in training, more so than the typical mass-start race.  There’s nobody to hide behind; no teammate to help pick up the pace should they falter. 

For runners, it’s more difficult is it to run a race going off the front alone without a supportive pacer than as part of a pack of individuals with near-identical fitness.

I trained under a coach who (i know) adjusted my training efforts based on recent racing results.  I never did time trials on my own because I ran at a level where I was out of reach of the really good runners and ahead of the slower ones…after the first mile of a race I was usually in “no-man’s land.”  But, when training a runner who is focused on, say, the half-marathon or the marathon, I like to schedule a 5,000-meter time trial on the roads to judge their fitness and make adjustments to their training paces.  It doesn’t necessarily have to be an organized 5K race (although I prefer a certified course), and it might not be until somewhere around six-to-twelve weeks out, but I prefer a course which resembles the terrain or conditions for their target event.

The goal of the time trial is either to run it at a slightly faster pace than the previous time trial, or to run it at the same time, but with a lower perceived effort.  If the athlete’s previous 5K time trial was at a pace where a few seconds of improvement will move them to a higher Daniels’ VDOT score, and subsequently faster training paces, I prefer the “same time at less effort” result.  Just like “heat racing,” the goal is not to light the fuse for a fantastic short race effort six, eight, or ten weeks out from the longer target event, but to develop the runner’s confidence; hiding an “extra gear” inside their head which they can save for race day.  It's the sum total of good runs, rather than a single great workout surrounded by a bunch of crappy ones, which are going to help define a running performance.

"Coach Dog"

...and I'm not talking about Dalmatians, those spotted coach dogs.

On more than one occasion I've lauded the simplicity of lifestyle of my retired racing greyhound-cum-household companion, Rubin. Given his inherent limitations - lack of opposable thumbs, inability to communicate in the English language, and occasional bouts of selective hearing - he's taught me a great deal about how to train, a good amount about how to coach, and a little bit, even, about how to maintain relationships.

Lesson one - consistent lifestyle. Rubin awakens at five o'clock every morning to take care of his immediate needs, determines whether extra rest is necessary, and continues his plan of the day accordingly. I've never heard him complain that he feels guilty about postponing a workout (in his case, a morning walk) in favor of a little extra rest, or deciding to settle for a trot around the back yard in place of a walk in the park. There are cases where his decision leads to a less-than-desirable outcome, but those are few and far between. Sometimes the weather conditions factor in, sometimes what he had for dinner the previous evening, sometimes even the availability of his "training partner." Still, his ability to adapt to the infrequent vicissitudes of greyhound life are a lesson to me.

Lesson two - sometimes a look says enough. Greyhounds are not known for barking unless they perceive a threat, so facial expressions and posture make up for the quiet nature. I've told friends on occasion: 'when an 85-pound greyhound stands between you and the television screen, you listen.' There are a number of different looks I've learned to translate, from the 'gotta go out' stare to the subtle look toward the box of Milk-Bone biscuits sitting atop the refrigerator. He's a tad more physical with Suzanne when she moves through the hall or works in the kitchen; a look with me often works where velcro dog is the preferred means of communication with my wife.

Lesson three - trust never sleeps. Greyhounds have two time contexts: Now, and forever. Really. Any dog owner can tell you. When do dogs want attention, food, walks, pets, ear scratching, belly rubs and the like? Now. How long has it been since the last treat, walk, bit of attention, or your departure from the house? Forever. They trust you're going to do the right thing, all the time; even if you fall short of their expectations (if dogs have expectations...) they still love and honor you.

So, for me? What do I think this means for individuals/athletes?

First - lifestyle consistency cannot be stressed enough. Rest if you're beat up; back off the effort if you're less than beat up, listen to your body and the conditions.

Second - communication between two people in a relationship (even between coach and athlete) is an individual matter. Some prefer lengthy chats a'la James Joyce; others prefer succinctness a'la Ernest Hemingway. No matter how you decide to communicate...

Third - do the right thing...be honest with everybody. It's simpler than trying to remember what story you told to what person.

Thanks, Rubin. Take two Milk-Bones out of petty cash.

No Talking, No Problems

For the last year or so, I have written a newsletter for the club. Often, it's a digest of crazy stuff that goes through my mind during a particular time of the year, or a response to something I've seen or heard in the previous month...tied in with a neat article I've read or have been forwarded, results from local races and a few hey, make certain you get involved with this kind of stuff. Sometimes it goes well, other times I know I've done little more than tick off the masses. Ah, I'm the coach. Sometimes things have to be said that don't sound very nice.

This month, I told the club secretary the responsibility for writing the newsletter would be his. I promised I'd have my moment at the front and do whatever else he asked, writing-wise. I'll toss him a few articles I find and point him towards some of the many sources I've enjoyed reading over the past three or four years.
He sent me an e-mail the other day, which sounds like some of those questions I know get asked out of my earshot. I used to ask them to my coach in the past, too. Usually, when I heard the answer I felt like saying, 'Coach, why don't you explain that to them?!' But, I guess it's kind of like one of those things fundamentalist pastors are taught: Don't Answer Questions Nobody Is Asking, Silly.
Following along on blind faith is not good. Following a training plan or a coaching philosophy on blind faith is not good, either. Asking questions is a good thing.

I think most knowledgeable coaches don't mind answering the respectfully-worded question. It's the ones that sound like challenges to authority that tend to tick them off. Of course, when the question is asked, the athlete better be prepared to hear the plain, unvarnished truth of the answer.

It's not that coaches don't want to tell the truth; they might have a hard time placing the truth in a format that won't emotionally thrash the athlete. Hippocrates of Cos was right: 'first, do no harm.' Like Coach Ethan Barron of Tufts University advised, '...athletes will always sense hypocrisy. If you don't truly believe what you are saying, then don't say it.'

So, if I'm not talking, it's not that I don't love you. It's that I'm trying to find the right way to say what needs to be said.

That having been said, I'm having so much fun at this moment, standing trackside. I hate not being able to train because of this injury, but I like being able to focus my attention on my athletes, almost 100 percent. Having two or three ability levels going at the same time, as well as the occasional straggler or outside conversation, makes it tough...but I think my wife would tell you I'm laughing and smiling a lot at the track as of late.

Laughing and smiling...no talking...no problems. Right?

Summer Reading

I've always tried to take some time during the summer - vacation - to read some different books from the staples I enjoy during other times of the year. A couple of my recent acquisitions grabbed my interest from the bookshelf of the local major chain bookstore.

The first, Positively False: The Story of How I Won the Tour de France, is Floyd Landis' cycling autobiography, as well as his take on life as a member of the US Postal Service cycling team under Lance Armstrong and Phonak Hearing Systems cycling team under Tyler Hamilton, and life as a team leader while at Phonak. Landis talks in great detail about the meltdown in Stage 16 of the TdF, his evening after the meltdown, and his Stage 17, which has been heralded as the greatest one-day comeback in cycling history. After reading Positively False, I haven't changed my take on the use of performance enhancing drugs. I'm not completely certain that Floyd didn't take PED, but the procedural screw-ups on the part of the French anti-doping laboratory, WADA, UCI, USADA, and all of the individual parties involved within those organizations makes the Stage 16/17 episode, as well as the implications of PED use, a conspiracy theorist's fantasy. I began to tally in my mind the number of former associates of Armstrong who have been dinged for PED/doping: Frankie Andreu, Dr. Michele Ferrari, Tyler Hamilton, Roberto Heras, possibly Floyd Landis...is this the European cycling establishment's attack against an athlete blessed with fantastic cardiovascular gifts and the ability to literally outride all comers, or is it proof that professional cycling is dirty, through-and-through?

It's one reason I cannot speak well of a local sprinter, who happens to be an Olympic medalist and took a coach known for doping infractions after he earned his medal...later earning a two-year ban for PED. The operating question that comes to my mind isn't so much 'what the hell are you thinking!?' No, there's too many words there. 'Are you thinking!?' Yeah, that's better. Poor guy's busting his @$$ doing local public appearances and all, I think he'll be helping to coach one of the local high school athletic teams, too, while he's serving his suspension. I hope like hell he gets up in the morning and kicks himself squarely in the @$$ each day. It would beat having someone like me stand by and remind my guys/gals that they, too, are vulnerable to testing.

Athletes who take PED, and the coaches and trainers who actively or tacitly tolerate or encourage its use, are engaging in fraudulent acts. Ignorance of the law (or the conconction being taken) is no excuse.

HOWEVER:

I think the World Anti-Doping Agency and it's US counterpart, USADA, are failing on the procedural side of the issue. Let's begin to take a look at doping as a criminal act - fraud - and use some legal ground rules on evidence, guilt/innocence, right to counsel, and punishment befitting the 'crime.' I wonder if I could get away with a bumper sticker that says, 'TEST THIS, USADA?'
The second book, From Lance to Landis: Inside the American Doping Contreversy at the Tour De France, is a follow-up (in English) to the broad-brush attack by Irish sport columnist David Walsh on Lance Armstrong. His previous book L.A. Confidentiel: Les Secrets de Lance Armstrong, was co-written with French journalist Pierre Ballester, and has not been translated into English as far as I can tell.

Walsh continues to interview the increasing circle of former Armstrong associates and teammates. I've read the first three chapters, and find the pace to be very slow. If Walsh has an argument forthcoming, he is developing it in a very cautious manner. Does he have an axe to grind against Landis? I cannot tell at this time. It's evident he has one against Armstrong.

Reading Daniel Coyle's Lance Armstrong's War, Landis' book, and even in Armstrong's two biographies, you can tell Armstrong has little time for former associates (especially whose who parted on less than friendly terms) and seems to hold a grudge against persons he feels have done him wrong. The only book - books - I've seen so far that holds Armstrong in a completely positive light would be Brad Kearns' How Lance Does It and Chris Carmichael's training books, co-authored with Jim Rutberg and Armstrong.

Is Armstrong - or any of us - an absolute saint? Not hardly. We all are subject to hard days, hard weeks, errors in judgment, slips, falls, single (or multiple) tokes over the line. The best lesson I can pass along after reading Landis, is to provide a simple, truthful story, at all times. It might not make for entertaining press, but it keeps them from coming back and saying to you: 'you said (fill in blank with lame-@$ excuse) last (fill in blank with time interval), now you're saying (fill in blank with new, improved, but still lame-@$$ excuse)...'

It's always easier to remember the truth.