After a four and a half hour drive, I got to Lake Placid about 10 minutes before the start of the optional swim that opened this year's camp.
I was not 100% sure I should get in- the thought of a major bacteriological sinus infection interrupting my enjoyment of camp wasn't high on my to do list, but after all, I'd driven up here for camp, to get in as much training as possible.
After swimming 1.2 miles, I was energized. It felt great. I just jumped in the lake and swam and except for when we stopped to talk at the turn around and I had to tread water, it wasn't that hard.
Dinner at Nicoloas on Main was great- I got to catch up with Big Rocks, who I haven't seen in a long time.
Now though, I'm looking at a two hour run on three or four hours sleep- yes, the sinus infection rolled in like an Adirondack thunderstorm. Hopefully, the run will clear my head.
Otherwise that loop of the bike course is going to be rough...
Showing posts with label swimming. Show all posts
Showing posts with label swimming. Show all posts
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Griskus Sprint Triathlon- Lost in Transition Part II
It seems like it's easier to find time to train than it is time to right race reports, but Griskus is the sort of race you actually want to write about.
I've had a lot of bad races there. I've gotten lost in transition. I've gotten lost on the swim course. I've cut my hand open on my bladed spokes during the bike. It makes me wonder why Tom Wilkas would stick a guy like me in the elite wave. He explained that he expected me to be a top 75 finisher, which took a lot of pressure off.
Until I showed up at the race, and picked up my number.
8.
Man, these low numbers. I love to get them, but I feel, uh, so unworthy sometimes.
I'd drove up to the race with @poycc and we'd gotten there early enough that I had time get my number, hit the loo, buy a race belt (yes, another race belt, grrr, but it was only 10.00), get my wetsuit on and swim all the way out to the second of the five buoys on the swim course. The more buoys I hit pre-race, the more comfortable I usually am during the race.
I saw Carl Russell in transition (check out his blog), racked a few bikes down from me, before I started the swim and it was great to see a fellow EH athlete. He was- as always- in good spirits and looking forward to the challenge ahead that I was probably dreading.
I had a good swim warm up, but I was really nervous. My last race had gone well- I'd come back from a massive panic attack in the water followed by boot camp in the pool to place in my age group at an Olympic race, and here I was, standing on the beach and frak. There was Chris Thomas. Dom Gillen. Ian Ray. Joe Whelan. Finally I found myself standing next to Chris Schulten, another awesome triathlete and we were joking with each other about why we weren't standing right in front and being uncomfortable in the water.
That really helped me a lot. Chris is such a nice guy,a great positive attitude and really humble. We were laughing about how his dad and I always see each other when we're working out and it really took that nervous edge off. Normally I want to be left alone with my thoughts before a race starts and resent any sort of intrusion, so extra props to Chris...
I didn't feel that good on the swim out to the far buoy. I was short of breath and looking up a lot. Of course, I was worried about how badly I was being left behind and constantly checking to see that yes, there were other pink caps (yes pink, we're guys, so why we we pink and the women purple ?) around me. I was also convinced that Ian, Chris, Dom and the other elites would be slamming head on into me by the third buoy.
I hit the turn around and everything changed. Suddenly I was swimming- actually on someone's feet, using their draft, swimming strong. I had to dodge a few people going out in the other waves, but I had a good straight swim back in. I did not cross the women's side and slam into a floating dock. I didn't cramp. and I was 13th of 39 in my age group in the swim.
Huh ?
Oh yeah. I got my ass kick by 5-6 minutes by the actual elite athletes.
Then I got lost in transition again. No Bill Murray, no Scarlett Johnassen. Just the jarring dislocation of not being to find a time trial helmet or an orange bike that say 'Starbuck' on them. Which is half the reason those things are there.
Time lost: 10-15 seconds.
I started out hammering the bike. I passed @poycc and hit 30 mph. I stayed in that ranged until the turn, then started really bearing down on people after the turn. Except for one small uphill section, it's mostly downhill. I was really working, and my bike was making a ton of noise. I'd spent about half an hour cleaning and lubing the chain and adjusting the shifting, but no time fixing my disintegrating x-lab (thank you, Route 146), which was rattling like the chains in a medieval rack- a piece would fall off a few rides later.
I really had a good opening half of the bike. As always, there were tons of people to pass, I worked the downhills a little harder than I usually do, and I took some risks, which actually aren't risks as much as me trusting my reflexes and actually racing the bike, as opposed to just riding it.
I have to admit though that I was waiting for the sharp left-hand turn- and waiting, and waiting. It's always later than I think.
Then the climbing starts. On the plus side, there was no point in the race where I felt the need to consult the small ring on the front.
On the minus side, as I climbed my way through the pack, I lost my temper with someone who was, quite honestly, drafting. In my opinion at least.
I was well behind but closing on a woman, a man, and another man who was passing the other two. As the faster rider passed, the woman pulled out and followed. Both were on the yellow line or close to it- there were other riders that became engaged, and finally, as I closed, I'd had enough. I felt that this woman was playing off the faster rider, both blocking and drafting.
I shold have left my impression of what was going on in my head and said politely 'On your left.' Or 'on yer left.' (Check out On Yer Left online). Instead I, as loud as I could, and that loud, trust me, yelled 'Get off his wheel.'
I didn't. What I did was ill-considered.
I kept climbing.
Finally, you take a right-hand turn, get a break from the hills, even get some downhills. I passed Gary Rodebaug. It's a real honour to race against this guy and have him as a teammate- he's a multiple Team-USA athlete, and he kicks my ass in the swim. And when I am lucky enough to pass him he encourages me to get moving.
At the top of the last hill, Bethel had a car. the was a guy in front of me and I knew I needed to pass him before we crested the hill, that if I didn't, I wouldn't be able to take him on the downhill. I was slow getting past him, so I left the saddle, made a very angry face, and found the extra rpms I needs to get the job done, rocking the bike. It felt good. Afterwards, I was told that I am 'the angriest looking cyclist' and you'd never think I was the same guy that was standing around casually chatting after the race.
Well, I was angry. At me.
I got into and out of transition in much better order than the T1.
On the way out from the park I saw Robyn Passander, another top-notch teammate, the second place woman, and Mike Maxichenko. I wanted to pass all three, so I started turning it up. I was tired, but I'd had a Clif Shot so I was felling good. Ian and Margit were at the turn, but I didn't even look at them. I just turned the corner, waved, and ran. I made the pass on all three of them quickly and then I was on the downhill.
I hammered the downhill. I passed a bunch of guys and the first woman and I just kept running hard and pretty much all out to the turn-around, knowing that the climb back out would be brutal.
When it happened.
And that's the funny thing about the run back. It's not uphill all the way, in fact, it's not really uphill until you're near the overpass and that's like halfway back. So I think I undersold the return trip.
As I was climbing I had Oakes Ames, John Wilson, and Don Gustavason in front of me. John and Oakes are awesome athletes but I had to run them down. I passed them after the end of the climb, not know Oakes had two minutes on me and therefore had me in the can. I was chasing Don but I never quite got there.
Overall, I was really psyched about the race, finsihing 15th overall and 3rd in my age group. This was my best Griskus ever.
Of course, once I saw my splits, I was unhappy with how I climbed and could see places where I could have shaved maybe a minute off the whole race. That's the peril of being me. I am never quite happy, even when I am.
But if a sprint race in July is something that can be built on, then this was just that.
I've had a lot of bad races there. I've gotten lost in transition. I've gotten lost on the swim course. I've cut my hand open on my bladed spokes during the bike. It makes me wonder why Tom Wilkas would stick a guy like me in the elite wave. He explained that he expected me to be a top 75 finisher, which took a lot of pressure off.
Until I showed up at the race, and picked up my number.
8.
Man, these low numbers. I love to get them, but I feel, uh, so unworthy sometimes.
I'd drove up to the race with @poycc and we'd gotten there early enough that I had time get my number, hit the loo, buy a race belt (yes, another race belt, grrr, but it was only 10.00), get my wetsuit on and swim all the way out to the second of the five buoys on the swim course. The more buoys I hit pre-race, the more comfortable I usually am during the race.
I saw Carl Russell in transition (check out his blog), racked a few bikes down from me, before I started the swim and it was great to see a fellow EH athlete. He was- as always- in good spirits and looking forward to the challenge ahead that I was probably dreading.
I had a good swim warm up, but I was really nervous. My last race had gone well- I'd come back from a massive panic attack in the water followed by boot camp in the pool to place in my age group at an Olympic race, and here I was, standing on the beach and frak. There was Chris Thomas. Dom Gillen. Ian Ray. Joe Whelan. Finally I found myself standing next to Chris Schulten, another awesome triathlete and we were joking with each other about why we weren't standing right in front and being uncomfortable in the water.
That really helped me a lot. Chris is such a nice guy,a great positive attitude and really humble. We were laughing about how his dad and I always see each other when we're working out and it really took that nervous edge off. Normally I want to be left alone with my thoughts before a race starts and resent any sort of intrusion, so extra props to Chris...
I didn't feel that good on the swim out to the far buoy. I was short of breath and looking up a lot. Of course, I was worried about how badly I was being left behind and constantly checking to see that yes, there were other pink caps (yes pink, we're guys, so why we we pink and the women purple ?) around me. I was also convinced that Ian, Chris, Dom and the other elites would be slamming head on into me by the third buoy.
I hit the turn around and everything changed. Suddenly I was swimming- actually on someone's feet, using their draft, swimming strong. I had to dodge a few people going out in the other waves, but I had a good straight swim back in. I did not cross the women's side and slam into a floating dock. I didn't cramp. and I was 13th of 39 in my age group in the swim.
Huh ?
Oh yeah. I got my ass kick by 5-6 minutes by the actual elite athletes.
Then I got lost in transition again. No Bill Murray, no Scarlett Johnassen. Just the jarring dislocation of not being to find a time trial helmet or an orange bike that say 'Starbuck' on them. Which is half the reason those things are there.
Time lost: 10-15 seconds.
I started out hammering the bike. I passed @poycc and hit 30 mph. I stayed in that ranged until the turn, then started really bearing down on people after the turn. Except for one small uphill section, it's mostly downhill. I was really working, and my bike was making a ton of noise. I'd spent about half an hour cleaning and lubing the chain and adjusting the shifting, but no time fixing my disintegrating x-lab (thank you, Route 146), which was rattling like the chains in a medieval rack- a piece would fall off a few rides later.
I really had a good opening half of the bike. As always, there were tons of people to pass, I worked the downhills a little harder than I usually do, and I took some risks, which actually aren't risks as much as me trusting my reflexes and actually racing the bike, as opposed to just riding it.
I have to admit though that I was waiting for the sharp left-hand turn- and waiting, and waiting. It's always later than I think.
Then the climbing starts. On the plus side, there was no point in the race where I felt the need to consult the small ring on the front.
On the minus side, as I climbed my way through the pack, I lost my temper with someone who was, quite honestly, drafting. In my opinion at least.
I was well behind but closing on a woman, a man, and another man who was passing the other two. As the faster rider passed, the woman pulled out and followed. Both were on the yellow line or close to it- there were other riders that became engaged, and finally, as I closed, I'd had enough. I felt that this woman was playing off the faster rider, both blocking and drafting.
I shold have left my impression of what was going on in my head and said politely 'On your left.' Or 'on yer left.' (Check out On Yer Left online). Instead I, as loud as I could, and that loud, trust me, yelled 'Get off his wheel.'
I didn't. What I did was ill-considered.
I kept climbing.
Finally, you take a right-hand turn, get a break from the hills, even get some downhills. I passed Gary Rodebaug. It's a real honour to race against this guy and have him as a teammate- he's a multiple Team-USA athlete, and he kicks my ass in the swim. And when I am lucky enough to pass him he encourages me to get moving.
At the top of the last hill, Bethel had a car. the was a guy in front of me and I knew I needed to pass him before we crested the hill, that if I didn't, I wouldn't be able to take him on the downhill. I was slow getting past him, so I left the saddle, made a very angry face, and found the extra rpms I needs to get the job done, rocking the bike. It felt good. Afterwards, I was told that I am 'the angriest looking cyclist' and you'd never think I was the same guy that was standing around casually chatting after the race.
Well, I was angry. At me.
I got into and out of transition in much better order than the T1.
On the way out from the park I saw Robyn Passander, another top-notch teammate, the second place woman, and Mike Maxichenko. I wanted to pass all three, so I started turning it up. I was tired, but I'd had a Clif Shot so I was felling good. Ian and Margit were at the turn, but I didn't even look at them. I just turned the corner, waved, and ran. I made the pass on all three of them quickly and then I was on the downhill.
I hammered the downhill. I passed a bunch of guys and the first woman and I just kept running hard and pretty much all out to the turn-around, knowing that the climb back out would be brutal.
When it happened.
And that's the funny thing about the run back. It's not uphill all the way, in fact, it's not really uphill until you're near the overpass and that's like halfway back. So I think I undersold the return trip.
As I was climbing I had Oakes Ames, John Wilson, and Don Gustavason in front of me. John and Oakes are awesome athletes but I had to run them down. I passed them after the end of the climb, not know Oakes had two minutes on me and therefore had me in the can. I was chasing Don but I never quite got there.
Overall, I was really psyched about the race, finsihing 15th overall and 3rd in my age group. This was my best Griskus ever.
Of course, once I saw my splits, I was unhappy with how I climbed and could see places where I could have shaved maybe a minute off the whole race. That's the peril of being me. I am never quite happy, even when I am.
But if a sprint race in July is something that can be built on, then this was just that.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Weekend Away from Racing
I've been on the run (and the bike) for two months now, starting with a pair of races in Rochester leading into back-to-back 10ks Memorial. Day weekend. I hadn't let the racing interfere with my training, in fact, I'd allowed the opposite and lived with slow times, at once accepting them yet berating myself.
So when many of my friends and even my coach were headed to Providence for the 70.3, I was left with an entire weekend to training with no consideration of racing. Add that to half-day Fridays and Eric was able to split my long workouts, something I'm generally not a fan of. I like following up one long ride with another, and then running the next day, but the truth is this worked a lot better.
Friday
61.3 miles in 2:51, plus a 20 minute run
After a disappointing bike split at Griskus (28:24 or so), I decided I needed a little hill work, so I traded my steady spins on Route 1 for a little climbing up towards Durham. I was supposed to do one hour in B, one hour in high B, and one hour in C.
The highlight of the ride was that about a minute before my turn-around, I saw a guy headed in the opposite direction. I turned around when the minute was up and started chasing. I'd noticed he was wearing University of Indiana (?) cycling gear, so I knew there was no guarantee I was going to catch him. But I did, just on the far side of the traffic circle at Route 80 and 79 (77?). I passed him and he jumped on my wheel. Instead of getting annoyed, I decided to have some fun with it. Before I knew it, we were going 24-27 mph up the hills and 40 mph down the hills.
And I was leading the train. What I've learned riding with guys like Eric and Kenny is that (as long as they want to humour me) I can sit on their wheel, but not lead. I mean, they can drop me at their leisure, but as long as I'm willing to work hard, I can ride on someone's wheel for a long way.
Not lead, and not at speeds like this.
I broke off at the fork to head back down to Hammonnassett and got a wave from the guy.
Engaging in the pull, and not getting annoyed that someone was breaking into my workout, was a way better choice, and I found out a little bit about myself. I also rode hills, and in three hours, lost just a couple of tenths of a mile per hour.
Saturday
30 minute swim, 90 minute bike
I had a great swim, marred only by some nasty sea-shell inflicted cuts on my feet. The one is still bleeding on and off and it's Sunday night. My bike was easy, which is to say, not hard, and therefore, didn't feel that good...
Sunday
90 minute run
My workout was the same as the bike, but the times halved- b, high b, c, 30 minutes each.
I ran the first thirty minutes with Dick Korby. We'd both been at the same beer-tasting Saturday (if you follow me on Twitter you saw a crazy burst of beers that I tried), and I think Dick was a little hung-over. I felt OK. We ran a steady 30 minutes, I dropped him back at his car, turned up the heat a little, and decided to hit out 146 rather than down into Indian Neck.
In other words, more hills.
The hard hills were in the middle hour and I ran really well. My feet were a little sore from the cuts, but what can you do ?
I ran down into Stony Creek, put myself what I figured was 32-33 minutes from home and started the C part of the run. I ran the whole last part at 10K and got back to the house in 27:30.
What I learned- I would say I had my best ride of the year Friday, and my best run of the year Sunday. While I don't want an easy day between my hard days every week, it was just what I needed.
Thanks coach- and congratulations on another Hawaii slot, Eric !
So when many of my friends and even my coach were headed to Providence for the 70.3, I was left with an entire weekend to training with no consideration of racing. Add that to half-day Fridays and Eric was able to split my long workouts, something I'm generally not a fan of. I like following up one long ride with another, and then running the next day, but the truth is this worked a lot better.
Friday
61.3 miles in 2:51, plus a 20 minute run
After a disappointing bike split at Griskus (28:24 or so), I decided I needed a little hill work, so I traded my steady spins on Route 1 for a little climbing up towards Durham. I was supposed to do one hour in B, one hour in high B, and one hour in C.
The highlight of the ride was that about a minute before my turn-around, I saw a guy headed in the opposite direction. I turned around when the minute was up and started chasing. I'd noticed he was wearing University of Indiana (?) cycling gear, so I knew there was no guarantee I was going to catch him. But I did, just on the far side of the traffic circle at Route 80 and 79 (77?). I passed him and he jumped on my wheel. Instead of getting annoyed, I decided to have some fun with it. Before I knew it, we were going 24-27 mph up the hills and 40 mph down the hills.
And I was leading the train. What I've learned riding with guys like Eric and Kenny is that (as long as they want to humour me) I can sit on their wheel, but not lead. I mean, they can drop me at their leisure, but as long as I'm willing to work hard, I can ride on someone's wheel for a long way.
Not lead, and not at speeds like this.
I broke off at the fork to head back down to Hammonnassett and got a wave from the guy.
Engaging in the pull, and not getting annoyed that someone was breaking into my workout, was a way better choice, and I found out a little bit about myself. I also rode hills, and in three hours, lost just a couple of tenths of a mile per hour.
Saturday
30 minute swim, 90 minute bike
I had a great swim, marred only by some nasty sea-shell inflicted cuts on my feet. The one is still bleeding on and off and it's Sunday night. My bike was easy, which is to say, not hard, and therefore, didn't feel that good...
Sunday
90 minute run
My workout was the same as the bike, but the times halved- b, high b, c, 30 minutes each.
I ran the first thirty minutes with Dick Korby. We'd both been at the same beer-tasting Saturday (if you follow me on Twitter you saw a crazy burst of beers that I tried), and I think Dick was a little hung-over. I felt OK. We ran a steady 30 minutes, I dropped him back at his car, turned up the heat a little, and decided to hit out 146 rather than down into Indian Neck.
In other words, more hills.
The hard hills were in the middle hour and I ran really well. My feet were a little sore from the cuts, but what can you do ?
I ran down into Stony Creek, put myself what I figured was 32-33 minutes from home and started the C part of the run. I ran the whole last part at 10K and got back to the house in 27:30.
What I learned- I would say I had my best ride of the year Friday, and my best run of the year Sunday. While I don't want an easy day between my hard days every week, it was just what I needed.
Thanks coach- and congratulations on another Hawaii slot, Eric !
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Finding My Center- In the Water !
It's pretty clear I'm not always comfortable in the water. And yet, today, while swimming 2000 yards worth of ladders- I know 2000 yards is a lot for me and is probably an off-day in the pool for many triathletes, I had something really strange happen.
I swam a set of 200-250-300-300-250-200 at race pace with 50 in between each. I was in the 250 on the downhill side of the ladder on the third laps, and suddenly...
I actually felt good. My rhythm was good, my body roll was steady, I was reaching out and grabbing the water and pulling down and not having a problem on that breath every other left stroke...
I'd found my center. Maybe not my emotional center in the water, but at least the physical axial one. I was calm, I was fluid (for me), everything felt good.
Of course, it didn't last that long, and the water is still a place that's defined by my struggle to overcome it rather than my willingness to interact with it. I understand that, I know that as long as I seek an antagonist relationship with the water, I'm going to get one. Nevertheless, for just a moment, I grapsed what it must feel like to be a swimmer.
Maybe that, and not a certain speed or even a certain stroke, that should be my goal...
I swam a set of 200-250-300-300-250-200 at race pace with 50 in between each. I was in the 250 on the downhill side of the ladder on the third laps, and suddenly...
I actually felt good. My rhythm was good, my body roll was steady, I was reaching out and grabbing the water and pulling down and not having a problem on that breath every other left stroke...
I'd found my center. Maybe not my emotional center in the water, but at least the physical axial one. I was calm, I was fluid (for me), everything felt good.
Of course, it didn't last that long, and the water is still a place that's defined by my struggle to overcome it rather than my willingness to interact with it. I understand that, I know that as long as I seek an antagonist relationship with the water, I'm going to get one. Nevertheless, for just a moment, I grapsed what it must feel like to be a swimmer.
Maybe that, and not a certain speed or even a certain stroke, that should be my goal...
Saturday, June 06, 2009
It's all in the half-days
When I'm not trying to drown myself- if I couldn't laugh at myself, life would be without a lot of its of mirth but as it is plays like an episode of Seinfeld- my workouts right now are, I hate to say this, but they are awesome.
I hoard my time off because I consider it the primary benefit of my job, that and half-days on Friday in the summer. Both Margit and I are professionals with lots of work, and taking long vacations just never seems to happen, so starting in the last week of May I combine a deluge of days off and half days- I had 9 to work with, which give me four days off, six half days, and as long as I avoid Fridays, another four half-days. That's a ton of days off.
I basically use it to do two things- get in shape- which I never am going into that period- and keep the lawn mowed. It gives me a chance to train 3-4 hours a day up to four times in a week.
Yes, this is probably a little unhinged. But it beats getting up at five-thirty to swim and working out every day at lunch and some of the other things I do.
And yet, this Friday, I did something I'm not sure I've ever done on a half-day Friday.
I ran.
I look at all this time as bike time and swimming time. Swimming is usually jammed into my lunches. And the chance to bike for 3 hours does not fall out of the sky like rain.
Rain.
It was 58 and raining Friday when I got home. I got home late, despite my best intentions to get home early- I'd spent half a day at work Thursday, even though I had the whole day off. Go figure...
I was planning on doing the Lake Placid Virtual Reality ride, but by the time I got home, I didn't have time. I didn't want to go outside and ride, and the though of spinning for 90 minutes to two hours- all I had time for, just didn't seem to be a 'big workout', which is always the Friday goal.
So I put on my running shoes, my kit and a technical shirt over than, and went out and ran for about 92 minutes. I negative split my run by about a minute.
I'd done the same 90+ minute run on a sunny mid-sixties Sunday, after an easy 42 mile group ride (140 minutes) and a 20 minute run the day before. On Friday, I did it after a hard 60 mile ride that was under 3 hours and a strong 20+ minute run the day before.
I hit the turnaround for the run 1 second ahead of Sunday. I finished a full minute under the previous run. Then it was time to change my clothes, check my email, buy some fish and some vegetables for dinner, and hit the day care.
Maybe a 90 minute run isn't equivalent to a 60 mile bike ride. Maybe I could have squeezed another 15-20 minutes in.
Who cares ? I went out in the rain and got a great run in and opened up my weekend for more variety in my workouts- I did a two hour time trial on the bike today with a short run afterwards and it felt great, and that was after spending 90 minutes mowing the lawn.
The rain and the chill is something I usually view as the enemy. It's supposed to be sunny and warm all the time now (queue laughter). And yet, it gave me a chance to mix up the routine and relax.
That in turn gave us a change to spend a couple of hours on the Guilford Green today at a Children's Fair, where Ian had a blast. It's great when everything- family, workouts, work-life- all falls into place. Even just one weekend...
I hoard my time off because I consider it the primary benefit of my job, that and half-days on Friday in the summer. Both Margit and I are professionals with lots of work, and taking long vacations just never seems to happen, so starting in the last week of May I combine a deluge of days off and half days- I had 9 to work with, which give me four days off, six half days, and as long as I avoid Fridays, another four half-days. That's a ton of days off.
I basically use it to do two things- get in shape- which I never am going into that period- and keep the lawn mowed. It gives me a chance to train 3-4 hours a day up to four times in a week.
Yes, this is probably a little unhinged. But it beats getting up at five-thirty to swim and working out every day at lunch and some of the other things I do.
And yet, this Friday, I did something I'm not sure I've ever done on a half-day Friday.
I ran.
I look at all this time as bike time and swimming time. Swimming is usually jammed into my lunches. And the chance to bike for 3 hours does not fall out of the sky like rain.
Rain.
It was 58 and raining Friday when I got home. I got home late, despite my best intentions to get home early- I'd spent half a day at work Thursday, even though I had the whole day off. Go figure...
I was planning on doing the Lake Placid Virtual Reality ride, but by the time I got home, I didn't have time. I didn't want to go outside and ride, and the though of spinning for 90 minutes to two hours- all I had time for, just didn't seem to be a 'big workout', which is always the Friday goal.
So I put on my running shoes, my kit and a technical shirt over than, and went out and ran for about 92 minutes. I negative split my run by about a minute.
I'd done the same 90+ minute run on a sunny mid-sixties Sunday, after an easy 42 mile group ride (140 minutes) and a 20 minute run the day before. On Friday, I did it after a hard 60 mile ride that was under 3 hours and a strong 20+ minute run the day before.
I hit the turnaround for the run 1 second ahead of Sunday. I finished a full minute under the previous run. Then it was time to change my clothes, check my email, buy some fish and some vegetables for dinner, and hit the day care.
Maybe a 90 minute run isn't equivalent to a 60 mile bike ride. Maybe I could have squeezed another 15-20 minutes in.
Who cares ? I went out in the rain and got a great run in and opened up my weekend for more variety in my workouts- I did a two hour time trial on the bike today with a short run afterwards and it felt great, and that was after spending 90 minutes mowing the lawn.
The rain and the chill is something I usually view as the enemy. It's supposed to be sunny and warm all the time now (queue laughter). And yet, it gave me a chance to mix up the routine and relax.
That in turn gave us a change to spend a couple of hours on the Guilford Green today at a Children's Fair, where Ian had a blast. It's great when everything- family, workouts, work-life- all falls into place. Even just one weekend...
Barely Surviving my First Open Water Swim of the Season
For someone who has a blog mostly as a diary of my racing, writing a post like this, where I reveal a truly asshat embarrassing moment, is probably not what I had in mind. But if anyone can take anything away from me being a complete and total jackass, please do.
My swimming has come a long way, and I spent a decent amount of time swimming this winter, although as always when the spring comes and duathlon season starts it takes a back seat to running and biking.
Margit encouraged me to join the team for an open water swim at Lake Quannapaug (sp) last Monday night. I hadn't been in the water for three weeks, was the last person to get there, the water was way too cold for my tastes, and I started out chasing everyone. Also, I'd done upper-body strength training that morning.
I have a real mental block about chasing people in the water. My overall lack of experience swimming with other people- I never swim with anyone else in the pool- makes for a real exaggeration in my mind as to how far behind I am, and I have a tendency to start to panic. I'm usually able to settle down in races, where there are always people around me, but when I'm all alone and last, I start looking up, which is not a good thing for me to do.
I do most of my swimming at LA Fitness. The pool is full-length, but it's 3.5 feet deep, warm, and the water is crystal clear. Lake Q is about 8 feet deep (well, I think about 15 feet at it's deepest point) and almost as dark as night. On the rare occasions when you can see the plants tickling your hands and feet, you wish you couldn't.
The first few strokes I took were great. They felt really good, my breathing, which always seems to suffer in the late spring when we have bad pollen since that time I had the ammonia poisoning, felt good.
And then bam, it all hit me. I started thinking. About how they think it's the cold water that kills most triathletes in the swim, some weird-electromechanical fartup with the human heart- for frak's sake people, please stop re-tweeting this same goddamned reheated article, it was one study but I've read ten articles based on it. Thinking about how far behind I am. About how my first open-water swim is always a total disaster and I have to turn around, head back to shore, and start over a second time.
The bottom line in all this is that while I'm not claustrophobic- I'm the guy that will crawl under a coach that's 3 millimeters higher than my ass sticks up and wait twenty minutes just to put a good scare it someone when they sit down (and the couch sags to zero millimeters above my backside)- I'm clearly claustrophobic in the water. I can't hear, I can't see, I have no sense of distance. Oh, my googles fogged up and I could not see anything, did I mention that ?
I get over it. I've been trapped on the wrong side of the same lake in thunderstorms. I've been out in the ocean when the tailbits of the hurricane starting rolling into the bay and I'ms up against the rockwall.
I've done seven ironmans. Margit reminded me of that later.
I wouldn't stop. I was lifeguard swimming to the group, but i wouldn't stop, wouldn't just turn around. However, when we reached our first stopping point, I was one of two people who'd had enough and starting swimming back.
And that's when it all fell apart.
I'm not going to go into the blow-by-blow of it, but even though I was wearing a wetsuit, I wasn't sure I was going to make it back. I felt like I was on the edge of drowning out there, impossibly far from any shore. I kept fighting to get to the beach, stopping every thirty seconds or so. I was as panicked as a wild animal and I couldn't control it. My heart rate was about 200 hundred, my breathing was burning and painful. My legs were on the verge of cramping the entire time. Finally, I did make it far enough to stand up waist deep in water, seeing stars, and I stumbled onto the shore and sat down on the beach, my feet in the water.
I waited about five minutes. I even closed my eyes and just listened to the water, trying to find a calm place inside myself, my center. Anyone who knows me is probably laughing. I have no calm center. Or I do, but I'll never admit it.
I got back in and started swimming. I knew if I went back to the car, threw my wetsuit in the trunk, and went home angry, it would be like this again the next time. I got a decent seven or eight minutes of swimming in, even got passed by a couple of teammates that were swimming back in and held on to a steady breathing pace, a good stroke.
I was spent like never before when I got out, and I was embarrassed enough not to say anything.
Worst first open water swim ever.
I'm over it. I think psychiatrists are great people, but I don't think talking about my claustrophobia in the water would help me. There's no a-ha moment where I realise why I'm afraid of the water and the feeling melts away. I am uncomfortable in the water because things like this happen to me. The flip side ? It's stupid. I've done seven ironmans. I even did a few of them well. I can swim. And Monday night proved to me that even at my most self-challenged, my stubbornness is much stronger than my fear. I was insane with panic, no question. I also am still here (thanks, wetsuit).
It was a disappointing low in what otherwise has been two weeks of great training...
Once again, the first chance for me to swim in the open water and I make the least of it. As I said, jackass. I am so much better of a swimmer than my first ironman, when I literally was not sure I would survive the swim. Literally. Wasn't sure I was going to survive.
I'm a way better swimmer than that guy.
Just not last Monday night.
My swimming has come a long way, and I spent a decent amount of time swimming this winter, although as always when the spring comes and duathlon season starts it takes a back seat to running and biking.
Margit encouraged me to join the team for an open water swim at Lake Quannapaug (sp) last Monday night. I hadn't been in the water for three weeks, was the last person to get there, the water was way too cold for my tastes, and I started out chasing everyone. Also, I'd done upper-body strength training that morning.
I have a real mental block about chasing people in the water. My overall lack of experience swimming with other people- I never swim with anyone else in the pool- makes for a real exaggeration in my mind as to how far behind I am, and I have a tendency to start to panic. I'm usually able to settle down in races, where there are always people around me, but when I'm all alone and last, I start looking up, which is not a good thing for me to do.
I do most of my swimming at LA Fitness. The pool is full-length, but it's 3.5 feet deep, warm, and the water is crystal clear. Lake Q is about 8 feet deep (well, I think about 15 feet at it's deepest point) and almost as dark as night. On the rare occasions when you can see the plants tickling your hands and feet, you wish you couldn't.
The first few strokes I took were great. They felt really good, my breathing, which always seems to suffer in the late spring when we have bad pollen since that time I had the ammonia poisoning, felt good.
And then bam, it all hit me. I started thinking. About how they think it's the cold water that kills most triathletes in the swim, some weird-electromechanical fartup with the human heart- for frak's sake people, please stop re-tweeting this same goddamned reheated article, it was one study but I've read ten articles based on it. Thinking about how far behind I am. About how my first open-water swim is always a total disaster and I have to turn around, head back to shore, and start over a second time.
The bottom line in all this is that while I'm not claustrophobic- I'm the guy that will crawl under a coach that's 3 millimeters higher than my ass sticks up and wait twenty minutes just to put a good scare it someone when they sit down (and the couch sags to zero millimeters above my backside)- I'm clearly claustrophobic in the water. I can't hear, I can't see, I have no sense of distance. Oh, my googles fogged up and I could not see anything, did I mention that ?
I get over it. I've been trapped on the wrong side of the same lake in thunderstorms. I've been out in the ocean when the tailbits of the hurricane starting rolling into the bay and I'ms up against the rockwall.
I've done seven ironmans. Margit reminded me of that later.
I wouldn't stop. I was lifeguard swimming to the group, but i wouldn't stop, wouldn't just turn around. However, when we reached our first stopping point, I was one of two people who'd had enough and starting swimming back.
And that's when it all fell apart.
I'm not going to go into the blow-by-blow of it, but even though I was wearing a wetsuit, I wasn't sure I was going to make it back. I felt like I was on the edge of drowning out there, impossibly far from any shore. I kept fighting to get to the beach, stopping every thirty seconds or so. I was as panicked as a wild animal and I couldn't control it. My heart rate was about 200 hundred, my breathing was burning and painful. My legs were on the verge of cramping the entire time. Finally, I did make it far enough to stand up waist deep in water, seeing stars, and I stumbled onto the shore and sat down on the beach, my feet in the water.
I waited about five minutes. I even closed my eyes and just listened to the water, trying to find a calm place inside myself, my center. Anyone who knows me is probably laughing. I have no calm center. Or I do, but I'll never admit it.
I got back in and started swimming. I knew if I went back to the car, threw my wetsuit in the trunk, and went home angry, it would be like this again the next time. I got a decent seven or eight minutes of swimming in, even got passed by a couple of teammates that were swimming back in and held on to a steady breathing pace, a good stroke.
I was spent like never before when I got out, and I was embarrassed enough not to say anything.
Worst first open water swim ever.
I'm over it. I think psychiatrists are great people, but I don't think talking about my claustrophobia in the water would help me. There's no a-ha moment where I realise why I'm afraid of the water and the feeling melts away. I am uncomfortable in the water because things like this happen to me. The flip side ? It's stupid. I've done seven ironmans. I even did a few of them well. I can swim. And Monday night proved to me that even at my most self-challenged, my stubbornness is much stronger than my fear. I was insane with panic, no question. I also am still here (thanks, wetsuit).
It was a disappointing low in what otherwise has been two weeks of great training...
Once again, the first chance for me to swim in the open water and I make the least of it. As I said, jackass. I am so much better of a swimmer than my first ironman, when I literally was not sure I would survive the swim. Literally. Wasn't sure I was going to survive.
I'm a way better swimmer than that guy.
Just not last Monday night.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Advice
I just want to say thanks- although he'll probably never see it- to Chris, who was in the LA Fitness today in the lane next to me and took the time to deconstruct the two problems with my stroke in record time.
He was dead right, my pull, just changed to something like a swimmer's, is still too short, and I don't kick enough, and these are things that I'm working on. But Margit drew the straight line that I was thinking about as well when I was in the pool after Chris took time out of his workout to help me.
My problems stem from my awkwardness in the water. Much like the strength training session last Sunday, my biggest issue in the water isn't lack of strength, my short stature, or my lack of experience as a swimmer. It's just a general lack of coordinated action.
As Margit said, 'I generally think of you as the opposite of someone who has coordination problems.'
Practice. And not just practice, but practice of good form. There's a reason I can throw a tight spiral but still struggle in the pool. One I've done thousands of time from the time I was old enough to hold a ball. The other- still learning.
It's funny. I'm 43, and I have to admit to myself that I need to learn something that's simple and basic to thousands of people- that I'm the swimming equivalent of the guy who can't throw a spiral, or in a straight-line for that point, and that I need to discover basic coordination in the water.
He was dead right, my pull, just changed to something like a swimmer's, is still too short, and I don't kick enough, and these are things that I'm working on. But Margit drew the straight line that I was thinking about as well when I was in the pool after Chris took time out of his workout to help me.
My problems stem from my awkwardness in the water. Much like the strength training session last Sunday, my biggest issue in the water isn't lack of strength, my short stature, or my lack of experience as a swimmer. It's just a general lack of coordinated action.
As Margit said, 'I generally think of you as the opposite of someone who has coordination problems.'
Practice. And not just practice, but practice of good form. There's a reason I can throw a tight spiral but still struggle in the pool. One I've done thousands of time from the time I was old enough to hold a ball. The other- still learning.
It's funny. I'm 43, and I have to admit to myself that I need to learn something that's simple and basic to thousands of people- that I'm the swimming equivalent of the guy who can't throw a spiral, or in a straight-line for that point, and that I need to discover basic coordination in the water.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Swim Stroke
Finally, I have my swim stroke. An article in the Hammer Nutrition newsletter, a brief conversation with my wife, and suddenly, it all clicked. What my coach was telling me about pushing down the T and how you had to have bent elbows to get the catch right. How the T was coming up because the catch was starting to soon and pushing me up. Jack helped me correct so many things about my stroke but I never quite put it all together.
I guess I'm a visual learner.
I climbed out of the pool Monday with a strange combination of excitement and frustration. On one hand, I'd just swum under 30 minutes for 30 laps, again, a big deal for me. On the other hand, I've been a miserable swimmer for what, seven years ? And now it comes to me ? Now ?
Of course, I know. I can't retrain my entire stroke in 3 weeks. I am not going to get in the ocean and do anything different than I have done in any other Ironman. At the end of the day, my swim won't be any better.
I have to accept that. I have to focus on retraining my swimming over the entire winter and hope it really will be better next year and that means plenty of open water swimming to get a new stroke to work in that alien, otherworld environment that is not a clear three-foot deep pool.
It's OK. I have learned something that could- COULD- make me a much better triathlete. Just not November 1st 2008.
Relax. Take your time. Enjoy that day- and then get to work. And somehow, not regret what's gone by. Not feel like I've been phoning it in the last seven years in the pool. The wasted years of modified dog-paddling ? Can't get those back...
I guess I'm a visual learner.
I climbed out of the pool Monday with a strange combination of excitement and frustration. On one hand, I'd just swum under 30 minutes for 30 laps, again, a big deal for me. On the other hand, I've been a miserable swimmer for what, seven years ? And now it comes to me ? Now ?
Of course, I know. I can't retrain my entire stroke in 3 weeks. I am not going to get in the ocean and do anything different than I have done in any other Ironman. At the end of the day, my swim won't be any better.
I have to accept that. I have to focus on retraining my swimming over the entire winter and hope it really will be better next year and that means plenty of open water swimming to get a new stroke to work in that alien, otherworld environment that is not a clear three-foot deep pool.
It's OK. I have learned something that could- COULD- make me a much better triathlete. Just not November 1st 2008.
Relax. Take your time. Enjoy that day- and then get to work. And somehow, not regret what's gone by. Not feel like I've been phoning it in the last seven years in the pool. The wasted years of modified dog-paddling ? Can't get those back...
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
More Off in My Day Off ?
I had another half-day at work today. I put myself in a hole by leaving late- 12:50PM- for the pool.
I had to shave a few hundred (not much) out of my swim. (off-topiv, they are playing Hand that Feeds during a 3rd period stoppage in Pittsburg-sweet).
Then I hopped in the car, grabbed some cash, went and had my emissions tested, drove home, and rode for 1:45. I got done at 4:59PM, called Zane's to see if they had any 650 tires in, hopped in the car, and headed off to day care.
As I was getting in the car I found myself thinking about how many minutes during my half-day off I'd had to rest, just sit down. Except for the 5 minute wait during the emissions test, the answer was none.
So I considered that. There were two answers- one, my workouts were done at 5PM and there'd be no scrambling to get them done later. Two- I enjoy being on the bike, just like I enjoy having completed my swim workout. Rest ? I can rest later. Who wouldn't rather be on their bike than rest ?
I had to shave a few hundred (not much) out of my swim. (off-topiv, they are playing Hand that Feeds during a 3rd period stoppage in Pittsburg-sweet).
Then I hopped in the car, grabbed some cash, went and had my emissions tested, drove home, and rode for 1:45. I got done at 4:59PM, called Zane's to see if they had any 650 tires in, hopped in the car, and headed off to day care.
As I was getting in the car I found myself thinking about how many minutes during my half-day off I'd had to rest, just sit down. Except for the 5 minute wait during the emissions test, the answer was none.
So I considered that. There were two answers- one, my workouts were done at 5PM and there'd be no scrambling to get them done later. Two- I enjoy being on the bike, just like I enjoy having completed my swim workout. Rest ? I can rest later. Who wouldn't rather be on their bike than rest ?
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