Carb Cravings

    I am really fighting the urge to eat massive amounts of carbs in a vain attempt to get out ahead of the depression that seems to be nipping at my heels. I know that would be a totally counterproductive, and potentially self-defeating method of self-medication, but the urge is strong. I am doing everything I know to beat back the darkness; exercise, nutrition, supplements, meditation, fresh air, adequate sleep. Did I mention exercise? Hells ya, I'm exercising. Even at my lowest I manage to gear up and work up a sweat. Now is not the time for flimsy excuses. Train hard or go home. I've been increasing my strength training, as well as my cardio. Adding time and intensity to both. Good thing I have no social life, there have been quite a few evenings when I've just said to myself, "Fuck it, I'll just workout til it's time to go to bed." And for all intents and purposes, that's exactly what I do. Oh sure, I leave myself a little time to power down some nutrition, and clean myself up a bit before climbing under the covers, but my workouts have been going from 6:30 to 9:30 several nights a week. This helps keep the darkness at bay, I'm too focused during my workout, and too tired after to do much more than eat and sleep. But today, a saturday, with too much time inside my own head, makes it tough. I am not where I thought I would be a few weeks ago, but that does seem to be the standard for my life, "When you least expect it, expect it." New Year's Eve should be interesting, I've decided that in lieu of the fun, sexy evening I had planned, I am going to hit the pool and try to swim 3 miles. Yeah, Three Miles. Nothing like filling in the emotional gaps with the purely physical. I do love the hypnotic quality of swimming, it is so rhythmic and controlled, it helps quiet the chaos in my head. But this damned carb craving today, and actually, for the last few days, or weeks, is kind of kicking my ass today. It is fortunate that I was away from the house and busy for most of the day, but g'damn, it is rearing its ugly head. I did eat a ridiculously healthy, late lunch to try and stem the tide, but it isn't really working. The only sure fire remedy that I know is to gear up and sweat. At least if I kick my ass with a workout I will have justifiably earned all the carbs I could wish to eat. Maybe buckwheat pancakes for dinner. With peanut butter, banana, and agave syrup. Yeah baby. Time to sweat.

Back to Running

    Ah, back to running. It is time, maybe even past time for me to get back to running. It is my Achilles' Heel, and definitely not my favorite way to work up a sweat. But run I must. This year I am taking a slower approach. I know I can run further, but I started with a slow and easy 1-1/2 mile sandwiched between cycling. Last year, I strained my piriformis muscle in early February and it gave me problems well into summer. This year, I am starting slow and easy, and not increasing my mileage by more than maybe a quarter mile every week or so to begin with. Last year I suffered ridiculous leg cramps in my second trail half-marathon in August, and then again during the run of my 70.3. I think many factors were involved, including how much more difficult a trail run is than a nice, level pavement pounding road run. And I think that the leg cramps during the trail run tweaked muscles in ways that certainly did me no good six weeks later when my half marathon came on the heels of a 58 mile bike ride. So, slow and steady. Well, steady-ish. I do have a six mile trail run on the calender in late February, but I am going to be sensible. Well, sensible-ish. I will run what I can, and power walk if need be. I have to get running events on the calender, I have to have the motivation of fun races to help get my base built up. I know that soon I should be doing one long run nearly every week, and the best way for me to do that, no wimping out, no excuses, is to enter a race. If I pay good money for something I will damned well do it. Besides, it is much easier to keep running with that whiff of competition, not to mention the fact that there are people watching.
    My biggest concern with running, and racking up mileage, is the potential for repetitive use injuries. My knees are delicate, and I also have a bit of trouble with hips and ankles. Yeah, I'm kind of a wreck from the waist down. This is why I am going to keep focusing on sport specific strength training, as well as CrossFit style, explosive workouts for endurance athletes. It has been shown that you can substitute intense, explosive weight training for a lot of miles, lowering the chance of injury. This year, I think I will limit my trail runs to 6 or 7 miles, because they are more intense, and fit in a few run-of-the-mill, paved half marathons. The first half I plan on doing will be mid-April, a run on paved trail from Vernonia to Banks. Yes, I know that is a few more miles than if I were only increasing my mileage by .25 a week, I did say, "steady-ish."
    So, anyhoo, back to running for me. One thing I love about adding running into the mix is that I don't plan on cutting back on the swimming or cycling, so I'm going to get to eat, a lot.

Alone In My Head

    One advantage of my style of training is that I do not, nor have ever felt the need to train in groups. I love that triathlon is basically a solitary venture, from the moment I step into the water until the crossing of the finish line, I am in my own head space, alone in my own little world, competing against no one but myself. It is as if no one else exists, just me, Body, Brain, and Spirit. It is well that I am such good company for myself, and have much practice at a solitary existence, it makes it easier to let the miles cruise past without dwelling on the silence and loneliness. It is often said to train like you race, to accustom one's self to the various rigors of endurance events. I know that they are talking more of nutrition, hydration, and base building, but it is easy enough for me to take it that step further and practice being alone inside my head. Some days this is the most difficult part of life, and training, I think. There are many days when I acknowledge how much easier it would likely be to drag my ass out of bed at 5:00 am to get in a morning workout, if I knew there was going to be someone waiting for me, or at least who would know if I was a no-show. I have tried to line up a training partner here and there, it always falls through. Which always brings me back to solitude, being alone in my own head, and knowing that at least I can rely on myself to be there when I need me.
    On the flip side of this, I am moving into a far more rigorous level of training. A 70.3 is tough enough, but still manageable miles. The Epic 250K, on the other hand, takes it to a whole new level. For this, I am going to need some help, I think. I had hoped for a training partner for cycling, because I am going to have to do a few Century rides this summer, and racking up those kinds of miles is likely to get a bit tedious over the summer. Talk about killing any chance for a social life. A running partner would do me good, as well, since running is definitely my Achilles' Heel. I have been making myself network lately, and have stirred up one good, solid connection: one of the instructors at the swim center does triathlon. She and I are discussing getting a triathlon group together soon. I don't know if any of them would be training for longer distances, in which case it may not do me much good, but at least I can fall in with more seasoned runners.
    It is difficult for me to extend myself, to suggest to someone that we might be good training buddies. I know most people would find this odd, and even silly, but for me to put myself out there, ask for assistance, let my guard down to express a need, let someone know I'd like to buddy up, is one of the most traumatic things for me to do. It is allowing someone access to a part of me that is most private, personal, and vitally important to my well being. My training is one area of my life that I feel I have complete control over, and so I guard it jealously, knowing that to share it removes some of my control. So maybe it is best that in the end I train alone, to my own drummer, in my own little world, alone in my head.

Small Tweaks

    It is no secret that I try to eat as clean as possible. I rarely eat meat, and don't eat processed meats. I can't and don't eat dairy, except for a bit of cheese now and then, which my body tolerates well enough. I am mostly wheat-free, buy organic produce, and eat organic as often as possible. I eat fruit and vegetables every day. My dinner nearly always includes a massive, green smoothie packed with vegan protein, omega-3, and anti-oxidant goodness. I don't eat pre-packaged foods, except for the occasional can of beans. I always eat a good breakfast. I pack a hefty feed bag for work, usually with roasted vegetables, a wild grains and quinoa blend, bananas, raw nuts, and protein bars, so I will never have to go out and try to buy healthy food, or eat junk for second breakfast or lunch. In other words, I am very conscientious of what I put in my body for fuel. I am not saying any of this to boast, or take on  holier-than-thou airs, it is just one more weapon in my arsenal to keep my body functioning at optimal health.
    I am always trying to add small tweaks. As time goes by I think that there can't be much more that I can do, but lately I am finding plenty. Not long ago, since my workout regime has changed from endurance focused to pre-season strength training, I changed my breakfast from a high fiber, complex carb meal to one with higher protein. This doesn't necessarily keep me full longer, I am still hungry again by 10:00, but then I do eat a lot, and frequently. I eat protein as a bedtime snack, knowing that the bulk of recovery and muscle growth occur as we sleep, and the body needs protein to recover properly.
    Six weeks ago I stopped my regular use of NSAID pain relievers. It has been proven that their use can inhibit soft tissue regeneration, and can interfere with muscle recovery and growth. This one has been a bitch and a half, since I have osteoarthritis in most of my joints. My hands and elbows have been particularly tender, and I tend to wake up in the night with something hurting like hell. But it seems to be getting a little better. Instead of pain relievers I have increased my vitamin C and bioflavinoid intake, to help lower inflammation and clear the body of the free radicals produced during workouts. I drink a huge mug of rosemary tea every night since rosemary is said to help with muscles soreness, besides, it is delicious and I can always use the hydration. I eat an anti-inflammatory diet already, and make sure to stay fairly religious to it.
The latest tweak has been to drink a pint of water first thing in the morning. By first thing, I mean before I even get out of bed. After a long night of recovery and regeneration, the body is dehydrated, and a healthy dose of H2O is known to help all the bodily systems wake up and function smoothly. It is also said to help boost the metabolism, but I'm not sure I totally buy into that one, and honestly, my metabolism seems to be firing on all eight cylinders these days.
    So there are a few new tweaks on the road to the Leadman Epic 250K: Bump the protein during the offseason/building phase, with an extra boost before bedtime; no more daily doses of NSAIDS; and hydration upon waking. Not huge, but at this stage of the game, it is the little things. The small tweaks.

Off Season Training

    My off season training has been, and is going to continue to be heavily slanted towards base building and strength training, which may seem like a no-brainer. I am convinced that the leg cramps I suffered during the run of my 70.3 were due more to lack of a solid running base, than they were to electrolyte issues. Yeah, I'm sure there were some electrolyte issues, but they were minor in the grand scheme of things. Yes, I ran a number of races with longer distances, between 10 and 13 miles, but they weren't on the heels of a 58 mile bike ride, and that is the crux. So, run I must. I have to build a solid base of running endurance if I expect to avoid the same agony I endured in September.
    I am feeling reasonably comfortable with where I am in the water and on the bike. I have been solid in my workouts, adding intensity with speedwork and power bursts. In both of these disciplines I have my I-can-do-this-all-day pace, and had no trouble during my 70.3. None. So I just have to continue to add speed and strength, along with increasing my time spent. I will be adding 2 long rides, and 2 long swims per month, starting after New Year's. Now that I am back to having no social life, I can get to the pool on Saturday mornings and swim for hours if I choose to. The one dilemma I have been having since I stopped being able to swim The Cove, is that I am lucky to have 75 minutes of swim time twice a week. The pool closes at 7 pm, and I can't get there before about 5:30-5:45. I swim until they kick me out, it is a bit of a joke between me and the life guards, they are always so polite, catching my attention with their red rescue float, "Ma'am, it's time." With the weather being absolute shit, it is not likely that I will be cycling anywhere but in my living room. Fortunately I have an excellent trainer to put my bike on, and I can ride whenever I please, which is daily. I had hoped to begin mountain biking through the off season, to really build leg strength, but that has fallen through, so it is just me, Joshua, and the trainer.
    As for strength training, it is vital. I don't think most people realize just how much strength is essential to be strong in what are basically aerobic exercises. Core strength is paramount in all three disciplines, for different reasons. In swimming, you use your core to twist hips and torso to add power to every stroke, instead of having to rely merely on arm strength. In cycling your core stabilizes your torso so you are not wasting energy with unnecessary motion, as well as powers your hips to drive your legs through every rotation of the pedals. In running, a strong core keeps your hips level lessening the chance of IT band or hip flexor strains, and also helps drive your legs, especially once you become fatigued. Muscle strength in all three disciplines keeps the body moving forward, increases endurance, lessens the chance of injury, and gives added muscle rebound in every stroke, pedal, and stride which lessens the amount of energy expended. Strength + Speed = Power. Besides, if there is one area that I am happy to push myself to the point of near-vomiting fatigue, it is strength training. It is one area that I have a considerable well of knowledge and research to draw from, as well as the tools and skills to use them. I love weight training, I always have. And there is a school of thought that you can dramatically reduce the miles needed to base build, if you do explosive weight training. I don't know if I will reduce my mileage much, but I am damn happy to increase weight training.
    I have given a lot of thought to off-season training, and have put thought into action. I have not taken "time off" from my training. I confess, I haven't run much since September, but I have increased my cycling, as well as added intensity and speed drills to both cycling and swimming. I have ramped up my strength training, core workouts, and explosive lifting these last two months. I have added a lot of leg work to my regime, doing strength training specific for runners and cyclists to help build strong, powerful glutes, quads, calves, hamstrings, and pelvic girdle. Tonight, I am all aquiver from a hard hour on the bike, alternating high cadence/easy gear with lower cadence/hard gear, followed by an insanely intense upper body and core workout. I topped it off with yoga, while downing a beautifully green smoothie chock-a-block full of spinach, vegan protein, cherry juice, banana, and an egg thrown in for omega-3s.
     Now to do the one discipline I am not very good at; getting enough sleep. The body needs sleep to heal, rejuvenate, and build muscle. I really need to be more diligent with my Zzzz's.

Thirteen Hours?!

    It has been a long, rough week, at the end of a long, tiring month. My training has flagged a little, since I have been working long hours and extra days through the month of December. Thankfully today was the finale. It has not helped that I have not been sleeping well, waking at 2 or 3 am, and lying awake, staring into the darkness for an hour or two before finally drifting back into an uneasy doze. This has made me opt for an extra hour of sleep in the mornings instead of a morning workout. But that will change, now that my work schedule is returning to normal.
    As I sit here this evening, exhausted, drained, and a tad delirious, I have been staring at the website for The Epic 250K, in Bend (Oregon, for you non-locals). This is to be my "A Race" for 2014. With a 5K swim, 223K bike, 22K run. Grand Total = 155.34 miles under my own power. Holymotherofthegods whatthehellamIthinking?!! That is 15 miles longer than an Ironman. The advantage for me is that the swim and bike legs are longer, the run is shorter. It is no secret that the run is my weak leg. But damn, a 3.1 mile swim, 138.5 mile bike, and a 13.7 mile run. Damn. At my current pacing, my times would come out something like this: Swim, 1.5 hours; Bike 9 hours; Run 2.5 hours. Total time 13 hours. LeaveMeInTheDitchToDie... Thirteen hours. THIRTEEN HOURS?! That boggles the mind. Why would anyone with a hint of sanity want to pay money to put themselves through such brutality? Yet here I sit, debating with myself whether or not I should get signed up now, before the entry fee rises on January 1st. I have decided to sleep on it. It has been a tough few days and Brain and Body are beat. I do have a few brain cells that are still functioning well enough that I know better than to make such a leap when I am this tired. The thought has me fired up and trembling with excitement though (or am I palsied with lack of sleep? I dunno.).
    The training regime would be brutal, but then, I like it rough. I would have to put in long, hard hours prepping my body for such an endeavor. The furthest I have swam is about 2.25 miles, so the swim leg does not worry me too much. I just have to use my I-can-do-this-all-day pace, and not let myself get drawn into the excitement of wanting to swim too hard and fast. The furthest I have ridden this last year was 58 miles, less than half of what I need to be able to do. But I love cycling, and am willing to risk the saddle sores. I may have lost my cycling buddy though, time will tell. The furthest I have run is 13 miles, a half marathon. I have done it several times, though not without difficulty. Granted, two of my half marathons were trail runs, and they are a bit tougher on the body than your average road run. And I can vouch for the fact that running a half marathon after a long bike ride is not an easy feat.
    But I have faith in myself, faith in Brain, Body, and Spirit. I know I have the workout ethics to train hard. But can I train hard enough? Those are some seriously long distances. I know I can have the swim in the bag in short order. Cycling is just a matter of increasing time and intensity a little bit at a time. As for the running> Now that I have to really put my mind to it, mind and body. I know I can do this. I have faith. Now I just need to get the money.

Strength + Speed = Power

    I realize that I love my body. I love my long legs. I love my strong shoulders. I love my lithe arms. Everything seems to fit together so well, and function far better than I deserve after a lifetime of beating holy hell out of myself. Truly I have abused my body with a lifetime of rigorous activity, from the time I was young and rode in rodeos and hit the dirt hard more times than I can count, played basketball on badly sprained ankles held together with massive amounts of tape, damaged knees skiing then skied on damaged knees, skateboarded the streets of Portland with bone bruised elbows and wrists, 15 years of armored combat that literally beat my body as well as tore apart joints not quite meant for such activities. Rodeo, basketball, volleyball, skiing, power lifting, full contact fighting, firefighting. Honestly, when I think about it, my body is in far better condition than I deserve. I am trying to treat my body better these days, at least train it better, so I can avoid further damage as I continue to put my body through the wringer.
    I have increased my strength training these last weeks, especially my legs, and am noticing a difference already. I have a solid base of fitness now that I can maintain with relative ease (key word: Relative). The key is to never rest on your laurels, always strive for more. Since it is my off-season now, I am not pushing for more endurance at this point, instead I am focusing on strength and speed.
                                                      Strength + Speed = Power
    I am working on my power. And it shows in every day movements from squatting down to pick up my grandson, or lifting a heavy package. I am unduly impressed with the grace in which my legs move, and the ease in which they power me up and forward. I have been doing a lower body strength workout that is specific for runners and cyclers: Step ups onto a 24" box, hip dips, single leg calf raises, single legged squats, single legged deadlift, split squats, kettlebell swing, leg lifts, clamshell, plank with leg lift. I am hoping this will let me run my next long race without worrying about leg cramps, but more importantly, I want to run and cycle with power. In other words, Strength and Speed.
    I am also doing a swim specific strength workout for upper body: Single arm press with twist, fly, french curl, press, dip, push up, bent over fly, bent over row, tricep press. I need a long reach, good grab, and strong pull if I want to swim longer, harder, and faster.
    What does all this mean? Besides more workouts? It means I want to get to the start of next season with more endurance, but also with more ability to complete and compete. It means I want Strength + Speed so I can have Power. It means I want to be better, be the best I can be.

Temple

    I have been criticized on occasion for my over-diligent workout ethic. Criticized, teased, even made to feel slightly harassed. I try to not take it personally, I do know I am obsessive after all. Behind the obsession lies the hard truth; without regular, vigorous workouts I would very likely be a basketcase, emotionally, mentally, and physically. It really came home to roost about 15 years ago, when I was first diagnosed with depression. Oh, I have always exercised on a regular basis, even at my heaviest and least active phases, I was still doing regular exercise. It was the diagnosis of depression, and the years battling it, that made me do what I do best, research. Search for an answer, a remedy, and if not a cure at least a method of management.
    The winter of 2000-2001 was when I began to truly understand the role that regular, hard workouts had on the depression that always worsened as winter would drag on and on. That was the year I discovered cross country skiing, and lost about 30 pounds. It was miraculous just how much more smoothly Brain functions when well lubricated with sweat. Since that point I have always, and I do mean always, made sure that as summer drew to a close, and the summer fighting season dwindled, that I had a workout regimen firmly entrenched in my life. I couldn't even begin to guess how many times I have been hard into a workout, a sweating, pulse pounding, teeth gritting, grunting workout, all the while with tears brimming in my eyes and sobs constricting my breathing. Yes, it has been that bad. For more than a decade, that has been a level of normalcy that I have hidden from the world. But I know that it could be so much worse. If I succumbed to the inner voices that try to lure me into sloth, gluttony, apathy, inertia, ennui, I know I would find myself in an abyss too deep to crawl out of. It has only been through diligence and force of will that I have kept myself on a fairly even keel over the years. It has all been an abject lesson in caring for my body.
    That is the key, caring for Body. By caring for Body I give Brain a strong sanctuary, a fortress. I have learned that Body is a temple, truly. A temple to always treat with care and respect. Over the years I have perfected the art of caring for my Temple from the inside out. I eat carefully, and as cleanly as I can. I do not allow Body to be polluted with toxins, or deprived of nourishment. Now, having left armored fighting, I have finally found a sport that requires, no, demands rigorous training year round, with ever increasing intensity. I am having to continually work on strength, power, stamina, and endurance. This keeps Body well occupied and far too busy to allow the darkness to take hold. Yes, my muscles are chronically sore and complaining, but it is as nothing compared to the aches I would have if I were to allow myself to be inactive. Just lying in bed too long makes my joints ache, I can only imagine what it would be like if I were to remain idle for too long. My diligent training regimen has brought my weight to its lowest in my adult life, and requires that I eat, a lot, which is a fabulous defense against depression, both the weight loss and the consumption of energy laden carbs. And let's not forget the endorphin and dopamine rush that accompanies every rigorous workout. It is my drug of choice and proven a far better anti-depressant, and sleep aid, than any pharmaceutical.
    So when people tease me for my diligence, or I feel a trace of hostility from someone for what must seem like a narcissistic neurosis, I will not retaliate with hostility, or allow my delicate feelings to be bruised. Instead I will hear the Temple chimes in my head, and know that I am merely an accolade, caring for the most important Temple in my world. My Body, My Temple.

Need To Push

    I am beginning to feel as if I am not pushing myself hard enough, especially in the pool. Oh sure, I can go and pump out 50 laps, which is a decent distance. But it doesn't fatigue me. I need to be swimming hard enough that I crawl out of the pool quivering with exhaustion, and wanting to throw up. I am adding some different drills to try and push myself harder, including individual medley sets (breast stroke, back stroke, and crawl), and sprints. It does not seem like enough, but I will keep pushing. I have bumped up the cycling, adding power bursts, sprints, and tabata sets, as well as morning workouts 4 days a week in addition to my standard evening workouts. I have started up running again. I admit, I hadn't run since my 70.3, but now an running on the dreadmill 4 times a week, slowly adding distance. The key here is that I am at the point that in order to improve I need to either add more time, or more intensity. Honestly, I don't want to devote more time to training than I already am. I have better things to do with my time than always be sweating out a workout.
    I am pretty sure these statements are being met with eye rolls from most people. "Sheesh, not pushing yourself? Seriously?" Yeah, it probably does sound a bit, dare I say, egotistical, to a lot of people, but I am serious. Two months ago I did a half-Ironman, 70.3 miles under my own power, and didn't suck at it. But, I did have brutal leg cramps for 9 miles of the run, largely in part to lack of running foundation. Now, I am looking at wanting to double that distance? That is fucking insane. There, I said it. I am crazy. I may be crazy, but I am not stupid, I need to be able to effortlessly swim about 2.5 miles, and easily cycle 100+ miles so that I can have energy left to run a marathon. Hell, right now I wouldn't have the energy to run the marathon, much less do it after having already spent 8 hours or so swimming and biking. So yeah, I need to push myself a bit.
    There is also that small matter that I do not want "Off-season weight gain." I know I am obsessing, but I worked damned hard to get where I am and I don't want to blow it now. It is much harder to try and rebuild fitness, than it is to maintain it.
    Now to that end, to push myself, I need to get to bed so I can be up at insane-thirty, aka 5:15 am, to put in my morning 70 minutes of cycling and running before I trundle myself off to work. Tomorrow, thursday, is a swim day as well, so I need to be thinking of what I will do once I slip into the water. It never ends. And I'm glad it doesn't. I love that I can push myself as much as I do, now I just need to take it to the next level.

Playing Catch-up

    I am feeling a tad guilty for not keeping up with my writings these last few months. It is reflective of my life, which seems so chaotic and busy that I feel as if I am always playing catch-up. My workouts have been a bit shorter, and somewhat sporadic of late, at least in comparison to the months leading up to my 70.3, although I have been ramping up the intensity. I have yet to do any running, I can't seem to muster much enthusiasm in that discipline, though I know that is where I need to really focus my energies. Instead I have been cycling at least an hour daily, and putting in two very focused swim sessions a week. I am also increasing my strength training considerably.
    I have changed things up with my cycling. Before my 70.3 my main focus was the long, steady state ride, with quick cadence, and easy gearing. Training my body in the I-can-do-this-all-day pace, which was exactly what I needed pre-race. Now I am working to add speed and power to my cycling. instead of maintaining a 90-95 rpm for the duration of the ride, I am adding power bursts, and slower, harder gear cycling. Power bursts are kinda my favorite right now, but are hard on the knees so I am limiting myself to twice a week. Basically, a power burst is going from a dead stop to 85-95 rpm in the hardest gear, and holding the pace for about 20 seconds, repeat 10X, then cycle at high cadence, easy gearing for 2 minutes. Doesn't sound like much, does it? But holymotherofthegods, it is a bit of an ass kicker. I am also doing some slower cadence, harder gear power hours. Yes, I am still doing high cadence riding, but by mixing in the harder work I should be building my power and speed, as well as my endurance. Add to this some very solid leg work geared specifically for cycling and running, and my legs and glutes are getting beat into shape. Now, if I could just have the same passion for running as I do for cycling...
    It is hard to really change things up in the pool, but I have found a few ways to spice it up a bit. I admit, I really miss swimming in The Cove. I miss the cool, green water, the solitude, the quiet, the ability to swim non-stop for as long as I have daylight. But I will have to wait about 8 months before I can return. I have been working at doing long swims at race pace, and even slightly faster. I try to swim as fast as I can while still maintaining good form. The best way to know if I am using good form? I hold my breath and see how much noise I am making. I love that all I hear is a soft, wet sigh as my hand and arm enter the water. I make almost no noise when I swim, and the only splash I make is at the end of my stroke as I push all the way through my stroke, past my thigh, and flip a little water out behind me. Another drill I have added is The Personal Medley. This entails adding backstoke and breaststroke laps throughout my swim. Yes, for a true medley I would do butterfly as well, but I can't quite get myself to make that big of a fool of myself.
    Last night, I didn't get to swim because all the lanes were full of children taking swim lessons, so I did a good 60 minutes on the bike, with 10 power burst sets, and followed up with 30 minutes of core and hip work. This morning I was on the bike (in the living room) by 6:00am. I did 50 minutes, varying gearing and cadence. I followed with 20 minutes of leg work targeting glutes and calves. Tonight, we had the night off from drill at the station so I got in a solid 90 minute upper body workout, targeting all my swim muscles. I think my triceps and trapezius are going to be whiny tomorrow. Tomorrow morning I will be on the bike, and hopefully at the pool in the evening.
    Life has been rather unpredictable of late, so I am trying to get in a morning workout whenever possible, just in case my evening gets rerouted. It has been working for me so far, most mornings, and I need to turn it into habitual behavior. That is how my last few weeks have been, bike like a fiend as often as possible, and swim hard whenever I can manage. Soon, I hope to be mountain biking, to add to the fun. And that opens a whole world of possibilities, including off-road triathlons. So who knows what the future holds, but it will be a lot of hard work, and even more fun. Now, time for the one thing that I am always short of: sleep.
   

No Time For Slacking

    What a difference a day or two makes. I am feeling back on track with my workouts and my nutrition. It is so easy to stray off the path, especially at this time of year, when my spirits are inclined to tilt towards melancholy. But it is a self perpetuating cycle, one that can spiral out of control rapidly. Slack on the workouts for a day or two and consume too much sugar, and I start to feel blue and slovenly, which makes me inclined to want to slack on my workouts and eat too much sugar, and so it goes. But I see the pitfall. I see and understand the behaviors, the cause and effect. I understand myself and my body. I have been very aware of the correlation between exercise and depression prevention. It is something I have been acutely aware of for over a decade. I have always made it a solid point to have my workout regime solidly in place before the beginning of September, because that is when things start to unravel. Years ago, depression would catch me off guard, unawares. It would start innocently enough with an autumn cold, a bug I just couldn't seem to shake, and it would take me down for weeks on end. In reality, the virus only lasted a week or so, but the lassitude it caused would linger on, an innocuous segue into winter depression, which usually brought about winter weight gain as well. The lassitude and weight gain always made me feel like I lacked self-control, and I would internalize a certain amount of anger and resentment, aimed at myself, which just compounded the depression. Or the depression compounded the anger and resentment. Chicken or egg, really. The long and short of it is that I understand it, I understand it better now than I did even two years ago. I have to. My winter vacation in The Abyss taught me more about myself, my demons, my depression, and my strength, than anything I could have learned from any outside source. It taught me that when I feel the first tugging of that downward spiral I need to act and react immediately. I have to be able to step up, take control, lead myself back onto the path.
    Some may say I am a control freak. Maybe so. But I know myself, I know myself very well, and I know how easily depression can sneak up, slip in unawares, and take hold with a death defying grip. I also know exactly what it takes to keep me happy, healthy, and moving forward with life. It is not a huge secret. It is not even complicated. It boils down to this: Workout with diligence, eat wholesome foods with a passion, keep Body and Brain occupied and strong. It is a very simple formula.
    To this end, I am back to being an Accidental Vegetarian, eating massive amounts of leafy greens, baking and consuming vast quantities of my Roasted Winter Veg dish (see deasalcooks.blogspot.com), and avoiding processed anything. I have also kicked my workouts up a gear or two. Last night I cycled for an hour, doing 10 sets of Power Bursts (drop to lowest gear, pedal hard up to 85-90 rpm for about 20 seconds, then switch to normal gear and pedal for 2 minutes), and 40 minutes of core work. Tonight I hit the treadmill for the first time in a very long time. I haven't really ran since my 70.3, so I didn't want to over do it. I ran easy for a bit to warm up, then upped it to just above my 10K pace for 5 minutes. Then I alternated: 5 minutes of 10K pace, one circuit of upper body strength training, for 3 sets.
    It is now officially my "Off Season," time to start building strength and speed now, then I will add endurance in a few months. So, sprints (in all three disciplines),  power bursts, interval training, CrossFit, weight training, and Yoga will be the standard M.O. for the next few months, to get me through the holidays and into the dead of winter. Come January/February I will start building my endurance. I am looking at The Pacific Crest Long Course Tri in June for my first major event, another 70.3. But I am eyeing a few half marathons, and 25K trail runs before then. There is no time to slack, to take time off for melancholy. There is work to be done, events to prepare for, life to chase after, fun to be had. No time for slacking.

Slacker

    I have to admit, I am feeling a bit shitty about myself today. Today, I ate too much sugar, too much wheat, dropped my control, overate in a way I haven't done in a very long time. I feel glutted, sickly, unhealthy. Lately I have not been eating right, not working out with my regular diligence, have put on a few pounds, and have just felt "off" for a couple of weeks. Yes, I have had this bitch of a cold that has given me just enough of an excuse to let myself slack, but I feel that it really is just an excuse. Yes, I did complete a major endurance event just a month ago, and I have been told often enough that it can truly take 4 to 6 weeks to recover from such an endeavor. But, you know what? I call bullshit. I have been slacking, I have let my nutritional habits falter, I have let workouts slide, I am letting myself succumb to the onset of winter depression. I can't let it happen, not now, not when everything is going so well. Not when I have worked so hard to get where I am. I have been struggling to get back on track, but my focus is lost. I don't have the same drive that I needed to get myself through a summer of rigorous training to prep for The Big One. Here I am, no serious events on the horizon, nothing to drive my training. I am lost and wandering in circles, and starting to get pissed that I can't find my way. I know that right now, this very moment, I am tired, on a sugar buzz, feeling overemotional, out of balance, edgy, and drained, and very likely this is making me also be very harsh and judgmental. I am my harshest critic, and toughest coach, after all. I would love to be able to relinquish control, let myself relax, slack, take a vacation from me, but I can't. I know that I need to find an event in the not too distant future to set my sights on. I do have a few smaller events lined up in the next few months, but they are my "just for fun" adventure races. Don't let that fool you, they are not easy runs. Shellburg Falls is a 7 mile trail run with some of the steepest terrain I have encountered on a trail run, with one long stretch that is steep enough it requires hands and feet to climb. But it is not an endurance event. I yearn for another 70.3 mile encounter. I want to try 140.6. I am an addict going through withdrawls and depression. I want a fix. I need a fix. Instead I see the oncoming onslaught of winter, rain tapping on the window, wind ripping leaves from the trees, shorter days, longer nights, cold, wet, grey. I need to snap out of it, grab myself by the lapels and give myself a couple of sharp slaps. I need to be held accountable for my actions, or lack thereof. I can tell you one thing for certain, as a self-coached athlete, my coach can be a real bitch, and she is already pissed at me. Time to get my head back in the game.

Struggling

   I have realized that I am really struggling with the post season blues. Not only am I supposed to allow myself to back off on the training a bit, but I have no events on the calendar to look forward to either. I want to be training as hard as I was back in July and August. I want to be spending the bulk of what little free time I have training, doing double workouts, draining myself with cycling/running bricks. I know I am supposed to take a little down time, change up my workouts, cross train. I am good with the cross training, I do that anyway, but I want to go out on a 50 mile bike ride followed by a run.  I want to put on my Selkie suit and swim long laps in the emerald green water of The Cove, with the afternoon sun glittering on the water through the pines. I want to swim until I am shaky, exhausted, and ravenous.
    Yes, I am swimming laps at the pool. Swimming upwards of 1-1/2 to 2 miles a couple of times a week. But it is the pool, 25 yards and turn, 25 yards and turn. Over and over. As Lance Armstrong said, "The problem with lap swimming is that after the first 50 yards, you've seen the whole course." I do enjoy the hypnotic quality of lap swimming, and am more likely to add sprints, apoxic sets, and fin work, but I miss the freedom of open water.
    Yes, I am on my bike, on the trainer in the living room, pedaling like a freak until the sweat is rolling off of me in waves. I am doing power sets, sprint sets, and steady state aerobic rides. And following it with leg and core workouts until I am trembling. But I miss the freedom of the road.
    I can't yet bring myself to get on the treadmill. The monotony would be more than I can bear. I need to get out on trails and run through the woods. I need to have hills so steep I have to climb them with hands and feet. I want to scramble up rock faces, clamber over logs, jump or wade creeks. I miss the freedom of trail running.
    That is the crux, I am missing the freedom that is so easily found on long, summer days. As we head into winter the sun sets so early it is impossible to get out into the great wide open after work. I have yet to mentally adjust to the cold and rain, the shortening days. I know I will, I have to, it will be another 6 months or more before the sun is a regular companion. I need to retrain myself to enjoy the rain on my face. I can't surrender to the grey of winter.
    But the one thing that saves me from surrendering to the dark is a training schedule. I need to get my calendar out, start planning my next adventures, give myself targets to aim at, goals to reach for, dreams to dream. I need to get back to training hard, one way or another.
   

With One Eye To The Future

    I have been intentionally taking it easy the last few weeks, recuperating from my half-Ironman, and resting up for the Portland Marathon. This last week has thrown a rock in the cogs, I came down with a cold. Not a particularly nasty cold, but it has settled into my lungs, so I have been gentle with my body, swimming only once, and cycling twice. Funny thing, my mantra in the weeks leading up to my A Race was, "stay whole, stay healthy." And I did, but it was as if as soon as I let my guard down, relaxed my vigil, the first virus that came along snuck in under my sheild and attacked. I can't be too upset, I did stay whole and healthy all summer long. I told myself that if I were recovered from this cold by today, one week from the marathon, I could run it. But I am not recovered. My lungs ache, and I sound like an escapee from a tuberculosis ward. What this means is that I will not be running the marathon. There is no way my body would hold up to 26 miles either running or speed walking, in what will very likely be cold, wet weather. I would do my body far more harm than even my desire to compete can justify. Pushing the body as hard as endurance racing requires can lower the immune system, letting what is a minor virus erupt into a situation that could take me down long and hard. Between recovering from my race, and trying to recuperate from a virus has given me far more down time from training than I like. I am so accustomed to a hard workout at least six days a week, that slimming it down to three or four moderate days is messing with my head a little. It is also forcing me to not complete what I have been thinking of as the Icing on the Season. Granted, marathon is not my gig, not what I have trained for, so it would have been a bit of a struggle. But, being what could be misconstrued as sado-masochistic, I like a struggle. I actually feel more victorious after an event if there was some major suffering involved. I know, that is probably not a healthy mentality, but it is what it is. It is who I am. I like to push myself further than I probably should. What is the point of doing something easy? It should always be a challenge.
    All that being said, with one eye to the future, I am mentally working on my new training regimen. I am excited to be adding mountain biking to my training program. It will add strength and endurance to my cycling, as well as open the door to competing in off-road triathlons. That gives me a thrill of excitement as it is something I have been eyeing all summer. Everyone knows how much I prefer trail running to road running, and that would make the whole triathlon experience that much more fun. There are a number of off road triathlons around the state that would be exciting to compete in.
    During and after my 70.3 I have felt that it is the racing distance for me. It seemed perfect for my body. I want to continue training, increasing my speed and endurance in all three disciplines. I would like to shave a solid hour off of my time, and I know I can do just that. I need a more solid running base, there is no doubt about it. With better running speed and endurance, I can expend more energy swimming and running, because in theory I won't need to be so stingy, needing to hold back as much as possible for the run. In theory. I do plan on doing at least two 70.3 races next year, and a 140.6. Now, to start building that running base.
    Running, CrossFit, plyometrics, and mountain biking, added to continuing swimming and cycling. Increasing intensity, speedwork, and pushing the envelope on cardio and lactate threshold workouts. That is the plan. Explosive, intense workouts. Strength training. Core work. Speed and stamina. Power and agility. So much to work on, I am so excited. I learned so much this last year, to add to what I learned the year before, projecting into the coming year. I want to start today, and maybe this evening, I will.

Food. The Enemy?

    On occasion I get a trifle annoyed that food has become The Enemy. Not by my choice, let me remind you. This has been a sneaky, subversive attack, unwarranted, unwanted, undeserved, unappreciated. I feel as if a long loved friend suddenly turned against me. Maybe it is my fault to a degree. I used to turn to my comforting friend, Food, when I was melancholy, or tired, or celebrating, and I have now turned my back on Food, turning to other, more productive methods of alleviating stress, assuaging emotions, or savoring triumph. I have spurned the tempting advances of foods that I know to be delicious, satisfying, and decadent, though less than optimal fuel for my engine. Could it be that Food is not the enemy, but retaliating against me and my diabolically healthful ways? I have wondered. It does seem as if the healthier I eat, the healthier I have to eat, or suffer dire consequences for ill advised choices. But where Food becomes The Enemy is in the random, sporadic attacks of gastrointestinal distress brought about by foods that have been previously deemed healthy, nutritionally dense, and perfect. I have run the gauntlet of late: raw mouth, burning and tingling of mouth and tongue, heartburn, cramps, bloating, sharp pain, dull pain, annoying pain. The odd thing is that a food that has been a staple will suddenly cause me severe problems, case in point: tree nuts, and bananas. Yes, bananas. A staple of my diet for their easy digestibility, palatability, good carbs, and potassium. Just the last week or so, I have noticed a burning sensation in my mouth when I eat them, followed by heartburn and various other less savory symptoms that I hesitate to mention in polite company. I'm pretty peeved over this one, I eat a lot of g'damned bananas.
    As much as I like being able to handle things on my own, figure out my own quirks, analyze issues, find solutions, I am thinking it may be time to call on the professionals. I am a hair's breadth from seeing an allergist. So many of my symptoms are allergy-like: burning mouth, sore tongue, chronic congestion in my throat and bronchia. The other option is to go on a cleansing fast, then add items one at a time. The downside of this is that I work out too prodigiously to not be eating a healthy assortment of nutrient dense foods. I have already dropped below what I think of as optimal weight. Okay, that is a bit of a lie. I am kinda stoked about my current weight, but I definitely don't need to drop any more, and need fuel to build and rebuild muscle. I am at a bit of a loss. I know I can keep eating foods that fuel me properly, and just suffer the consequences. But just how healthy is it for me to eat foods that are causing obvious inflammation? It is beyond frustrating. I want to be able to eat whatever the hell I want to, be it a PB&J, or a double cheeseburger, or a vegan taco, without worrying about the aftermath. So, until there is a dramatic change, a truce, an armistice, a cease fire, Food continues to be The Enemy

Run Long

    Counting down to the next Big One. In just over two weeks I will run my first marathon. I know I have not properly trained to run 26+ miles, instead I have trained to cover 70.3 miles, only 13.2 of which are running. A Half-Ironman was my ultimate goal, and I grabbed that gold ring. A marathon will be a triumph, but I don't see it in quite the same light. Running has been my Achilles's Heel from the very beginning of my triathlon journey. My joints just don't allow me to run the mileage that most long course, and endurance athletes run. I have trained hard, substituting strength training, plyometrics, and crazy amounts of cycling for some of the miles I wish I could have been running. I am pretty sure that it has been my lack of running miles that contributed to the nearly debilitating leg cramps I experienced for a goodly portion of the half-marathon leg of my long course tri. And now, I am a few weeks out from attempting to run twice that distance. Am I insane? Well, yes, I do seem to be a bit of a lunatic. I am salving my nerves with the knowledge that The Portland Marathon will very likely be the flattest course I have run in the last 12 months, except for my Olympic Tri in August. All of my long running events have been at the least quite hilly, at worst they were brutally steep. The running leg of my long course tri was very hilly, with almost zero level ground. I know that it is too late in the game to do anything about my base level of running fitness, that it why I am fretting. I remind myself that the last half marathon I ran was literally right on the heels of a 1.2 mile swim, and a 56 mile bike ride, so it is not exactly comparing apples to apples. And my last running only event was the Hagg Lake Half, which had some very steep hills. I think the wisest thing for me to do at this point is exactly what I have been doing: cycling, some running, plyometrics, core strengthening, strength training, and plenty of stretching. I have run several long events with no ill effects, this should be no different. It is just that after suffering through miles of such agonizing cramps I am feeling just a tad flinchy. I would really rather not go through that again. Ever. Ever. I know I will run at my penguin pace, just aiming to finish in decent time, and with little or no walking. That is my goal. Yes, this is gonna hurt. But pain is temporary, triumph is everlasting.

Recovery Observations

   It has been a fascinating few weeks, observing just how Body has reacted to the epic adventure I just put it through. Yes, there was pain, but it truly was negligible. There was only about a 24 hour period when my legs made me want to cry, and at a few points, want to vomit. After that, I was no more sore than I would have been after a particularly strenuous workout. My energy level has bounced back quickly, and I've been able to put in decent workouts this week. I know I should probably spend more time allowing for recovery, but I am not pushing myself more than about 75% max. Besides, my season isn't over yet, I still have my first marathon staring at me from about 2 weeks out. My sleep has still been a bit wonky, but that could be due to the changing weather, Autumn looming.
    I had fully expected to be ravenously hungry last week, but I was surprised to actually have less of an appetite than my normal, chronic need to fuel. But that all changed this week. I have felt like a bottomless pit. I can't seem to shovel in enough food to keep the hunger pangs at bay. Two nights this week I even overdid it with organic, dark chocolate, and peanut butter as a late snack. I think Body is attempting to reverse the seven pound deficit it accrued over the last three weeks. I'm okay with that. I don't need to be running my engine so lean, maybe next year as I head into my big event, but not now, not as I recover from hard training and a milestone event. Besides, I do have a few big events left, and need to have my energy as fully recovered as possible. If that means late night noshing on dark chocolate and peanut butter to top off my tanks, so be it, it's not like I am inclined to do that very often. I will say, I am reining in that particular indulgence, a little bit anyway.
    I am actually rather astonished at how much energy I had right after the race, and how quickly Body seems to have recovered. It gives me hope that next year, when I attempt 140.6 miles, or The Epic 250K, however I want to think of it, that I won't totally wreck myself. Now I just have to figure out how to train enough. That is always the dilemma, there is just not enough time.

Steady State Aerobic

    On an interesting aside is the weight shift I experience after an arduous event. The Big One is a perfect example. I went into the race at a solid 155 pounds. Now, one would think that the next day I would weigh less, due to calorie burn and inevitable dehydration. No. I weighed an easy 160 pounds, and carried the extra weight for 4 days. I know what it is. It is a combination of increased blood volume, which occurs in endurance events, and muscle inflammation, which is also inevitable. Yesterday morning, 7 days after the race, I am down to 153 pounds. That is the calorie burn registering on the scale. I thought I would be ravenously hungry all week, but actually my appetite was fairly moderate. It helps that my heirloom tomatoes are in full production right now so I have been gorging on tomatoes with every meal at home.
    I don't want to stay at this weight. I never in my life thought I would say, "I need to put on a few pounds." Yes, I still see the bit of fat around my waist that bugs me, but I am female, and not wanting to sport ripped, six-pack abs. I have two more major events in the next few weeks: The Firefighter Stairclimb, and The Portland Marathon. I will go into each of these at whatever weight my body settles at after fully recovering from 70.3 miles.
    I do know that one of the keys to the weight loss that has occurred over this last year, from 170 down to 155, the last vestiges of being overweight, has been cycling for long periods of time at a fat burning aerobic rate. The body has to learn to burn fat. A body will burn the glycogen stores in the muscles, then feel tired. It does not want to tap into the fat stores. But it can be trained to do so with long, steady state, aerobic exercise such as cycling, swimming, and/or running at a steady rate. Go just hard enough to elevate the pulse and respiration, but don't go so hard that your tongue is dragging in the dirt, and your heart is trying to pound its way through your ribcage.
    This was just rolling around in my brain this morning.

Plan Of Attack

    As obsessive as I am, and you all know just how obsessive that can be, I am already getting excited for next year's challenge: The Leadman Epic 250K Triathlon. I am already starting to mull over a new training regimine, a plan of attack that will have heavy focus on cycling, since I will be facing 138 mile bike ride. I think I may have found a partner in crime to train with, and this makes me even more excited to get underway. I have always trained alone, it is just my way. I like the solitude of solo efforts. Which is part of the appeal of triathlon, it is a solitary endeavor from the moment you set foot on the event ground. But I know that having a training partner that shares my mindset, and has experience in road racing, will push me to go further and faster than I am likely to do on my own. Don't get me wrong, I can, and do, push myself far and hard. No one can say I don't train with diligence, that I don't push myself damned hard, that I am not disciplined. But I like the idea of having just a bit of the whip to make me truly reach deep within my soul to find out just how much more I can push.
    Above and beyond road miles, I will be upping the ante with some serious CrossFit and Tabata style training. This style of workout involves going through a series of strength exercises, doing as many reps as possible in 20 seconds, rest 10 seconds, move on to the next exercise, continuing for 5 to 7 sets. I am already making a mental list of workouts to build strength and explosive power. I will be adding plenty of (or should I say, "even more"?) plyometrics, legwork, and core strengthening. I am planning on revamping my garage for some serious heavy work, and continuing to abuse my living room with all the gear I have piled up there. I will be increasing my upper body work, and adding more speedwork at the pool to get ready for a 3+ mile swim. That is a damned long swim. I know it will be difficult for me to increase the time I spend working out, so I need to increase the intensity. Work harder and smarter.
    I have over a year to be ready for The Leadman, and I plan on competing in at least one 70.3 next year, if not several. A year seems like a long time at this moment, but I know from the season that is winding down that the year goes by damned fast. Time to get training.

The Gateway Drug

    I have always been a user, to some degree or another, at least since I was about 18. It really did start my senior year in high school, when I attended college instead of high school. True, I had dabbled from about 7th grade on. But college was when it really began. It started innocently enough, with Ballet. That quickly escalated to Jazz and Modern dance, with weight lifting added in as a supplement. Shortly after that I was an instructor at a gym, and that is when weight lifting became my preferred high. Oh, I dabbled in other activities, racquet sports, Jazzercise, aerobics classes, but always came back to weight lifting as the easy, mellow buzz, and one I could access on my own. Armored combat came into my life over 15 years ago, and it was a rush, but too sporadic, and it introduced me the the gut clenching, sweat dripping, hardcore blast of a heavy bag workout. But that wasn't sustainable over time, too much potential body damage, too reliant on others. Stepping away from armored combat, I continued with the mild buzz of weight lifting, it sustained me through dark times, an antidepressant. It was surgery that brought me face to face with what would become my drug of choice. Sheerly by accident, a chance remark from my physical therapist, "You can swim and cycle all you want." That was it, the door opened; Sprint Triathlon, amped up by glorious visions of Ironman. I was hooked. I admit, as with any hardcore drug it took me a little time to adjust, some uncomfortable, painful, even nauseous moments. I started small and easy, thinking "just this once." Isn't that what all addicts think? Just once? There were times when I wanted to quit, struggled with rising addiction, almost walked away. But I was hooked. Sometimes, the build up to the high was almost more than I could stomach, but then the endorphins kick in and all the pain and misery fall away. Now, I need more. Bigger and better. There will be more pain and misery, but I am prepared to suffer just to experience that amazing buzz. I can't go back to the small doses, that just won't cut it. I've found 70.3 and it is glorious, I can only imagine what 140.6 will feel like. I want to put out a public service announcement, "Sprint Triathlon, the Gateway Drug."

What Next?

    It is not here yet, but I am pretty sure it is on the way. Post Event Depression. I have had such a specific focus for so long I almost feel like the rug has been yanked out from underneath me. To head off a potential crash I am already formulating my next epic adventure. As a matter of fact, I have been eyeballing a few things for quite some time. I knew that once I had completed The Big One I would have to have another focal point or I would likely flounder. I think I have found next seasons grand finale: The Leadman Epic 250K Triathlon in Bend. It is 155.3 miles and distributed differently from traditional "Ironman" events. The traditional Ironman is 140.6 miles: 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike ride, 26.2 mile run. Exactly twice the distance of each event I did on saturday, which was a true "Half-Ironman" distance. The Leadman is a 3.1 mile swim, 138 mile bike, and a 13.7 mile run. This appeals to me since it puts more importance on my 2 best disciplines: swim and bike. I can definitely get in the pool time, and open water swims again all through next summer. I also may have found a cycle training buddy that would very likely whip my ass into shape on the roads, as well as be able to give me excellent advice.
    The Epic 250 may be my grand finale, but I have other events I will want to add to the schedule. I will do another Half-Ironman, with the goal of a sub 7 hour finish. I think that is very doable. I would also like to get in a few longer trail runs. I did two trail half-marathons this year, and know I could do better. There is a 25K mud run at Hagg Lake in February that I wanted to hit this year, but was neck deep in firefighter academy at the time. I am really considering a 50K trail ultra-marathon, but know I would really need to get my base built up for that.
    I am already looking ahead and mentally reworking my training schedule to add more legwork, plyometrics, and CrossFit Endurance workouts. I know my knees would implode if I ran as much as I should to be putting myself through these events, so I have to find alternatives. It has been shown that the explosive, strength training workouts of CrossFit can build endurance as well as strength. And can take the place of some of the mileage needed to be a decent endurance athlete. The one negative aspect that the trainers came up with is that it does not train your mind for the long hours spent on your feet, and inside your head. Fortunately, I am very good at being inside my own head.
    Nothing is set in stone. But I am looking ahead, planning, scheming, plotting, all in an effort to make sure I can stay on an even keel through the winter. I want a challenge on the books for next year. A lofty goal to make me push myself, reach for the gold ring. The Epic 250K is right up my alley.

The Aftermath

    The physical aftermath of The Big One has been interesting, and somewhat unexpected. Of course I was hungry immediately after the race. Hell, I had been eating nothing but electrolyte laden sugar bombs for 7 hours, my body is not used to that kind of abuse. We hit a local diner for some quite excellent chicken fajita pizza. Yes, wheat and meat, neither of which have touched my lips very often these last few months, but I knew I needed protein and carbs. And it was delicious. I drank about a quart of water and ate a Clif bar on the 2 hour ride home, while talking incessantly, and excitedly about damn near everything. Once home, I made one of my green protein smoothies to blast some good stuff into my nutrient depleted body. Before bed I ate a bowl of granola. Yeah, I was hungry. I woke in the middle of the night, wired, and hungry. So I got up, ate another bowl of granola, blogged for a bit, downed some Muscle Milk that has been collecting dust in my fridge for a while (yes, I checked the expiration date). Not my first choice, but I knew I needed protein. I didn't sleep well. I was beginning to feel nauseated. I thought it was the Muscle Milk, since my meals had all been small, just frequent. Sunday morning I woke up ravenous, and since I didn't have eggs to make pancakes with peanut butter and banana, which was what I was craving, I had another bowl of granola. Now, let me tell you, this is really good, organic, gluten free, all natural, seriously good shit granola, and I top it with unsweetened almond milk. But almost as soon as I had eaten it I though I was going to vomit. Seriously. I spent most of sunday morning feeling like I was going to puke if I moved to fast. Finally I sacked up and headed to the grocery store for unflavored Pedialyte (basically all the good stuff in gatorade, without all the nasty shit), and organic chicken broth. I spent the next few hours drinking Pedialyte cocktails: splash of black cherry juice, Pedialyte, and ice. By the way, unflavored Pedialyte tastes like ass. It kind of reminded me of the Salt Stick I had dumped under my tongue during the race. Nasty. Hence, adding the splash of black cherry. Finally I felt settled enough to try white rice with chicken broth. That did okay. I was getting seriously hungry. My friend came by and took me out for a late lunch, I opted for hot turkey sandwich with mashed potatoes. It did me right. Later, hungry again, or still, I did white rice with chicken. But even today, my stomach is being a bit rebellious. I am thinking it all had to do with the way the various sport beans, gels, and chews jacked my blood sugar around so much. I will have study nutrition more. I will say though, I had good energy throughout and after my race, so I know I did okay in the fueling department, but there has to be another, less obnoxious way to fuel. And in case you were wondering, I think if I have to eat another Sport Bean (basically jelly beans with electrolytes), or Clif chew it really might make me vomit.
    I will barely mention sore muscles, because I fully expected my body to hurt. My quads are the worst, it was the brutal hills in the run, but I was expecting that. Granted, walking down the stairs at work today almost made me cry, and lose my lunch. Tomorrow will be better. I am pleased to say that from the hips up, I feel great. I am not sore, or particularly tired feeling. I plan on swimming The Cove tomorrow, since it is likely going to be one of the last hot days this year. Another pleasant surprise, my joints don't hurt. I fully expected to have some loud protesting from my knees, but they have been contentedly quiet. Although maybe the intense soreness of my quads is over-riding any other, lesser pain.
    I am still tired, and would have loved another day of napping and eating, but overall I feel great. I know that it will take my body several weeks to fully recover from the arduous task I just demanded of it. I should be just about recovered in time for the Firefighter Stairclimb in 3 weeks, and the Portland Marathon in 4 weeks. My poor body.

Zero To Seventy (Point Three)

    Saturday, was The Day. The Big One. The event that has been the focus of my training for a full year. Less than a year ago I did my third sprint triathlon, The Portland Tri, and had a miserable time. Honestly. The swim took every bit of energy I had just to finish and not drown, and that left me with nothing for the bike, and even less than nothing for the run. I couldn't even begin to count how many times I came within a hair's breadth of quitting, getting a DNF, "Did Not Finish." But I did finish, and crossing that line gave me a perverse sense of accomplishment. Why? Because, despite how miserable, exhausted, trembling, and nauseated I was, and how I was sucking on my emergency inhaler in a vain attempt to be able to breathe, I did cross the finish line. It made me hungry for more. It fired up the fierce competitor inside of me, the Me that has a constant desire for self improvement, the need to always best myself.
    That brings me to The Big One. My first Long Course Triathlon, a half-Ironman distance, 70.3 miles. Oddly, I was not nearly as nervous as I had expected. Excited, yes. Nervous, not so very much. There was no negative self-talk. No doubts that I would finish, and do it decently well. After all, I had completed each of the distance in the three disciplines several times, at least. Hell, I have been swimming 1.5 miles twice a week for months. I conquered my open water phobia to the point that now swimming in the deep, green, open water is a sanctuary for me, and I am almost dreading having to return to lap swimming this winter. The bike? There again, I have been logging long hours on the bike. True, many of those hours were indoors, up on my trainer, but it trained my legs to pedal continuously, at high cadence, tirelessly, and for as long as I need to. The run, yes, it is and was my Achilles' Heel. I just can't manage the high miles I need to in order to be an insane distance runner. The cross I bear.
    Anyway, I digress. Back to Race Day. I was a little stressed because the drive was longer than I was thinking, so I got on site with less than an hour before the starting gun. But there were plenty of others still rolling in when I got there. I found a good spot for Joshua in T2, got my gear laid out in perfect order, and slid into my Selkie Suit. A friendly fellow half virgin helped zip me in, and we all wandered down to the shore. I slid into the cool, lovely lake, delighting in the clarity of the teal water. I got in a good warm up, my arms and shoulders were loose and strong. It was an open water start, so we all filed in, and swam out to the starting area, treading water, talking, joking, an undercurrent of excitement. Three, two, one, Pop! The starting gun went off and we swam. From the very first stroke I was relaxed, breathing easy, feeling great. I got passed by another swimmer and sucked in behind her to draft. I have never had a chance to draft behind a faster swimmer, and let me tell you, it fucking rocks. With another body breaking the water, I was slicing through with ease. I let her waste energy popping her head up to sight on the buoys, I just flowed behind, almost, but not quite touching her feet with my long, easy strokes. As I swam, I noticed some fine particles in the water that were glinting in the morning sun, as I swam through them I felt like I was flowing through space, through a million stars, as if I were in hyperdrive blasting through the galaxy. It was amazing. I can honestly say, this was my best swim ever. Ever. The mile plus went by so easy, so smooth, so rapturous. It seemed no time at all until my hands brushed the lake bed near the swim finish and I was on my feet, running for T2, shedding Selkie Suit and goggles as I ran.
    T2, my trusty Joshua was patiently waiting. I took a few extra moments in transition to make sure I was comfortably geared up. I do not wear a Tri-suit like most competitors, they expose too much skin to the burning sun. Instead I was in UA compression tights under my wetsuit, and pulled on a white, long sleeved compression top before slipping into bike shorts, shoes, helmet, and gloves, and running for the Bike Out. On the road, I was cognizant of my training, the importance of JRA (just ride along) for the first 10 miles or so, getting warm, relaxing, slowly picking up speed, but keeping it mellow. That is key to long course triathlons, do not burn too much in the swim and bike so that you have nothing left for the run. I stuck to The Plan. I found my "I can do this all day" pace, and rode. It was a fabulous ride. 56 miles of rolling roads through the foothills of the Cascades. Yeah, there were a number of low gear, up in the stirrups, hands in the drops, head down, and grind your way to the top hills, but they were glorious. I made sure to eat and drink continuously while riding, to avoid feeling depleted later on. I was not going to bonk the run. Before I knew it, I was rolling back into the park, feeling great.
     T3, I got a little confused and couldn't find my transition area. My fault, I brought a burgundy towel, along with half a dozen other racers. It seemed like an eternity, but I found my gear. Later I found out I only spent 3 minutes in T3, so it was still a decent transition time. Into running shoes, dorky hat, and fuel belt, and off I was on the run. I was surprised at how decent my legs felt off the bike. I had learned a few tricks to get my legs ready to switch from the monotonous, circular cadence of the bike, to the forward propulsion of the run. It worked. I followed The Plan, to jog easy the first few miles to let my body readjust. Things were going splendidly, despite the fact that the course seemed like one, long uphill. It really was a brutally, hilly run. Until Mile 4. That is when the leg cramps started. I was fucking pissed. I had been so diligent about trying to keep fueled, hydrated, and my electrolytes balanced, especially after the leg cramps of the Hagg Lake Half. The 13.1 miles became an odd torture, I had ample energy for the run, but my body was exacting some perverse revenge on me. I made it into a game: see how many stride I could run before the next leg cramp, then see how few strides it would take for me to walk it off. I was managing 70 to 100 running strides before a cramp would hit, then 20 to 50 walking strides to walk it out. Yes, nine miles of this game. It was not a very fun game. I was slamming electrolytes, water, Salt Sticks, Sport Beans, Clif Chews, Heet sport drink at the aid stations. Nothing was going to give me relief from these cramps, so I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. At mile twelve, feeling a bit desperate, and devil-may-care, I busted out my last electrolyte filled Salt Stick capsule, broke it open and put some under my tongue for faster absorption into my system. The stuff tastes like ass, I would not recommend this. I kept sprinkling the stuff under my tongue, swirling it about in my mouth, praying for it to do some good. Trotting along with this white powder filled capsule clutched in my hand, I got a seriously deranged idea. Yes, I snorted a bit. Hey, it is one sure way to jack something straight into your system. Again, I would not recommend this. At all. But as I was grinding up the final hill, nearing the park, it seemed the cramps lessened just a bit. It was enough that I ran the last 1/10th of a mile to the finish, strong, head up, eyes forward, no cramps. I crossed the line feeling on top of the world. Then I walked off cramps for about 10 minutes while swilling Heet and water.
    I had fully expected to be totally exhausted crossing the finish. Weirdly, I felt like dancing. Actually, I wandered back to transition to shed my fuel belt and drink some Naked juice, and I did dance. Looking at Joshua, my discarded gear, my still wet Selkie Suit, I danced. It was magnificent, glorious, awesome, marvelous. It was a dance of sheer triumph. I was overloaded with the joy of victory, endorphins pushing me higher than any drug one could consume. It really was one of the greatest days of my life. Overcoming adversity during the run made the victory all the sweeter. I was faced with pain and suffering, and made it my bitch. It was fantastic. There really are no words to describe the elation of this accomplishment.
    To sweeten the already deliriously heady experience was my final time. No, not fast, but I had set my sights on 8 hours, with 7h30m as "My Dream Time." My final time? 7 hours 30 minutes 31 seconds. I almost cried with joy. Another interesting point, 89 competitors started the race, 67 finished. That is about a 25% DNF rate. I was surprised. Another interesting little tidbit, during the entire event, even the run, I was thinking how much easier, and more enjoyable time I was having than when I did the Portland Tri, which was only about 18 miles total distance. So I really feel like I went from Zero to Seventy in less than a year. And oh my gods, what an amazing finale to that year. Next year? 70.3 in under 7 hours, a 50K ultra marathon trail run, and maybe, just maybe 140.6 mile Ironman. Time to start training.

What A Rush

    I underestimated the intensity of the high and afterglow that I would experience after completing The Big One. Here it is, 3:30am, and I sit at my keyboard wishing I could somehow manage to put into words the thoughts ricocheting around inside my skull, the feelings coursing through every fiber of my body. That I could somehow express, in black and white, just a glimpse of the ecstasy, exaltation, intoxication, jubilance, and sheer triumph that fills my soul at this moment. Part of me, that logical snippet of Brain that is always attempting, often in vain, to rein in my manic, exuberant, untamed whirlwind, is trying to convince me that I am merely delirious from from my exertions, lack of sleep, and continuous hunger. Maybe so. But really, I don't believe a word he is saying. I am riding the crest of the wave of victory. A victory of mind, body, and spirit. I honestly feel as if this has changed me forever. I feel as if I should be able to look in a mirror and see some mark, some alteration of my physical being, an aura.
    I was sure that after the event I would be absolutely exhausted, brain dead, completely wiped out. Instead I was brimming with energy. I felt as if it were spilling over and leaking out of every pore. Yes, my muscles were stiffening up, and I sure as hell didn't feel up to running another mile, but I think I could have gone out dancing. Instead I chattered, bubbled, and had brief eruptions of spastic glee. I talked, nearly nonstop for the two hour drive home (fortunately my son was driving me home, so I didn't have to talk to myself). Once home I wandered about the house, ate again, and then again, tried to shut my brain down by browsing the internet, and finally made myself go to bed. I did manage to sleep for two hours before coming wide awake with the thought, "70.3 miles, fuck yeah!" I managed to drift in and out a bit, telling myself that if I didn't sleep I would be an absolute basket case come sunrise, but apparently I was not very convincing. Instead I lay in bed, euphoric, awash in the afterglow, high on endorphins. So, here I sit, fumbling about in an ineffectual attempt to capture this gamut of emotion, this physical manifestation of achievement, this epic sense of accomplishment, while apparently stoned out of my gourd. And it would seem that not only do endorphins make me high as a kite, they give me serious munchies. So, I think I will go eat, again. Later in the day, when I am possibly a bit more grounded, I will endeavor to write a more comprehensive accounting of what has been one of the greatest days of my life. I think I will be hungry for days.
   

Down To The Wire

    It is truly down to the wire. Tomorrow is The Big One. Tomorrow. Less than 24 hours. In between random attacks of spastic excitement, I have remained remarkably calm and focused. I have not had the negative self-talk that I thought was inevitable, and I am a bit surprised by this. Maybe I shouldn't be. I have trained to the best of my ability, given my ridiculously full schedule. I have honed my nutrition to a science. I have worked diligently on my mental game and mindset. I am mindful of my body in ways I could never have imagined. I have become a true student of my passion. Yes, I am excited for tomorrow, and wake each morning with the thrilling realization that I am one day closer to my self imposed challenge. I am not deluding myself that tomorrow will be easy, I know it will be exhausting and painful. But I also know that I can do it. I look at each leg of the race as an individual event, in and of itself. I am excited for the swim, knowing how I feel in the water, the freedom and relaxation of being surrounded by the calming waters. Rising, dripping, from the lake I will head to T2, where Joshua waits patiently. I have ridden the 58 mile course, and know it is a beautiful ride that I can do well. The cycling leg behind me, I can reset to the last event, a half-marathon. I can run this, slow and steady, at my penguin pace, I know I can run this. So each leg I am viewing as a separate entity. Breaking down a brutally long event into three manageable bites, resetting my mind and body at the end of each leg. Yes, it will be tough. Yes, it will be painful. Yes, I am so freaking excited to be so close to what I have trained so hard for. A year of planning and training, coming to fruition tomorrow.

Forty Eight Hours

    48 Hours. Two short days. 48 Hours and I will be in the cool, emerald waters of Lake Foster, in the "washing machine" effect of the swim start. There is nothing quite like the first few minutes of chaos in the water as bodies collide, people swim right over top of you, limbs flail, you get kicked and punched (accidentally, of course). It is the weirdest start to an otherwise civil, and rather solitary sport. 

    48 Hours. I feel like a kettle simmering on the stove. Just a low simmer, but enough that the pot trembles, and steam builds up to erupt from the corner of the lid every few minutes. That is me; trembling ever so slightly, with occasional bursts of energy to release pent up pressure. I am proud of myself that I am not having negative, demon-whispered, panic inducing, self doubts. I know I can do this. Yes, it will very likely hurt. A lot. But I know I can do this. 48 Hours. 48 HOURS! 

The Homestretch

    This week, with just a few remaining days until The Big One, my mantra has been more like, "Just stay healthy and whole, don't fuck this up now." Seriously. I feel like I am weighing the risks of everything I do, and everything I eat. If I were just a touch more neurotic I might sequester myself away, bar the doors, turn off the phone, and spend the remaining days in meditation and very careful Yoga. Okay, not really, but that is the plan for Friday.
    Last night was my final open water swim. The water was glorious, if a bit murky, and my body felt great. I did not want to get out of the water, but had promised myself that I would only swim 30 minutes. Yes, I pouted. To add insult to injury, the other, lone swimmer at The Cove swam my normal circuit, two wide, full laps. I was so jealous I could barely watch. I had to keep reminding myself that in just a few days I will get to swim just about as far as I want to, in a beautiful, hill country lake. But for now, the Selkie suit has to lie dormant for a few days.
    I have done abbreviated workouts every day, aiming at about 20-30% of normal. I have added more Yoga and relaxation, wanting to keep everything as limber as possible. I have to say, every little tweak or stiff muscle has me feeling paranoid though. Yesterday my back was a little tight, likely from weekend antics, so all day I was carefully stretching and sweet talking my dorsi muscles, and a little extra gentle Yoga last night.
    I have been drinking a vegan, protein smoothie every night just before bed. Spinach, banana, pomegranate and black cherry juice, brown rice and hemp protein. I'm staying consistent with my supplements and asthma meds. As much as I keep wanting to try new things, I am not allowing it. Not this week. I am staying the course. Funny thing, my weight is staying at 155, and I realized that it puts me at nearly a 90 pound weight loss. 90 pounds, it boggles the mind. I'm sure I will put a few pounds back on after this is all over, but then again, I may be training for a full Ironman soon. Life is funny that way.
    I did break down and fork out the dough for new Smartwool socks, and Under Armor compression tights. I had planned on these purchases long ago, but just never made the shopping trip. Now, gear is lined up and ready. I also picked up most of the various fuel sources Clif gels and chews, electrolyte water, salt sticks, just gotta get my Sport Beans and I am all set. Tomorrow Joshua gets a bath, wax, and tire pressure check, before one, final, quick road ride to let his newly adjusted wheels relax into shape.
    So, gear is ready, fuel is in the cupboard, my truck Wallace is gassed up and ready, my body is as ready as it will be. It is almost time. The countdown is on. I am heading down the Homestretch. Damn, I'm excited!

Six Days

    Less than six days. It felt as if I would never really get to this point. Training day after day, week after week, month after, well, you get the idea. I have been training for this specific event for nearly a year. Building a solid base from the ground up, quite literally. Now, the countdown is really on. I am trying to remain focused and not let Brain go scampering all over the countryside in an over-exuberant spaz attack, but it is a monumental task. I don't get to workout to exhaustion, which would help calm Brain and Body. With the race just days away I am in full blown taper mode, winding down my training to a mere 20% of what Body is used to. This leaves far too much excess energy, it feels as if it is oozing out of every pore and orifice, like honey from a broken pot. My saving grace is that currently my life is so busy, exciting, and distracting that it leaves very few hours to sit and wallow in an attack of nerves and anxiety. Just a few more days to stay healthy, just a few more days to be neurotically diligent with what goes into my maw, and what I do with Body. Just a few more days.
    Of course I have altered my workouts. Short but intense workouts, instead of long and intense. I am spending less time in the water and in the saddle, but staying dedicated to strength training, core workouts, and stretching. I am cutting back on carbs, since I am not needing as much fuel, but revving up my protein intake to make sure Body is as rested and healed as is humanly possible. Oddly, I have dropped almost 5 pounds in the last few weeks, so I will be racing at almost 20 pounds lighter than I was last summer. This week though, this week, Tuesday will likely be my last workout, one last swim in The Cove, then it is rest Body, but keep training Brain. I know that finishing in good condition requires every bit as much Brain strength and endurance as it does having Body prepped and ready. Endurance events often come down to mind over matter. I know this, and have been training for this inevitability every bit as hard as I have been training muscles, lungs, and heart. Six days. I am doing everything I possibly can to ensure a good outcome this coming Saturday. Eat, train, sleep, meditate, pretend to relax. Six days. Holyfuck. Six days. But I am ready.

Poor Spastic Brain

    Pre-race anxiety has been my steady, irritating companion of late. I know that there is absolutely nothing I can do, that I haven't already done, or am currently doing, that will make much difference come race day. Yes, I am wishing I would have trained harder, been able to be even more prepared than I already am. But the plain and simple fact is that I do have a life outside of triathlon. Granted, not much of a life besides work, shenanigans at the fire station, and training, but I am working on changing that up a bit, too. I have to remind myself how far I have come in a year. A year ago I could barely swim half a mile, just barely. Cycling 20 miles was tiring. Running 5K seemed so incredibly far. Now, I swim a mile and a half several times a week, and it just makes me hungry. I cycled 50 miles on sunday, and felt great getting off the bike. I have ran two half-marathons, and yes, they were a bit hard on my knees, and I definitely had my "what the hell was I thinking," moments, they were not impossible distances. And still Brain has days like today, days of absolutely spaztastic, manic, free for all, catch me if you can, brains leaking out of my ears freakouts. I knew I was in trouble when, before leaving the house for work, I realized my shirt was on backwards, and my underwear were on inside out. I shit you not. And it just went downhill from there. Nothing overtly stupid or dangerous, just a series of forgetful, early onset dementia, can't get a grip, I should have stayed in bed moments.

    My saving grace? A backpack with my Selkie suit. A swim was awaiting me, to salvage Brain, soothe Spirit, and satiate Body. With the end of summer in sight, I know my visits to The Cove are nearly at an end. But for now, I can swim. As soon as quitting time rolled around, I was out the door, backpack over my shoulder, helmet in hand, headed for the water. Grey days, like today, assure me that I will have the whole lake enarly to myself. Today I shared it with a total of three solitary fishermen. The water was dark and murky, not the glorious emerald of earlier in the season, but I don't care. Slipping into the cool depths, I quickly fall into the near trance state of my swim. The cadence of my stroke, the accompanying rocking of my body, the only sound is my own breathing. In mere moments Brain settles down, steps away from the scrambled signals of a manic mind being short circuited by anxiety and excitement. The jumble of thoughts ricocheting around inside my skull manage to smooth out, become coherent, cohesive, and calm. Now I can think. Now the doubts and panic slip away, confidence returns. I imagine how I will feel in the race, how I will swim exactly as if I were doing my regular laps around my familiar Cove. I will let the others be swept away with excitement and adrenaline, while I will find my I-can-do-this-all-day pace. I will swim the 1.2 miles and come out of the water with a grin pasted to my face, and feet flying for Joshua in T2. Swimming helped me regain my balance, return to center, reconnect. I will miss The Cove once the weather turns cold.

    Home, starving, mentally exhausted, I make a huge meal of vegetarian tacos. Not my normal vegan spinach tacos, not quite. I added a couple eggs and a bit of cheese to ramp up the protein. I am upping my protein and lowering my carbs as I head down the final stretch. My workouts are becoming shorter, but are intense. I know I need protein to repair and rebuild, in order to really hit my peak. Now, belly full, muscles relaxed, Brain is shutting down. It has been a long day and suddenly I am barely able to string together a comprehensive sentence, so I will leave it at this: I have trained to the best of my abilities, I have fueled the machine with almost neurotic care, I have come an amazing distance to be where I am today, I am ready.   

Bike The Course

    Pre-race anxiety has been tenaciously creeping from my subconscious to my conscious. The Race is the first thing on my mind most mornings, and the last thing on my mind most nights. I have laid to rest my swim anxiety. Running, I have done two hella brutal halfs with minimal problems. Oddly, for as much cycling as I have done, it has been the bike leg that has been nagging at me. Looking at the bike course map, and the elevation graph, I knew it was going to be a steep, technical ride. But how steep? How tech? I know that the best way to finish any long course Tri in good shape is to execute the swim and bike well enough that there is energy left for the run. That was my fear, that the bike course would be too tough to leave me with legs for the run. The only way put these fears to rest, or fuel the fire, was to ride the course.
    Today was the day. I planned on getting a good night's sleep, maybe sleep in a bit, be well rested. Instead, my pager went off at 5:30, so I was dressed and out the door by 5:32. Back home by 6:30, too awake to go back to sleep, so I had a healthy breakfast, two cups of coffee, loaded my gear, and was out the door by 9:00. This trip had several purposes, first and foremost to learn the course, but also to make sure I knew exactly how far and how long of a drive I would be facing at O-dark-thirty the day of The Race.     Just south of Salem the rains began. It poured. And me without anything remotely resembling rain gear. Oh well, it's only water. The rain stopped shortly before I arrived at the lake. I found a wide shoulder to park Wallace, strolled down a narrow trail, listening to the trees shed their early morning shower, and saw the green, pristine lake that I will be swimming in 13 days. It is a beautiful place. I got Joshua out of the truck, got into my gear, strapped my TT helmet to my head, and straddled the bike. The rains came. The heavens opened. In a few minutes I couldn't have been wetter if I had been hit with a fire hose. It was cold, wet, but not miserable. I had a moment of concern for hypothermia, but dismissed it as soon as it arose.
    The first few miles were nice, rolling hills. I was beginning to relax, thinking that this wouldn't be anything I couldn't handle. After all, I can ride Wildcat Road, aka Kick-my-ass-and-leave-me-in-the-ditch-to-die road. No sooner had I had this particular thought, when I rounded a curve and saw I-shit-you-not-holy-mother-of-the-gods-this-is-gonna-hurt hill. It was a steep, long incline that made me think of Wildcat Road On Steroids. The road disappeared into the mist, I had no idea just how far, or how high it went. Shit just got real. Lowest gear, up in the stirrups, head down, grinding my way up the hill at near walking speed. There was nothing to do but just gut it out. Every curve I rounded, the road just kept going up, and up. It was amazing. A nagging voice in the back of my mind was speculating, the altitude graph showed the worst hill to be at the halfway point. If this was as brutal as it was, holy gods, the toughest climb was going to be punishing. I kept grinding along. At one point I saw a man strolling down the road towards me. Me, "Heckuva a hill." Him, "Yep, pretty steep." And we were both on our merry ways. I admit, as I was slogging my way up, I was congratulating my cardiovascular system on its health and strength. Finally, finally, I reached the top, an intersection. I stopped to check my scribbled notes, and compare them with the road signs. Nothing matched anything anywhere in my notes. Nothing. I had no idea where the hell I was, except that I was at the top of a long-ass hill, and over 12 miles from my truck. Well, there was nothing to do but keep going. I figured worse case scenario I would ride another 12 miles or so, then turn around and ride back, then get in my truck and drive the course to see where I went astray.
    After bombing several miles down a ridiculously steep, winding section of road, and thinking what an unholy bitch it was going to be to ride back up, I came to another intersection. Berlin Road. I was back on course. Not sure how it happened, but apparently the road pixies were on my side. Now to settle down and ride. The rest of the course was technical, with some wicked steep hills, but nothing quite as agonizing as my unintentional detour. I got in some excellent practice shifting, more practice to "level the course." Reaching the top of the course, I paused for a moment to snap a picture, eat a Clif Bar, and guzzle some water, then back down. I was feeling damn good, when I heard Han Solo's voice in my head, "Don't get cocky, kid." I was only halfway done, after all. This time I was careful to find the correct road. At least I think it was the correct road, and pay attention to what I had missed.
    Before I knew it, 50 miles had rolled under my wheels, and I was back at the truck. I knew I had to test myself. I had ridden the course with the intention of being as energy efficient as possible. Using my gears to "level the course" and coasting the downhill grades. On training rides I rarely, if ever coast. When training I make it a point to keep peddling, keep my cadence high and regular. By coasting the downhill sections, saving my legs a little, I actually felt less fatigued than I would after a training ride on less hilly terrain. It was an interesting little lesson. So, to check just how well I had done, I locked Joshua up in the bed of the truck, got into my running shoes and ran a quick mile. I could have run farther, but it is getting too close to The Big One for me to do an ass kicking brick workout. I really just wanted to see how my legs would feel. They felt damn good. I have started races with my legs feeling worse, The Hagg Lake Half, for instance.
    This was an excellent confidence boost. A much needed balm to my pre-race nerves. I know this race will kick my ass, it is a long damn distance to go under my own power. But now I am feeling confident that I will cross the finish line, head high, and under my own power. It was an excellent day.

Taper *grumble grumble* Taper

    I do not like to Taper. This summer I haven't tapered for a single event, instead taking on each event as just a long workout day. I do not slow down, take down time, relax, take it easy. It is so hard for me to cut workouts short, knowing I should, but feeling pouty about it the whole time. But now, it really is going to be vital that I am well rested and recovered in 18 days. I am shortening my workouts, but upping the intensity a bit. Tonight I cycled for 45 minutes, half my normal time, but I was adding 1 minute hard sprints every few minutes. I followed up with 45 minutes of leg and core work, and stretching. I have added single legged squats, and isolated calf raises to maintain strength without adding too much more wear and tear. I am really working my core, knowing that by the time I hit the halfway point through the half-marathon I am going to need all the muscle I can muster to get me through the last 6 miles. But all this means I have to taper, I have to stop doing double workouts, 3 hours of training in one big bite, pushing myself to the point of nausea, reveling in sore muscles, telling myself, "Just one more set." *Sigh* I miss it already. I do not like to taper, but I tell myself I must. I can't ruin a year of training in the last few weeks. I am already having anxiety that I won't be ready, that I didn't train enough. But I know I trained as hard as was possible with the time frame my life allowed. Less than three weeks and I will toe the line, find out if I did train enough, fuel properly, taper well. Though I do not like to taper.