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Beginners' Guide: Synthesis

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Beginners' articles, for the most part, come in one of two flavors (no, not chocolate and vanilla): either they tell you the same information as every other beginners' article, or they try to share new tips, most of which don't really apply to beginners. Now neither one is necessarily bad, mind you. In fact, the former is highly useful, and the latter can … show morebe useful (eventually).

The problem, I think, is that the people with the information--those of us who have been there, those of us who have done that, those of us who have learned all the things beginners need to know--have forgotten what it's like to be the greenhorn. You remember how in middle school, you just knew that your teachers (and parents and lunch ladies and principles and every other person over the age of 20) had no idea what you were going through? Well, same thing. You get to a certain point in your training, and you forget the kinds of struggles that newbies have. You forget that sense of dread and fear on race day, the confusion of the transition area, the fear that everyone else knows what to do except you.

Point is, those of us who have been there and done that are only so helpful. Sure, we try to answer your questions on blogs and message boards, at pools and in cycling classes. But in the end, you have to be able to bring this information together for yourself. You have to be able to synthesize.

Example? This article offers great tips for beginners. Sign up for a race, get a bike, have someone watch your stroke. Check. Those are all good things. But the article doesn't really break down for you how you're supposed to go from (hypothetically) the Couch to 5k plan you just completed to getting through your first triathlon.

This article isn't going to solve that problem for you, either. Why? Because there's plenty of information out there that already does that. The tips I want to give you are how to start building a mental picture of what it'll take to get you to the finish line your first time around. And here they are:

Read voraciously. Seriously. There are so many websites. There are so many books. There are so many blogs. If all else fails, pull up Google and do a search for what you want to know (i.e. "Do people ever die in the swim?"). Read articles. Check out books and magazines from the library. Borrow books from friends. Ask for recommendations. Follow triathletes on Twitter. Just start putting information into your brain.

Talk to everyone. Okay, probably not everyone has a bunch of athlete friends around. I know some of you are preparing for your first race in isolation. But you have this big, wide, online, global community at your fingertips. Take advantage of it. Ask questions on message boards. Ask questions on Twitter. Ask questions on blogs. You may have noticed that triathletes are a pretty evangelistic bunch. We want you to be part of our sport. So ...

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Tri Harder

I don't know if you guys have noticed, but it's been cold.

Florida? Cold. Dallas? Cold. Kansas? Really fucking cold.

It has been so cold that the weather actually constrained me to indoor running for a week and a half. Now I'm a pretty tough cookie, but when the wind chill is -15*, I take it as a sign and run on the damn treadmill. Or sometimes skip the run in favor of hot chocolate and donuts.

But today, when I walked out to my car in the morning, I smelled spring. It's not spring here in the Midwest, and won't be for some time. In fact, the air was so cold that I could barely breathe it in deeply enough to really taste the air. But there was no mistaking the smell of fresh earth, the smell of grass and dirt thawing in the balmy above-freezing air.

I was lucky (depending on whether or not you think I need money) enough to have the whole afternoon free, so I took the time for a long run. How was I dressed? In a T-shirt, tights, and light thermal jersey. No arm warmers. No gloves. I did wear a stocking cap. And for most of the run, I could have left the stocking cap and jersey in my locker (running into the north wind, I was glad I had them, and wished I would have brought gloves as well).

But the sun! The glorious, warm, sunny sun! It's hard to endure those weeks of cold, snow, ice, and wind, but they really made me grateful for the good weather, this time around. And now I'm that much more willing to get out there and work hard when the weather's nice.

Runner's High - T-Shirt
Ha! Finally!

This workout is all about endurance. I tried to write it as a base-building workout with a little intensity. There are easy spinning sections, hard time trials, seated climbs, and standing climbs. There are also some overspeed sections to force you to turn a fast cadence (almost 140 RPM); if you want, you could also try those sections as one-legged drills, switching legs every minute. The main thing is to get some cadence/drill work into the base building period.

Try to keep everything in high zone 2/low zone 3. Probably won't make it the first time, but I hope that as you get more and more fit this workout will keep you right in the sweet spot of base building intensity. Or you can just go balls to the wall the whole time, just like you might in an actual spinning class.

Spinning Workout 28 - Endurance

I Woke up in a Car (4:13) - Something Corporate (107 BPM)
I Want You Back (2:58) - The Jackson 5 (100 BPM)
Walk This Way (3:32) - Aerosmith (104 BPM)
Heart of Glass (4:34) - Blondie (110 BPM)
Relax (3:56) - Frankie Goes to Hollywood (115 BPM)
Canned Heat (5:32) - Jamiroquai (128 BPM)
Beep Beep (6:29) - Beep Beep (132 BPM)
Kiss Kiss (3:24) - Holly Valance (98 BPM)
How Bad do You Want it? (3:45) - Tim Mcgraw (88 BPM)
If Looks Could Kill (3:41) - Heart (79 BPM)
Burning Up (3:47) - Madonna (137 BPM)
I Get Around (2:13) - Beach Boys (148 BPM)
The General (4:07) - Dispatch (90 BPM)

Spinning Workout 28 - Endurance
I think my mojo is afraid of H1N1.

That's the only reason I can think of that explains my mojo's obvious absence. I have no interest in blogging (obviously) or coaching; personal training is slow and I don't even care; I haven't even wanted to do a cyclocross race since Capital Cup (although I'm doing one this weekend--an avondcross!); my cycling classes are boring and I don't want to be there; I haven't swam in who the hell knows how long. My mojo is definitely on hiatus. Maybe it went to someplace tropical; maybe I can go visit it there.

You know what I've been doing a lot of, though? Running.

Of all things, right? Anyone remember when I hated running, when those were the only workouts I ever skipped, when I did an Olympic tri without having ever run more than 4.5 miles? Apparently, those days are over. I love running.

And I'd love to tell everyone how that happened (because I know I'm not the only one who's struggled with serious resentment towards one of our three sports), but I can't. Because I have no idea how it happened. Maybe it's like an arranged marriage--you spend enough time together, eventually you find love.

Anyway, if anyone knows a good mojo doctor, let me know. Otherwise, I'll just be waiting for this mojo affliction to run it's course. I'm sure that as the off-season progresses and I start reading about this race and that race and his plans and her plans, my mojo will take tentative steps back from Fiji or wherever it's gone.

Anyone Know a Good Mojo Doctor?
That is what I have been. Remiss.

Not so much as a peep from me in a full week! I'm sorry!

To those of you who are awaiting response from me re: free coaching, I will e-mail before the weekend is out.

For those who have asked for a new spinning podcast, it is in the works (up in Garage Band as we speak)!

For those of you who have no requirements from me except for entertaining and informative reading . . . well, my endurance faculties seem to be hibernating. And my work schedule is cuh-razy. Seriously. I get off work at 3 p.m. today and it's *still* a 10-hour workday.

BUT! If you'd like to read what I'm reading (and some comments, besides), you can take a look at my Tumblr page: http://trihardist.tumblr.com/. On that site, I post articles that I read and find interesting, things that I think may be helpful, entertaining, or otherwise encouraging for my fellow athletes.

You can also follow me on Twitter. And between those two things, you can keep up with me (if you want to, although I must warn you that I'm not all that interesting) until I regain my blogging mojo.

Thank you for reading! And keep your eyes peeled for the latest installment in my one-on-one cycling workouts!

Remiss
I don't want to go into the details of cortisol production and clearance in the body and how that all relates to weight loss, weight gain, eating habits, working out, and so on. Part of that is because it takes too long to explain, and part of it is that I don't really understand it myself, and you can Google it just as easily as I can.

But while I may not understand the details of stress hormones, I do know when I feel that stuff pumping through my blood. I know it makes me want to eat, and it prefers sugars and fats to get its kicks.

Tonight, someone made me mad. They hurt my feelings and pissed me off. I'd already been working for 13 hours, and still had one hour left to go (on a Friday, by the way). I wanted to cry but couldn't. I wanted to call a friend and vent my spleen, but didn't have time, since I had one more appointment to make it through.

My last client of the day was what I call a Baby Swimmer--someone who is so new to swimming that she still fears to put her face in. Working with these swimmers is a very hands-on process, which means me in the water, sometimes lending a hand when Baby Swimmer says, "You're not gonna let me sink, right?" Point is, I was active. I was moving. I was in the water and (sort of) swimming, but at the very least using my body.

And I didn't really start making connections until I got out of the pool, into the shower, and started thinking about the situation that so greatly upset me in the first place. I was considering sending a nice, private e-mail, making sure my feelings were understood, and that everyone was on the same page. And as I was mentally composing this e-mail, I realized that I was thinking sensibly and rationally and reasonably and I was no longer feeling the flood of stress in my bloodstream.

In other words, a gentle workout helped to clear that shit out.

Just a reminder, then, of something we all probably know already: exercise makes you feel better. The next time you feel the tides of cortisol corroding your brain, make time for a little workout. Guarantee it'll clear your head, clear your heart, and clear your blood of those nasty stress hormones.

Runners' High: De-stress
So yesterday I was swimming with a pull buoy (because what else can I do with this damn bum ankle?). And I was doing drills and generally enjoying the feel of slipping effortlessly through the water. At any rate, I had my moments. And at one point I lifted my head just a little bit to look slightly ahead in the water. As soon as I did that, I felt my speed increase. It was instantaneous. It was amazing!

It's been a long time since I felt that kind of improvement in my swimming. Crazy thing is that I already knew to do that. I distinctly remember a clinician telling me to look 45* in front of me at a workout in college. And then after I got into Total Immersion and a different clinician told me to get my head down, I started focusing more on streamlining. I just assumed that was the fastest way to swim.

And it might be the fastest way for some people to swim. But apparently not for me.

And then tonight I read this article about it. So enjoy. I hope my little journey helps you in your swimming.

Head Position in Freestyle
Another race missed due to the bum ankle.

Also I had a shitty date.

Diamond Blackfan Cross Challenge: DNS
I was pretty freaked out by Monday about my ankle. Not sure if this has come up before, but I don't have health insurance. That means that if I fall off my bike and break my collar bone, I am (going to censor my language for the protection of readers who are younger and/or related to me). So all day at work, people kept asking, "Have you seen a doctor yet?" No! You know I don't have health insurance, so you should know that the medical profession is a last-resort type of thing for me! But of course, everyone thinks that doctors are the end-all-be-all to telling you how your body works and what it needs (here's a quick clue: they're not).

But having everyone tell me how important it was that I get it checked out was really making stressed. I started creating scenarios: what if it is broken, or torn? What if I have to have some kind of surgery? What if my ankle is permanently screwed unless I do such-and-such A.S.A.P.?

Then I talked with one of my physical therapist friends (who began by saying, "Have you seen a doctor yet?"). I know there's no telling without an X-ray or possibly and MRI, but in her opinion, the ankle's not swollen enough to indicate break, tear, rupture, or anything else equally unpleasant. She recommended that I go through as full and natural a range of motion with it as possible and put as much weight on it as I could stand. In other words, treat it as close to normally as you can.

So I hobbled around on crutches for a couple days (just to take some of the weight off the leg), and each day has gotten progressively better. Today I'm off the crutches and walking almost normally; if you didn't know I'd been hurt, you wouldn't notice me limping. Ankle is still swollen, and there's going to be some pretty severe bruising, I'm sure. It's tender on the medial side of the Achilles (but it was always sore there, where I have tendinitis), and on the lateral front ankle, where I think I hyper-stretched something (peroneals, maybe?).

I've been swimming with a pull buoy, and lifting weights. I guess one good thing about this injury is that it forces me to do the two things I haven't been doing at all over the past month or two! I think I'll be back on the bike by the weekend, and if it's feeling all right, I'll go ahead and race women's cat 4 at the DeStad opener this weekend; I was really wanting to do all five of those races!

As it Stands
It would figure.

I go the whole season--swimming, biking, running, doing yoga, lifting weights, trying Pilates, teaching cycling and water aerobics--without being overtrained.

I shift to a single-sport focus, and boom. Overtrained.

(Of course we all know that it's not really a single-sport focus; it's two simultaneous single-sport focuses!)

Actually, it might be a little bit deeper than overtraining. Physiologically, I'm having a little trouble; I'm achy in ways (and in places) I normally don't have trouble. But my resting heart rate is at 48 BPM (right where it should be), and I'm not having any trouble getting it up for workouts.

But I just don't want to train. I would rather stay at home and sleep, or play DDR. I haven't run in a week and a half, haven't swam in a week. I've been biking plenty. But I always bike plenty.

Here's the deal: I don't have a lot left to do, in the way of triathloning. I want to maintain the speed I have for Redman (which is in three weeks). But that won't take much more than one hard workout a week (which is one more run workout than I've been doing lately). And the race I'm targeting for the one-mile PR is in early December. Plenty of time.

The main thing I'm struggling against is a self-conscious feeling of laziness. Is it guilt? I'm not sure. I just know that it makes me nervous not to be swimming and running. Makes me feel that I'm not doing enough. Of course, I'm still training hard on the bike (and still enjoying it!), which is exactly one more sport than your average person trains hard for. But it feels strange not to be doing at least three swims and at least three runs each week.

Man, this sport makes you crazy.

Burnout
2:02:21.

I was totally blown away by this result. I was hoping that I could do 2:06, which seemed realistic based on a 12-miler I did a couple weeks ago at a 9:40/mile pace. When I crossed the finish line and checked my watch (after downing a bottle of water and sitting back on my heels half-asleep for about 20 minutes), I couldn't believe it. I held a 9:20 pace for 2 hours straight?! I had no idea I could do that.

And you know, I keep trying to write more about it than this, but the truth is there isn't much to say. My training for this race was spot-on. I've been consistent and strong in all my runs. I mean, I've missed a run here or there, but it's been more hit than miss (and that might be the first time I can say that about run training for any race). I got in a solid 15-mile run at the beginning of last week, and I managed to hit some really good tempo runs. When the race began, all I really had to do was show up and do what I knew I could do.

I didn't set out to run a 2:02 pace, though. Based on what I had been doing in my training runs, I decided to set out with the 2:07 group and try to hang on. I figured I would feel a little too fresh in the early miles, then end up hanging on for dear life in the last 3-4 miles. The pace group was wonderful: perfectly paced, with an encouraging leader and a good vibe. I felt good at that pace, and had no trouble surging ahead to pass, or to sneak ahead for some water. My legs felt zippy and springy every time I needed to accelerate. I knew I had plenty of gas in my tank.

I think it was around mile 8 when I started pulling away. I felt good, and I kept edging ahead of my pace group. There was another girl (in a pink "iRunLikeAGirl" shirt) who was sneaking ahead, as well; she had told the pacer early on to pull her back if she started to get ahead, because she was afraid that she would fade in the last few miles. So when she started to really pull away, I decided to pace off of her instead. At any rate, I figured if we slowed down later I could pick the pace group back up and still finish around 2:06, 2:07.

There were a few times when I lost the iRunner at water stops, then caught her up later. At around mile 10, I thought she'd dropped me for good, as she was picking up speed. I started to go with her ("She's not faster than me! I can keep up!"), but decided it wasn't worth it to pursue. So instead I just held my own pace. I passed her around a mile and a half from the finish line, when she started walking.

I have to say, the last 2-3 miles were difficult; they were tough. There were a few very slight inclines (like in Kansas, they were slight but noticeable) that were enough to hurt, but not enough to really offer an excuse to slow the pace. During those last 20 minutes or so, I kept glancing down at the clock, wondering when the pain would be over. I repeated to myself, "Strong and steady and strong and steady" as a mantra. I focused all my attention on that point just between and behind my eyes (the Third Eye). And all of it paid off. I didn't slow down, or at least not much; my last mile split was 9:30.

I ran without an iPod, because I wasn't going to be like all those one-timers in their basketball shorts with their music-players strapped onto their biceps; I am a runner, and I don't need music to have a good result, thank you very much. It was nice to have bands right on the course, although I was running by them at such exceptional speeds, I'm afraid I didn't get to enjoy the music for very long (I'm just kidding, of course).

One of my favorite parts about the race is that the Super Official and Very Expensive Thank You Very Much race photos of me Race Report: Rock 'n' Roll Arizona 1/2 Marathon
2:02:21.

A new PR.

By 10 minutes.

:-D!

Post Race: Rock 'n' Roll Arizona 1/2 Marathon
It's been ridiculously cold all over the country (windchills of -15 here). I hope warmer weather is on its way. Really really. But until it is, we're all going to need some incentive to get our butts on the treadmill. Hope this workout helps!

I've been reading Joe Friel's blog. And one of the things that's really struck me, as I've been writing my training program for the next season, is his emphasis on speed drills.

Since we're dealing with running today, here's a break down of the concept as it applies specifically to running: the only ways you can become a faster runner are to take more steps and to take longer steps. So with this workout, we're trying to develop faster leg speed. How are we going to do that? Overspeed training!

For this workout, we start at a cadence of 88, which should be manageable. If it's not manageable, I've included a list of songs that are at an appropriate BPM for running in order to gradually up your cadence. As the workout progresses, you have intervals of faster and faster cadence, followed by recovery periods at 88-90 BPM. Intervals get longer and longer, too. If at some point, the cadence becomes too fast for you, just go back to a speed at which your comfortable. After a few weeks with the workout, you should be able to hit those faster cadences. Keep in mind that the taller and longer-legged among you will have more trouble holding a faster cadence, and will probably be more efficient at a slower cadence anyway. Hopefully, you'll eventually find a cadence that feels optimal.

The danger in this workout is in losing form due to fatigue. Remember to keep your body loose, especially your legs and knees. Maintain an athletic posture. Imagine that you're being hauled forward by a cable that's attached to your sternum. Relax your facial muscles. Align your breathing with your footfalls.

As far as when you do this, treat it like an early-season speed session. You're not doing intervals right now (probably), so do this instead!

Running Podcast 1 - Overspeed

Wonderwall (4:19) - Oasis (87 BPM)
Whole Lotta Trouble (2:27) - Cracker (87 BPM)
Extra Ordinary (3:42) - Better Than Ezra (90 BPM)
Inside Out (3:39) - Eve 6 (90 BPM)
The Swimming Song (2:33) - Loudon Wainwright III (93 BPM)
Cool Blue Reason (3:28) - Cake (88 BPM)
Soldier (3:46) - Eminem (95 BPM)
Healer (3:51) - Ten Shekel Shirt (90 BPM)
All My Life (3:37) - Shihan (97 BPM)
I am the Way (3:57) - Mark Schultz (90 BPM)
Don't Call me White (2:37) - NOFX (100 BPM)
Superstones Strike Back (2:42) - The O.C. Supertones (91 BPM)
Deeper Than Crying (2:38) - Alison Krauss (88 BPM)
Everloving (3:26) - Moby (90 BPM)
Running Podcast 1 - Overspeed
How badly do you want to get better?

I don't ask what you're willing to sacrifice. If you're serious about this sport, it's clear already that you're willing to put your social life on the line; you have no problem spending copious amounts of time on a sport; and dropping hundreds (maybe thousands) of dollars on gear, racing, and travel is nothing new to you.

But let's say, for example, that running is your limiter. You can put in a decent swim, create a big lead on the bike, but then get re-passed by 50% of your competitors on the run. You're a strong athlete. You may not be "a runner," but you know you're strong. So you figure you should at least have a 45-minute 10k hidden deep inside you.

Here's the problem: In order to access that speed, you might have to focus just on running.

In my foray into cycling this year, I fully grasped something I should have known already: I cannot realize my potential in the individual sports of swimming, cycling, and running simultaneously. Neither can you. That's why pro triathletes don't win big-name marathons; it's why pro cyclists never win Kona.

Now in amateur triathlon, I have an awesome bike leg. That's where I do the most damage; that's where I gain my edge. But my 20-21 MPH speeds will not cut it for me in road races, criteriums, or even time trials. Part of this is a mental block (at least for me). When you've trained yourself always to save a little bit on the bike, it's tough to lay it all out in a bike race. Subconsciously, your body doesn't want to go 110% in a bike race, because it figures it's going to have to run after. I got to where I started asking myself, "Would I be able to run after this?" And if the answer was yes, it was time to get the lead out.

But most of the issue was with training. Even at the top of my game, I'm not going to be as strong cycling as a triathlete against dedicated cyclists as I would if I were only biking. In other words, I have untapped potential.

That doesn't mean that you never win a 5k or a time trial when you're training for triathlon, of course. I've gotten a few medals at local runs this year, and I've won some prize money in the bike scene. The problem isn't that I'm not competitive with runners/cyclists; the problem is that I'm not achieving my potential.

That's important, too, because there are triathletes out there who come from a background of competitive, dedicated running and cycling, and they're much closer to their potential in those sports--even when training for tris!--than I am. And if I want to beat them, I'm going to have to access some more of my own potential.

Which brings us back to the original question: how badly do you want to get better?

It's apparent to me, at this moment, that I will eventually want (or need) to put in a long-term, dedicated running focus. That means more than just a month or two in the offseason (like I did this year, after my ankle healed enough); that means like a season. And during that time, my swimming and cycling will go by the wayside. It'... Making Tough Choices
Oh yeah. I forgot. I actually like this.

What a fun race. Last one of the year. Snow on the roads. Temps are biting. Wind chill is sub-zero. Sun is setting, leaving us all in the freezing shade.

But there's beer.

This isn't a PR kind of race. For one thing, if you're doing it properly, you're stopping to drink at three points on the course. There is no other reason to drive to El Dorado and do this race except to show up and have fun by drinking lots of beer while running. If you live in El Dorado already, you are excused. Besides the beer drinking aspect, there's also the fact that a good third of the course has slick patches of ice and/or snow. So imagine running like *stride* *stride* *stride* *stride* *tippy tippy tippy toe* *stride* *stride* and so on. Unless you prefer to go *stride* *stride* *st--*slip!* *fall on ass* *swear profusely.* Whether you take the tippy toe option or the full-stride fall-on-ass, you're not going to be setting any records.

And I certainly did not set records. But I did have fun.

First beer stop was at the start line. There was some issue with open containers in public places, so the "aid stations" had to be strategically placed. I had maybe 4 ounces of beer before the start (Budweiser Select 55, just in case you wanted to know). I lined up about halfway back, thinking that I didn't want to get caught up in the high-speed scrum at the line. The sidewalk was only about 4 feet wide, with hard-packed snow piled up on either side. So it was going to be tight quarters at the start.

I left all my best warm-weather gear at the Firehouse (where I take a spinning class, and which is actually, if possible, colder than it would be to ride outside), so I had no arm-warmers and (most importantly) no gloves. Well, I had a pair of $1 gloves. But I threw them away because they smelled like wet dog and sardines. Stupid, stupid, stupid. My hands were freezing during the first mile. I eventually caved and tucked them into the sleeves of my sweatshirt (trying to hold my beer mug at the same time, by the way). They were so cold it felt like my thumbnails had been stepped on by a full back. Then, at about the 1 mile mark, they just magically stopped being cold. Not sure what that was all about. I guess it takes me exactly two miles to warm up (I did one before the start).

There was another woman who was running about the same pace as me from the beginning, and we'd kept each other close the whole time. Well, around the 1-mile point, I put in just enough of a surge t... Race Report: Resolution Run 5k
Well, might as well call it what it is.

It's been--what?--a good two months since I've posted. Know what else I haven't done in about two months? Haven't swam or biked over about that same span of time. Well, except for spinning classes. But that's my job. And the SpinStrong Firehouse workouts. But we go out for margaritas and Mexican food after that.

I'm beginning to understand my lack of ambition, though; the reasons for my missing mojo are becoming clear. I'm starting to feel restless, here in south central Kansas. Nothing I can put my finger on, exactly. But I think I'm ready to move on. It feels right. I feel ready.

But when you're getting ready to make a big transition, it's difficult to plan for things like training and racing, even though (for me, anyway) training and racing is more central than periphery. How shall I train? Should I peak for Shawnee Mission? Incorporate Mudwater and Rock 'n' Route? Plan to run the newly-designed Wichita Marathon course? See, I'm not sure I'm going to be around when all those things are going down, so I'm not sure what (if anything) I should target in the coming season.

Still, I miss having something to shoot for, a reason to go out and work up a sweat. And I've gained weight, over this holiday/off-season period. So I'm working on getting back on a plan. It's tentative, of course, but I figure that wherever I am in six months, they will have triathlons, and I will be able to find something within driving distance that I can do that will roughly approximate the events for which I've been training. So I'm trying to proceed as normal with this season, planning-wise. And if none of it works out, that'll be fine too.

None of which addresses my extended absence from the online community. I still read most of your blogs, by the way. I've become a little bit of a lurker, but I'm still out there, following your progress. Congrats to those of you who finished IMs in the past two months. You are all awesome and rock. As to writing, what I should have done was prepare a series of drafts that would take minimal work to complete, so that I could have kept publishing during my down-time. But I did not do that, and the result was a short . . . let's call it a sabbatical. Had my time off. Recharged a little bit. Now I'm back fresh, with some new ideas, ready to bring more info to you (and not just about my little life).

And really, that's what an off-season is supposed to be.
Hiatus
This was a cool race.

The course was laid out at Topeka's Heritage Park, which is a racing track. You know, where they race things with motors.

Except on this night (yes, it was an avondcross, or evening cross race), all the racing was of the two-wheeled variety.

Like the other races in the 60CX series, the women go in the first round of racing, along with most of the masters. What that means for us is that we get to pack down the grass for the big boys, which I don't think is fair at all. Of course, the trade off is that any chicanes and sharp corners that are likely to get slick aren't too bad (at least not until towards the end of the race).

This course was different from any other CX course I've been on, and not only because it was dark when I was riding it. Started on a short strip of tarmac, then a moderate, grassy uphill into a downhill chicane. Few more yards of tarmac, then a hard right into the racing arena and on to some of the finest surface you could ask for in a CX race. The dirt was hard packed, but with some texture, almost like course sand, but softer. It was fast. I even got into my big chain ring (53) on that stuff. Hammered around the outside of the race track, then a 180 switchback and more hard dirt riding into the wind. A sharp right onto the infield, with some (very) patchy grass, still moving fast. Through a small dip with a little mud (take the smoothest line and you don't even get wet), a right turn that's sharper than it looks, a little more grass, and hammer so you can beat anyone around you to the best line going into a series of very tricky (very fun) switchbacks. Left, then sharp right, then right, then left, like a snake folding back on itself. Out and around, through more grass, crossing the track, then uphill and hard right along the back straightaway of the dirt track. A downhill chicane (more than a little scary on that loose, sliding dirt) and then stairs. That's right, stairs. Sharp ramp off the stairs (out of the arena, now), slight left, another chicane, then downhill and around the backside of the arena. Bumpy bumpy bumpy, and watch that huge bump (got worse as the night went on and got darker) at the bottom of the hill. Then the grass gets thicker and thicker as you move into a false flat. Steep hill (only about 8-10 yards of it, but gotta be 20%), fight over it, then fight the urge to recover as you head back into the tarmac. Another chicane (don't hit that tree!), up and around to another flight of stairs. Remount, one more chicane, then a hard left and do it all over again. Phew.

Topeka is a 2-hour drive (if you interpret the speed limit somewhat liberally) from me. Rode up with my Cross Yoda, who got very chatty about 30 minutes after he had a little energy drink. We arrived 20 minutes before registration for my race closed. We changed and got all our gear, then went to take our bikes off the rack. I aired my tires up before I took the bike off the rack (I have to let air out of my tires to get the wheels on, because I use my road bike for cross and it doesn't have cantilevers), and must have finagled the valve stem into a strange position. After I aired the rear tire up and went to get it off the car, I heard a "CLICK pfshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." Shit. ... Race Report: HPT Grand Prix CX
At last: success!

I finally managed to get through a full cyclocross race without injury or incident. No flat tires. No twisted ankles. I still managed to fall and puncture my leg with my chainring while simultaneously bruising 82% of my shin, but that wasn't bad enough to prevent me from finishing. Truth be told, I didn't even realize how bad I'd hit myself until I finished the race and took my pants off.

Rode up with one of my Specs Racing teammates, Bob. Racing started at 11:00, and my race was one of the first (Cat. 4 women rode also with the women's open race and all the masters divisions). Having the first race on the course meant that I had the stiffest grass to contend with, and there was a ton of grass.

The course began with a nice, long stretch of pavement, but slightly uphill and with the north wind right in our faces. From there we moved into a long straightaway on the grass. The grass had been recently mowed, but it was still thick and stiff (that's what she said). Course dipped around into a ditch (riding off-camber), which led us around a tree, uphill and around another tree, then back through another straight-away the way we'd just come. Much of the course was like that: grass, tree, tree, grass. Slight uphill, slight downhill, slight turns. Two barriers in a small cluster of trees. Two separate times the course turned sharply and directly up steep hills (those were fun).

The highlight of the course was the Mound of Mercy, a banana-shaped embankment that was a moderate climb on the ends and steep in the middle. Course followed a few sharp turns around trees, then straight up the stem side of the banana. We rode steady around the banana's back, down the other side into some more off-camber section. 180* turn at the butt of the hill, then forced dismount for a barrier and a long, steep run-up. A small chicane followed the first run-up, then an even steeper downhill, another 180*, and a final run-up. Remount at the top of that run-up, then hammer back down the banana, left-hand turn, and through the finish line. 1.8 miles. And that's just lap one.

I lined up in the second row in a field of about 14 women. I'd read an article about how to get a good start in cyclocross races (because what else am I going to do at work at 5 in the morning), and I applied that new knowledge to excellent effect. I grabbed a wheel, passed, grabbed another wheel, passed, looking for a rabbit to chase. Going into the first grassy section, I was sitting in third position, with a fair gap back to the next woman. But as soon as we hit that first section, I knew that I was in trouble. The two women in front of me were much, much stronger. My body was already sending me messages: "Too much! Too soon! Abort! Abort!" I let them get ahead a little bit and tried to find a manageable pace. All my lines were good, but my power was not. I was already tasting blood, and could feel bile stirring up in my stomach. Coming through the second section of trees, the girl in fourth was right behind me. I let her go ahead, saying as she passed, "I already feel like I'm gonna throw up." This may have been about a quarter into the first lap.

I still had a fair gap back to the next... Race Report: Capital Cross
http://www.flickr.com/photos/stevendepolo/ / CC BY 2.0

First off, Joe Friel (author of the Training Bible series) just did a few blog posts on how to choose the right coach; you should check it out.

As for me, the economy has not been kind to personal trainers (or not to me, anyway, but my sales skills are pretty paltry), and I can't afford a coach. There's nothing wrong with coaching yourself; that's what most of us do anyway. But there's no denying the efficacy of hiring a good coach to make you faster.

With that in mind . . .

I've been giving some thought to something that Speedy said . . . something about not wanting to waste $200/month just to have some schmuck who's read The Triathlete's Training Bible impose rigid periodization on her. Or something. In other words, someone who's learned things from experience and from Triathlete Magazine; someone who's had success as a coach, but also as an athlete; someone who's actually (you know) been there.

Well I've been there in terms of personal training, but not in coaching.

Sure, I've coached plenty of athletes to their first triathlon, their first half marathon, even their first half ironman. But I haven't really taken an athlete and made him or her faster and stronger through my ingenuity and their hard work.

Which is why I need you.

I need experience, and you need coaching. So I'm extending an offer of 6 months of free coaching to two athletes (don't want to spread myself any thinner than that). There are a few requirements for this coaching. You have to have done some racing before (you need to be at the "next step" phase of training). You have to be willing to work hard. You have to have a good amount of patience with me, as I'm going to be figuring my coaching process and style out. And you need to live at least 50 miles away from me (so we don't run into trouble with my non-compete contract).

If you're interested in being one of my two coached athletes, send me an e-mail (jamielynnmorton[at]gmail[dot]com). Include your name, e-mail address, a phone number where I can reach you, and why you want to be coached. And we can go from there.
But at least it had nothing to do with my ankle.

I will admit outright that it's a little ridiculous to make a 3-hour drive (each way) to do a 30-minute race. Quite ridiculous. Especially when it's cloudy and cold, with sub-freezing wind chills, and threatening rain.

It makes very little sense, additionally, if you've driven all that way and your front tire appears to be a little bit squishy (when you'd just filled it up that morning) to air it up beyond the pressure you'd normally use and roll it anyway. Especially when you have an extra tube. But that's exactly what I did, and I certainly paid for it later.

The course was well-planned, championship grade, and very tough. The loop was almost two miles long, and it took me somewhere around 12-15 minutes to do one circuit. In a 30-minute race, that means only twice around. Course began with about 100 meters uphill in the grass. After cresting the hill, it dropped you down through a snaking, flowing section that weaved back and forth through trees at a downhill speed. There was an off-camber turn, a long stretch on hard-packed dirt, a slight ditch, then a long, flat, grassy straight-away. A slight downhill led into the first set of barriers (which I really slowed down for, believe me!), then up into another off-camber turn. Another hard-packed section, more winding back and forth through trees, then a steep off-camber turn, followed by a sharp incline (run-up, for those of us with a little less muscle and a little more weight). Last 300-400 yards of the course were on cobbles, with a steady uphill gradient. That section led to the finish line or (for those brave enough to tackle the beast again) a sharp left into a grassy section, the wheel pit, and a second set of barriers, before tackling the initial incline a second time.

I was still having trouble unclipping from my SPD pedals on Thursday, so I decided to run a pair of platform pedals on my bike with trail running shoes. There were a couple points on the course where that ended up being a great decision--I fell out on one of the off-camber turns, and if I'd been clipped in, I might have done some serious damage to my ankle. But of course I lost a ton of power, especially on the initial uphill. I'd gotten the chance to run the course before my noon race began, so I knew if I could just make it all the way up the hill, I'd be fine. Coming to the top of that hill, I was dead last out of all the women. Then I got over the hill, and bombed it. Passed three chicks straight away who weren't interested in taking all the curvy-windies at speed. Started chasing 'em down, confident that my handling skills and power on downhills and in the flats was the bes... Race Report: Chris (Cris?) Cross '09
First of all, the ankle is getting much better. It's not ready for running, yet; I want to give it at least one more week before I try any impact on this poor achilles tendon. But it's to the point where I can walk normally, and do most activities. I can even unclip my right foot from my SPD pedals, as long as I take it slow. Next week, I'm going to try a few miles on the elliptical, and I've been water jogging as well. Swimming is going (ahem) swimmingly. I'm hoping I'll be back to running within the next two weeks, and Chris Cross (next Sunday) is looking like a good possibility.

Now for what comes next. If Chris Cross doesn't or can't happen next week (that is if I decide that a cyclocross race isn't worth compromising the long-term health of my ankle), I'm ready to just scrap the cross season. There's always next year, after all.

This next week begins a long-term training plan for me, building up to a 26.2 mile journey in L.A. on March 21. I've always felt sort of ambivalent about marathons. Everyone does them. They don't seem like that big a deal, anymore. It's like a 4-minute mile: still impressive, but not superhuman. At any rate, I wasn't really interested in running one.

But after finishing at Lawrence, my mind started wandering here and here, and even here. And I knew that in order to make those dreams reality, I would (almost) have to run a marathon. (Quick note: I know people who have gone Iron without ever having done a marathon; it's possible, but not something I want to do.)

So here's the run-down on Jamie's future: P.F. Chang half-marathon in Phoenix in January. L.A. Marathon in March. Then depending on how that marathon feels . . . well, if it totally kicked my ass, then I'll see you in Lawrence in June. If I finish and I feel good and I feel strong and I feel excited . . .

Then I'll see you here in S... As it Stands (and looking to the future)
It's not enough for you to be able to swim, bike, and run faster than you are now; hell, it's not even enough for you to go faster than the competition. Your best pace in a tempo run, your smoothest technique in the open water, your fastest speed on your bike isn't going to matter a lick if you can't call upon it (and a little more) when race day rolls around.

Triathlon is an inherently painful sport; all endurance sports, actually, entail more suffering than most humans (at least humans in our culture) are comfortable with. So when the intense discomfort of racing near your limits smacks you in the face, what do you turn to? How do you ensure that the hard work you've put in leading to your A race doesn't fizzle out when you need it most?

One way is to establish a rival. This is what I did for the Boathouse International Triathlon. I checked the list of registered athletes for women in my age group; I looked up their USAT rankings and previous race performances, trying to determine which ones would pose a threat. I found race pictures of them online and posted them above my desk (note: this creeps people out) with their times from races I'd also been at last year. Seriously. Ask my co-workers and clients. I had to look at those pictures every day, and before going out on training runs, I would see those photos and get a surge of adrenaline that told me, You want it more than they do.

Another method I've used with great success is focusing on a mantra--a phrase you repeat to yourself constantly to drown out the noise of pain and stink of lactate in your body. The best one I've found so far is "Trust the work"; that's what brought me through my first 70.3. But you can use any phrase that you find appealing. Works best when it's short, succinct, and burns an image in your brain. One of my athletes likes to use "Slow and steady"; another took herself through her first tri with the phrase "Home stretch." Keep it appropriate to your goals, though; if you're looking to podium for the first time, "Just finish" is probably not going to be immensely helpful to you.

My favorite method is to get a song stuck in my head. This can be tricky, if you're not a particularly musical person. It can also disrupt your rhythm if you try to match your cadence to an inappropriate song. And I've found that I can't always choose what song ends up swirling around in my brain (it's been this one in every workout I've done for the past two weeks, which is downright annoying). But when your brain hits on the right song--maybe something from your pre-race playlist--and it keeps coming back to (again) drown out the noise of your body, it's golden.

A key thing to note is that different methods are going to work differently for each individual. Personally, the rivalry thing doesn't ... The Next Step: Chasing it Down

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Tri Harder
3/23/2010

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