And the Stream of Expected Changes Continues

One of the things I get a kick out of is being really in tune with my body as I gradually increase my training load. After a brief break in the fall (which is typically way brief for me), I am itching to prove to myself that I haven't lost my endurance, which is why a 1/2 NothingMan in November or December (2008's was delayed due to my back injury, although I suppose my November Cheaterman 60-mile bike/15 mile run was close) has become a regular event for me.

Next, I have to adjust to life on the fucking trainer, but I start out with short workouts so that I can up the intensity, and for no good reason at all, I cut back on my swimming. And then I start working on some running intensity.

Next, I feel like a complete and total blob, because I hate how I look when I am not tan, even though it is probably just a few pounds of fat because I'm not training like a maniac. I remember that I need to be watchful of my diet, especially treats like candy and chips, because I usually don't start in on them until I'm training at least 15 hours per week.

Then I get up to around 15 hours a week and it's always a bit of a shock to my system, just getting used to the frequency of the workouts and all the bottles and how I need to manage my time very efficiently. But then after a few weeks of it, big things start to happen, since I usually don't hang out at 15 for very long.

There's the Monday morning workout, "Oh SHIT am I tired." I slept well last night, and felt fine when I woke up, but as soon as I started doing pullups, I could tell I was tired. By the time I got into the pool, I could tell I wouldn't be swimming too fast. There will be Mondays where I can barely put my face in the water I am so tired, but that won't happen for a few months (I hope!). And when one of those days happen, I have a conversation with myself and my little friends that goes like this:

Me: Huh, I feel kinda tired. I wonder if I should take a rest day?
Inner Devil: Fuck no just go a little easier today
Inner Angel: Gee, it wouldn't hurt you to take one
Me: I wonder when was the last time I actually took a rest day? Probably before some race...
Inner Devil: Rest days are for losers or the day before a race ONLY.
Inner Angel: Maybe you need a rest day.
Me: Now that I am thinking about it, what do you know? I can work out harder right now.

Speaking of shit, there's more of that happening, too, as my body adjusts to more food going in and consequently more shit coming out (sorry about that it's true). It will take a few weeks for me to get all synchronized on that front, which is mostly a function of run volume and frequency. I'm up to 5 runs a week, and I'll add a 6th in 4 weeks.

The next thing that will happen, I'm guessing in 2 weeks, is that Mr. Tapeworm will return. Since I've been dieting, I've been used to some feelings of hunger, but that's from calorie restriction. Mr. Tapeworm will see to it that not only am I hungry all the time, even while actually eating, but that while eating one meal I will be thinking about the next one!

Finally, I'll experience regular bonking. Not necessarily during a workout, but yesterday, for instance, after I finished about 2:15 of stuff, ate lunch, had a beer, had a lay down, then got up and started doing yard work (which apparently I do rather vigorously, go figure), and about :40 in I started bonking. It made me laugh, because now I need to be aware of any extra physical activity that I'm doing because it will require more calories coming in every 2 hours at least.

Bonking during workouts will happen when my timing is off, i.e., I started a workout later than I should have and didn't keep fueling right up until. This will happen usually during the week when work takes precedence over when I get my second workout in, since I won't eat lunch until after that's finished. And even if I pound a Coke or Ultra Violence, it might not be enough calories to keep me going, only because I probably am not able to keep my glycogen topped off on a daily basis when I'm at 16+ hours in a week.

All this while, I will be feeling like I am strong and that nothing can get to me, but you know what? Predictably I get a little moody. I know many people think they only get that when in a taper, but I am already there--it's more a function of how much I'm training. I already did a mini-build while doing the indoor sprint races, and now I'm in the volume build for Triple T and I already notice some moodiness. But I've done this for years now, so I've learned when to paste on the smile and say "thank you" when I might not feel like it or to just smile or to just be quiet.

It doesn't help to not have raced in 2 weeks. You know, even though it wears you down, you get used to the high of it because there is nothing like it. I just completed a survey which was fun to take, since it confirmed what I thought to be my mental state while racing. And that high can last you for a few days, and I naturally have these aggro tendencies, so you put it together and it's quite heady.

But then there will be the first 100 mile ride of the year, the first 2 hour run, the first 4,000 yard swim, and they will be other joyous markers of things to come. It makes a training year like climbing a mountain, and then you need to come down off of it. But the way up is fun, fun, fun, and you know what? Even if you reverse the first letters, it's still fucking fun!

Edit: During my little :45 run, I realized I forgot a few other markers:

• Gagging when I brush my teeth. This seems to start happening once I am racing, and then continues as I build volume, because brushing my teeth means either I'm on my way to a race or a long workout!
• Hot legs. As the volume goes up, so does the metabolism, and there comes a point when my legs are always burning up while I sleep, which makes me wake up and move to another part of the bed which might be cooler, or throw all the blankets off and put a cool feather pillow on myself, go into the guest bed which will be nice and cool, or move to the edge of the bed so a fan can blow directly on me. Last night was the first time where I had to have a fan blowing on me all night because I was so hot, even though the air temperature in my bedroom was maybe 68. When I travel during the summer to races or training weekends, it's a big joke with whomever is my roommate about how cold we will keep the room. 58-60 is not too cold!
  
• The MESS. Since I had my house all nice and fixed up, I've reverted to being somewhat of a neat freak, but once I start running and riding outside exclusively (and longer), time available to clean will go down the drain, and there will be shoes, helmets, dirty clothes and bottles in plain sight pretty much daily.
• Practically puking after runs from home. Why? I think because on the way back, I am usually so excited that I will be done for the day, and I usually have something in reserve so I throw caution to the wind and just gun it for the last mile. And then spend 5 minutes dry heaving and coughing!
  

See this is the sort of stuff you never see in books about Ironman training, but to me it's one of the more charming aspects!

A Sure Sign of Serious Training

So I decided this morning to sign up for the Twin Lakes Triathlon in June. Even though registration isn't open until Monday (and it's just a form you download and mail in, so sadly, there will be no SUBMIT button), just thinking about signing up is exciting. You can draft on the bike in this race, so if you plan your swim accordingly with your biking buds, you can have a great time on the bike and do well on the run.

I'm getting ready to go swim, and I'm brushing my teeth and I barely get the toothbrush in my mouth and I'm gagging. Nice! Usually this doesn't start happening until about mid-May or something (not like I keep track of it in my training spreadsheet but maybe I will now ;) so it was making me laugh, and gagging and laughing at the same time is not a good thing. I know of only one other person who has admitted to having this "issue," and you know me--I have zero qualms about discussing bodily functions, but in this case it was kind of good to know I'm not alone in this.

My belief is that it's the sweetness in the toothpaste coupled with the increase in training which means I am taking in sugars fairly regularly, and well, my usual toothpaste (Crest) is quite sweet. Huh--maybe I should try an experiment with just baking soda? Like that wouldn't make me gag! Or maybe some unflavored toothpaste. I should have known yesterday when I went downstairs to my Gatorade tower to select enough 32-oz. bottles to get me through today through Sunday, and my arms were overflowing, that I am "in it" now. It feels good, and this is what I was preparing for, and while there are no races until Triple T, I've already put in some good intensity work and now it's time for the big volume jump.

So in a weird, perverted way, I *HEART* gagging. All part of going harder, faster and longer!

Ironman USA Lake Placid Race Report--Race Morning

This is my pink TY collection (so far). Third from the left is the Fucking FeFe poodle I spoke of in the Preamble...

Race Morning

I woke up to pee maybe 3 minutes before my alarm went off at 3:30AM. Actually, it was 3:20AM, but for some reason I had this alarm clock set 10 minutes fast. I was about to doze off after peeing when it sprang into action. I rarely need an alarm clock, so this was a bit of a shock to the system, but I had gotten plenty of sleep (about 7 hours), so I didn’t feel poorly. I didn’t want to wake Rich right away if at all possible, so I just turned on the bathroom light in our small hotel room.

First things first—I retrieved my pre-mixed Gag Juice (Ultrafuel) from the fridge and began drinking it. I just couldn’t shoot the entire thing at once, but I think I drank about ½ at once and then the remainder about 5 minutes later. I wanted to get that stuff down (400 calories worth) so that some of it could flush through my system.

Next, I began getting dressed. I had laid everything out the night before, so it was chip, tri shorts, bra top, singlet, t-shirt, Spongebob Squarepants pants and Paul Frank sweatshirt. I was debating whether or not to wear the bra top under the singlet, but then I had flash thoughts about nipple chafing, so I went with it.

Rich probably heard me scuttling around like a squirrel and woke up, and he went to locate coffee. I felt pretty relaxed and all, after all, the past 4 days had just been a waiting game, and it was time to get this show on the road. I pulled all my bags from their overnight position on the side of my bed onto the open floor space and started double-checking things.

While Rich was gone, I snapped a photo of myself in front of the mirror with the “GO” sign replacing my head, I guess as some sort of motivational tool.

Rich got back around 4:15 with the coffee. It seemed he had been gone forever, though! Sometimes it’s a good thing when time drags—other times not so much. Coffee was a welcome sight, meaning I could add my Power Bar Triple Threat (another 230 calories, which I can only eat with coffee in hand) to my stomach so that I’d be topped off with carbs save for part of a Gatorade.

Usually, I will eat a Succeed capsule or two the night before an Ironman, but I drank about 80 oz. of Gatorade on Saturday, so I figured I’d had plenty of sodium. Not only that, but my custom Infinit mix is loaded up with electrolytes, since I’ve learned over the years that I sweat rather concentrated (I DNF’ed with hyponatremia at Ironman Wisconsin 2003).

Somehow the next 25 minutes or so passed. Part of it was taken up by Rich bodymarking me. Since I had donned fake tattoos on both biceps and also my calves, he made some comment about how to fit my number (2488) on, and I said just do ½ above the band and ½ below. When he got to writing my age on my calf, he had to ask me again how old I am. Sometimes I hate saying it because I really don’t feel my age most of the time. In fact, because of how silly and giggly I can get and some of the pink decorative items I tend to accumulate, recently one of my girlfriends said to me, “What are you, twelve?” But, hey, age is what it is, and so I coughed up the big FIVE OH.

I don’t remember what else went on in that time slot, but I know I didn’t feel edgy. I suppose a big part of that was due to Rich more or less taking care of me, which is something I’ve never had the luxury of before. Well let me back up—I have had a non-racing friend with me a few times before, but not someone with the same experience level as Rich, so they would know what to do and how to react (or not) to my squirreliness. Before Ironman Hawaii in 2004, I was pretty stone-faced and nervous, and I didn’t want my friends to look at me, touch me, or touch anything that was going into transition with me.

Some of my pre-Ironman attitude depends upon what I’m going into the race with, goal-wise. I have had pipe dreams in the past of Kona slots, but this time, I wasn’t even thinking about that, so I guess some of the pressure was off and I could be my normal calm, joking self.

When it was time to go, we got in the car, and Rich knew where to park the car because while he’s not raced this Ironman before, he’s attended and knows some secret spots. We parked, got out and walked down a hill (I’m not saying where), and soon enough I’m at the entrance. He sort of looked at me like, “Are you going to be OK?” and I told him I was good to go and that I’d see him later.

I got into transition by 5:15, and first I dropped off my Ultra Violence that was lovingly loaded into my Big Bertha Fuel Belt into my T2 bag. Then I headed for my bike. When I had checked in Bitchie, I forgot to deflate the tires a bit and almost went back to do that, but Rich assured me not to worry about it (I have never over-inflated a tire), so I left things alone. I put my bottles on Bitchie, the SRM meter, and then I checked the tires. I have Tufo tubulars on my Cane Creek Chronos (with Titanium spokes, thank you very much, I’m such a fucking poser), and those tires don’t deflate much at all. In fact, when I loaded Bitchie into the box before leaving for Albany, the tires were super hard after not being ridden for 2 weeks!

So in the space of maybe 5 minutes, I’m done. Now what the fuck am I supposed to do? I have my own pump, and there are lots of people in line waiting to get their tires pumped, so I decided to play Good Samaritan, since I’ve got loads of time on my hands, and randomly selected athletes to pump up. For some reason, each one I selected was an Iron Virgin, and I had my calm on, and knew to speak softly and calmly to them as I asked them what pressure (although I always guessed 120PSI). I got a little nostalgic looking into the eyes of some of these guys, thinking how exciting it is to be doing your first one. I tried not to act all jaded when they would ask me how many Ironman races I’ve done. Crap—it’s making me cry just writing about this. I felt like some saint ministering to the needy. For one poor guy, the valve stem broke off on his front tube, and I could tell it was old. It was only 5:30AM, so I calmly told him he had plenty of time to get that tube changed, and I pointed him to where Tech Support was located.

As I was walking back to begin suiting up, I spotted Chad and Steve, two guys I had ridden with back in June (they are the genesis of my Hottie Brigade on Flickr). Chad was pretty relaxed, but Steve looked pretty nervous. Still, we shared hugs, and I offered up my pump. Chad was also running Tufo tubulars, so I noted to him that they don’t lose much pressure, which was why the pump head kept popping off. We went by feel on his tires, and everything was all set.

Next, I got in line for the porta-potty to hopefully take a good dump (sorry, but we all do it, you know?). While in line, I heard a guy talking about how he had 3,600 of calories loaded into his bike bottles! I was unsure of whether to bite my tongue or not, and I decided to have a little heart to heart with the man. I told him that that’s probably about what he’d burn, but to plan on only replacing ½ of that. He said he’d done this in training, but I cautioned him that the stomach often does interesting things when the heart rate is jacked up due to racing and all, and that he should be prepared to modify his plan if needed. He was OK with this, and I got my turn and was successful in my mission.

I went over back to my bags, which were also in the end zone of the bag area. I am so old (Studio Audience: HOW OLD ARE YOU???)…I am so old that I don’t even rate a rack to put my bags on. In a way, though, that was a good thing, because my bag position, just like my bike rack, was easy to find. Just go all the way to the fucking end of all the bags!

I started stripping my dry clothes and everything right at my bag spot. I saw Shelley putting on her wetsuit and we had a hug before the big day began. I finished up getting my suit on, and then began milling around, figuring I should head down to the lake. On my way out, Rich flagged me down. I hadn’t expected to see him until much later in the day, so it was nice to see him again. I think I did a little bouncy dance in front of him—not sure why. Guess I wasn’t feeling too stressed, although I had a moment right then where I wanted to cry, but I didn’t. We jabbered for a few minutes until someone else he knew spotted him, and I took this as a cue to get my butt out of there.

I began the walk down to the lake, and the sidewalk was now carpeted with something resembling Astroturf. There were spectators walking on there with shoes, which got me upset, so I began telling people with shoes to get off the carpet so it wouldn’t get too full of rocks and assorted other shit. Some of them were clueless, so I’d tap them lightly and ask again. Some of the other athletes looked at me like I must be pretty gutsy to do something like that, but I am not a person of inaction. Sometimes people are just stupid and don’t realize what they are doing, and I didn’t know what non-athletes were doing in the chute, anyway.

As soon as I got down to the lake, Mike spotted me. How the hell he recognized me all neoprened up I don’t know, but I guess it’s my short, blond hair or something. It was nice to see a familiar face, and at this point, I began emitting an almost continuous string of F-bombs, which made Mike laugh. I told him that once I am about to go off, this is what happens, and I think I had motor mouth. But we kept smiling and laughing and we went into the water together and generally trying to keep one another as loose as you can be before you are about to start an Ironman.

I ended up lining up with the 1:10-1:15 crowd, or so they said. I am definitely capable of a 1:10-1:15 swim, so I thought this would be good. I had read about the 2006 race and how congested the swim was, and that there was lots of flailing and body contact, so I wasn’t looking forward to the melee, but what are you going to do?

In no time, the National Anthem was playing, and we were going to start.

Gag Festival

Well, I need to wash my bike BEFORE I ride it (too much stickiness on the rear brake from dripping/condensation/whatever from behind the saddle), it's raining, and I may end up on the trainer for awhile, and I just drank the Ultrafuel which made me gag and then I immediately brushed my teeth which also made me gag. And I took apart a box fan so I could clean it and it's so disgusting that it made me gag. And the garbage in my garage made me gag--what the hell, I guess lobster shells get a little ripe in the heat. And I cleaned the toilets this morning, also making me gag.

Hey, but when you start a day that low it can only improve, right?

Gag Reflex

I keep wondering if I am unique in that I experience this quite often while in heavy training:

• When brushing my teeth, even before the brush hits my mouth, and then while I'm actually brushing my teeth
• When entering a porta-potty and then while in it. This one seems normal to me, although I doubt if everyone else actually gags and chokes.
• Sometimes when I'm about to begin a long run. Not sure why!
• When I'm about to drink and then while drinking and for about :15 after, Ultrafuel

What's up with this? Am I just weird? I'm almost embarrassed to admit to this, but on the other hand, it makes me laugh. I sort of understand the toothbrush and Ultrafuel things, and believe that it's my body's way of letting me know how sick it is of me stuffing all the sugary things down my throat. But still...