First Quarter Results Reflect Strong Growth!

Today is the last day of the first four months of IM Florida training.  That means I'm 25% of the way there.  Here is a brief summary of the mileage & hours I spent training in the "First Quarter."

I knew the time I spent in the weight room would decline as I spent more time on the "three disciplines," and I've aimed to gradually build overall mileage on a weekly & monthly basis.  As much fun as it is to flex in the mirror, I really can't count that time toward my weekly totals.  In the months ahead, as the weather improves, I expect running and swimming to level off a bit, and biking to pick up substantially. 

The good news is that thus far, I've been able to avoid any major injuries.  I've learned some hard lessons over the years about managing mileage and rotating exercises to prevent overuse injuries.  I've also been very lucky the last two years not to have encountered any issues that put me out of service for extended periods.  I've said it before:  I'm grateful to be able to run, bike, and swim without feeling pain.  I know this won't last forever, and I won't ever take this luxury for granted.

Last night, Alisha and I had a discussion about the day-to-day struggle to stay motivated.  Although my training times have increased substantially over the past few months, I've enjoyed training for Ironman much more than any event in recent history.  The Triathlete's Training Bible has played a significant role in preventing burnout/overtraining.  A major focus of that book is ensuring that each workout has a specific purpose -- even if it is only active recovery.  My weekly workout plans include specific types of workouts aimed at building endurance, force, speed skills, muscular/anaerobic endurance, and regular testing.  A side benefit of these targeted workouts is that I am less likely to lapse into the ho-hum mindless mileage ruts that are so typical of distance training.  Here is what my chart looks like:

The shaded-in areas indicate when I've completed workouts that target these specific areas.  A careful observer will note that I almost never reach my weekly goals for "total hours" of workouts.  I'm working on that.  Of course, I would argue that if you achieve all your goals on a regular basis, you are underachieving. 

As it turns out, it's actually very difficult to squeeze in 12 or 13 hours of workouts in a week if you happen to be an ambitious lawyer, father, and husband.  Who knew?

I Took the Long Way to Work Today

This morning I tacked on an extra few miles by following the W&OD to the end, then following Four Mile Run to the Mount Vernon Trail.  The wind was cold and stronger than I expected, but I appreciated the free wind tunnel test.

I feel very lucky to be able to watch the sun rise over the national monuments almost every morning.  It's a view that continues to inspire me, even after several years.  When I cross the Theodore Roosevelt Bridge, for a brief moment I can see the Kennedy Center on my left, the Lincoln and Washington Memorials, the beautiful Memorial Bridge, and the Capitol Building, all at the same time.  Someday when I feel really brave, I'll figure out a way to snap a photo from the bridge to document it. 

T1 to T2: What to Drink?

When it comes to bikes, I rarely suffer from indecision.  I have strong opinions on brands, models, and even accessories.  However, one final piece of my tri bike remains unresolved:  The hydration system.  (Nutrition will likely be the subject of another blog post.)

For shorter triathlons, hydration and nutrition during the bike portion are simple, but the longer distances require more thought. 

Olympic distance (Bike 25 miles, about 1hr 15min):  I usually take a gel right when I get to Transition 1, then drink through a 750ml bottle of gatorade during the 25 mile ride, then take another gel as soon as I'm done.
 
Half-Iron (Bike 56 miles, about 3 hours):  I tape 5-6 gels to the bike frame and drink 3 gatorade bottles over 56 miles. I usually pick up one of the three bottles at the 2/3 mark.

Ironman (Bike 112 miles, about 6-6.5 hours):  This race is another animal.  The common wisdom is, "When you feel good, eat."  While you might think that the bike portion would be an easy-cheesy roll through the countryside, it's actually quite stressful.   It's hard to chew food and gulp down lots of liquid when you're already dehydrated and dizzy from the 1-hour plus swim (particularly a salt-water swim).  But if you can't get enough calories during the bike, you're toast.  Some riders set their watches to beep every 15 minutes to remind them to eat and/or drink.  In 2006, I can remember feeling totally stressed out when my stomach shut down during the bike portion.  I could feel a bonk coming on, and there was little I could do about it.

So hydration is rather important.  Sure, I could simply use two water bottle cages like I do on the road bike.  But why go to all the trouble of riding a triathlon bike, and tucking into a tight aerodynamic position, while also adding two huge water-bottle-shaped parachutes to the bike?  Why not go aerodynamic?

What makes the decision difficult is the fact that there are so many options for hydration.  Several elements must be weighed in the balance:

1. Cost
2. Proximity (water closer to your face tends to get your attention)
3. Aerodynamics (5-10% drag makes a difference over 6 hours)
4. Refilling/swapping bottles (Believe it or not, it's hard to refill bottles in the aero position when you are traveling 25 miles per hour.  Not enough hands.)

I came across this excellent article, which only further complicates the decision by giving even more information.  Free Speed: Cervélo’s Tips on Aerodynamic Hydration  So here are the pros/cons of each system:

Behind the seat: Cost low, aerodynamics okay, easy to swap bottles, BUT less likely to drink.  I'm familiar with this option.  Other negatives: you have to remember to swing your leg high over the back of the saddle or you knock the bottles out of the cages.  Gatorade also tends to leak into your rear cassette assembly, causing the freewheel to get "sticky" and I find myself replacing bearings far too often.

AeroDrink:  Cost low, easy to drink, BUT less aerodynamic, no swapping (must refill through a funky sponge thing).  There is also now a two-chamber system so that you can fill half with gatorade and half with water.  Risks include poking your eye out Red Ranger-style.

Torpedo-style: Uber-aerodynamic, cost low, easy to drink, BUT limited to one 500ml bottle with my current aerobar setup (because I have short T-rex arms).   This would have to be supplemented with something else.  Note: The person who took this photo obviously never uses his aero bars, because the water bottle is in the friggin' way!

Aerodynamic bottles in typical cages: Aerodynamic, easy to drink, BUT cost is higher and the refill would be more complicated than with the aerodrink (no swapping bottles).

Standard:  Very cheap, easy to drink, easy to swap, BUT less aerodynamic and less convenient in the aero position. Note the stack of gels just behind my right hand (this was a Half-IM).  My tri bike also only has one set of bolts for a water bottle, so I would have to either add a torpedo or another supplemental holder elsewhere on the bike.

So whither do I take my hydration needs?  If anyone reading this blog has any experience with these systems, I would appreciate your opinion mightily.

French Food Rules, Even at "MacDos"

I love food.  In fact, I've said many times that the only reason I exercise is so that I can eat more food.  And the only thing I love more than food is French Food.  Even the food at McDonalds in France is superior to American Food.  Observe the following exhibit:

Yes, the baguette is cooked in a stone oven.  Yes, that's real emmenthal, dijon mustard, and two pieces of meat.  Is it available in America?  Non.  We just couldn't handle such an evolution in our fast food diet.

http://bottomline.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2012/02/24/10498167-mcdonalds-goes-gallic-with-mcbaguette-burger

Fartleks For Lunch

I had to be at work super early this morning to prepare for a 9am call, so a morning workout was out of the question.  Lunchtime is short, so I had to make the short time count.  I ran 6 miles of "fartleks," Swedish for "speed play" -- 4 minutes at 80% intensity, 1 minute at 100% intensity, 30 seconds at 60%, then repeat.  I've found that interval sessions like this help me get over training plateaus.  Today the fartleks also revealed just how much speed I've lost in trying to develop more slow-twitch endurance.

I have complained for some time now that the Iphone didn't have a simple app for interval training (one that would play your music in the background and give periodic signals when it was time for the next interval).  I just stumbled across "Interval Timer" from Deltaworks that does the job well.  It keeps the screen active too, so that you can skip songs without fumbling around to unlock your phone.

Hi-Ho MacAttac! A 65 Degree Commute Awaits!

Is it unprofessional to keep a bike in your office?  Yes, but only if you have a sucky bike.  The MacAttac is actually a 2008 Specialized Tarmac Pro. 

Nothing more professional than a professional-grade steed.

Daddy Guilt

It's hard being The Dad sometimes.

This is what I see:

But this is what I think:

I recognize that there are a few great perks to being The Dad.  There is nothing more intense than the kids' joy when they see me pulling up to the house, and the way they run laps around the living room when I walk through the door.  I love that they want me to linger for a few more minutes when I put them to bed.  One more story.  One more song.  Monday, Genevieve had apparently waited all day to ask me questions about the living and eating habits of bears, because I'm clearly the resident expert on the Ursidae family.  Right or wrong, I benefit from the fact that the scarcity of my time tends to drive up the value of that commodity.

This post is not about a regret for "choosing career over family," if there is such a choice.  I get annoyed every time I hear the cliche, "No man on his death bed ever regretted spending too much time with his family."  The choice is never as clear as that, and it is an unfair dichotomy.  I'm sure there are plenty of people on death beds who regret that they could not provide a better life for their children (i.e. more time at work).  And others who regret spoiling their children and failing to teach them proper work habits.  And there are still likely more people who simply regret being on their death bed, because dying is crappy.  I don't work because I don't want to spend time with my family, or because I find it more fulfilling than being a Dad.  I work because I'm a Dad.

I don't mean to suggest that the provider role (and the highs and lows of that role) falls exclusively to men.  I am very grateful that our current life situation allows Alisha to spend so much time with our children, and I try not to take that for granted.  I'm sure that she could navigate the role of breadwinner or co-breadwinner as well as (or better than) me.  But this is the way life has worked out for us, and these are the roles we presently play.  Rather than get wrapped up in an academic debate about the value of a patriarchal family unit, I've decided to embrace the role of The Dad and make the best of it, just as my Dad did.

Before I had children, I had a vague appreciation for the hard work and sacrifice of my own father in providing for our family.  While he was undoubtedly faced with difficult life decisions -- whether to move, whether to change careers, whether to keep the mustache -- his efforts always appeared seamless and consistent to our family, even in face of major life changes.  We knew one thing for sure about Dad -- he worked.  I have tried to emulate those qualities in my own career, and to teach my own children the value of hard work and consistency, even though those lessons are often taught simply by my absence.

What has caught me a bit by surprise is the sadness and isolation of being The Dad.  I struggle daily with the knowledge that every minute, every hour, every day only moves in one direction.  I can't get back the special moments I miss.  I can't provide for the family and be with the family at the same time.  Instead, I spend many hours working on a career that is far too abstract to explain to a 4-year-old.  (She would tell you that my job involves talking on the phone, reading lots of books with no pictures, and eating cupcakes.)  But I try to make every minute matter when I see the kids.
 

Monday was a perfect example of the challenge of being The Dad.  I had picked up a nasty head cold, and I wanted to sleep through the day.  After all, it was Presidents' Day, and very few people would be in the office.  However, I knew that a new client expected something from me, so I went to the office around 9am to wrap up a 15 minute project.  Several phone calls later, I found myself trying to untangle a fresh set of problems not of my creation.  So I spent the day hopped up on Day-Quil and enough Diet Coke to render a horse sterile, and went home at 7pm -- 10 hours into my "15 minute" day.  I arrived just in time to tell the kids good night.  Kids were disappointed, client was not yet satisfied, and my cold had only intensified.  Welcome to being The Dad!

Lest this sound like a pity party, I understand that Alisha goes through different, though no less intense, moments of "mommy guilt" and other struggles with the kids.  (She also has begun losing her hearing because of Emory's operatic bursts.)  She doesn't get "promotions" or "raises" or "atta-boy" emails from co-workers.  Her quiet sacrifices dwarf my own, and she doesn't complain nearly as much!  Having Alisha as The Mom makes my life 100% better. 

I'm grateful to have a dad who understood and embodied his role as a provider.  His example is still a steady touchstone for the ups and downs of my own life.  Just last night I had a long talk with him to try to reclaim my sanity.  I can only hope that my children will appreciate (and emulate) the quiet family role played by a parent at work -- though I hope it does not take them thirty years! 

My Morning Exorcism

Last night, I had a nightmare that involved characters from The Exorcist.  So I dedicated my run this morning to that epic horror movie.  10 miles on the C&O, followed by a sprint up "the stairs" highlighted in the troubling ending of the movie.  Note the frost on my hat.  Yes, it was freezing this morning!

And no, I did not throw myself down the stairs at the end.

Caution: If you are squeamish, this video clip from The Exorcist is not for you.

The Yin and Yang of Nutrition for the Middle-Aged Runner

Some say the fourth discipline of Triathlon is "nutrition."  Complete books have been written about getting the right kinds of food into your system.  How many grams of protein should you consume before your workout, if any?  How long is the post-workout window for protein consumption?  All-liquid calories during the race?  Watered-down Gatorade or separate Gatorade and water?  What qualifies as "good fat?"  And what Madison Avenue executive decided that only 13-year olds and gym rats are buying whey protein powder?  (I feel less shame buying Preparation H or a box of tampons than buying a big jar of "Body Fortress" or "Nitro-Pro" at the grocery store.) 

But no one (until now) has authored a guide for how to REMOVE all the spent fuel from your system, and preferably not in the middle of a race.  Look no further than The Fourth Discipline for your guide to a regular, and frighteningly efficient evacuation system for your fuel.

Yes, Metamucil should be the Official (pre-)Sports Drink of the Middle Age Runner.  Forget about all the quasi-nutritious claims on the label.  You are not drinking it for your heart health or because it has a juicy orange on the front.  This drink gets its business done, and gets it done well.

This magical drink will make you so predictably regular, you can set your watch to it.  In fact, I no longer measure my age in years, but rather by empty jars of Metamucil.  The Roman Calendar is now obsolete, thanks to psyllium husk fiber grown in the Middle East. 

This old man recommends consuming two tablespoons mixed in 6 ounces of water, 12 hours before the run or race.  (I prefer it cold and gritty.)  Fuel yourself on race morning any way you want -- and rest assured that Metamucil will keep you "on track."

Some people say golf has the best "scenery."

This morning's 8-miler on the C&O Canal Towpath.  Old train bridges, hand-operated locks made of large slabs of wood, a blue herron standing on the edge of the path, and the slowly building hum of a city waking up.  This is why running is so great.

Saturday Night Is Date Night!

Make sure you take your lady somewhere very nice.

We Created a Monster

Quiz:  What happens when two runners get married & have kids?
Answer: The kids are running monsters.

Seriously, our kids will always have a warped sense of reality.  Before Genevieve could speak in full sentences, she knew that races go swim-bike-run.  She knew that races have winners and losers.  And like her dad, she has already learned that she may never be one of the winners!

Sometimes I feel a little guilty about our kids' exposure to competitive events.  They have spent many, many boring hours milling around the transition area or the finish line.  They have been crammed into a jogger for workouts or to track mom or dad's progress in a long-distance race.  They have fallen asleep in the bike trailer on long rides.  They probably think this is totally normal -- that every parent drinks Gatorade for breakfast, has 2 or 3 blue toenails, and has their age written in permanent marker on their left calf. 

But when I feel guilty, I consider the alternatives.  I suppose we could be dragging our kids out to meetings of the Precious Moments Collectors Club.  (I thought I just made that up, but there really is such an organization.)  And their reality would be animated by doe-eyed porcelain children with oversized heads and impossibly adorable cowlicks, frozen in syrup-sweet episodes from your grandmother's revisionist history.  Or we could race Pontiac Trans-Ams and our kids would ask why the Prius doesn't have a giant firebird painted on the hood, and why I make them wear something over their wife-beater t-shirts at church. 

Our children were not destined to be so lucky.  Our children observe us constantly training for the next big event, and they have already begun mimicking our hobbies. 

For example, one of our good friends (also obsessed with running) put on kids' dashes when Genevieve was still impressionable.  She was so proud of her "running shoes."  She finished next-to-last or in last place, but she certainly put in her best effort.

One of the highlights of Genevieve's racing history (and one of my highlights as well) was the Independence Day 5000, a 5K that took place a month after Emory was born.  As in other races, I pushed her in a jogger.  But this time she had a t-shirt that matched mine (a leftover running shirt from my law firm's team), and she got to wear the number.  Better yet, she even got her own paper cup before the race.  When she finished drinking the water, I told her to throw away the cup, but she insisted that she "throw it on the street like the runners do."  So halfway through the 5K, she leaned forward out of the jogger and tossed her cup in front of the aid station.

Genevieve can turn anything into a "race."  She routinely runs laps around the main living area of our home, and she puts together "triathlons" that include "swimming" on the carpet, biking, and running, all in the living room. 

She even managed to put together a front yard triathlon for the two of us one evening when I arrived from work.  Yes, the water was really cold, but the bike portion was surprisingly easy.

Two nights ago, as I was putting Genevieve to bed, she asked, "Daddy, is my watch waterproof?"  "Yes, it is.  Why?"  "Because when I get bigger, and do a triathlon, I want to wear my watch in the water."

And a running monster is born!

A History of My Fat Face

People who know me fall into two categories:

1) Those who met me sometime before 2007
2) Those who met me sometime after 2007
Coincidentally, the following statements normally come from these two groups of people:

1) (Pre-2007) Good grief, Eric, are you anorexic?
2) (Post-2007) Good grief, Alisha, who was your fatso first husband?

To my knowledge, Alisha has only had one husband this whole time, and he's not anorexic.  He just has a magic face that tends to fatten and shrink to extremes.  Don't believe me?  Observe the following exhibits:

2007 Me

2011 Me

Yes, I'm auditioning to be the new spokesman for a weight loss program called "Year-Round Triathlon Training(R)."  Or at least my face is.

It's funny, when I mentioned to Alisha that I was considering a post like this, she already had a mental library of my "fattest face pictures."  At first I was shocked at the level of detail in that library.  Then I felt bad for having such a balloon face in 2007.  We did have a new baby in 2007, and you know those pregnancy pounds are very hard to shed ...

Some People Collect Stamps for a Hobby

Repeat after me:  "I will never, ever, EVER sign up for a spring race again."

The Fourth Discipline Is Discipline

Forgive the existentialist post.  In my childhood (including all years up to around age 25), "discipline" was something imposed upon me (on a rather frequent basis).  I never considered that I would one day embrace the discipline and focus that accompany multisport -- and I certainly never thought that these qualities would be my strengths.

Yet here I am, making a hobby out of carefully-tuned workouts and hours of highly disciplined training.  What is it about triathlon that is so appealing to a formerly discipline-challenged bum?  I have found that much of what affects me in life is well out of my control.  My occupation, the stock market, church callings, family issues, quality of haircuts, and so on.  But I can always control the level of effort that I put into my workouts.  I complain all the time that training for long-distance events is incredibly lonely, but a good share of that time is a necessary re-focusing on the elements of my life that I can control.  And a mental shedding of the uncontrollable noise of everyday life that wears me down.  It's as important to my mental and emotional health as a good night's sleep. When I'm in the pool, or on my bike, or logging miles on the trail, and nobody is keeping track of my effort besides me, all that matters is my willingness to give it my best.  And I suppose that is all that matters outside of triathlon as well.