Finding Time for Workouts

The Triathlete's Training Bible spends three entire chapters outlining the number of hours you should be training per year, per week, and per day.  These chapters make several assumptions: (1) You live in Miami and can train year-round; (2) You have no family whatsoever; (3) You collect a check every two weeks from a huge trust fund; and (4) Your body will stay 24 years old every year for 20 years.  I was trying to figure out how to squeeze more training hours out of each day to meet the 600-1200 hours per year recommended for Ironman triathletes when I came across this sentence: "If you have a full-time job, a family, a home to maintain, or other responsibilities, be realistic--don't expect to train with the same volume as the pros." 

The first time I read that, I was mortally offended.  "Be realistic" is like saying "Don't kid yourself by thinking you can train with the big boys."  My indignant response: "Well, excuse me!  I do have some, er, all of those responsibilities, and I expect that 99% of the people on the course have some or all of those responsibilities as well.  Apparently this book is not for me."

After I cooled down a little, I realized that this passage is just as true as other passages in "The Bible."  In reality, I've had to be very creative to fold workouts into my otherwise hectic life.  A few weeks ago I delivered flyers for a scout fundraiser, but I needed a hill workout.  So guess who volunteered to run up & down the hilly streets, sticking flyers on doors?  When my kids used to be more patient, I put one or both of them into the Chariot and dragged it behind my bike.  Resistance training.  I can testify that a full 80% of the other trailers on the bike path were being pulled by $6,000.00 triathlon bikes that were clearly not designed for that purpose. 

As my workout distances must increase for my intermediate peaks, so must the time I devote to training.  A creatively-minded person, I have figured out how to squeeze out a few extra minutes here and there to spend on workouts.  Some may ask, do a few minutes here and there really make a difference?  My answer:  VOLUME.  Here are some common examples that really add up:

While I'm swimming in the morning, I reason with myself:  "If I skip shaving, I'll save 5 minutes (10 more laps). Nobody will notice if I'm a little scruffy." 
Drink recovery drink in the car, not the gym (20 seconds). 
Tie my tie in the elevator (20 seconds).
Only button two buttons of my shirt if it's under a sweater (15 seconds).

While I'm running at lunch: "If I skip my shower, I'll save (12 minutes = 1.5 more miles).  I'll just shut my office door so that nobody gets too close."
Stretch in elevator before & after run (1.5 minutes).
Stretch hamstrings and achilles tendons during a post-run conference call (10 minutes).

While I'm biking in the basement, past my planned bedtime: "If I'm more worn out, I'll sleep more soundly in a shorter period ..." 
When I'm biking to & from work:
"Traffic looks really bad -- I'll bet I'm saving [5, 8, 10] minutes by riding today."
Eat dinner at Genevieve's little table while I read her a book before bed (5 minutes).
Skip shower if I'm swimming in the morning (10 minutes).

I know this post makes me sound rather pathetic, but such is life for an overbooked weekend warrior.  But before you criticize too much, consider this photo -- it's a mall restaurant with a sushi conveyor belt (because people are just too danged busy reading The Hunger Games on their Kindles to get up and order another piece of sushi).  Aren't we all just a little pathetic?