70.3

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. last weekend I raced in the Ironman Gulf Coast 70.3 event and wanted to share my experience.

I have been in the sport of triathlon for over a decade now. With the exception of the full Ironman race I completed in 2013, I have mostly trained intuitively. That is, without a coach or a training plan.

I have a rough idea of what I need to do in order to be prepared. Benchmarks to hit along the way. How to set a reasonable goal that will be achievable but still lofty enough to keep me motivated.

With all the other demands in my life I want to put out a performance that I can be proud of, and I want to find the minimum effective dose of training that will help me achieve that.

With those parameters as the goal posts, this race was a huge success. It was my fifth time racing the 70.3 distance and I set a PR (personal record) by a pretty wide margin.

I did so, with less training volume than all of my previous attempts. To be fair, I have better equipment, more base fitness, and more time and knowledge in the sport than those previous races. No two races are alike. Each one presents their own unique story that unfolds on race day.

Trixie, all cleaned up and making friends

I think I swam maybe 4 times in the build up for this race. Not exactly ideal, but I like to tell people, you can lose the race on the swim, but very few people win the race there. Minimum effective dosage indeed.

The swim start was, like most all open water ocean swim starts are, abrupt and violent. You charge, full of adrenaline, down the sand and into a body of water that is actively opposing you. There was a strong quartering onshore wind from the left resulting in choppy conditions with a significant drift. The buoys were very difficult to sight. The jellyfish were up early and were active.

Knowing you have close to five hours of work Infront of you, the last thing you want to do is let your breathing and heart rate get out of control in the first ten minutes. Everything about the first ten minutes of the swim leads to exactly that. The waves and wind disrupting your stroke and your breathing. Constant contact with other swimmers. The anxiety of the amount of work still ahead. Jellyfish stings. I am a strong swimmer from years of surfing and countless hours in the pool. The hardest part of every triathlon swim for me is calming down and finding rhythm. The quicker I can do that the better I can perform.

I know I swam pretty wide of the buoy line after the second turn of the rectangular course. The wind and the waves made the buoys hard to see and the current was now pushing away from the course line. Despite the self inflicted extra swim distance I was on track for my overall goal getting out of the water and getting on my bike.

It was a beautiful day for a bike ride. I bought a new bike (Trixie) back in November and did all of my training except maybe 4 or 5 rides inside on a smart trainer. One of the more recent joys of racing for me, has been riding outside with the added comfort of some traffic protection. I have almost entirely given up on riding a road bike outside anymore because the dangers of being hit outweigh the value and pleasure it brings.

Trixie was fast. I knew she was fast but I was delighted with how the bike segment went. From a training perspective, I spent more time in this buildup working with power zones and my FTP (functional threshold power). FTP is the most amount of power you can sustain for a one hour all out effort. That number can then be scaled and adjusted for various intervals, race distances, and training sessions to optimize performance. It’s not perfect but it is a much more targeted approach than I’ve utilized in the past.

Power training and racing is also extremely reliable and relocatable. Your heart rate or pace might be different day to day, and course to course, but 200 watts is always 200 watts. I wanted to average 200 watts for the 56 mile bike ride. I estimated that would put me at about 22mph and set me up in striking distance for a sub five hour finish.

My bike segment went about as flawlessly as I could have hoped. I averaged just over 200 watts of normalized power and just over 22mph. My hydration and nutrition plan left me feeling fresh when it was time to dismount and lace up the running shoes.

The run was hot. There is no way around it. Running in full sun, in Florida, in mid May, is a recipe for cramps, dehydration, and a rough afternoon, if you find yourself prepared or unequal to the task at hand.

Thankfully, my nutrition and hydration on the bike set me up for success for the three loop course in the sweltering heat. I was targeting a 7:30/mile pace. While I fell a bit short of that, I had built enough wiggle room into my goal finishing pace that I felt comfortable my goal was still very much achievable.

I could feel my feet start to blister somewhere around mile 5. I knew that they weren’t going to get any better with 8 more miles to go. The mixture of sand residue, layers of dried sweat and the fresh water I was dousing myself with at every aid station were only making the blisters worse.

My shoes squished and squeaked noisily with every step. This new pair of racing shoes is significantly different than the minimalist trainers I tend to prefer. With a huge foam platform and a carbon plate meant to act as a sort of spring, these felt more like moon shoes. Still, I tried to keep my feet moving and focused on a high cadence. Repeating a mantra I had read about the most successful ultra runners. “Be a prancy pony”. Keep those feet moving, high and fast.

The aid stations would shimmer in the distance like a desert oasis. Volunteers crowding around to help weary travelers. I doused myself with water and dumped cups of ice down my back at every one. Small moments of relief. Short lived as the sun continued to beat down.

I’m very proud of my race performance. Like I wrote about in my last post, I was able to stay present for the experience. These are my burning legs. These are my aching lungs. No far off caves and power animals. I was able to remain calm in low points, and have overwhelmingly positive self talk throughout. I finished in 4:58 just under my goal of 5 hours.

Every race is different. What you take away from from every race is different. Those 70.3 miles, more than anything else, gave me gratitude. Gratitude that I was able to perform and push myself, especially with my “minimum effective dose” training. Gratitude that I was able to race safely on a beautiful course and a beautiful day. Gratitude for a weekend together with an old friend. Gratitude that I was able to race at all. Not everyone is so physically blessed and lucky. Not everyone can afford to indulge it what is a very selfish, time consuming, and expensive activity. And, that my wife indulged my selfish habit, taking care of our boys and the house while I play exercise as sport.

There is a beautiful and profound sense of peace at the end of a hard effort like that. The training, the scheduling, the opportunity cost of it all, and the race itself, leaves a huge wake. In that vacuum, is serenity, in the most essential form I am familiar with. SerenityThroughSweat, if only for the briefest of moments.

This is where the wheels started to fall off the post race “recovery”.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

A special thank you to my wife and my mom and a very happy mother’s day. I was able to race and still make it back to take them out to dinner.

Pacing

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This week I am very excited to talk about pacing.

After signing up for Ironman FL 70.3, and trying to follow a more primal approach to both my diet and my exercise, I have spent the last eight weeks in an aerobic base building phase.

Eight long weeks of limiting my heart rate to 180-age beats per minute. There were times when I felt like I was crawling. There were times when I wanted to spit out the bit, rip off the bridle and let my legs loose. There was more than one occasion where I considered smashing my fancy gps watch with a heart rate monitor, that chirped so innocently at me, reminding me of my departure from aerobic training zones.

Finishing up that base building phase and entering a speed phase felt like being released from a cage. My first sprint workout, the singular focus, the tunnel vision, the wind rushing past my ears, the awareness of the restraint that had been removed to let my legs explode, propelling me down the pavement produced a primal liberation. A liberation not just of my heart, lungs, and legs, but also my mind and my mood.

Endurance training is its own special kind of masochism. There is no way around a little suffering if you want to complete long and hard physical challenges, normally however, they come with a chemical/hormonal reward pathway. This is our body’s way of initiating the fight or flight response, and become better suited to complete those same challenges again in the future. Testosterone, human growth hormone, cortisol, and insulin like growth factor 1, are all elevated after endurance training sessions.

This chemical reward is a notable component of SerenityThroughSweat. I’m not above a little chemically induced serenity, I just prefer sweat as the acquisition currency.

And right back to low and slow miles on a long CAE layover

Limiting yourself to the aerobic zones, removes a significant amount of that chemical reward. Studies show that reduced relative work intensity, especially in trained, as opposed to sedentary individuals, will produce a corresponding reduction in hormonal response.

This meant eight weeks of long, slow, miles in the saddle or on the trail, with an incessant heart rate monitor chirping, and a diminished chemical return at the end. Nonetheless, this aerobic base building is an essential part of my training program, one that requires appropriate pacing.

Typically, pacing is used in the connotation conserving energy, so as not to tire out before the finish. This aerobic only pacing was more like completing the session using only half the tank. This was training with an artificial, and annoying, constraint.

Getting underway on the next SerenityThroughSweat project

There is a purpose to the pacing though. Even at anaerobic sprint intensities, upwards of 70% of your energy come from the aerobic production system. At sub-maximal efforts, like those in most endurance events or everyday activities, that percentage is even higher.

Building your aerobic engine, slogging through those slow, laborious miles, is training the engine that powers the vast majority of your activity. It may not be glamorous, but it is the work that pays dividends.

Training primarily aerobically also paces your body to respond to the chemical and hormonal rewards we mentioned above. The body is much better at noticing relative change, than it is overall levels. Said another way, if you are constantly chasing the a runner’s high into a red zone heart rate, your body will adapt to those elevated chemical levels. If your training is primarily aerobic, those high intensity sessions send a powerful chemical signal because the levels of the suite of growth hormones are elevated, relative to normal training response.

Recovery work and an MAF test, all 150 bpm or below with constant reminders

I see a lot of similarity in my interactions with my boys, especially El Duderino. The emotional and chemical reward I feel when they learn how to do something for the first time is a high I will keep chasing.

But the majority of our interactions seem like a crawl toward progress, (often with the same reminder to keep my heart rate down).

Maybe you are less familiar with burnout from a training regimen, but I think every parent has felt burnout at some point. Pacing, of energy, effort, engagement, and expectations, can make all the difference in finishing a day with hugs and smiles versus resentments, and frustrations.

When in doubt remember that pacing is your friend, and no matter how annoying it is, that incessant chirping reminder to adhere to your pace can help guide you towards serenity.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

Restricted movement

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. We’ve had numerous episodes talking about mobility, flexibility, and the importance of a movement practice, this week I want to talk about when our movement is restricted.

Or more specifically when my movement is restricted.

We are going to take a trip back to 2008. As a junior in college I was playing a lot of ultimate frisbee, running quite a bit, (with no attention to form or mechanics) and eating the staple diet of an American college student; pizza, beer, and whatever was free.

Homemade lava popsicles for El Duderino, and espresso pops for daddy

As a lifelong athlete and a hard charging 20 year old, I was in pretty darn good shape despite what I know now to be destructive habits. At one point I was running 12:30 for a two mile loop around my neighborhood after wolfing down value brand hotdogs and a natty light for lunch.

But that year, while home in buffalo for winter break, I woke up one morning and was unable to put weight on my left foot. No precipitating event, just getting out of bed was enough for my body to shut it down.

El Duderino and I on our Greenway playground ride

My mother was working at a hospital system at the time and I was able to get in quickly for a series of x-rays and consultations. At the ripe old age of 20, I had arthritis in both ankles.

I spent the next few days in an air cast, binge watching Lost, and feeling sorry for myself. Then I went down the internet rabbit hole of endurance sports.

quite a workout hiking with El Duderino around the black hammock nature trail

The way I figured it, I hate being told what to do, and even more so what not to do or what I can’t do. So not being able to put weight on my foot, naturally, I wanted to go the extreme other end of the spectrum. I wanted to run an ultra marathon, and I started researching events around me in Florida.

Now to this point in my life I had always been an athlete, but running was something I did to cut weight for wrestling or crew. I don’t think I had ever run more than a 10k as a cross training workout for one of my other sports.

As winter break wound down I was able to get back to normal. The way that most twenty something’s take for granted, that leads those of us in our thirties and older to say youth is wasted on the young. No PT, no rehab, no special diet, just binge watching DVD’s and thinking about running.

Getting back to school I went right back into the same patterns. I did try to run a little bit more like a gazelle and less like a linebacker, and for whatever that was worth it seemed to help. I didn’t end up doing my first triathlon for another few years, but I remember that experience of restricted movement as the catalyst for my foray into endurance sports.

I spent a large portion of last week stuck in my hotel room in Atlanta. While I was in the simulator getting back to work I had a COVID exposure and had to quarantine for a week. Despite feeling fine, and actually having more time for my many wellness related practices, (thanks to my rockstar wife manning the fort with El duderino and Speedy in my absence) I felt that familiar feeling of restricted movement creeping in.

It was the perfect time for one of my best friends and training partners to pitch me the idea of another Half Ironman. I hadn’t wanted to take on the longer distance since having kids, due to the training demands, but that feeling of being restricted may have overwhelmed my better judgement and the entry fee has been paid.

slowing down, and trusting the process. Building aerobic base with MAF heart rate.

Starting to build my aerobic base and milage back up is exciting and anxiety inducing. But, as anyone who has ever had their movement restricted can tell you, whether it was an injury, a government policy, or a training partner’s nasty pinning side control, being restricted often leads to periods of renewed growth and determination.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends

P.S. totally fine, tested negative multiple times, happy to get back to the family.