Not Your Normal Potato

Yesterday was my first LT test of the year. For those just coming up to speed on all this, the Lactate Threshold is that magical point in the physiological system where the flushing of lactate in the blood is outpaced by the production of it during intense exercise. Simply, this is where the burn really begins when you work out, and generally corresponds to the highest steady-state output an athlete can maintain for longer intervals (~30 minutes +). Everything in training is based on LT. If you train by heart rate, your training zones are based on your heart rate at LT. If you train by power, your training zones are based on your power at LT. You get the idea. And your heart rate and power values that correspond to your body's LT change with fitness (or lack thereof). So if you're really on top of your game, you test regularly to keep your training zones constantly updated.

The LT is pretty easy to obtain. In a lab, you can have someone actually measure your blood lactate content during an exponentially increasing physical effort. In other words, you run on a treadmill or ride a stationary bike going faster and more uphill every minute, while a guy in a white coat pricks your finger every 30 seconds to take a blood sample. Irritating, but very accurate. Luckily, you can also estimate your LT by measuring heart rate or power over a sustained period and then doing a little math. Generally these estimates are within 1 or 2% of your actual LT, and serve just dandy for calculating your training zones. My test yesterday was a 30 minute 5k-pace run on a treadmill, with the data to calculate my LT coming from the last 15 minutes. Make no mistake about it - LT testing sucks. It's hard, it's boring (when indoors) and it physically breaks you down. But having that number. That one magic heart rate or power value at LT, sets everything in training. So it's essential.

On another note, I generally don't mind insects. Spiders tend to freak people out. Not me, I loved the movie Arachnophobia. Some folks get the heeby-jeebies with beetles. Not me, I think they're pretty cool (provided they're smaller than a silver dollar). I would even go as far as to say that snakes, worms, and all things that slither don't bother me. But there exists one species of insect that I'm positive the devil himself created. This little spawn of Satan is none other than the Scutigera Coleoptrata. The "house" centipede. Here's a description excerpted from Lucifer's Dictionary of Insects:

Centipedes are common arthropods with long, flattened, segmented bodies with one pair of legs per segment. The house centipede is up to 1 1/2 inches long and has 15 pairs of very long, almost thread-like, slender legs. Each leg is encircled by dark and white bands. The body is brown to grayish-yellow and has three dark stripes on top.

Well... I can't even type this without shuddering. One of those little devil-formed bastards decided to wander out of his hiding spot last night halfway through my LT test on the treadmill. Yup. Just casually walked with his ten-million little hairy legs across the carpet in front of me. And rather than wiggle on into a crack or into a hole in the wall or something, he parked himself right in front of me. And stared. That's right - he sat there, twitching his little legs, and teased me the whole second half of my run test. Just toying with me. Knowing I couldn't stop running to come down there and destroy him with the utmost of pleasure.

Picture it. Some triathlete training in his basement, stomping out an LT test: sweat pouring down his face, heart busting through his chest, legs turning over like lightning... And at the same time, shouting at an inch long, devil insect. Threatening to "come down off this treadmill!" Well, the very second my test was over and I let my pulse come back down, I jumped down and grabbed a magazine... Rolled it up and prepared to give Mr. Hairy Legs a really up-close view of the October issue of Triathlete. Just then, and I'm not sure if it was the fatigue or not, but I was sure I saw it extend one of it's little hairy legs and give me the finger before running off into the crack between the basement floor and the foundation wall.

Next time, buddy. Next time.