Now Boarding

Ugh. What a week. I find myself in the airport, surrounded by hundreds of other people happy that the week is over. Though, I'm not sure so many other people had as adventurous a time as I did in the great ol' state of sunnumbitchin' Ohiah. I mean, I got lost running in a neighborhood where every single house looked so similar to the one I just passed, it was impossible to comprehend direction. I ate (way too much food) at Chipotle for the first time. I practiced my flip turns until I was ready to vomit. Of course... That was likely due to the amount of water and partially chlorinated (as in, partially unsanitized hotel pool) water I took in while spinning like a hamster on a runaway wheel.

But now, with a latte from the church of the holy dark roast in hand, I can look forward to going home and getting back on into it. This weekend we're heading up to the Adirondacks to partner up with some old friends in their cabin in the mountains. Lots of running, reading and relaxing (the r-cubed trinity), mixed with, yup, plenny of ol' coffee to soothe the endurance athlete beast. Roar.

Keep it easy.

Umm... Yeah.

Here's the situation:

(1) I'm away from home and in some strange land where triathletes are about as common as the mystical three-eyed Japanese squid-fish (which, unfortunately, I believe I stepped on during my first open-water swim earlier this year).

(2) I'm tapering for a marathon, so big workouts are out of the question. Oh yeah, that 26.2 mile fiasco will be crashing down on me in just over a week.

(3) I did a light run yesterday and found that my body apparently forgot to tell my legs that it's time they wake up from recovery mode from this past weekend's twenty miler. "Hello? Legs? Now would be a very good time to come around again!"

(4) My hotel's "pool" is about the size of luxury bathtub and only 3 feet deep on one end (which I suppose would be good for... Ummm... Right, nothing. Yes, a 3 foot deep pool is pretty much good for nothing).

(5) My trusty bike is back home, far away, tucked in and resting without me.

So what does a triathlete do? Well, a quick check of the hotel pool's deep end indicated that I had a whole 5 feet to play with. So. I practiced my flip turns for an hour.

They say you learn something new every day. Well, after doing flip turns (poorly) for an hour, I can tell you that there really isn't a more monotonous and dizzying (literally) routine you can spend your time doing. But, after some serious flipping and turning today, perhaps I might just be able to execute those acrobatics back in the tank when I get home a little bit better than before.

We'll see.

Salvation Lies Within

Trying to catch up on my blog posts here with my sporadic-at-best internet connection is about as calming as sitting in rush hour traffic on your way to the airport, trying to catch a flight which you're already late for. Yes, there's a theme to these posts.

Turns out there exists a single, redeeming benefit to schlepping my life 350 miles west on occasion: Chipotle. Ahh, the famous burrito joint known throughout the triathlon community as the refueling pit of choice. Being a burrito aficionado of sorts, my pulse-quickened the moment I saw the discreet sign proudly displaying the brand C-H-I-P-O-T-L-E as I rolled through town the other night (lost). Yes, that's right, without any of these fine establishments in NY, I've been unable to share with the masses the joy of brute-forcing a burrito from the big C. Yet here in Ohiah, virtually right underneath my nose no less, I was able to find one right on the corner of Cornell and Reed-Hartman. I might add that the adjoining Caribou Coffee makes a damn good cup of Joe to boot.

After a recovery run (read: "survival jog," from putting in a hard twenty 48 hours prior) out and about in the hot mid-western sun, I grabbed hold of a chicken and black bean Chipotle special and went to town. Seven pounds later, I reflected on the demolition before me with one solid conclusion: I ate too much but, damn, was it worth it.

A real slice of mexicano for sure, although (and I'm going to catch heat for this one from all you Chipotle fanatics) despite all the hype and regardless of all the buzz I've heard, I have to say that indeed Chipotle is good, but Moe's remains superior. Moe's boasts a better rice, a slightly more flavorful guacamole, and less intense, yet better spiced chicken. So while Chipotle will remain my "home away from home" for some time to come, I'll always stay true to my one and only Moe's.

Hasta luego.

Ohiah Sunnumbitch!

Whelp, sorry for the delay in posting to the Grind. It all started last Friday night after work - on a night I left work early to hit the trails for a long tempo run, in fact - when I'd gotten a call from a co-worker informing me that it was off to the buckeye state yet again for more of that Ohiah fun.

Argh.

In between packing my bags and flying out of Nisky, however, I did manage to squeeze in the crucial long-run. Yup - 20 miles at roughly sub-9 pace. It hurt, and pretty much every mile after 14 served as a not-so-subtle reminder that "cramming" for this marathon has been quite a (ridiculous) undertaking. But with the weather cloudy and breezy, and temperatures only around 62F, I managed to finish up strong and consistent. Better yet, the minute I kicked my shoes off and finished stretching, it was officially taper time - two weeks of taper, to be exact, before the big run.

After the glory of the long run, however, I found myself painfully running through the airports, dodging the security obstacles and finally touching down in Northern Kentucky only to find out that the good people at the rental car agency were "out" of mid-size fuel-burners and, because it was my "lucky day," I would be getting a 400 ton SUV Boat of a vehicle for no extra charge. Thanks, fate. Nothing like driving around in the Titanic.

Five O'Clock Shadow

Around about mile 30 last night, two things came across my mind: First, it dawned on me that I should turn back and head home before I was stranded in Nowhere without so much as a candle-flicker on account of the shorter days, and secondly, I realized that riding the long miles solo these days affords me maybe just a little too much time to geek out with my camera-phone.

Oh yeah, and this marathon training thing is nuts. I've put in over 65 miles in the past two weeks, with a 7 mile tempo run on my plate for Friday and a 20 mile long run on Sunday. Monday I start a two-week taper, and then it's the long run on the 9th. Yeah, and the long run it's going to be.

Suffice it to say, this will be the first, last and only year I attempt to race short-course triathlons all summer, and then "cram" for a marathon in October. I feel like that delinquent college freshman roommate who's slacked off all semester and is now staring the class final in the face. On the plus side, I'm building a pretty phenomenal run base as I enter the off-season, which will only help in next year's middle-distance tri's.

See you out there.

Straight On Down

Just wanted to hand out the kudos to my boys from CT who ripped it up this past weekend at the annual Reach The Beach relay running race in NH. These guys averaged a sub-8 pace over the entire race course - roughly 200 miles in around about 24 hours. That's no small feat.

In particular, I want to give a shoutout to my man Hogatz, a training partner from my days in CT who knows how to run the trails with the best of them, and how to ride the bulls like an ol' cow hand. Isaac & team, nice work!

Hello Out There?

It's hard to believe, but the triathlon season has ended and I'm now smack dab in the middle of that curious grey area known as the transition season. You see, there are two transition periods during this time of year, actually. The first, occurring now, is a down-transition, as I call it, where training gradually gets a little shorter in volume, a little less intense, yet we'll continue to try and simply maintain all that great improvement developed over the past year. The second transition is what I call the up-transition, which I'll start at the end of October. During this time, the up-transition, I'll start ramping up the volume again, keeping the intensity low, but basically starting the annual cycle all over again.

So what happens in between these two transition periods? Well, nothing. Three weeks, to be exact, of absolutely nothing. Okay, okay, sure. Maybe a mountain bike ride or two, maybe some good trail running (sans heart rate monitor!), maybe some leaf raking. Alright, definitely some leaf raking. But basically, nothing. Not one structured workout for 3 weeks. And even though that sounds like a very short period of time... It usually only takes 3 or 4 days before I'm going bonkers for some structure.

So in the near term, during the down-transition, there's a lot of running on the plate. After spending an entire year trying to gain speed, strength and endurance to run fast 5- and 10k's, I'm now tasked on a somewhat regular basis with explaining to my body why exactly we continue to run after the 1.5 hour mark each long-run session. But to run the 26.2 will be worth it, and not 2 minutes after crossing that line will my 3-week vacation start.

It's always a mix of emotions during this time of year though. On the one hand, it's nice to be feeling things wind down. To not look off into the distance and see nothing but race, after race, after race to prepare for. Yet, on the other hand, race season is just filled with so much positive energy - energy of all kinds - and it just fuels the athlete on a day-to-day basis, whereas during the off-season, things can get a little mundane and trying. It's hard to train for August's races in November.

From November 1 of last year, I've kept a running list of things I've learned this year, things I've accomplished, and things I've vowed to improve upon this off-season. I have to admit that a little part of me is eager just to get to the end of the season so I can truly reflect upon this list in its entirety, and begin to build my training schedule for 2005-06. But knowing how fast Fall tends to roll on by, my mental game from here on out is to see just how many more things I can add to my list between now and the end of the marathon so that in the 3 weeks which follow that long run, we'll have plenty to talk about here on The Daily Grind.

And So They Fall

So many people echo that statement on a day-to-day basis... But do they really know what it means to put in a "long run"? I doubt it.

Covering over 16 miles today, with my support crew of one riding her bike beside me the whole way, it was a beautiful site to see the first round of leaves fallen and blown across the roads and paths that surround our neighborhood. So many good things come with Fall... And Fall is my favorite time of year, in case readers of the Grind haven't already deciphered that. Chilly trail runs, hot cider, pumpkins, Halloween candy, mountain biking, football on TV and marathon running.

Marathon running? Oh yeah.

Speaking of the long run, the Reach the Beach relay race in NH was this weekend, where some friends of mine competed - some of them for the very first time in a running race of any kind. I'm wondering how they fared.

Game On

A sincere thanks to Tim, part of the official fan club and one my best friends, for taking these phenomenal pictures at the SkinnyMan triathlon. I've posted a select few here for your viewing pleasure.

Keep It Mooovin'

You know, I spent all summer trying my best to get out the door in the afternoon and on with my workout as quickly as possible so I could get home early and relax for the rest of the evening. But now, we've arrived at the magical time of the year when temperatures can be 90 degrees when you roll out, yet drop to 65 or 70 by the time you get home... But only if you time things right. And it's this timing I always try to get right this time of year. Because to be out, turning the gears in the hills or romping the trails by foot during this daily-occurring transition... Well, there's just nothing better.

So this past Friday, after a long week, I found myself rolling west at around about 5:30pm towards that sacred stomping ground of mine: Nowhere, NY. After climbing for about an hour or so, I turned things down a notch, took a snapshot of my lady-friends (above) and slowly began my descent back down to civilization. Dropping down at near 55mph, feeling the cool, blowing breeze down the back of my jersey, I watched my shadows growing longer and felt the temperatures growing colder. Rounding the local streets of my neighborhood near 8:00pm - legs filled and muscles tight - I took time to breathe in the fact that it just might be the start of fall.

My Own Space

Wandering around the transition area this past Saturday, I couldn't help but overhear other competitors and their conversations with one another. People discussing the course, the hills and the weather. Pairs of athletes pointing out who's who in the field to one another. Concern over the water temperature, their bike setup, their sports drink. Even so much as athletes verbally "sizing" up other athletes, out loud, and in front of others.

For some reason, this really got to me. I recall setting up my transition area and actually getting irritated at this background chatter. Now, sports psychologists have attributed this behavior to pre-race anxiety; both my behavior and my competitors. To cope with the jitters, athletes may become very talkative, very critical and/or very boisterous to compensate for their lack of confidence. Others, like myself, may become very quiet, very focused and very stern to deal with the nerves and to prepare for competition. Interestingly, neither behavior has been shown to be more productive or effective at coping with stress than the other. However, in my racing experience, it's always those that are the quietest, those that are less well-known that are the most focused, determined and confident athletes in the field.

As I found my space on Saturday morning, I couldn't help but take a mental note of everyone else's behavior, and contrast it to my silent style. Somewhere, over the past years I realized, I'd transitioned from a Jittery-Joe, to an intensely focused athlete.

Maybe it's been the long, lone miles this season. Maybe it's been getting out of bed at dark to swim in a lane all by myself, and to roll into work earlier than most, having already done so much more than so many others. I don't know. What I do know, is that of all the "talkers" this past weekend, not one of them finished higher than me.

Gettin' It Done

At last - A perfectly executed race.

The day of the SkinnyMan Triathlon actually started the night beforehand with Liz and I spending some quality R+R time around the village of Skaneateles. Friday night, after a quick run together, we found ambiance and carbs at, of all places, Joe's Pasta Garage before roaming the very cold and windy streets at dusk. Surrounded by a cloud of relaxation, and coming off a week of tapering, I couldn't have asked for a better pre-race.

Saturday morning the alarm went off at 6:00am, followed by the OCD "backup" alarms at 6:05, 6:10 and 6:15. Actually, another beauty of this race weekend was staying, quite literally, across the street from the start of the race. All I had to do was drink my coffee, down my breakfast, and roll out to set-up transition and warm-up. And so after a cup of in-room-brewed Paul de Lima (another huge thanks to Liz, who wins the souginer-of-the-year award for hunting down the hotel's last packet for me the night before), I was out the door and on my way.

Mentally, I was 100%. As I floated through the chaos of race-morning in the transition area, there was a lot of talk about "how hilly the course is," and "how cold the water is," and so on and so forth, but little of it really registered or concerned me (although, the course really did turn out to be hilly, and the water was indeed very cold at 62F!). Closing my eyes and ears off to the world around me, I moved out to the course to do my run warm-up before returning to transition to pull on my wetsuit, make final preparations in my area, and head towards the water entrance.

On my way to the water, I was happy to see Liz and my mom standing by the transition field, both with smiles and both with plenty of "good luck" energy for me. A kiss to both, and I made my way through the crowd towards the water. And literally inches from putting my foot in the freezing lake, and amidst about 50 other athletes trying to push their way into the lake as well, I felt a strong tap on my shoulder. Turning to look, it was my best friend, Tim, who'd come out to watch and support. With perfect timing, we exchanged a strong shake of the hand, a nod for luck, and the fuse was lit. It was go-time.

They'd started this race as a mass-start, so with around about 300 athletes making for the first buoy, there was some jostling in there, to say the least. At the sound of the gun, there were arms and elbows to the head, hands on my thighs, my ankles and my feet. People swimming over, under and perpendicular to me as they tried to navigate amongst the whirlpool. It was crazy - but within the first 150 meters, I settled into a perfect rhythm just as I'd wanted and, in no time, I was turning perfect stroke after perfect stroke, and picking my way past people.

Out of the water and into T1 was a blur. Having to concentrate on finding legs to run on, pulling off the wetsuit, navigating the transition area and then getting all your bike gear on in under 30 seconds is no easy task. Add to that the shear noise from the spectators and announcers, and it's just a crazy, adrenaline-filled environment.

On the bike I started passing people left and right on the early climbs. I specifically focused on turning over a one-lighter-than-normal gear on all the climbs in order to save the legs for the second-half of the bike. This little leg-saving game is something I've been experimenting with in recent brick workouts. Though the spinning felt a little too easy at times, I was still passing people and making significant time on my competition. Nearing the half-way point, I dropped the gearing and really started to hammer it out. This turned out to be a perfect strategy, particularly for this course, as the bigger, longer hills came towards the end of the course. So just as my competition were feeling the strain of going too hard, too early, I was continuing to ramp things up and damage the field.

Into T2, I was fresh and ready for the 5k. I quickly donned my flats and raced out of transition and onto the run course. At first, there was that typical feeling in the legs - striking a bit hard and awkward - but within the first 1/4 mile they evened out and found the rhythm, at which point, again, I found myself passing people with ease and in complete control of my pacing. After the 2.5k point of the run, the course remained flat to downhill. So I simply let the legs do the work, turning over an ultra-fast cadence, and sailing into the finish somewhere around 1:20.

Once my vision widened and returned to normal, I migrated to my fan base who were there for support, and simply basked in the triumph of having executed an extremely solid race. In the end, I didn't get my first place, rather, I took second in my age-group, and 36th overall of nearly 300 competitors. However, in retrospect, there's not a single thing I would have changed about how I approached this event or how I raced the race. Mentally and physically, I was spot-on, I was just a little slower than the winner. But, hey, that's fuel for the off-season.

Thanks for reading.

My Own Race!

Well, it finally made its way here... Labor Day Weekend!!! I can't believe the official "end of summer" has snuck up on us already! Happily, though, it's Friday morning and we're off to the start of what will hopefully be a wonderful little vacation/long weekend.

Liz and I will be driving to Skaneateles, NY this afternoon for a two-day excursion in one of my favorite little lake towns - not far from where I grew up. After a night of lounging around on the town, we'll be up and out early tomorrow morning for the start of the first annual "SkinnyMan" Triathlon, right across the street from the Inn we're staying at tonight. I'm guessing the race was named as such either because: (a) the town of Skaneateles is actually pronounced "Skinny-Atlas" or (b) the organizers knew I'd be coming out to race and wanted to pre-dedicate the event to the anticipated M25-29 winner, me.

Sound a little cocksure? That's the point - this is an A-event race for me, and one of the last of the season where I'm truly fixed on taking 1st. The strategy, based on my learning experiences thus far this season, will be to pace the swim. Pace, pace, pace, the swim. The race is never won in the water, and that's the mantra I'll be repeating to myself every stroke at 8:00am tomorrow. On the bike, it's going to be a steady tempo, accelerating at the halfway split. My tendency has been to go out a little too hard on the bike and then have trouble on the run due to cramping muscles in my upper legs. This is the problem being a pure-cyclist at heart. Having done some experiments over the past month or so during my brick workouts, I've found I have tremendously better run-legs if I gradually up the tempo during the bike, rather than smash the pedals from T1. On the run, however, it's going to be full-out; something else I've had problems with over the summer. On account of heavy legs from the bike, I've found myself running the first split of the run much slower than my typical 5k pace, realizing it, and then compensating during the second-half of the run (when it's too late). But the goal tomorrow will be to leave T2 at a pace setting me up for a near 18min 5k, and then gradually settle towards a 20min 5k pace after the halfway point - ultimately targeting a 19 minute 5k. The plan sounds simple enough, doesn't it?

Beyond the race, Liz and I will be visiting family in Syracuse, and then taking the scenic drive back to Niskayuna where we'll live out the rest of our long holiday weekend. Come Tuesday, sport life as we know it will officially be in the "late-season" and before long, things will progress even further to the start of the off-season. I know the 2005 season isn't over yet, but already looking back, it's been an incredible year. Let's see if we can't start to close it off right tomorrow.

See you out there.