If you can keep your head....

My father was a great man. You hear that kind of statement from bias offspring all the time. However, remove my bias and those who had contact with him have expressed this same notion, without hesitation or doubt. The confirmation that this brings swells your pride in the parent 10 fold. Of course you have idolized this man for decades, but you think it's only you, perhaps. You don't see the man that interacts with others whilst you aren't around. The father a child comes to know is the same man as others see, but you get a little deeper insight. A less vulnerable man, confident in unequivocally being himself around his children. Naturally, when anyone leaves their natural environs of home we put up barriers to ensure we are protected from the outside looking in to ourselves. When this occurs, one does not always get a full picture of a man. Thus, when a parent is continually described as a great man or woman over and above this fact, a child can simply marvel and fill with pride at how their father was seen by those foreign to them.

This was my father, who sadly passed away this Christmas holiday, long before I was ready for him to leave. He never failed to drive me forward in everything I was to do, as he, albeit from afar, continued to be my litmus test for every challenge presented to me. Competitive to the core, he ran along side me in two of my iron distances races in the last few years, spurring me on. He knew when nothing was needed to be said, yet that inherited competitive spirit shone through and forced him to express words of encouragement as he trotted by me on continual loops of Nice or Henley.

It's the knowing look that I will miss the most. The  ability to simply communicate via DNA inheritance. When he was very ill in the last days of his life this was exemplified. He simply looked at me from his bed, unable to verbalize what he wanted to say, using simply a thumbs up and a look that said "everything will be ok". That's all I needed to know that, despite the great sadness I felt, everything would be ok. I even saw him saying "if you can keep your head...." a line from my favorite poem recited to me continually by dad and by his father to him. It's the words I have on all my water bottles when I race. Some smile wrily when they inquire as to what is written when I'm setting up my transition. However, the look he gave me that day, a mixture of reassurance, encouragement and fatigue, will always flash at me now, whenever I find myself in a challenging situation, be it in the water, on the bike, out on the run or walking through my life. That look and poem will be there helping me forward.

The sadness will slowly subside, but the drive to achieve his lofty life standards will drive me until my day comes. Of that I am sure. For that I will be eternally grateful. A great inheritance to bestow on me. I hope I live up to it.

Perhaps during an iron distance race this year I will find out.

Good luck to us all!

Fatties and Frenchies

Fatties

I love a good fatty. A fat tire bike that is. The crisp winter cold has been beckoning me for some time now. First it beckoned in the form of skis. Then Snowshoes. Now, fat tire bike riding. The premise originates from the wider and softer the more stable on slippy, unwelcoming ground the tire will be. 

There was always a mystery behind these iron clad, not a piece of skin showing types that intrepidly set out in the depths of winter  to ride along with the falling snow. That kind of uniqueness appeals to me. It's one of the elements of Ironman that draws me in and keeps me coming back. 

Coincidently, one of my weaker disciplines in triathlon is the painstakingly obvious element of riding that bloody bike. I do enjoy riding a lot. I just don't enjoy being behind everyone. Something that has been repeated a multitude of times with me in earshot is that in order to become a more proficient cyclist one must diversify the type of bike one rides. Cue mountain bikes, or variations of that. Summers in Minnesota lend themselves to warmth and cycling as far as you have time for. Winters, on the other hand, lend themselves to efficient use of time outside. Fat tire bikes allow that to happen, giving one the ability to surf along the snow ridden surfaces, without too much speed so as to freeze your sweat instantaneously. 

Enter stage left winter and the gift giving holiday of Christmas and low and behold, thanks to some fine family members, I am now the proud owner of one of those winter riding steads. Admittedly, I did assemble this aluminum beast, so it will require a lot of tweaking and tightening to improve the ride and quieten down all the scratching and screeching, but for a first ride it was fantastic. It was cold, undecided whether to rain or snow, wet and desolate. Not many a sole outside braving the elements. The solitude of the ride, similar to how one heads out in the summer, deep in to the country roads with only the odd car passing by. Now, the boundaries will be tested come the sub-zero days. A wise purchase of some windproof pants should be in order.  Perhaps some goggles too. However, that day will be welcomed with open and heavily thermally clad arms. I can't wait to get on to the frozen lakes and really have some fun and even improve my shoddy bike handling.

Frenchies

The other element that seems to have arisen is something that lends itself to the dreaming season. Constitution has gone and signed up for Ironman Texas, which has subsequently sold out. No offense Texas, but doing an ironman race and spending the entire roads on the roads of Houston is minimally appealing at best, so I wasn't too depressed by that race being unavailable. However, then Napoleon went and signed up for Ironman Coeur d'Alene (suspiciously spelt). This would be a race I "had my eye on" for the future. Not that I'm so competitive, but that bugger, by starting this one, would sneak ahead of me by one, to make a total of four ironman. Now, I'm not driven by this kind of competition, but allowing any frenchman to surpass me is unthinkable :). The races I had on my list to complete in the future, whenever that may be, were Ironman Mont Tremblant, Challenge Roth and Ironman Coeur D'Alene (still suspiciously spelt). Therefore, I find myself, yet again, contemplating whether or not to contemplate entering the fourth iron distance race of my life. There will be discussions. There will be deliberations. But watch this space to see if I'm foolish enough to take another crack at it.

If I was such an ignoramus as to do it again, I would experiment with my training. I think a five day a week training attempt, with a 6 bonus day time permitting would be an interesting test. Also, only completing the prescribed training if my body allows it. If not, being strong enough to realize a shorter version may be the best option this time and complete the longer one later. Elements of this type of training have snuck their way in to my psyche recently and had been planned to be experimented later in my distinctly amateur career. However, 2015 is going to be a mentally challenging year. Perhaps training for another iron distance race would help with that.

Good luck to us all!  

To Ironman or not to Ironman? That is the question

It's a simple question with numerous variables. To be frank (as long as I can still be Nick!), this wasn't even a consideration at the end of the season and I'm not even sure it's a serious question even now. However, I currently do have the smallest of inklings to contemplate it. 

Constitution has entered Ironman Texas. It's in May. All the shit stirring has begun. Napoleon and I will be shadowing his training to maintain fitness. Therefore, naturally, the will be a slight and small desire to join in on race day. However, it is not just me. I am one part of a team. A family. When an individual is undertaking this type of endurance feet they are not only having an impact on one life. Many are likely to be affected in the process. We aren't olympians. Just normal everyday working folk who happen to love a little bit of pain and suffering in our spare time. A desire to attempt distances that most would not consider a "normal" desire. A major part of the appeal for me is just that. To venture to where some would simply scoff and turn away. I think an analogy that I can identify with is when my parents used to forbid me to go somewhere or do something (in all cases quite justified). I wasn't an adventurous type at a young age, but the minute you were forbade the lure doubled in size. The idea of someone telling me that attempting an Ironman is crazy (myself included after finishing my first half iron distance) makes it all that more alluring.

With all that in mind, there is also a time to step back and reflect on the selfish pursuit of such a goal. There is no team out on the course. No outside help. By definition we are a selfish bunch in the pursuit of individual glory. Narcissists. To simply blindly commit without consideration of those around us would simply be demonstrably unfair. One of the many things I learned from training for my 2nd and 3rd iron distance races was that training alone is not why I do this. Being with company whilst training and racing is what appeals. The race day in Henley was fantastic. Sharing the experience with my family and friends who had not experienced such a race before. Boulder, again was a lonely endeavor until race day at which point it exploded in to a fantastic group experience. A reflection on the exciting surroundings we found ourselves in. Even though the training would be with the original group of lads, the destination is what completes the journey and the destination in this case just doesn't appeal. That has to be, for me personally, a key element. Each race so far has had an appeal. Nice's southern French coastline. Henley's hometown feel. Boulder's glorious scenery and old friends. Texas just doesn't yearn to be raced. To be honest, right now, there isn't a race I can think of that would drag me out of semi-retirement from iron distance racing. 

That said, there are a number of half distance races that hold great appeal and are licking their chops at my 2015 race calendar. However, only one may be picked.....for now :). And the race streaking clear at the top of the list is a race held in Door County, WI. Like it has been discussed previously, 2015 is the year of speeding up. Getting faster and more efficient on the bike, so I can chase that pesky Frenchman down. What better place to achieve this than in Door County. A stunning lakeside vista that is shore to be a destination that brings appeal to all The Team.

So the goal is set. The one race (or maybe two or three :)) has been chosen. Let's see if I can behave myself enough this winter to deliver the body in to spring well trained and chomping at the bit. The calf is recovering nicely, so now to be smart about it all. And with that.....

Good luck to us all!  

A close miss, a 10K and some end of season pain

The real end of season has arrived. Not the almost end of season or it's just around the corner end of season. It's actually here with all the benefits of the off season awaiting. If only I would heed them. 

Napoleon and I bashed out of the end of season marathon. The twin cities marathon is fantastic event that is becoming the staple of my calendar. Such a beautiful race with some fantastic crowds all along the diverse route. From lakes to boulevards to hills. It's all there with a fantastic finish, albeit sadistic, downhill in to the finish. Sadly, as much I would have liked to have broken the elusive 4 hour barrier, it wasn't to be. Missing the mark by a meer 4 minutes. It was indeed a PB, but a poorly paced first half marathon took its toll in the final 10k and even though the Napoleon slowly faded, my legs weren't enough to burst through that 4 hour line. Luckily, I discovered this would be the case by mile 24 and the trusty beer vendor, who is reliably there every year, gave me the alcohol induced boost to finish the final miles. I don't care what people say, a stand alone marathon hurts far more overall than an Ironman. I'm convinced of this now. We get to walk without prejudice during the ironman marathon. No such relief awaits during the stand alone version. Next year perhaps the 4 hour barrier will be crushed. I hope so. 

Thereafter, came the next trusty race on the calendar. It is somewhat of a "drive", but taking the time to fly back to the homeland to run in order to raise money for my old elementary school IT department is always worth. This year, joined by my wife made it all that more special. With my parents on the sideline again (our family house positioned well on the course) the race has become a staple on the calendar as long as the schedule allows. It's a stunning and challenging 10k that I would recommend to anyone. The Frieth Hilly 10K. It was truly a smash fest this year. Pouring everything I had in to the course. Sadly, another goal was missed. A sub 50 minutes too far from my reach to round off a great jet setting weekend. 

Unfortunately, all this jet setting and running at tempo was always going to catch up with me. I tried to take the week off but it's just not in my nature. After being bated by my coworker to head out for a gentle 6miles in one of my favorite running cities, Little Rock, 3 miles in and the right calf - the adjoining tendon having bothered me all year- finally gave out and it was a limp fest back to the hotel. Clearly, The Frieth Hilly was the last straw. Good news is that the pool beckons and the bike will get a lot of love for the winter. 

For the next few weeks I will play and work my way through the one hour workouts on the triathlete.com website to maintain the fitness I have worked so hard to gain, hoping not to throw it away on my winter of relax and gluttony. Food is such a favorite of mine, particularly the sweet kind. Here's to some rest and reading. Lots of books to chug through whilst the calf works it's way back to good health. 

Good luck to us all!!

Marathoning, taper and the Amalfi Coast

It has been a busy two weeks of flying around the world whilst tapering for the last event of the season. 

The running has been plentiful and the efforts hard. The scenery has been ever changing. The first of the last long two runs that remained on the dwindling calendar was in the adopted home town of Minneapolis. With a few last minute changes, the venue flipped from a monotonous high paced trip around the track to a fast paced training run with Napoleon. How else would it have gone?? With time tight and opportunity slim, with gently bashed out loops around the lakes in the mid morning, we smashed out the miles in a surprisingly enjoyable time, despite our fast flagging energy stores. It was a good rehearsal for a showdown come Oct 5th. It's going to be a lot of "fun". 

Seven days later and the scenery flipped to the English countryside for a hilly and very picturesque run with my lovely wife in tow on the bike. 18 miles looping around the rolling and sometimes harsh hills of the English country. 

It was a perfect ending to the short marathon specific training that has lasted the last six weeks. We couldn't have picked a better day for it and the 18 miles ticked by and with the accompaniment of  my wife, before I knew it the final climb up Frieth Hill was upon us and we were in the house for a well earned cuppa. 

The following week after we flew down to the never ending steps of the picturesque  town of Positano nestled in the seaside mountains of the Amalfi Coast. Just a couple of short runs on the calendar, but what a view! 

Presented with a last medium run of six miles, we elected instead to climb 1,750 steps up to the mountain town perched above us. A perfect replacement and a final view that made the steps all that much more worthwhile. 

What a great ending to the taper and now back to the United States for the last week and the season finale - the most beautiful urban marathon in the world. 

Good luck to us all!!

Temporarily retired, but still dreaming

Even though we are now entering the off season and temporary iron distance retirement, the dreaming season is beginning to sneak in to my thoughts. So often my mind wanders aimlessly around the mind's garden wondering about how I can make iron distance races that much better. This year the body didn't fail me at all. The legs felt "fine" to the end. Yet, my thoughts are clouded with idealistic dreams of how it would feel to glide along on a wave of fully fuelled euphoria. They say it is simply a case of practice. I thought I had. 

This year's dreams are also dominated by faster times and shorter races. The half iron distance races have the greatest draw, like a bee to a sunflower. I like the idea of powering through that distance in under 6 hours. I'm beginning to feel that the length of race is where the body will find itself the happiest and most balanced, not to mention the reduced time consuming nature of it all. I just have to learn to let go of the leash of moderation and caution and trust in the training and simply go for it!

I'm hoping the first test of my body's speed will be the Medtronic Twin Cities Marathon in a few weeks. A marathon is still just that. 26.2 miles of gruelling effort when, no matter what distance you body has experienced previously, you still fatigue and feel the pain. Hopefully, the 4 hour barrier can be broken and the first brick of the winding path laid towards a sub 6 hour half iron. 

After that effort, I will look to a more local feel. Work schedule permitting, which is rarely does, I hope to find myself in the town of my youth. Gliding around it's hills and valleys competing in the Frieth Hilly 10k. This very hilly and heart maxing 10k hill-fest really is a fantastic race through the english countryside. It's popularity has boomed since it's inception a fews years ago, gaining reputation as one of the best 10k races in the south of England. Plus, it provides funds to the elementary school I attended as a young scallywag, which is an apt choice for my entry fee. I have only managed to secure the weekend off once before, but I truly hope to get out there with my wife and break my previous time of 50 minutes, making the Hilly an international affair. The last hill, a hill I have walked a thousand times through the middle of the village, is the "home stretch" and a lung buster at that. With the draw from the smell of the bacon butties dragging you magnetically up the hill to the finish, you'll be sure to finish.

After that, perhaps some down time to let the ankle improve and do a  little rehab. Yes, perhaps I should be doing that now, but where's the fun in that?? With a winter full of snowy tempo runs, perhaps the body will make it out the other side quicker, faster and stronger. We shall have to wait and see.

Good luck to us all!

Recovery Marathon :)

The problem with completing an ironman is the ever talked about post-ironman blues. Fortunately, in Minneapolis, we find ourselves in an edurance mecca. What else do you expect with a winter so cold and arduous? It is incumbent on ourselves to get out and ensure that the warmer months are celebrated to the maximum. Therefore, it is toward the end of this warm season they call summer, that we find ourselves with one of the most picturesque and well supported marathons in the nation. It would have been rude not to. Plus, I had the added motivation of supporting the charity that I have raced alongside the last few years during the Lifetime Triathlon. A triathlon I missed this year and greatly missed the team. It wouldn't hurt to find out if I can break 4 hours for the marathon distance either!

Only 6 weeks between the long endurance event of an ironman to a marathon seems only a short time. However, I chose to view the marathon distance of only having to complete one third   of a   much more intimidating distance, thus enticing in it's short nature. Could I completed a marathon in less than 4 hours? Only the day will tell. I have the help of good training and supprt, plus a running partner in Napoleon that will be sure to push me during race day.

The Twin Cities Marathon has been a family affair for the last few years. An event that almost would be amiss if it weren't on the family calendar. It is very much being look forward to. Let the six weeks of running begin!

Good luck to us all!

Race Report

As I sit here in the airport awaiting my flight to the recovery destination of England, there is time to reflect on this past weekend and the Boulder Ironman which occurred on Sunday.

As already mentioned on these pages, the week did not begin well with a virus knocking me out of action until the Wednesday before the race. At which time, the first race began, to refuel myself and gain back a bit of wait that was lost, before the gun went off on Sunday morning. Lots of carbs later that race was being won.

My wife arrived on Thursday evening which was a lifeline. My hosts in The Bowers had done a simply priceless and superb job of looking after me so far and the arrival on my beloved was icing on the cake. 

Mitch, being the bike guru of Denver, a seriously accomplished mechanic, set to tackling my bike and more or less overhauling much of it. Let's just say I didn't quite keep it up to clean, noiseless standards and he was not all that enthused. A new chain, big ring, wheels and tires and pedals later and the bike was running as good as the day I purchased it. My Boy Blue was ready to race. We took her out for a spin the Thursday before the race, a little late due to my illness and the uncharacteristically wet days that formed Wednesday and much of Thursday morning. The bike was a dream to ride. Quiet as you like, drifting along the tarmac effortlessly. This was a good sign.

As the body began to turn around it was time to check the weather. Heat is not my biggest fan, so I will often keep an eye on temps leading up to the race. The Monday before they were claiming 79F and sunny. By Friday we were looking at race day temps of 89F. Still an improvement on the 90+ the area had been having in weeks previous. However, this would still push the theoretical altitude to close to 9,000ft! Couldn't be helped. Move on!

Come Friday, Marie and I moved to our rental house in Longmont, which turned out to be a gem. That evening we decided to get the whole support crew in for some carbo loading. What a support crew it was! The Bowers - hosts and sponsors. The Lindley/Delssandris - the long time travel companions. The Lanes - long time family friends who had known me since birth. The Lanes were the stand ins for my parents who were sadly not able to make this one. This group of individuals turned out to be the absolute perfect compliment to race day and if their accounts are anything to go by, they certainly had a lot of fun.

Saturday was a relaxed affair. Checked the bike in and drop the gear bags. Decided to drive the course, seeing as we had gas to burn for the rental car and received a non stop entertainment driven race course courtesy of Neal Lindley (my cohort from last year). That evening was early to bed and ready to race. Sleep does not come easy to me before an Ironman. It's such a dynamic event that I tend, to my detriment, to contemplate a lot the night before such a distance is to be tackled.

Before I knew it the alarm was going off at 3:45am and I began my list and worked my way through it, bleary eyed (avoiding any caffeine this time) until 4:15 rolled around and we were off to the shuttles. This was a split transition. Two different locations for T1 and 2. The logistics of all this meant that extra time was needed to get around, hence the early rise. We met Mitch at the shuttles and he was in fine spirits which calmed me nicely. By the time we made it out to Boulder Reservoir, I was surprisingly calm and ready to enjoy this picture perfect swim.

As the gun went off, I hit the water and an hour and ten minutes later exited feeling barely taxed and happy that, even though my swim wasn't quicker, I was significantly less fatigued than ever before. This, even at an altitude of 5,450ft!

I hit the bike knowing that the last third was a challenge. Taking it what appeared to be very easy indeed, I found the bike doing all the work and looked down to see the first 50 miles completed in only 2hrs55mins. Much faster than I had intended. Once we headed out on to the eastern plains, the temperatures shot up, the wind died down and reality set in. Average speeds bonked and from mile 70 on it was a case of maintaining control and measuring my effort closely. My DeSotto Cool Wings were working very well and even though I could tell the mercury was rising steadily, my body was pretty happy. I was drinking close to 48 oz an hour and staying as hydrated as one can at altitude on a hot day.

The hills introduced themselves right at mile 100. The Three Sisters, they call them locally, are a continuous climb up, shallowing out three times, only to hit you again until you reach the top, one mile later. Not so bad really, but 100 miles in, just a brutal kick to the teeth. Fortunately, it was mostly downhill in to the finish, during which I was bonking so badly that I seriously questioned my ability to finish. To be frank, the support I received from my team was invaluable out there and unquestionably propelled me forward.

After T2, I headed out on the run, or as I termed the first 11 miles, a slow death march. The heat meant that I couldn't digest as much hard food as I wanted, with most calories being consumed in liquid form. This was not cutting the mustard, as they say, and by the time I saw my team again at mile 11, I was seriously questioning my decision to continue. It was the darkest place I have ever been on a run. Legs and the rest were fine, but  my body was closing down. I decided to walk a lot of the next two miles as it swang around and returned to my team. During that time I consumed solid food like it was going out of style and was suddenly sprang with a new lease on life and the run was back on. I knew I had hydrated well. I couldn't stop peeing! I realized, much as a result of my watch running out of juice, that I simply was well behind on my nutrition. With the cooling evening temps, a plan was hatched and nutrition was back in business. Although I had a number of mini dark moments around mile 17 and 24, the rest seemed to fly by and my pace quickened significantly, although not enough to avoid recording my slowest marathon ever. That said, it was far and away my proudest finish ever and when I saw my support crew for the final time at mile 22, I couldn't wait to seem them all in the finishing shoot with a smile plastered across my face.

Although I was definitely tempted to cry, the smile took over in the finishing shoot, as I couldn't believe I had made it through and the noise and support during that last 1/4 mile was truly unparalleled to anything I have experienced. Miss Delassandri handed off the British flag as planned and I crossed the line happy as Larry in a time of 14hrs and 34mins.

What a day. What a crew. What a location! Now it's time for some serious rest and to look back in great fondness at the last 7 days. What a week!!!

Good luck to us all!!

No Danger Denver

I now find myself at the kitchen counter of my friend and lead sponsor. It's been two nights since I arrived and even though the body is not quite where it needs to be, the trip seems to be ticking along nicely. 

Downtown Denver from 7000ft

The bike guru that Mitch is and has lead my "Boy Blue" to be in the best shape it has been in since I bought it. Who knew you could take off the bottom bracket!? The bike now has race wheels, a new chain and cassette and pedals. Yes, this does constitute something new for race day. However, allow me to explain. The likely culprit of my foot pain was discovered during the bike overhaul. Upon a close examination of my pedals and cleats, a slow disappointed shake of the head from Mitch, it was pointed out to me that the cleats has been shorn down on one side completely. Confirming why I had frequently numbing outside toes and a very sore right foot after long rides. Even though a change to news pedals at this point is a risk, I feel the likely reward outweighs the risk of finishing the course on my old pedals with my sore foot facing a marathon. Fingers crossed the gamble pays off.

Tomorrow is athlete checkin day. Hopefully, the weather will behave and I can sneak in a practice swim in the morning after registration which will be the first time I've been in the open water, due to this illness and a touch of overtraining (related? discuss), for a few weeks. Should be interesting.

The preparation that has gone in to this Ironman race has been far from ideal. However, there is nothing to be done about it now. As I sit here, I listen to an interview with an Australian lady who was diagnosed with ALS during her road to complete an Ironman. Sadly, she had to refocus her goals. That is, until her friends stepped in and helped her completed Ironman Australia. This is an example of the type of stories that motivate me to do such long distance events. They motivate me and bring the realisation that no matter what adversity with think we face in our everyday lives, someone somewhere in the world is facing a far greater struggle, putting our worries in to prospective. We never remember what is was that we worried about. We remember the good memories! So, with that said, Sunday will be a day to be savoured and enjoyed, no matter how much it hurts.

I am lucky enough to have enormous amounts of invaluable support this week, locally and from afar. This is part of the journey that you can never be thankful enough for. They push me forward and remind me how lucky one individual can be.

Good luck to us all!

Illness before an Ironman

A brand new challenge has presented itself. As if Ironman racing and training wasn't a challenge in itself, I lie here, 8 days before Boulder and I am sick. Blame it on whatever you can think, the fact remains. Whether the body will recover in time is to be seen. Not much can be done. Lots of good real food and extra vitamins to help the body recover as best as possible. 

The key, at this point, is not to allow it to bother you and just truck on with the day.  This is nothing gained from what we worry about it life. We don't remember those concerns. We remember the better times and that is the main goal now. 

My wife organized a surprise send off last week. My training friends and their wives and children came down to the pub and we all got together for one more time before we make the trek to Colorado. Shows what a great woman she is. To become an iron widow for the 3rd year in a row and still go to all that trouble is a testament to her wonderful character. 

Napoleon graced me with a signed portrait of us in a less than flattering moment for my "inspiration" as he called it. For my great concern more like it!

The tapering has gone well up until yesterday. To be clear, lying in bed is not tapering. Ideally, I would be dialing back the time spent working on the 3 disciplines, but still maintain some level of structure and intensity. 

I did manage a good session in North Carolina the day before I fell ill. However, from here on out, I suspect it will be ensuring the body has as much energy to recover as possible. So a very big reduction will have to happen. 

The last long run of the training was a good success. Had my training friend Bryan accompany me for the first hour as he recovers from a stress fracture in his foot. Then it was Maggy's turn to set the pace. My black lab has a lot to learn about pacing!

We've been out for a jog it many times however, so she's getting better. We even have matching Road IDs!!! 

Well, I'm sure the week will be a long one. Recovering and traveling. Headed out on Monday to work on becoming acclimatized to the high altitude I will share the day with next Sunday. Hopefully, the body will be back up and running by then and I can at least compliment the great support that is coming to cheer me on, with a good showing on the day. 

Good luck to us all!

Like a slow sunrise.

Napoleon train spotting on our long ride. I think his shirt shrank in the wash ;)

As I sit her in Canada, watching Le Tour de France and sipping an English pint in an English bar, reflection is found in the irony of the situation. 

It seems only a short age ago that I first agreed to Ironman France with Napoleon and Victory. Now I find myself a meer 3 weeks from attempting my 3rd Iron distance event. 

As this third event approaches in the heady guise of Ironman Boulder, many familiar thoughts return to the clouded memory. However, they appear slightly clearer and far more familiar this time around. Like a familiar old friend strolling through the door and igniting good memories of times past. Yes, it always hurts, but so do many things. I remember Napoleon reflecting that his third Ironman in Nice (our inaugural attempt at the distance) was by far his most fun. There is a strong hope in the back of my tired mind that this too will prove to be the most fun. 

There is more familiarity to this event. Although my biggest cheerleaders in mum and dad won't be there, it sees the return of my wife to the sidelines which is a huge boost. It also sees the return of my great friend Neal who made the crossing to England at my last attempt and duly drank his way through the day. I trust he will do the same this time around. However, one of the stand outs for this years race resides in my friend and title sponsor Mitch (owner and founder of Imagewerx.us. Shameless plug!). This is the man who ultimately we can blame all this mess on. It was he, back in 2005 that suggested I give a bike and triathlon a try upon hearing my complaints about knee pain and subsequently offering me Midol! Once he had saddled me up to my first, and heavily undersized bike, my first Sprint Triathlon in Estes Park, Co appeared on the horizon like a slow moving sunrise. 

Once this easily sown seed sprouted the bug was well and truly rooted inside me. To have Mitch on the sidelines during this race and supporting me so well is simply a welcome twist of appropriately founded fate. 

In a total shift in topic, like Chevy Chase on a roundabout in England, I move to the topic of training. The volume is really hopping up, but the scenery is ever changing. Canada and the Saskatoon River provided the backdrop to a very pleasing short run today and swim today.

 Colorado Springs will add the high altitude spring in my training steps tomorrow. All good preparations for the high altitude racing slowly creeping up on the horizon. 

The big ride of the year is this week with a century of road cycling providing the entertainment. Hopefully the weather will behave and it will provide an enjoyable backdrop to the 6 hours in the saddle. Oddly enough, I find myself looking forward to it, which is a first. I'll report back on these shenanigans next week. 

Good luck to us all!

 

The creeping glowing eyes in the bushes

It's a bit like those glowing eyes that often feature in creepy movies, poking out of the bushes and making you feel uneasy about when it will strike.

Often, in the final stages of training for an Ironman, you teeter on the edge of over training. Always running a knife edge as the volume increases and fatigue knocks on the door every session. A few days ago, I opened that door and jumped over that edge. During a strength training session, the legs could no longer cope and the body raised the white flag. It was an odd feeling, as the previous day and demonstrated a solid day of 6 hours on the bike with a good finish. However, since Sunday, there had been a nagging feeling (the glowing eyes lurking in the dark) that the body wasn't quite happy. A poor food day followed by lack of sleep did the trick to push that edge so much closer. Fortunately, some good advice from Napoleon and a well placed massage therapist, a good dialing back of the training for a few days ensued and recovery is well on the well.

Colorado Springs hinting at me!

I now find myself in El Paso with 97 degrees F outside awaiting the first day back. Not exactly my idea of easing back in, but a gentle run to the pool shall follow to begin the subtle crawl back to work. With less than 3 weeks left to the race a delicate balance is important. The training is essentially done and the fitness is in the muscles. I must now ensure I maintain that fitness with a gentle taper and lots of sleeping. This always creeps up without my notice. All of a sudden there seems to be insufficient time to get everything packed and ready to go. Yet, I see the departure date to Colorado on the horizon, cresting quickly. Time to get the athlete guide on disk and get preparing.

Good luck to us all!

Countdown has begun

Stamford, CT July 5th 2014


As this is typed on yet another hotel computer, having just finished another stationary bike workout, it dawns on me that there is now less than one month remaining until race day.


As it has been mentioned before, we find ourselves at the business end of the season. However, as this post is typed out on a questionably sanitary keyboard, I find myself far more relaxed and much more excited that in years past. The end is coming in to the light and I imagine in my vivid thoughts crossing the finish line on Pearl Street. I wonder if I will receive a contact high as I plod the last few meters in to the finish. It might be a tough one to call, as delirium is likely to have already set in. Here's hoping the Ben & Jerry's stays open until late that night!


As far as training is going, the week was positive, if not a bit unseasonably chilly for my long bike and run. I was joined along the windy and cloudy morning by Napoleon who made the ride that much less solitary. They say you must train your mind to be alone for the long periods out on the race day course. Be there, done that. Now I just want some company for long training days. Napoleon took the first shift of two hours, during the wind and brisk nature of early morning. Next up was Greg The Neighbour, who was was good enough to humor me for the next three. Greg is a naturally strong climber and we headed out to St Paul to test the climbing legs. It was a tough day, not helped by the sudden appearance of abundant sunshine and warmth, not helped by my outer shell which was unable to be removed. The combination of climbing, sun and heat left me a wreck later on that night. I failed to renew my energy stores readily, resulting in a foul mood and too much dehydration. I feared for the next day's long run at this point.


As the next day appeared over the horizon, I awoke to another reminder of how resilient the human body can be. Although sore, I managed to get out the door and have a very good run. It wasn't the quickest, but the body responded amazingly and despite the strong sun and increasing heat, I felt the tank only 3/4 empty with room to spare at the end. A good feeling after the day before. All the positives that are thrown my way will be welcomed with open arms at this point.


Today was spent virtually touring the Cote D'Azur on the loudest indoor bike known to man. Very apt as this is where the first race was run. It really is a beautiful area and I feel there is unfinished business in the town of Nice.


For the rest of the day, swim shops will be dialed around to try and find anyone who is willing to print on my race suit. I surprisingly difficult task to accomplish.


Good luck to us all!

High Altitude training camp, aka where work makes me go!

As I sit in the airport waiting to begin another day at the office, I find myself reflecting again on trying to turn a negative in to positives. Certainly not a strong point on my part. However, everyday, one must continue to strive to improve on our weaknesses.

The negative is I'm headed to Mexico for the night. Mexico is a flamboyant country full of colour and great people. However, constantly worrying about food, water and getting caught in the cross fire is not my idea of a good time. Now to turn that in to a positive. Aguascalientes finds itself at a high and dusty altitude of 6,100ft and it just happens to be the day that Netherlands will play Mexico in the knock out rounds of The World Cup. What an atmosphere this will be! Anything has to be an improvement on the couldn't-hit-a-barn-door-from-five-paces performance England has put on this year. You can never argue that Mexican support lacks passion, even if it is a little blind and narrow sighted at times.

In between World Cup games, there might just be some training. Normally, Mexican hotels in the middle of the country aren't well known for an expansive gym. However, all you needs is a descent treadmill and a stationary bike. These pieces of equipment are typically manufactured circa 1980 and have a tint of rust that an old Ford Cortina would be proud of. With a little magic, the belt will begin to turn and a relatively productive training session might be accomplished. 

The real benefit for Boulder will be the sleeping at altitude. The body won't have that much time to adapt and begin producing the high altitude goods. However, it will get a taste of it. Just a sneak preview to the grand premiere later in August. Hopefully, just enough to awaken the red blood cells and remind them of a time when high altitude living was common in my life.

Training outside really isn't such a good idea when in the middle of Mexico. Unless you have a friend that lives in the area, who is willing to take you out on a run or bike, heading out the door as you might in US is just an ill advised endeavour. Although, even the Cartel members might well be caught up in World Cup frenzy during the Mexico game, I am not willing to miss the match and therefore will not be training outside tomorrow.

With a little over 4 weeks left until the big race fatigue is beginning to show up with the added miles on the road. The long ride this week was only 65 miles with the question of how on earth do we produce 112 out of this body the last two years! Yet, no doubt, by the time my final 6 hour ride comes along the training path, 65 miles will seem like a drop in the metaphorical pond.

The runs are getting much hotter. Humidity is very much smacking you in the face as you head out the door. A trait of Mother Nature that I have never seen eye to eye with. Not that it matters an awful lot, as Boulder is not one for swooning with much of any form of humidity. Dry as a bone would be a good way to describe it. As much as it has been hot, that is what I am looking for. Running in the afternoon in order to be sure my body is well aware of the time of day that T2 will be showing it's face come race day. 

The ankle remains discomforted. Not prohibitive, but mostly uncomfortable. However, the ground work is in place to put me in good stead on race day. There's no doubt this will leave a mark on the ankle post race, but not a permanent one. Will it let me run the entire race and not reduce it to a walk is the big question. So far, so good! There will be many a night between now and the big day spent with all manner of massage tools pounding away at the shin and calf area giving as much as possible to the bits and pieces to all work together and join up for the next 4 weeks.

For now all we can do is say....

Good luck to us all!

Lots of flooding out on the Mississippi River routes 

Realisation

Realisation

It never fails to creep up like a comedian trying to jump you from behind. It seems like the training has only just begun, but a quick glance at the Calender and  all of a sudden it shows 6 weeks to go. 

The typical response to this kind of realisation is the sudden flurry of questions that come blazing out of the woodwork. Will I be ready? Have I done enough training? Was this really such a good idea??

You can often hear many of the managers in Football refer to this equivalent part of the year as "The Business End" of the season. It is time to knuckle down. The training steps up a lot. The social hours disappear for a while. You accept that you will see you friends again when this is all over. It is a tough realisation, but you understand an important one.

This week also presented the first real exposure to the heat and subsequent suffering. In Tulsa, I was confronted with the brutality of heat and humidity, combined with the need to complete a heart rate test. It was unpleasant. The test began with far too hard of a pace. I "blew up" completely with around 25 minutes of the 30 minute test complete. Pulling over to find some shade and any water I could grapple at. Upon inspection of my TomTom gps watch it was clear why. Staring back at me were an initial two miles far above any pace I would normally hold. Yes, these test are designed to be a maximum all out experience. However, this was far beyond that yard stick. On the stumble back to the hotel and the subsequent long cold shower (not that kind!) once again I confirmed to myself that I did not enjoy hot and humid. Good news! Denver isn't humid in August. Shame about the heat element.

Bryan and I at The Depot

After some very unwelcome extended work periods, a missed long run and seeing England relegated to their second World Cup defeat and subsequent exit, I was primed for an up tempo ride. This was duly completed over 4 ish hours during the hottest day of the year (and of course the most humid). On this occasion I found myself better prepared and although I sweat like a pig on a spit roast, I came out relatively unscathed and with only a slight sunburn. The lake's beaches were packed and the trails full of traffic.  This made for less than a fluid ride, but once joined by my friend Bryan, the ride's enjoyability level increased. 

Forever constrained by time, as most working amateur ironman athletes are, too much resting at my favourite spot, The Depot, was limited and I raced back to town to finish all the chores that awaited me. This is when it became apparent, as I tinkered with my training plan, that all of a sudden Ironman Boulder was just around the corner and sneaking up the inside rail quickly. The forthcoming week will be chock full of training and I'm sure the next post on this blog will be a tired one. 

On a parting note, I wonder to myself, if ever I found myself on a larger aircraft whether anyone would notice if I tried to sneak on my bike and trainer and go for a high altitude spin??? 

Good luck to us all!!

 

Time to relax

The family vacation came at just the right time. Even though the ankle held up during the race, as the following days sped by, it began to ache, creeping around in the background subtle as you like. 

However, a full 5 days of rest was ahead of me on a lake in northern Minnesota, totally isolated from the world and more importantly my bike and running shoes (I did manage to sneak up my wetsuit). Although there was still some work to be done on the boat, it was relaxation abound in the most brilliant environment. Lush wooded areas with otters, beavers and plenty of fish (fish, the majority of which chose not to take our bait, although some did)

It was a very welcome break. No workouts to concern myself with. A complete lack of time management. Just the release from organized life that was needed and a lot of napping on a fishing boats. A lifestyle that could easily become addicting. 

I did sneak in a swim, albeit a short one. Despite my open water fears abounding, the wetsuit was thrown on and the icy waters were disturbed by the neoprene clad body. All in the interests of child amusement, as four young kids thought it a great idea to hang on as I swam the dark waters. Could be a great new craze in strength training!

Sadly all vacations must end and the vacation blues came on strong when we arrived back in to The Cities. Immediately back running and among the everyday life stresses. Time to start wasting away those candy induced calories and back to the time management that can be so exhausting. 

A trip to NYC quickly followed with a dungeon swim, two floors below ground at Bally Fitness. A gloomy, yet unique swim site, but little wonder why Bally's has found bankruptcy. A dirty dungeon it was. The week was back in full flow, with a run test tomorrow and a four hour bike later in the week. Where's that lake again???

Good luck to us all!

Liberty Half Iron Race Report

Twas the night before Liberty and the sky was lit up with lightening bolts and the ground sodden with rain. I know what you are thinking, perfect conditions for a race, right?! Who doesn't love swimming in the middle of the lake and having the pretty view of lightening overhead!!?

Well, despite my sarcasm, race morning arrived and we began the day with a somewhat dry early morning drive  along highway 12 to Delano, MN. A small town just 30 miles NW of Minneapolis and on to Lake Rebbecca. Locals say that our city lakes are dirty. Well, when you swim in these "dirty" city lakes I can see 3 feet. In Lake Rebbecca the cloudy visibility was about 1/2 a foot! The good news about this particular fact is there is no psychological battle with the weeds to be had, because you can't see them!

Anyway, back to the point. After setting up transition, surrounded on all sides my unintended lakes of water from the flooding in the area and a quick check of the beach and route back, we were unceremoniously told to run for the cars. At which point we through everything back in to the bags and high tailed it back to the warmth of the borrowed Scion (thanks Bryan!).

It couldn't have been a poorer choice for Mother Nature to show up on this one day of the week. 80 degrees all week, yet today She decided to plump down 60 degrees for a high and sodden us the entire day! Eventually, her anger subsided enough to allow us out of the cars, back to the quagmire of mud known as "transition" and made ready for the one hour delayed start. Now, Napoleon had generously offered to come and support me in this race, despite not training one little bit. I know...he's French. Make sense! However, his valiant offer was much appreciated and despite the fact that we all know he secretly misses triathlon dearly, the hour delay cost him the run. He had a deadline to finish and sadly could not. So, as they do in triathlon, they unceremoniously and lacking any emotion, gave him a DNF. To be honest, there were multiple times this eventual outcome crossed my mind.

The Swim: The water was a very pleasant 71F. Very welcome warmup compared to the 55F OAT. Once in, the swim was fantastic. Well designed and simple course, with little traffic and lots of space to get in to a rhythm. Despite being 3 minutes slower than the previous year, the effort was quite relaxed. A good sign for me as I know a greater effort could have been put in. The benefit realised once T1 is left behind and the bike leg begins. Much fresher and relaxed than in previous years. That said, I left the water with a 34 min swim, which equates to 1min 39sec per 100 yard. Very relaxed.

Now for the miserable part. The Bike! It was absolutely lashing it down again (no lightening this time) and the early miles set the tone for the next 3 plus hours. Roads were soaked and covered in debris, as became abundantly clear on mile 3 where I looked down to find the front tire flat. Queue greased filled tire change (much worse when wet. You end up looking like you just changed the oil on a car). However, a relatively easy and fluid change it was and we were back under way in less than a few minutes. Disappointing in some respects, as I was looking for an excuse to stop - smiley face, hashtag, hashtag.

Had this been a sunny day, this would have been a lovely ride. Lots of smooth shoulders and roads, with rolling countryside. It was a very pleasing ride with a solid wind from the NW to compliment and distinctly hinder your speed depending on the direction. Naturally, this was a hindrance headed back to T2, at your lowest point, knackered and cold, with no sign of your feet feeling anything at all. That's triathlon and in a sick way, why we love it. Despite the early flat, the ever soggy T2 was reached in 3hrs 20mins. A 20 minute improvement over Kansas last year. Pretty happy and despite the frozen feet, the body felt in good shape.

Leaving T2 after my mud treatment (people pay lots of money to have this put all over them to make their skin lovely. A good roll around T2 would have the same outcome) I was shot in to the State Park of Lake Rebecca and a very pleasant trail run. A simple out and back, albeit a very hilly one. Note to self, check out run elevations before next race. The pace was very relaxed and as usual the mood becomes very upbeat when I am off my trusty Blue stead and running under my own power. Relief of no longer pedaling combined with the realization that the end is insight.

The pace was slow to begin with. My foot and ankle were a concern going in, although physical therapy in the week had helped. The strategy was 10 minutes running followed by 1 minute walking. This seem to work very well indeed. The ankle only complaining when the body began to fatigue and my form started to fail on the downhill portions. The left knee was the unexpected party crasher, causing some pain in the latter stages. In fact, the whole right leg felt like it had been doing all the major lifting for the last 5 hours. The left side felt good. Possible signs again of my "imbalance" and hopefully will be highlighted in a Full Functional Assessment in the coming weeks.

As has been the case the last few half iron distance races, the pace was upped considerably in the last 3 miles. It's as if the the body is a horse caught in the starting gate and demands "why have you been holding me back???" and off it goes. Upping the pace by a min/mile. Smash fest! If I could only figure out how to trust my body in to running an improved and even pace throughout the run portion. However, it does feel good to catch all the runners who passed you, in the final miles.

Lots of high fives and "good jobs" later and the modest, local finish line was crossed and a good couple of hot dogs later and I was in the car headed home. The local races are always the best, for me. The relaxed feel. The casualness of it all. The personal approach to the race. It's great. Challenge get close to that with their races. WTC do put on a heck of a race, but a very impersonal one. However, they do draw the crowds and that is a big plus. Running through the park yesterday, the only cheering section were the other runners coming the other way.

All in all, in hindsight, a challenging, yet satisfying race was had. A race I will definitely enter again. Now for some much needed rest!

Good luck to us all!

The Good, the bad and the ugly...

The always say you should start with the good first. In true against-the-grain fashion, I will do the opposite. What a shit week!

The are those weeks during training for a long distance endurance race that are a joy. You jump out of bed to the singing of early morning bird song, think the world is just swell and bolt out of the door. This was not one of those weeks. It was truly ironic. Perhaps some of the most bike worthy days of the year. Yet, the idea of heading out the door and going for a ride longer than 1 hour was not at the highest on my list. Although I will gladly admit that, once out there, it was a joy and I was glad I had struggled out the door.

No matter what though, I would wake up wishing to hear a monumental boom from Mother Nature indicating that today I just might be able to get away with a slow morning and a large cup of coffee. This training robs you of many things and sacrifices are made, both by yourself and others. It is these small little things that you elect to give up - breakfast at a normal hour with your wife. Reading the paper and drinking a seriously over sized coffee that Starbucks doesn't have a name for yet - the things that one weeks like these, you miss dearly.

However, during these weeks, you tend to find yourself pleasantly surprised. The mood that clouds your outlook. Then the warm sun occasionally breaks through and reminds you that life really isn't all that bad. That sun broke through during the first open swim of the season. It was truly wonderful. It is easily forgotten, from one year to the next, what you have experienced the year before. The first open swim is one of them. Yes, I hate the open water. It is not my favourite place to be. However, when you get in that water, when the visibility is up, the fish are gloriously unaware of any human interference and the water is just about warm enough, you wade out into the shallow waters of the lake and dive in. Yes, there are many times I can be heard whimpering between breaths as I swim out in to the lake. It is not lost on me, however, how this particular swim is a special one.

Then the clouds began to dominate again, the sun went in and another lonely 3 plus hour ride presented itself.  This discipline has been hard this year. Absent are the training partners of yesteryear. The rides have been increasingly rides of one. This is, in fact, a good thing for Ironman distance training as it is a lonely place out there and anyone who partakes in this tomfoolery needs to be ready for that. That said, it is nice to get out on the sunny days with a few friends to distract you away from the monotony.

The long run of the week epitomised monotony itself. 11 miles run on a treadmill can be a brutal experience. This one was no different. However, the positives must be gained and recognised. The mental training on an experience like this are invaluable. Chrissy Wellington, to whom I am certainly not comparing my meagre self, wrote in her book that her coach, Brett Sutton, would often make her run an entire marathon on a treadmill in a small dungeon. This was by no means a dungeon, in fact a wide open street mall gym, but the psychological effects were the same. Glad the choice was made to do it. And why on earth did I decide to undertake such lunacy? The city was Jackson, Mississippi. A remote area. I think that's all I need to say on that! 

The week is concluded and behind us. A positive  week lies ahead. More open water swimming this evening with the fishes (and the savage weeds). What also will present itself is the first race of the season, followed by a long relaxing week on a houseboat in Northern Minnesota! The ankle will be tested and the body stretched.

Good luck to us all! 

Bumpy Roads and intensity

At the corner of Autopilot and Aviation Drive, the long run of the week commenced. Appropriate considering the run was planned to circumnavigate the northern portions of Washington Dulles Airport. It was the culmination of a productive week of training during a "recovery week".

There was shorter periods, but with more pain. The good kind. The plan that is to be followed during the lead up to Boulder IM completes a 3 weeks on 1 week off cycle. During the one week off the plan has you do tests of varying degree in order to test your progress. It's sadistic nature can be enjoyable. The much reduced length of training time is traded for vomit inducing intensity, just to see how you do.

The tests went well and showed improvement. Thank goodness. Followed by a promising long ride with a couple of handy roadies throughout the winding local roads of Minneapolis. The great thing about the roadies is that they know where all the smooth roads are. The downside is that they love their hills and they have a real knack at finding them where you least expect it. I now have some good new routes to follow when we next head out.

It was a good 8 miler today. Slightly hazardous first mile or so, being threatened by fatigued airport cabbies and early morning rental car returners. Once out of the mish mash of the airport roads, the run expanded in to a quite loop through the woods that was quite enjoyable. Nice end to the week with the sun on my back and the London Philharmonic in my ears. 

The anti is on the up this week. Two weeks out from the first race of the season, a half iron distance local race beginning in the calm, chilly waters of Lake Rebecca. Combined with a visit to the sporty doc, this should be another interesting week on the bumpy road to Boulder.      

Hope, random and forgetfulness

Frankly, although I probably don't have the most solid set of ankles of all time, I still have a little hope on my side. Today, 9 miles were completed as part of the long run portion of this weeks long arduous training. Coupled with a complete and somewhat tortuous hilly long bike yesterday, it made for my first complete week of training for the first time this year. 

If I am ever completely honest with myself, I would perhaps acknowledge that the ankle isn't at 100%, to say the least. The doc will tell more come the end of the week and suspicions remain as within the inner most subconscious that fluid remains in the ankle joint. The deployment of heat/ice methodology (one far more welcome than the other) has made an impact. The re-deployment of the ice bath, championed by the likes of Paula Radcliffe, has also contributed to a positive week. It's amazing how it is so easily forgotten from one season to the next, all the tricks that helped so much last season. A simple conversation with "Constitution" on the long hilly ride around St Paul yesterday sprang in to action the much needed stop at the local BP for two 20 pound bags of ice and a wobbly bike back the house. This was shortly followed by by some debatably girlish screaming and some inquisitive looks from the dog and cat as I entered the first ice bath of the season.

There are numerous debates about the impact of the ice bath. All I could say, as far as my tortuous self experimentation goes, is that it appears to have a positive impact on my ever complaining body.....

....This is what I love about triathlon! As I write this week, I was in flight on my way to work and spotted the tell tale sign of the Transition Bag as a carry on. I struck up a conversation and as it turns out this lady specializes in sports injury for triathletes. For the next hour I continued to receive some free medical advice on my ankle. Winner. Found out there is some serious work to do on my ankle mobility and hip flexors.

What should also focused upon is my memory. A solicitous email just crossed my inbox congratulating on a fine race! Naturally curious about one successfully races whilst not actually being there, an expeditious search of the results led to the discovery of my very first DNS. Unsurprising really. Would have been nice to have to have remembered. Ironically, there is a slim recollection of signing up during half price Black Friday thinking a duathlon would be good practice for the forthcoming season. I was even off! Oh the irony!

Plenty to work on this week. 

Good luck on this all!

 

Réflexion: Training camp?

To reflect upon the part of the airline industry that I work for and their lack of action over the previous few days would be unhelpful and fruitless. Simply, it must be recognized that their failures have provided an opportunity to reflection or réflexion! 

To find myself stranded in yet another hotel may seem frustrating and annoying in the grand scheme of things. However, even though it is as tempting as a chocolate covered strawberry, to see this as a hindrance is unproductive. I have been stranded in the French speaking city of Quebec in Canada. The hotel has a free espresso machine. The city is a veritable hub of training opportunity. What's not to like?? Indeed, the town is somewhat of a challenge regarding communication, but is that not what Ironman training is all about - The Challenge? We wouldn't keep doing it if it got easier. As Napoleon always says, "it always f*@!king hurts!"

I don;t necessarily see Quebec as painful, mind you. Just a fresh challenge to keep things interesting. As we enter our second day of marooning, I see a pool out of my window and a chance to go for a run in the beautiful old city of Quebec. Challenge accepted!

The ankle had somewhat of an off day yesterday. Grumbling about the effort put in over the weekend. It appears to have bounced back today and may even enjoy a good swim to sooth it's disgruntled tendons. The cold/heat method seems to generate a very good response from "the ole fella" (as I have now named that appendage) The homework must been done well this week. The doctor is due for a visit this week and I must convince him the "old" body isn't done yet!

One of the things that has been reflected on all this week is how I came to have this grumbling ankle. Yes, there was the over zealous football from youth to present - dismissing the aging in between. Yet, it never complained in training previous. Which brought my mind to the ever challenging, completely inappropriately selected footwear run of  Challenge Henley. The brutal, hardened and slippery field that we ran through for 3 miles of each loop of the run portion. Did that finally beat the "ole fella" in to a state of such fatigue that when I finally kicked a ball with it again the jig was up?
One particular personality trait I possess is analysis - excessive analysis. Or, as my wife describes it, "flogging it to death". So, finding the root cause of this has been dancing around my thoughts. Could this painful, yet glorious day be the origins? For Pete's sake, I fell down a drainage ditch in 2012, buggered the ankle beyond what I thought was repair and still managed an entirely successful (read: good enough) completion of France. Yet, France's course was the flattest smoothest run known to man. The polar opposite of Henley. Ah, I shall ponder some more. Better get some more espresso!

Good luck to us all!

Working on my "menu French"

Morning sunrise over my of my favourite places to run.

Back in the gym

It's been a tough three weeks. The love of running and the freedom it gives you is contagious. To be presented with some of the favourite runs in the nation over the last 3 weeks and not able to run them was a form of torture. The chance to run around Flushing Meadows was missed. The first beautiful day of spring was missed. Many of my favourite times.

Yet, something was indeed gained. A new element to training. A new recovery tool. Aqua jogging. Water running. Whatever is the term you choose. Mocked as being an old people's game, this pool time jovial-ness has afforded a new outlet for recovery. When the muscles are sore or the foot is being temperamental, a new option to slap the incredibly bouyant float belt on and start running. It's liberating in a way. Perhaps even meditative. You're not going to go anywhere fast. Many will look at you with a cocked head and wonder why such a youthful, good looking guy is trying to tread water for so long. Isn't that for the old folks? Even the old folks (of whom I met a few during my aqua jogging) will look at you with an arms length stare. "What is this fella doing??"

However, the reward for the muscles is there. The ability to maintain that level of fitness and let the body avoid the constant jarring of outdoor running that is indeed detrimental to damage recovery. Many a runner thinks that those running in the water are suffering from stress fractures and more serious injuries. However, I for one, will be using it in the future when the week is catching me up and I need a little bit of a backward step in order to keep moving forward. 

The foot still has it's days, but the time is right to slowly begin to fun again. The ankle has stopped complaining. The foot can be "irritating", yet a balanced recovery should put me back in good stead. Should.

The weeks are beginning to get more demanding, from a training perspective. The now familiar jump to 3 hour rides and transition runs. The ending of the base and the beginning of some serious time management.

Good luck to us all!

Throw back!

They think it's all over! Well......

That's my right ankle. Pretty, isn't it. Such graceful body lines are a gift - by gift I mean hinderance. 

For many years I have abused my ankles. Many moons of smashing around a soccer field, which my ankles informed me during my late twenties and early thirties was a terrible idea. They way they like to inform their owner of these things is to roll over on you and send you shrieking like Luis Suarez have been judo chopped on the football pitch. They do this periodically. Mostly at your behest, as you take on another ill sort after footie match with a bunch of over forties. All of which have their own ailments and none of which you believe you are like, physically. Yet, after each of these yearly games, where you charge around the field like a well oiled machine without the remotest thought toward taking it easy or being sensible, or the fact that this just might leave you sore for a week.

Those type of decisions is what lead me to an MRI table and an oh-so-familiar radio station menu to chose from, in order to drown out the loud obnoctious machine. This would be the third or fourth MRI on my ankles post excessive sideways activity. You'd think I'd take a hint.

Naturally, when the results find their way to you in an express fashion, not 45 minutes post scan, you mind flies to the "end of the world" scenario. It's all gone wrong! How will I make it through summer after they hack my ankle open?? Such vivid questions swirl in an ever busy mind. It's a natural path I think. Some minds are stronger than others and manage to keep such thoughts at bay.  Not my mind, no matter how hard I try.

Then came the consultation and the advice, post x-ray showing no "Wayne Rooney" fifth metatarsel breaks, to take up aqua jogging and lay off running for three weeks. Suddenly, celebration mode kicks in. Doom and gloom has turned to a small ray of sunshine cresting over the horizon. Perhaps my Ironman career isn't over. Perhaps I just might make it. 

Now the excitement brews for a new experiment in the pool. Me and my flotation belt take the the deep waters of the musty pool at lunch time.  Suddenly profoundly aware of how much like a dreadmill this is. Running with no place to go. Then that thought is trumped by the sudden rise in heart rate and the awareness that this lark is quite tiring. Perhaps there's hope at the end of the fitness tunnel!

This morning the legs were appropriately fatigued, as if I had actually gone for a long jog. Quite the fascinating result from a short 35 minutes of aqua jogging. Now, if I could just shed this cold, everything can start heading back to normal. 

More torture is due this weekend. Three long hours on the indoor trainer should provide the appropriate amount of menotony to force state secrets out of any international spy. At least at home I get a good movie to pass the time. On the road you have to make do and sometimes that involves a blank wall and a pool of sweat.

Here's hoping for a pain free week and a quick recovery!

Good luck to us all!

Set Backs

The dictionary states that the definition of a set back is "an unanticipated or sudden check in progress; a change from better to worse". That's how it felt yesterday whilst they slid me in to the MRI for a scan on my right ankle.

The news hasn't sunk in just yet. Next week, a trip to the specialists office in the order of the day. A discussion will be held about how to progress with my "quite damaged" ankle. You know it's bad when you haven't even parked the car back in your garage having just returned from the MRI when the phone rings with the unwelcome results.

3 damaged tendons. One "missing" ligament. Bone fragments floating around. That's the generalization of the situation. How did this all happen? Well, the fear is that it occurred during a game of soccer/football about 6 weeks ago. Probably weakened due to the numerous ankle rolls during my youth. Add in the full amount of training that has occurred over the last 3 years. The odd element is that there hasn't been any pain up until that fateful game about 6 weeks previous. Not a sign. Yet, it would appear that the ankle could have been primed to go.

Frankly, it's all irrelevant now. The specialist will give the full, unedited view next Wednesday with all the available options. Surgery would put a serious damper on the season, but may be the best option. I will fight to keep that option at the bottom and strive to repair my ankle with the minimal of invasion. That said, it may be a losing battle at this stage. 

Napoleon said yesterday that there is more to life than an Ironman. It is indeed an addictive lifestyle. However, this disadvantage needs to be turned to an advantage. Swimming will be the focus for now. Lots of available hours to improve upon the efficiency of stroke and all that bollocks! It must be seen as another step in the education of life, filling that bag full of experience.

Good luck to us all (my ankle in particular)!

Kicking it up a notch

Spring is attempting to sneak it's way past winter and get a strong hold on the weather. It's trying it's best, but winter's beer belly is being a bully and not relinquishing it's hold just yet. Yet, spring did make a bit of an appearance this week and allowed the first outdoors ride of the season (not including England). The first ride of the season always results in a mandatory bike clean and some muddy, grit ridden bike clothes. It's the best part. No matter what, the smile won't leave the faces of those who venture out on this unrivaled day of the year. You may be soaked. You may be covered in grit and sand. your bike may well be completely sanded from back wheel to front. However, you keep on smiling and riding. It's infectious, at least until 20 inches of snow falls on Friday!

The training has suddenly ratcheted it up a notch. Two-a-days have smashed back on to the scene, reminding me how long it takes to get back to full race fitness. The schedule begins to get tighter and the inventiveness needs to be all that more, well, inventive.

The foot is almost back to normal. Managed one run and the ankle didn't seem to cry out too much. Although, as is common with the multitude of ankle injuries I have experienced in my life, the other muscles around the ankle tend to become a little cranky as a result. Induced by the warmer climate of Oklahoma, a run shall be the order of the day tomorrow. Can't pass up the chance of lapping up the warm rays of the south. Shall take it easy though. No need to send my ankle/foot back to the drawing board.

It's amazing that the first race of the season is sliding it's way up the forefront ever so quickly. June 7th is only a couple of months away. The first race of the year, Liberty Half Iron distance taking the honours. The excited feel of the butterflies in the stomach the morning of the race beckoning each athlete towards the month of June. Time to start having a look at the course and trying to look at what won't help an athlete like me just trying to hold on, but it's nice to imagine it would. I'll study the twists and turns, only to forget it all as soon as I emerge from the water! Here's hoping the nutrition is a little more dialed in this time around.


Here's to Spring!!!


Good luck to us all!