Time for some goals and other trivial things

End of February? How could this be? End of February means week 8. Blimey Charlie, that's two months in to training. Who would have thought, looking back at certain "absolutely not" posts from last autumn and winter, that we would have found ourselves at week 8 of ironman training in 2015?!

Nevertheless, the training just keeps trucking along. There have been some pool work with Constitution in recent times. It's good to have someone in the lane with you for some good old swim camaraderie. Training in winter is lonely at the best of times, often spent on lonely immovable training appliances in hot sweaty gyms/rooms with questionable grunting coming from over pumped up individuals. Therefore, to have a familiar face in the lanes is gratefully received. It does not, however, lead to time efficiency in the pool. "Rests" taking longer and longer as you chat about how training is going and generally have a good old fashion chinwag which is more akin to a water aerobics class (controversial!). 

The long bike proved to be one of the more satisfying events of the week. Admittedly hard to believe, riding 3 hours indoors can actually be quite satisfying. The difference between 2.5hrs and 3hrs is staggering. Those extra 30 minutes can feel like an epic

movie production. It's seemingly such a short time, but when rooted to the floor of an underground cavern with sweat pouring from every inch of skin those 30 minutes will grind on you. To somewhat gleefully spin away those last 30 minutes, in part thanks to Downton Abbey and in other thanks to some better nutrition, is very satisfying. It's still a bit cold out to head out the door for a transition run, and by a bit cold I imagine my drenched self heading out the door and instantly freezing in to a triathlon ice sculpture. Therefore, unless there's a treadmill handy, they will be on hold until we crack in to the 30'sF. 

3.5hrs is on the proverbial chopping block next week. We shall see if I'm still so cheery then!

With the weekend at my disposal, I get to relax a bit with only the long run in my sights. Hopefully Mrs Victory will join me in the cold for part of the run. 

Now for the laying down of certain gauntlets that can be risky. Goal setting. Having cast my mind back to last summers grueling, painful and yet fully enjoyable experience in Boulder, I begin to consider a time worthy of the memory of my father. Just finishing and raising the money for his trust is indeed a good enough goal. However, those who knew him know that my father and I shared a competitive spirit, albeit his more subtle than mine. I think he and I would love to see me cross the line in 13hrs and 15mins. Odd number? Well, it is derived from the desire to crack 7hrs on the bike and 5hrs on the run. Leaving a lofty goal of a quick swim and equally quick transition. To be honest, just going sub 13:30 would be a joy, so why not dangle a challenge carrot in front of the traithletic horse?! 

So with it out there, I might as well go and get on with it. 

Good luck to us all!!

Baby, it's cold outside!

There are times when the "lows' will kick in during training for an iron distance race. It will never let you know when it's going to happen. You will simply awake and realize that the "low" has been waiting for you at the end of the bed, ready for when you. Ready to slap you in the face the minute you realize there is a long run in your immediate future.

To add insult to injury, it would also have to occur on one of the coldest mornings of the year. Never one to shirk a challenge and head to the treadmill, after what seemed like two days worth of endless cold weather dress preparation, I was out the door. It is always immediately apparent how cold it has gotten. The first most immediate sign is when your "gentleman bits" raise the white flag like a Frenchman heading to war and then shift off back so far inside your body that you worry whether they will ever come out again (the gentleman bits, not the Frenchman!) Luckily, you quickly warm up with your own sweat and heat release. Little do you know that the few loonies who are also out for a stroll are getting a entirely different picture. As far as they are concerned, the abominable snowman is headed right for them. This one perhaps with a contagious disease. Any form of moisture that has escaped you being has immediately refrozen the minute it has spread more than a millimeter away from you comforting warmth. That includes, but is not limited to, sweat, snot, snot rockets that have gone wrong and any other form of fluid that should not be discussed in polite company.

After the body was "warmed up" for the day, it was fast apparent that the heat had not chased off the "lows" of training. Perhaps a little too much too soon, or a little over-zealous on the long bike the day before, had left me with little energy for this brisk, winter wonderland run. It was decided, perhaps with the heavy influence of the outside temps, that the "long run" would quickly become somewhat shortened and a hasty retreat was initiated after a short 6 miles.

We are quickly in to week 6 now. The time is flying by. Too put it in to context, we are a quarter of the way through the 24 week programme. It is unclear as to whether fitness has remained from the previous season, or whether the training is becoming such common place that is seems to fit in to everyday life......or there is the third option..... that we haven't hit the real training yet. Easily referred to as the "walking around like a zombie" or the "kiss your family goodbye" portion of the training plan. This is typically the second half when everything seems to get that little bit longer. A false sense of security is currently enveloping my psyche, like a warm blanket on a winters night. Giving a warm and happy glow, only to be stolen from you as you throw off the blanket to discover the cold truth of the day.

Here's hoping that it could be some of the former, but as Napoleon says, it always f@!#ing hurts! Week 6 did get off to a good start though, with my first early morning swim in the books with Constitution. We hadn't worked out together in a while, so it was a good morning to get caught up. Caffeine pales in comparison with the effects of jumping in to a cold pool in the morning. The pool's ability to full awaken you in the shortest time possible beats coffee hands down. Although, coffee does taste an awful lot better!

As the snow falls outside my window (reminding just how much I love winter) spring is not far around the corner. Soon the clocks will be leaping forward and the snow will be dripping outside my window, with the promise of getting out on the clear roads only 6 weeks away. That groundhog better stop seeing his shadow and let us triathletes get on it!

Good luck to us all!

One month check up

We find ourselves now in to week four of training. The weeks are flying by like a fast flowing river in spring. The snow is still falling outside our windows and the basement continues to steam up at the behest of continual trainer pedaling. 

The television morning programs are beginning to proclaim only one month until spring, a familiar sound as Minnesotans grow tied of the cold they only longed for a few months ago. However, the enjoyment of more outside riding on my trusty new fat tire stead make me long for a bit more snow and some colder weather. Yesterday, as flakes slowly fell from above, I pedaled around the friendly cycle lanes of my favorite city quite happy - and sweaty for that matter - instead of being pinned down in the basement spinning fast and going nowhere. There are still the necessary weekly ventures down in to dark and cold catacombs to pedal for hours on end, honing the aero position's muscles in preparation for the elusive spring that promises to be around the corner. Once that day arrives we will find ourselves that much closer to the next Ironman in Idaho, or Ironman IV as I am calling it. The races viewed as a relentless movie franchise that doesn't seem to give in and keeps churning out the sequels year after year. My sequels have a lot less explosions and gun fights, but equal amounts of excitement and half naked bodies (albeit clad in Lycra). I wonder if we will make it to Iroman X???

Something unique happened during week 4. The wretched alarm clock was set for an ungodly wake up at 5am. The goal to trudge down to the basement for a 45min spin before heading out in to the frigid air and to work. This time proved different. The alarm announced itself to the room with the pomp of trumpeters announcing a royal is coming. After shock has worn off, I calmly roll over and hit snooze with zero intentions of satisfying my goals today. There was an article published last year regarding training to feel. The pro triathlete featured only trained when her body approved. Realizing that in actual fact, our bodies don't benefit from flogging out a workout just to get it done when it actual fact we would be better off choosing the easier and less strenuous option. I have preached such grandiose lessons before, but rarely have I come to recognize them for myself. Today was the day. It became apparent the body was much fatigued from the previous day's joyous, snow filled rides around town, also preceded by an overzealous strength session. It was indeed time to recognize that the body needed to pull in to the rest stop and enjoy a snooze. It duly did. 

The other benefit from such snoozing was the right ankle. Forever a burden to this whole training thing, it's never shy to throw in its two cents from the back benches whining about my unfair policies. Time for a physical compromise to let the poor fella get some rest. The way I sleep seems to dictate it's soreness each morning. The exact and most relieving position is face down, foot dangling off end of bed. Known sideeffects involve cat attacks and subsequent shooing, followed by sleep interruptus from mild heart attack. However, when this method is diligently followed, my ankle awakes in a joyous mood ready to take on the next hair brained scheme of the day. Here's hoping for many more of those mornings. 

As week 5 looms on the proverbial horizon we are well and truly back in to the swing of things. The original 3 triathletes of "Victory" (that's me naturally), "Napoleon" and "Constitution" of Ironman France days are hoping for a repeat of that day in 2012 when we'll crossed the line with beaming smiles on our faces (less sunburn for me this time please). I'm excited for our hibernation to be over soon and for the 3 of us to head out the door for a swim in the lake or a bike along the rolling, winding  and relentlessly pot-hole-ridden roads of Minnesota. But before then, there will be some fun pool sessions and likely sore-arsed trainer sessions involving many movie trilogies to pass the time. 

Good luck to us all!

Winter warmers slowing us down

One week in and it is certainly apparent that this winter has allowed a little wayward winds to carry the fitness a little of course. However, the seas are slowly calming and training is fully back in swing and being enjoyed for now.

It certainly helps that one has the motivation of raising money for a fantastic trust in the Bucks Youth Cricket Trust, who began and spurred my sporting life as a youth cricketer. There is no doubt that the drive and commitment that playing youth cricket with Marlow Park CC laid the foundations of what my sport enthusiasm is today. 

That drive kept me alive this week with a few good sessions in the pool and some solid times on the bike. That said, when you find yourself on a long indoor trainer ride of two hours, struggling to make it past 1hour 30mins, it is a sobering occasion, wondering how on earth you will make it 13hours out on course. It is precisely that drive to finish the trainer ride and the satisfaction of persevering to the end that drives you forward through the thick brush that is the woods of training, towards the start line.

So far so good for the initial week. It feels good to be back in the swing of things and having a common pattern to follow again. The hard part will be encouraging everyone to make a contribution to the cause and reaching the lofty goal I have set myself. Training will be the easy part. Ha!

The pool session was certainly a good one, courtesy of the Appleton YMCA in Wisconsin. A very nice pool with some good lap sessions and great equipment to borrow from. I really lost myself in that swim. In the zone, as some call it. Seemingly, the swim flew by and before I knew it, 3500 yards was over.

The bike sessions were also productive. Two hours spent in the basement with my wife ironing next to me watching Downton Abbey. Now that's a good bike session. Allowed me to forget the pain and suffering I was going through during the pedal-a-thon. Not many triathletes can claim that kind of environment. What a lady I'm married to!

The running is being cautiously pursued. There is a combination of fatigue from marathoning and a bit of ankle soreness. Some smart decision making is needed in this area so that nothing small swells in to something a little more menacing that may curtail any future plans.

However, some more pressing issues need to be discussed. If you are reading this, anything that you may be able to contribute to the cause that I am championing by training and competing in this Ironman race will be welcomed with open arms. My fundraising website is http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/cliffsironman and I would appreciate you visiting the site and giving as you see fit. The whole story that may give some understanding as to why we are pursuing this year's race is laid out for you there. Please have a read and let's all join together to support such a good cause. I sincerely hope that by raising money for such a trust will allow many Buckinghamshire Youth to enjoy the classic game the way I was lucky enough to do as a child.

Good luck to us all!

Day 1 all over again

It's currently somewhere around 0 degrees Fahrenheit and we are back in Minnesota. It's been two weeks since I lost my father. Training for my fourth ironman is about to begin.

Quite possibly the least inviting set of circumstances to begin 24 weeks of training one could ask for. Dipping my toes in to the seemingly ice cold waters of the local community pool there was a multitude of other far more appealing situations leaping in to my mind that I would have rather been doing. However, after the first few hundred yards and with Billy Joel streaming through my mind, I found myself increasingly enjoying the swim. Whether driven by the fact that the water appeared colder than ever, probably as a result of a distinct lack of time in it, or that Billy Joel was singing a particularly good rendition of Innocent Man in my head but all of sudden I found myself remembering the joy of being in the water. The promise of an end goal that gives great purpose to training so hard and so long for a challenge that is the longest day.  Raising money for my Dad's favourite charity, The Bucks Youth Cricket Trust.

It would be easy to think that, as this is my fourth iron distance event, this could be a walk in the park. Just like all the others. It always hurts. However, to know that putting a big goal at the end of the proverbial tunnel is the driving force that will steer me to the end with a goal of shattering both time and fundraising goals. The hope of raising money for such a just and appropriate cause and leaving a strong legacy for my father's memory will be the strongest motivator I have ever had to outperform all previous results. He ran next to me in my first two iron distance races. Jogging slowly a long next to me as I inched towards the end of the run leg. Boosting my psyche at the same point on each loop of the course. That energy will drive me on in Idaho on race day.

Heading out for the first long trainer ride tomorrow. Better pick a good movie to start on. Don't want to be too miserable this basement, too cold to be outside, season. Sweat towels await!

Good luck to us all!

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!