Different stages of a long session

There are times during a long, arduous, less than impressive bike or run when your psyche becomes a whole different animal. A point when you even surprise yourself with your not-so-proud thoughts. This would be the "everyone's an a-hole" phase. 

Part of a 5 phase process, the aforementioned phase 3 is preceded by the following. 

There's phase 1 - the "Rocky Balboa" phase. You start out on the, let's say, long bike. 6 hours ahead of you and aboard your trusty stead you feel invincible, like Rocky walking towards the ring with only Mr T to beat. The end of the ride seems far far away, but the legs are fresh and the crotch far from completely crushed at this point. The sun spreads its subtle morning rays across your back and the world seems a great place today. Perhaps a smile finds it's way to your face or even a courtesy wave to your fellow early risers. (Constitution finds it hard to leave this phase)

Phase 2 - the "acceptance you may not be Rocky Balboa" phase. This second phase everything isn't quite lost. Your may have lost that slight spring in your step but you are all warmed up and feel as though a nice healthy sweat is beginning to pool just above your seat and you accept that this is what you expected. A tough day. A day, though, when you can still have a rye smile to you fellow cyclist with a gentle wave across the road or even a slight nod of the head. "That's right my friend of the road, it's great to be out isn't it??"  

The aforementioned phase 3 normally creeps up on you around halfway. Perhaps you forgot to eat a little or went out a little hard during your invincible first phase. It's irrelevant because no matter who even glances in your general direction, they're an asshole. Inexplicably yet decidely so. Your blood sugar is in a deep cavanous hole which you are attempting to dig out of. What has been left is an angry biker who believes they could not possibly do any wrong. They feel angelic in their own eyes, but outside their bubble everyone is the devil. Grrrrr!

They could be the most innocent of gentle folk but you will find something wrong with them. 

Fortunately, this phase doesn't last long. It's often quickly replaced by phase 4, once you have attempted to guzzle down what mashed up food you have overheating off your back pocket. The "okay, I can do this" phase can be a bit of a roller coaster. It often begins with a surge of euphoria founded in the trenches of phase 3 and sprung over the top as you climb back out of the dull drums. You feel reawakened and emboldened by this new feeling. You're friends with everyone again. This can quickly be replaced by fatigue of a new level. Easily forgotten from last year, you can't imagine how you did this before. You know you did, but surely it didn't feel like this. Yet, you plug away knowing that the last phase is ever closer with each step or peddle stroke. You flip back and forth, up and down, until the last phase comes in to view. 

Phase 5 - "gonna make it!"  

Usually founded in the last hour of the session, you are tired and food and drink have almost been exhausted, but you are elated that the end is nigh. Soon you will be yelping in pain in the shower as you discover exactly where parts of the body were chaffing and how bad. However, you will be off that bike, or no longer running and that feeling is the one that takes you over the line...... until 7 days from now when you have to do it all over again!

Good luck to us all!

Cinquo de just do hills

As we find ourselves on yet another "holiday" in America in celebration of another country's independence (insert joke here) I find myself reflecting on the year so far, with a GMO free margarita in hand. 

What particularly comes to mind is Constitution's old favorite. Just do hills! Lots of hills. In fact, every time a hill looms on my vision's horizon a small menacing chuckle pops in to the psyche with his mantra echoing in my fatigued mind. 

What does he mean with this old classic? It's his way of teasing every publication touting the same repetitive guff in each edition. In almost every edition the editors profess to have found the key to "PR" in your next race and almost every time there will be reference to hills. Just do hills! On our long ride the other week Constitution decided he was releasing a new ground breaking magazine and his lead article would be "just eat greens", swiftly followed by "just do hills". 

So what's the point? I'll get to it. So often we  fret over getting it just right or having just the right equipment with the leading widgets and gadgets (I am no exception to this rule). However, ultimately, this is all quite unnecessarily complicated. Just get out there and, to borrow a phrase, do it! Or, as Napoleon loves to say "don't over think it". When the long weeks full of volumous amounts of training begin to set in, just getting out there and getting the job done is key to it all. We could all waste copious amounts of valuable minutes prepping extensively for a long ride - quite frankly, being prepared is in my DNA - however, you could simply throw some food in the back pockets and head out the door for 6 hours. It may not develop in to the greatest training ride in a triathletes life, but the job will be done. None of our group is a world record prospect, or anywhere near winning anything from these races. The within reach goal that we hope for is simply coming down that finish chute with a smile on our faces and the crowd's raucous cheering ringing in our ears. 

So, to recap, just do hills. Just eat greens. Brilliant, now pay me loads of money for that advice and my life will be sorted!

Training recap. The volume is headed to its highest levels for this training. 6 hour rides are a fixture for the next few weeks. Long loops around the beautiful Minneapolis/St Paul metropolitan area, followed by some dehydrating, languid loops around the lakes on foot. 

The hip is mending in the nick of time. A productive visit to the Ortho Doc ensued yesterday. A diagnosis of just do hills wasn't exactly what they said, but she did indeed give me the golden stamp to keep training with a focus on strengthening my, as it turns out, somewhat weak derrière. My regrettable teasing of my wife doing Denise Austin exercises in front of the TV has come back to haunt me. As I perused the the leaflet of exercises recommended to me by sporty doc, no fewer than 8 of the 10 movements are the very same that my nearest and dearest completes every week. She was admirably restraint in her "I told you so's" and was quite eager to demonstrate the moves. I now have a new strength coach :)

This week started well with a good swim yesterday. Last week wasn't too much to write home about but a solid set of sessions nonetheless. Progress is good. I'm sure the oh-so-familiar fatigue will crop up on my shoulder soon enough. However, we are prepared this year. Embrace the fatigue. Welcome it to your world. It's all part of the experience. 

To finish, just a quick update to fundraising efforts. The progress has slowed a little, but is still marching forward at a steady, army like pace. A fresh push towards £2,000 mark is required and will be enacted over the next few weeks. If you are reading this and are being overwhelmed by the urge to donate, feel free to rush to my fundraising page at uk.virginmoneygiving.com/cliffsironman. I hope to get back in July and visit the cricket ground where it all began for me as a cricketer. First, scoring the game as a young 12 yr old, receiving manic arm gestures from the umpires and having my shoulder looked over continuously by anxious batsman wanting to see how their averages have faired. Then, progressing in to the adult team in my 14th year (they must have been short). My one and only century I have ever bothered the scorers with was with Frieth CC. Can't wait to watch a game there in the brilliant British summer sun.

Good luck to us all! 

"Visualisation"

Closely linked to the dreaming season, visualisation is often claimed to help you in training and just prior to a big race. There is no doubt that it can have many benefits whilst you imagine yourself traveling around the delicately laid out course, passing by cheering supporters and weary volunteers. I believe the original goal was likely a professional athlete being paid a meager some by a popular fitness magazine to describe how they are so successful in the sport. One item was likely described as visualising the course, each turn or transition. This was then taken by the amateur world desperate to repeat the kind of success that their idols so often achieve.

However, I suspect/know full well that your typical amateurs, such as myself, often miss the mark when it comes to our "visualisation". So often I will be out on a training session and feel the release of euphoria associated frequently with the 45-60min spot in the swim/bike/run and suddenly visions of spectacular and grandiose finishes and triumphant speeding by competitors explode in to my mind adding even further to the effect of endorphins. An almost smug expression temporarily passes across your sweaty brow as you vividly hear the cheering crowds despite your lonesome surroundings on the running path. This is not the visions, I presume, the original goal had anticipated. It also is most definitely dreaming. The visions so often failing to bring in to focus the fatigue and pain that is often very much part of the slog around an iron distance course. It's like Napoleon always reminds us, "this always f!@#ing hurts". These temporary fantastical vistas that flash across our mind's landscape do not quite do the race justice, but it definitely makes your feel good about the training and allow you to ignore the dominant elements until you meet them with full force right around mile 80.

So what's my point? Well, this year, my visualisation firmly centers around my father. If I ever feel doubt within my training or begin to lose strength in my resolve, I simply visualise a man who can not even walk down the hallway anymore. The privilege was taken away from him and we are left behind to grab those opportunities that are offered to us. This year has made me realize that I often wine or complain far too often when the opportunity presents itself. There is a moment when it hits you that people you love no longer even have that opportunity. If they were offered it again they would grab it with both hands and never consider complaining, grateful for the chance. This is my visualisation. There is no denying that on occasion fantastical visions explode in to my mind of the finishing shoot and all that euphoria, but they are quickly replaced by the sobering picture of my father who can no longer be with me in that euphoric laden tunnel. He may physically not be able to lean up against the barriers of the blue encrusted finishing lines, but his image will be running down there with me. Often I like to celebrate my British heritage with the Union Jack as my finishing buddy for the last half mile of a race. This year it will be different. This year the driving force will be thoughts and visions of running down that finish line with Dad's picture firmly in my grasp. Probably blubbering like an uncontrollable emotional wreck that often envelopes me at the end of a tough endurance race, when there is nothing left to inhibit the floods of relief and joy that crossing the line gives you.

To sum it all up and put a neat bow on it, visualisation can be anything for anyone. For most it is joyous - seeing a new baby at the finish, or hugging your beloved and seeing their cheering faces at the finish. For others it may be a difficult and sometimes sad journey that they have been on and now get to celebrate the conclusion of that. However, for me, I am in no doubt, it will be a joyous one bordered with some sadness, but ultimately showered in the fond memories of Dad and how he and Mum moulded us in to the sports hungry loonies we are today.

Training recap! Recovery week is over and we are now getting to the business end of the training. 5 and 6 hour rides will become standard practice for the next month. Longer runs, to culminate in our longest run of 3 hours will conclude this 6 week stretch. The hip will be under the microscope this week. It is suffering from the running. I suspect tendonitis but will know more this week. The riding is ever improving, I just hope the nutrition can keep pace.

Good luck to us all!

Wake up and smell the butt paste!

Just a short note this week...

The build has begun. We're not building anything significant. No houses, or foundations of anything that will be around for a long time. However, we are now building towards a level of fitness that we will be thankful to have come June 28th. That said, no level of fitness will prepare any body for how cold Lake Coeur D'Alene can be.

It's called a build to reflect how much you are now building on your base. I like to think of it as the "see you in 12 weeks, honey" period. There's a small uptick in length of sessions during the week, but the real increase is in the bike lengths. It's time to reach for the butt paste and lay it on thick. 5 plus hour rides are becoming the norm. Long slogs through the ever improving weather, followed by short runs off the bike. Not the "runs", but an actual run, which could easily be followed by "those runs". Clear as....never mind :)

Tomorrow will host some such a ride. The first ride with Constitution for a couple of years. History dictates at least 3 jackets and 2 inner tubes per rider when he's around. Hopefully, the weather is as forecast and we can finish off the 70 miles without a call for help this time. It'll be good to get out with a fellow athlete for once. Been a lonely few years with many a long ride out on the country roads and trails.

The aches and pains and fatigue are the next things to "build". It takes an exceptional amount of free time to avoid such things. Those of us with time consuming professions struggle to squeeze in the increasing hours and with that the body will naturally begin to suffer. Calf muscles will become sore, immune systems will lag and spirits will occasionally fall. However, it's our family and friends around us who inevitably lift us back up on to our feet. The smile of a wife, baby, or girlfriend will do wonders to spur you on and get out the door when all you want to do is hit snooze (the devils invention :)). The selfish narcissist in all of us helps too! 

Put a toe in the water this week. Quickly discovered we are some way off getting in the lakes. However, I smell the warming coming and hopefully our first swim with the fishes will be upon us. Despite my attitudes of years past, I can't wait to get in the water this year. I remained terrified of "what lies beneath", but have learnt to deal with those fears whilst out in the open. There will still be a high pitched, girlish shriek if I see a great white in the Minnesotan. Fortunately, I hear the chances are remote. No doubt Napoleon and Constitution will think of something.

I'm off to double order some shammy lube and butt paste. Here's hoping for a blister free year of outdoor riding!

Good luck to us all! 

Spring, I presume?

The great thing about Minnesota spring is the roller coaster ride that mother nature takes you on. She teases you first with a taste of the warm weather. She might even suggest winter has entirely passed on and summer is roaring over the horizon. Just as you think the you're in the home stretch, she smashes you back down to earth with a good, bleak winter snow event. Just for good measure. She will then tease you a little again with a quick melt and a warming trend, but this time with howling winds from the plains ensuring a frigid feel for the day. 

So, why the focus on the weather, I hear you ask. It is because that type of teasing plays with the fragile triathlete's (or any other outdoor athlete for that matter) mind. You've been rooted in that basement and on that treadmill to oblivion for too long. The whiff of an outdoor ride or run is enticing to a fault. That's when you find yourself out and about in Vermont. It's 50 degrees on the fahrenheit scale and you think "it's not that bad.... The wind isn't that strong.... I can make this work in shorts and t-shirt" It would be shortly after this discussion, involving one, that you find yourself being hailed on, with wind gusts of about 40mph as you stubbornly and belligerently circumnavigate a track workout, refusing to stop until you're done. Upon returning from the outdoors, a quick check in the mirror reveals a somewhat rosy ear and blood shot thighs and a suggestion that perhaps a treadmill run would have been a better option.

Just two days later my faith in spring is renewed by the calm, clear weather in the recently tornado-ridden Tulsa. The weather is perfect for a nice run along the river. A quick check of the calendar reveals that perhaps a poor choice was made earlier in the week, as a swim is now on the cards. Note to self: Swim when it's hailing. Run outdoors when it's sunny. Check. Even though the beauty of a sunny run was missed, a very pleasant indoor pool swim (and most importantly, a free indoor pool swim) was to be had at St John's Hospital, who cleverly hides a fitness center within it's medical walls. Great facilities. One to be kept in the memory banks for the future. 

Faith in spring was temporarily restored as I found myself with 4hours to kill in the airport in Kansas. I pleasantly discover that it is quite possibly one of the best for sneaking out for a run. With 12 miles to kill, the endless rolling plains of Kansas provided the backdrop for the next couple of hours. Good practice for the mental side of the game, as wind, sun and bland concrete roads adorned with shocking driving made for the entertainment. 

This is where I shall share my training trick in this kind of environment, where the long run is made to feel even longer that necessary by the bland vista that is presented to you. Books on tape! This is something I have discovered only recently. A good book on tape provides you with a running partner that lets time slip by, ensuring the run assumes the form of a short training run and not a long slug fest on concrete. Might I recommend "The Boys in the Boat" for your first foray in to this little trick.

Mother nature continued her assault on Minneapolis towards the end of the week. Teasing with an hour of sun, followed by two hours of torrential rain and wind, just as I wanted to get out the door. Thus, now relegated back to the basement, the movie rental menu was perused and entertainment carefully selected for the next four hours of basement biking. Good entertainment is simply a must. Once you find yourself north of 3 hours on an indoor trainer, each 15 minute block feels like a marathon of a bike ride. The psychology is fascinating. Therefore, good distractions are a must. Unbroken and Into The Woods duly served up said distractions, although those last 15 minutes still took on the guise of a slow moving clock.

A recovery week is ensuing. At the completion of this week, we are officially half way there. Aches and pains are beginning, with the niggles and soreness that is common as half way approaches. The pace will be ratcheted up next week with a push beginning for the higher mileages.

Good luck to us all!  

Going long.....er

It's hard to believe it is week 10. Approaching the halfway mark of our journey to Couer D'Alene. It seemed like only yesterday that I sneakily entered this years Ironman race whilst sitting on my parent's sofa in Frieth.

Week 10 has been a strong week. After initially suffering with a bit of a cold and sore throat, some good choices and good drugs later, I found myself able to complete all the necessaries for the week. It all seemed to be going swimmingly well until a strange noise came from the laundry room as the 30 minute mark was approaching the sweaty trainer session being conducted in the basement living room. Turns out the washing machine had indeed become possessed and shuffled its way across the room and shaken the life out of itself. I believe the repair stated that he had never seen such damaged to a washer in his 13 years as a tech. I said I was happy for his discovery whilst ushering him out of the door and headed for the laptop to discover what the damage would be. It brought great amusement and a wry smile to my face as my local resource for such household goods is an outlet store nearby and its webiste stated that the replacement would cost approx. $695 - this just happens to be about the same price as an  Ironman race entry fee. Perhaps someone was trying to tell me something!

Nevertheless, not one to identify with such wish wash I duly soldier on with the week and kept up the training. Magggy, my trusty labrador sidekick and running pacer (she's awful at warming up) came out for the short run of the week. I didn't quite calculate in my mind how tough of a run this was planned to be and as the intervals began, all of a sudeen I found her behind me with a look on her face that could only be described as "tongue out WTF!" However, she is a fit dog and never one to be detered from a challenge. My running partner for the day dug in and stayed with me and, due to some poor communication with my dearest partner in life, managed to achieve double food for dinner. That, combined with the longer run made for a good sleep for Maggy that night.

Spring has been trying to arrive recently. I felt it appropriate, therefore, to attempt another, longer ride outside this week. There is something very satisfying about arguing within yourself whether you really want to accomplish something in a given day and winning that argument (the joys with an argument involving just one person!). The internal struggle, knowing you should do it, but not seemingly having the energy to. Fortunately, I have a great motivator this year in my father's memory helping to overcome such struggles and head out the door everytime. The real joy of forcing yourself out the door is invariably laid bare to you after a few minutes in to the effort, once warmed up and presented with beautiful views or peaceful surroundings.

You come across a particular sight which releases a euphoria in you and makes it all worth the while. Well, it's all poetic until you reach 3 hours in and the wind is freezing, you can't feel your toes and the 3rd driver in a row has tried to run you off the rode, but that view will keep you going for a while at least.

The long ride was a good one, all that aside. The first big ride of the year, testing distances of years past, leads to rediscovering familiar rodes that at the end of last season were a bane of your existence. Being forced to flog their trails week in and week out. However, that first ride of the season renews your love affair with the familiar routes and reminds you why you chose them to begin with. You will discover new potholes and road works and see which country houses are becoming ever bigger. I personally rediscover the love side of my love/hate relationship with riding - the peaceful country roads where it is only you and the bike and long, undulating hills carrying you like a wave back in to the shore of home. It reminds me of the English countryside where I grew up and brings an ease in to my spin.

The week will be rounded out tomorrow with a nice long run around our lakes. It's always nice to have fellow runners by your side and this week will offer just that. A good natter during a run forces you to forget any obsession over your electronics or worry about pacing and just run. It often offers up surprises when the run is over and a quick inspection of said electronics quite often reveal pleasing times and pace. It really does promote the idea of heading out the doors of life and not overthinking it ("Napoleon's" favourite phrase)

Anyway, it's time to be off on this great day off which will hopefully see the French trounced by the English in the rugby and a 6 nations trophy delivered back to it's rightful place, swiftly followed by a win for my beloved Hammers!

Good luck to us all!

P.s. My new jacket arrived too!

Time waits for no one....

It's March 7th 2015. Exactly two months ago we had my father's funeral. The phrase "time waits for no man" is such a simple exclamation. It almost flippantly rolls off the tongue. Yet, when you lose someone who you love, the clock relentlessly ticks along, taking you further and further away from the last time you saw that person and all of a sudden this simple phrase has so much more meaning.

I find myself back in England's Chiltern Valley once again for the weekend to say a final goodbye to Dad. That said, I don't necessarily see this as an altogether sad occasion. I find it quite an appropriate moment to spread his ashes on the top of a hill with one of the most astounding views of the valley below. No matter what it is you choose to believe in, no one can contest that this view is an honor to any individual to have as their final place. 

These thoughts drive me on as my feet pound the asphalt that weaves its way throughout the Hambleden Valley. These views are tireless in how they impress me no matter how many times I return here. To run the roads and through the villages is a privilege. A privilege that dad loved and frequently abused hiking hours upon end throughout the valley, knowing more footpaths and routes than anyone I can think of. Although I spent my formative years tearing around these roads and footpaths, time has allowed me to forget some of them, permitting me to be surprised with the familiarity as I find myself among hedge rows that tweak the memories.

After a slight scare at the end of week 6 - a calf strain - after lot of TLC and some smart training choices, the jet lag ran was the testing bay for the first run in 7 days. Although I wouldn't use the phrase "flying colours", the calf did indeed play well and just over 6 miles of road was crossed pain free. Even the small lambs that I came across running rogue out of the field (promptly returned to their field with some expert jogging shepherd skills) were impressed by how well the calf was doing. I asked them :). 

Week 8 will be ushered in with the helping hand of my brother. With a little bit of luck (thank you My Fair Lady) we will make a splash in the Handy Cross lap pool together for the first time since we were 8. I suspect we shall be equally competitive, even if we are older and "wiser". Where's the fun in non-compete swimming?! Although, I may still have to have a serious go at winning the "holding your breath under water championships". I doubt the lifeguards or our fellow lane mates will be too impressed by that competition. Amazingly, the pool is in the same spot and about the same condition as it was when we left it 30 years ago, albeit with a promising renovation under way. Hope they've changed the water though!

 It's time to be off and workout how in the world I'm going to complete this week of training. However, what is never in doubt is the way my father's memory drives me on this year and relentlessly motivates to work as hard as my body will allow me. If you are reading this and even remotely find it interesting, please take a moment to visit www.uk.virginmoneygiving.com/cliffsironman and pledge any amount you see fit. 

Good luck to us all!