What I Learned on Day 9 of "10 Days of Rest"

[follow_me]
My 9th Day of Rest was also National Running Day.  Another concocted holiday to sell merchandise.  I watched from the sidelines and counted all the shoes I still haven’t worn.

That’s not to say I don’t love National Running Day.  Honestly, I once dubbed running “King,” but I’ve already “cheated” my resting twice, once with biking and once with swimming.  And one of the major reasons I decided to pursue this rest period was nagging pain that revolves around running.

drycreekflat
Photo: Carolyn Petredis Wasky

So, I dressed for work and did stretches by stepping up on my bathroom sink and standing there in a tie for 90 seconds for each leg.  That’s when it occurred to me that, “Hey, I don’t have to stop this stretching and strengthening thing after I start training again.”

Hmm, simple, borderline dumb observation, right?  Sure, but it takes the same, if not more, of a commitment.  A commitment to warming up slowly, then taking time to cool down and actually stretch after the workout.

Everything I can find on stretching says do it after the workout, so I have to make time, which can be a little tricky after a four hour bike ride.

“Yeah, you guys go ahead, I’m gonna sit over here on my foam roller for 20 minutes.”

Seriously, though, pre-workout leg warm ups and post-workout rolling/stretching.  It’s not so much learned as “re-learned.”

——

Day 10 is upon me now and I’m already thinking tomorrow will include the pool.  Saturday is bike and Sunday is run.

Why Triathlon Is So Important To Me

[follow_me]

I look at Facebook and see people jetting around the world, dressing up for birthdays, and taking pictures of magnificent scenery, all while I sit here and write about triathlon training.  It creates many emotions, including envy and sadness.

Someone told me it’s a real thing: Facebook Depression.

Everyone else is having so much fun, then we look up from our phone and realize we’re standing alone on a barren plot of nature.  No striking architecture or smiling babies, just you and the earth.

But if you look closer, you start to see the real beauty.  It is often the simplest things.

There’s no glamor in self improvement, unless you’re Deepak Chopra, Oprah, or my 5k rival, Dr. Oz.  The way out, is in, and you rarely find sparkly clothes or colorful drinks.  Evolving is hard work.

I’ve been reading “The Art of Learning” by Joshua Waitzkin and he tells a story about the hermit crab.  He says, at some point she must shed her armor and risk vulnerability while searching for protection of a larger shell.  This quest for a new home is a growth and learning period, but the exposure makes her vulnerable to predators.

I feel like many times I have been in that position and opted to starve myself to stay in the same shell.  I’ve avoided risk and growth for the safety of what’s comfortable.

This is why I tend to gravitate toward people who flirt with limits.  Those who take risks, that push themselves to evolve.

A lot of people question why I’m always searching for something.  I have a good job, I’m healthy, I have good friends, etc.  Why can’t you just be happy with that?

Because the reason I have these things is because of who I am.  You may think you know me, but you don’t know the person I am trying to become.  And I think that push, that hunger, that passion is the very thing that makes this person, me.

When I discovered triathlon I found a tangible way to measure growth.  In many ways it made me vulnerable and forced me out of my shell.  My old home shattered and I either had to re-build or move on.  I’ve done this many times in my life, but not enough.

It’s the hard stuff.  The stuff you do when no one is looking.

But I’m not immune from putting doubt into your life by posting fancy pictures of stuff that make my life seem amazing.  Sometimes I even consciously question myself as I do it:

“This picture is not a true reflection of what I’m experiencing.  Instead of being in this moment, I’m thinking about how being at this concert, race, or in this awesome city can project my happiness to others, even though I’m probably kinda bored.”

What I’m really seeking is happiness from the reaction to my post.

I am on a journey to better understanding my mind and body through writing and training.  I stagger, I stumble, I get back up.

Perception is everything, but sometimes I hate perception.

I push because it’s who I am.  I don’t want to hide behind manufactured “perfection.” Acceptance of flaws is a beautiful and evolved state of being.

It lets me seek deeper answers.  It forces me to learn.  It inspires me to grow.

And if I know one thing for sure, it’s this: If we’re not growing we’re dying.

ThePerson

 

 

Day 8 of "10 Days of Rest"

[follow_me]

Well, over lunch I took a quick detour from these hallowed days of rest in the peaceful waters of the downtown YMCA (not to be confused with this crazy pool).  I just wanted a light workout that would take my mind off mounting pressures and maybe convince me that I haven’t forgotten how to swim.

I was almost in the clear, but dark sunglasses weren’t enough as I unceremoniously snaked my way from the locker room.  Gliding right at me with a grin was my training buddy, and former candidate for judge.  Busted.

“Hey,” he said, with a suspicious look, “I thought you were on a 10 day break?”

“Well, uh, yeah, I am, but uh, I sorta felt like I . . .”

“Oh, don’t worry, buddy.  I don’t judge.”

“I know, and that’s exactly why I voted for you!”

He thanked me for my vote, then I graciously let him worry about more important things, like training for Ironman Chattanooga.

tn-river-chattanooga-tn-630x421

Yeah, so I did swim this afternoon and it felt . . . okay.  I really spent most of the time looking for that little pocket.  The place where my stroke feels powerful and effortless.  I think I found it three times in the course of a half hour.

——————-

And now it’s later in the night and while I didn’t swim too hard, I do feel like it took something out of me.  I haven’t done anything of note tonight, but plan a little meditation before bed.

Two days left to revel in the wonderment that is rest and recovery.  I plan to ride the Trace on Saturday, then do a reasonably long run on Sunday.  Then it’s decision time.  Will I bite the bullet and sign up for Louisville, or will this be a summer of short tracks?

I have to admit, I’ve watched this Ironman Louisville video a few times tonight.  I’m sure your pulse will race as much as mine.

 

 

Racing a Half Ironman – 3 Examples

[follow_me]

I was talking with a buddy about preparing for his Half Ironman and he mentioned how he’s working on getting everything to “slow down.”  The first thought that came to mind was my Muncie 70.3 race when I felt in complete control of each event.  Then I started thinking about the two that followed, Goosepond, and New Orleans.  All three had quite a different story and each one has been progressively worse.  I wondered if I looked at them next to each other if it would help me understand and learn from what went right and/or wrong.

PRE-RACE MOOD

Muncie – This was my first half.  I was nervous and unsure of my capabilities.  But I was very focused, as always, afraid to fail, and it helped to have good friends around to calm my nerves.  I didn’t sleep great, but was in bed by 8 the night before.

Goosepond – This race was about 6 weeks after IM Wisconsin and my level of training was somewhere just above zero.  I was WAY over confident and frankly a little cocky after just finishing a full.  It is the strangest feeling, but I can honestly say that I was treating a half triathlon almost like a 10k or something and that is just asinine behavior no matter who you may be.

New Orleans – I pulled into New Orleans on Jazzfest weekend and stayed in a massive downtown condo by myself.  It was the perfect example of being alone in a crowd.  I was the visiting team and frankly the crowd was a bit intimidating.  I was also a bit under trained and indifferent.  The juices eventually started flowing, but it was more like survival than a build and conquer.  I hadn’t ridden outside since Goosepond and was not prepared for what I was about to face.

mikecumuncie

THE SWIMS

Muncie – I was very sh*tting bricks about this this swim, but caught a major break when somehow it was wetsuit legal in JULY.  We’d put in a lot of time at the lake, but the turn buoy looked impossibly far away as I surveyed the course the day before.  Oddly, as my feet hit the water in the morning complete calm coursed my veins.  I imagined that is how I would react when faced with ultimate death.  You sink into your zone and accept fate.   I had no intention of hammering this swim and took a very long time to ease into my pace.  By the time we made the final turn, I felt great and churned my way to a pretty nice 37 minute swim.

Goosepond – Did I mention I was over confident and not ready?  I goofed around before the race and did zero warm up other than getting in the water 5 minutes early and taking a few lazy strokes.  I’d just done Wisconsin, this would be a breeze!  About 400 yards into the swim, I was gassed and breathing so hard I had to tread water.  It was not good and these situations are very difficult to recover from.  I’d swim a couple hundred and stop.  It was just a brutal swim.  Two laps and I finally climbed out of the lake gasping for breath with a 43 minute swim.

New Orleans – I was kind of nervous for this race because I hadn’t really swam that much, plus the whole being by myself thing was kind of weird.  Luckily I met a couple guys from Nashville in the line and they helped loosen the mood.  My game plan was to take this swim uber slowly and try to keep it under 40.  Frankly, I swam this race perfectly for the shape I was in and climbed out in 39 minutes.

THE BIKES

Muncie – I felt strong as I ran out of the lake and carried that energy to the bike.  I cruised easily for the first 10 miles but kept a solid pace.  It was smooth sailing for most of the way, but there was a 10 mile patch in the middle that was terribly bumpy and narrow with bikers going each way.  It would have been very easy to settle into the madness and play it safe, but I remember consciously deciding this is where I had to push harder.  I could tell this rough stretch was getting into people’s heads and I did exactly the opposite by embracing the conditions.  By the time we got back to the smoother roads, I was a little battered, but it was pretty easy to keep the pace.  I stepped into T2 with a 20.5 mph average.

Goosepond –  I came out of the water a beaten man.  I was both pissed and embarrassed.  Even though I wasn’t really into this race, I was still determined to beat my Muncie time and the minute I got on my bike, I was a raging madman. I decided if nothing else good came out of this day, I would crush the bike.  It was almost like I purposely punished my legs.  At Muncie I never pushed them to the point where it felt like I was working too hard.  At Goosepond, the entire bike burned.  I was ravaged and kept trying to find another gear.  I did lay down a nice time of 20.9 mph, but that extra .4 mph difference from Muncie absolutely cooked my legs for the run.

New Orleans – This bike ride will forever be a mystery.  I mean, I probably wasn’t “ready” for this ride considering I’d only goofed around on the trainer for a couple months, and rarely rode more than an hour and a half, but by mile 40 I was ready to throw my bike in the swamp.  I was right on the mark for the first 15, but then my brake pad started rubbing and didn’t stop the rest of the ride.  The problem with this was, I KNEW I was having problems BEFORE the race and didn’t address it.  I made a couple adjustments the day before and thought it was fine.  It was a true sign that my head wasn’t ready for this race.  Why would I not get that fixed?  Who rides a Half Ironman knowing their brake is f-d up?  Avg. Speed was 17.4 mph, by far my slowest bike ever.

THE RUNS

Muncie – I felt good and was eager to get off the bike.  My first mile was sub 8:30 including a bathroom break and that may have been what saved my run.  I was using my chrono watch this day (well, every day of my triathlon career) and hitting re-start at every mile marker worked on staying within time “ranges.”  I wanted to be around 8:15 – 8:30 the whole day.  Not much science was involved, but I stayed within myself, kept steady, and breathed.  Nothing distracted me until mile 7 when my feet suddenly felt like I was running on hot coals.  Talk about Zen!  You can’t think of anything else when every step you take feels like broken glass.  I really don’t know how I did it, but it was a true testament to running as a meditation.  1:50 run.

Goosepond – I normally don’t “feel like” running off the bike, but this day I REALLY didn’t want to.  To be honest, I didn’t even think I could.  But, my inside information said it was a nice flat course, so I sucked it up and set my sights on sub 2 hours for the 1/2 marathon.  Well, it took about two miles before I was climbing the first of many hills.  This run course was pretty rough and my body was not happy.  I was completely distracted the entire run.  I had zero focus and all I wanted to do was be out of town.  There were no mile markers so my chrono watch was useless.  I had no clue on my pacing and at mile 10 got a knee pain I thought might be serious.  Somehow I finished at around 2:10.

New Orleans – This was my first absolute blow up on a run.  It took about 1.5 miles before I started walking.  I have never walked more than 50 yards or so in any race ever.  Hell, even in training runs.  Walking was the one thing I would never let myself do.  But I probably walked a third of this course.  Walk, run, walk, run.  It was brutal.  It was hot.  My legs were fried.  No spectators, no nothing.  Walking it in was not an option, or I might have quit.  At mile 9 I saw a guy with a similar look on his face and said, “Okay, man, you ready to run this in?”  He said yep, and that’s what we did.  It was my worst 1/2 time, including my first ever.  I staggered in at 2:20.

POST RACE THOUGHTS

Muncie – This was the boost of confidence I needed.  In retrospect, my race at Wisconsin was almost a carbon copy.  Steady swim, solid bike, consistent run.  I had a million doubts about doing a full, but Muncie put me in the game.  My feet were burning, but my legs felt strong.  I had almost two months to get ready for Wisconsin and Muncie went a long ways toward getting my mind right.  As my buddy says, I “hurried slowly.”  TRT – 5:16

Goosepond – Honestly, after I finished, the first thought I had was, “It’s pretty damn cool to be able to do a 70.3 without training.”  But it hurt like a bitch.  I’m pretty sure I didn’t do a thing for a month.  I’m still not sure why I did a half that close to my first full and in retrospect it was a bad idea.  But in every “failure” there are lessons, and at Goosepond, my lackluster, unfocused swim set the table for a painful outcome.  If I would have stayed true to my plan of easing into my stroke, this may have been a good race.  It still wasn’t bad.  TRT 5:35 (with a 4:00 drafting penalty… yes, I’m still bitter).

New Orleans –  Part of me wants this race again just to find out.  I felt good about the swim, but other than that, it was just a mess.  My bike is my strength and it imploded.  I was a beaten man and thankfully my mom and her friends were there to lift me up.  My lesson from New Orleans is take races seriously or they will eat you alive.  TRT 6:20.

Day 7 of "10 Days of Rest"

[follow_me]

Two reflections today.

1.   I’m pretty certain the biggest lesson I will learn from this resting period is that triathletes need to cross train their cross training.

2.   This feels similar to a vacation that’s running short on time.  The difference being, I’m a little anxious to get back to work.

——————

It’s hard to be 100% sure, but I think I felt better today than I have in quite some time.  I’m mainly talking physically and I really think it has a lot to do with my mountain biking venture yesterday.

Aside from my legs feeling strong and alive again for the first time in a while, my body felt noticeably “whole.”  I don’t want to labor the mountain bike thing, but it really does bring your upper body into play and there is just more variety in your muscle exertion.

On the trails it’s not uncommon to be nearly stopped before exploding to get you through an obstacle.  On the road, it’s more or less one speed, which of course is the whole point of triathlon, but I’m lobbying for more well rounded workouts.

Day 10 will be here before I know it and, if nothing else, this rest has rekindled a little fire for workouts.  It actually started after four or five days, so for those of you who feel burned out, but gun shy about taking 10 days, a short week off may be what the doctor, or better yet, spiritual shaman ordered.

536265_4814333965358_1613623106_n

 

Day 6 of "10 Days of Rest" Went Haywire

It started innocently enough with coffee on the deck before moving onto one of my favorite joys, mowing the lawn.  But there was something buzzing in my brain.  I was pulsing at a deep level and my body was about to explode.

I crept into the “pain cave,” pulled out Gary Fisher, and filled his tires to 50 psi.  I slowly gathered water bottles and picked the right shoes for my cages.  I stewed, stammered and questioned for about an hour, then couldn’t resist.  I had to get the blood pumping.

Tarrolly Hills was starting to bustle with activity, but the president was bent on another form of relaxation.  Whipping tree branches and mud were calling my name.

I tore off into the Greenway, then darted right on the first trail.  The bumpy grass was heaven as it jarred my upper body awake.  The peace of the trail lulled me into a zone as I churned at a comfortable pace.  “Just keep spinning,” advice from a friend long ago about how to move your mountain bike through the woods, rang in my head as I navigated nature.

The trails in Shelby Bottoms would equal “zero” on technical difficulty, but I was excited to find many single tracks lurking off the main path.  There were fallen limbs, sand, and many other little obstacles to nibble.  It wasn’t hard, but it was a challenge.

If you take the black top path, it’s just over 4 miles into the Nature Center.  On trails, it was right about six.  My legs felt a little heavy as I re-filled my water bottles, so I took about 20 minutes to stretch and do push ups.

5 Cooper Creek Bridge

It was a timeless exercise with no concern for time.  None of it mattered as I centered myself in the moment as I peddled toward the formidable Mount Nasty.  I climbed the first of what would be six hills, all 1/3 to 1/2 a mile long.  My ascents were slow, but consistent and all followed by a downhill recovery.

Up, then down, then across the park to another hill, before going back to the Nature Center for more stretching, yoga, and push ups.  My legs were pounding, but alive.

You make a lot of decisions on the trails and my upper body was happy to be involved in the process.  I love mountain biking for this reason.  Your mind more easily with you on the ride and not drifting off into the mundane problems in your life.  You are engaged, and that is how my body felt.

It had rained while I was doing my hill repeats, and on the way back, the trail was wet and muddy.  I attacked.

My bike handling was coming back.  I leaned into the corners, trusting the tires and momentum.  Rather than plotting tracks around the muck, I dove straight into muddy puddles.

The rain and mud washed my face.  I was consumed by the moment and plowed through everything in my way.  Part of me wanted more trails, but the logical brain reminded me that I was on 10 Days of Rest.

I emerged from the washed out trails onto the black top and spun out of the park.  It was raining harder now and the mud trickled down my cheek, a mountain biker’s tear.

For the last year and a half, I have mainly ridden triathlon bike, with mixed emotions.  I love the speed and raw power, but the constant position hasn’t been the best thing for my soul.  Mountain biking forces you to bring your entire focus.  Thousands of split second decisions keep out the chatter, the questions, the doubt.  You’re constantly looking for the right path and finding it instinctively.

greenway5

I felt a tinge of guilt for falling off the rest wagon, but my legs were happy I took the chance.  Tired from the 18 mile jaunt, but pulsing with life.

It also reminded me how good this kind of riding can be for your run.  Mountain bikes work your hamstrings more and I honestly think it can be a legitimate substitute for beating up your body with long runs.  During my biggest stretch of mountain biking, I also played a lot of sports, and that’s when I was running the fastest.  I was quick, agile, and resilient.

So, I will resume my 10 Days of Rest with a red mark on Day 6, but cannot wait to repeat that devilishly refreshing journey.  Six miles of trails, six testy hills, six miles of trails.  I have lovingly dubbed the workout, “6-6-6.”

 

 

Day 5 – "10 Days of Rest"

Well, Friday was Day 4 and I didn’t do anything.  No stretches, strengthening, etc.  It was an essentially an off day during a resting period.

On Day 5, that’s when I noticed I could feel my plantar faciitis creeping back into my heel.  It wasn’t anything major, but the previous couple of days, it was gone.  Like gone, gone.

I first noticed it out of bed, but it became a little more prominent after I mowed the lawn in preparation for the soft launch of Tarrolly Hills (my above ground pool country club), which was a resoundingly mellow success story.

My first reaction was to get into some stretching poses and work it out, and while it helped a little, I was still feeling it later at Kevin and Christina’s wedding reception.  This, of course, meant no dancing, much to the chagrin of Wasky, who I learned is a huge fan of club music.

It’s kind of interesting because I’ve been to wedding receptions the last two weekends and both were packed with endurance athletes, so obviously that’s where the conversation goes.  Other than a short diversion to discuss the ridiculously tempting cupcakes, much of the night was spent discussing Wisconsin and the upcoming Ironman Chattanooga.

And that got my juices going.

So we’ll see how tomorrow goes.  I have a strange desire to mountain bike creeping into my head.  Maybe I can use it as a spin day just to get the stuff moving around in my legs a little.

In the meantime, here’s a picture of the Ironman groom, the club-music-loving Wasky, and the Tarrolly Hills Social Chairman, Jim who was sporting his outstanding leisure suit.  You really can’t ask for much more than this.

Kevin and Christina Wedding
Jim, Wasky, and Kevin. Photo by Marc Swain