Never Underestimate Natural Alternatives to Working Out

At least two of us got a workout at
Glastonbury.

Glastonbury has become the gift that keeps on giving. I have learned more about life, love, community, friendship, and spirituality in the last two weeks than in the last two years. But there was another offshoot I never expected.

I learned about exercise.

Before we left for our trip, I was in the midst of heavy swim training. My options were to stop all training for eight days or figure out how to train without a pool in the middle of 200,000 people. Without looking like a complete fool.

I thought about bringing my running shoes. I even found a video of a Glastonbury 5K run that takes place every year. In retrospect, I'm glad I didn't attempt it. I can't imagine how anyone could have run in that mud.

I did, however, bring rubber resistance cords I use to simulate the arm motions of swimming in the absence of a pool. I actually told Andy I planned to do some kind of workout while we were at Glastonbury. 

Not good for running shoes unless you
want to leave them behind.

His answer? "Hahahahahahaha!"

He laughed not because he thought I wouldn't have time to workout, but because he knew I wouldn't need to.

And I now know getting around the Glastonbury Festival is a workout in and of itself. The place is huge! When I said there was a 5K run, I meant: there's a 5K run that takes place completely within the festival grounds. (And it isn't a looping course.)

The truth is that when we were at the tent, I never once had the energy or the desire to pull out my cords. That opening-day multi-mile trek from the car to the campground with heavy bags and deep mud was one of the hardest workouts I've ever done. I was sore for days. In fact, I was surprised people weren't keeling over with heart attacks from the exertion. I suspect everyone goes home in better physical shape than they arrived - well, unless they just parked themselves in front of one stage. (Although, this year, even THOSE people probably got a workout trying to stay un-stuck in the mud.)

Mud in the walkways

Mud in the fields

Mud everywhere

The rest of the days weren't as bad as the first, but they WERE exhausting just getting around in the mud and walking in heavy mud-covered boots. By the time we were in our sleeping bags (1-2 am?), no amount of loud dance music and people talking all around us was able to keep my usually-restless soul awake.

It was a daily physical workout, but I wasn't convinced it would keep me in shape for my sport of choice - swimming (or running, even). I guessed I would find out when I got home.

The first workout I did when I got home was short because I ran out of time - 2500 yards of swimming. In was surprised it didn't feel like I had taken  nine days off. The next day I did 7100 yards. Another surprise - I hadn't lost much speed. Maybe there was something TO those "workouts" we inadvertently got at the festival.

But the biggest surprise came yesterday when I went for a run. I had run only once, five miles, in the week following the festival and only once, three miles, the week before. Yesterday, I ran ten (!) miles. In less than 80 minutes! My hamstrings are only a tiny bit sore today and my quads don't even feel like I ran yesterday. I'm still wondering how this happened. Is it possible all that hard work, especially on the uphills, worked just as good as running and swimming for fitness?

I think it's safe to say it doesn't matter how you get your fitness. Just get it.

The Missing Link?

You can get the shirt at PunkRockRacing.com

Chuck Norris may never have done an Ironman, but he seems to be clued in on other things - and for the purposes of this blog, he appears to know about strength training. As a quick aside, has anyone noticed that Chuck Norris and The Most Interesting Man in the World may actually be the same person based on their quote pages? (Chuck Norris Top 50 vs. M.I.M.I.T.W. Quotes). I wonder what the MIMITW has to say about Ironman?

Back to the thing that Chuck Norris did for me - well, he didn't really do anything FOR me, but he endorses my newest toy - the Total Gym. And it just might be the thing that makes a difference for me this year.

As a background, to finally leave Chuck Norris out of the equation, I first came in contact with the Total Gym through a Cleveland-based physical therapist. In 1993, after several injuries on my left side and several doctors who said I would never run again, I finally found an orthopedic doctor - Dr. Vernon (Sam) Patterson - who could accurately diagnose what was wrong with me. No, it wasn't a leg-length discrepancy. It was a muscle imbalance. Dr. P sent me to a physical therapist named Mike DeRubertis who was finally able to rehab me from three left-side injuries (stress fracture, torn quad, and totally-screwed-up pyriformis). It was May - and my only goal that year was to be able to walk down the aisle at my wedding in October without limping. After a summer of intense physical therapy, I realized my goal, and I've also not had problems with left-side-only injuries ever since.

And when I finally checked out of P.T., at Mike's insistence, I invested in one of those giant exercise balls and body cords (those stretchy exercise cords with handles) to keep me healthy and muscularly balanced. One other thing that Mike suggested that year was that if I wanted to do strength training at home, I should consider getting a Total Gym - a mainstay in his physical therapy rehab arsenal. I couldn't justify the cost of a Total Gym back then, but I've thought about it every single year since (yes, it has been almost 20 years of thinking). (Note, I remind my readers here of my gripping, and yes, irrational, fear of weight rooms.)

The Xmas morning scene under the tree.

This year, I finally stopped thinking and started doing. My husband Jim and I bought a Total Gym for our "Christmas present to ourselves," and all I can say is "for crying out loud, why didn't we do it sooner!"

For the last few weeks, I've been holiday-slacking at swimming because of reduced pool hours (i.e., swimming once or twice a week for 30 minutes). Thus, I made up for it by working my arms on the Total Gym when I would otherwise be in the water.

After about six days out of the water, I finally got back in and I felt like a different swimmer altogether. I'm not stupid enough to believe that I've gained immense strength by doing two weeks of strength training against my body weight, but I have noticed the little amount of arm strength gained has translated into a much stronger feel to my swim stroke. For the first time in years, I feel like I can finally "follow through" with my entire stroke - something I've always been accused of not doing. My stroke has always been short in the water - which may be the singular reason I've never been able to reduce the number of strokes per lap that I take. My first set of 100s after almost a week off was my fastest and most consistent in the last six months! I had to do a double-take when I looked up at the clock after each repeat. (I'm 95% sure of what I was seeing, but with my age-reduced eyesight these days, it might have just been a manifestation of my fondest wishes).

The benefits of strength training are now apparent to me, and it's likely that this has been, indeed, the missing link in my training program, the one thing I need to get under those plateaus (read: sub-1:00 Ironman swim). And now that I don't have to conquer that irrational gym fear, it will be less stressful to fit this (missing) link into my training program. I can't say that I'll go hog-wild at strength training because I still fear muscle gain will have a detrimental effect on my running. But I will continue to do core work and arm strengthening and report back when I have more data to analyze.

For now, let's just say that Chuck Norris may be right about one thing. Even though he never did an Ironman.

Spring Blight

Falling on ice is nothing compared
to falling on pavement.

It's been almost two weeks since my last blog entry but I've really not had much to say. Spring 2011 has brought several weeks of continuing cold rain and snow to the Cleveland area and I have had to remain on my bike trainer for most of my rides. I've also been spending extra time at work in the evenings which translates into very late workouts and no time to write about them. The most significant things to report about the last two weeks are an increase in anxiety about Ironman St. George and a couple near-disasters during my runs in the dark.

I've been focusing on the bike-run transition -- which basically means I've decided that anytime I have bike and run workouts on the same day, I'll do it as a brick. The first one of these short bricks (and by short, I mean 2-4 hours) came a couple weeks ago in the evening. After a longer-than-average work day, I got on my CompuTrainer for two hours and followed it up with a one-hour run.

Everything was going especially well during that run. Temperatures - at night even - had reached near heat-wave status at 38 degrees, and I took off out the door in shorts for the first time in months. My legs were surprisingly "springy" after the ride, so I continued to run hard for several miles around the back roads in my neighborhood. In the dark at night, I usually stay on sidewalks because, not surprisingly, I've found that drivers don't expect to see runners out on the roads at 10 pm. (Seriously, why else would they be driving 50+ mph in a residential area and blowing through stop signs?)

So, yeah, I was running on the sidewalk.. when a forgotten dimension of winter's damage tripped me up, literally. The sidewalk pavements had shifted badly, and I ended up almost doing a face-plant on concrete. I felt more stupid than hurt, and I got up quickly, surveyed the damage to my knee, and started running again. By the time I got home, my leg looked like the photo above.

Six days later, the same thing happened. AGAIN. I went down the same way, on the same side. The only thing that wasn't the same was the sidewalk I was running on. So now I have scrapes and bruises on top of scrapes and bruises, and my arms feel like I've been doing heavy lifting. My right elbow is so badly bruised I can't lean on anything. (The bright side is that it keeps me alert and in good posture while at my desk at work).

The other equally-ridiculous thing I've done in the past two weeks was a 100-mile ride on the CompuTrainer - most of it on the IM St. George Real Time course. It gave me yet another data point in the IMSG analysis. This one was the best yet, although it wasn't as good as I had hoped after all the hard training I've done. The most important accomplishment of this ride wasn't the power output anyway, it was the mental fortitude I had to stay on the trainer for almost six hours - a personal record.

Here's a plot of my best three finishes on the IMSG course (and yes, it does bother me that one of my best rides is from waaaay back in February):

My best three rides on the CompuTrainer IM St. George Real Time Video Course
The darkest line is the latest ride and best average power.

This week, I'm planning a time trial on the CompuTrainer to determine if my FTP (Functional Threshold Power) value has changed at all from January after completing the 12-week CompuTrainer challenge workouts my team was taking part in. After all the training, I'm expecting it to be higher, but lately, I've gotten the distinct impression I'm never going to get any stronger on the bike, no matter what I do. But I'll let the proof be in the TT.

Me vs. my Will Power vs. the Weather: First Outdoor Long Ride of 2011

Needs no caption.

March in Cleveland - I've said it all. I'm sure you don't want to hear about it again. The rain. The snow. The ice.

The SLIPPING on ice.

The treadmill. The indoor track. The trainer.

The LONG rides on the trainer.

With seven weeks to go until Ironman St. George, Spring broke in Cleveland this past weekend - but only for a brief moment. That was the moment I managed to get outside for my first long bike ride of the season. My goal was 100 miles. But you need more than a moment to finish a century ride. You need several moments. And a little luck. And I seem to always run out of those things when I need them most.

The day, and my ride, started out relatively pain-free. It was noon on Sunday and the temperature had warmed into the low 40s. I checked the weather and saw it wasn't too windy and the rain would hold off (rain? what rain? it was a clear blue sky) until 7 pm. I mixed up my nutrition bottles and decided what to wear - concerned about wind-chill, I chose my fleece wind-stopper mittens and jacket.

My husband Jim was heading out for lawn care supplies, but before he left, I asked him to check my bike's wireless computer battery because the display had been blinking. (That meant the battery was dying, right? What else could that possibly mean?) Jim swapped out the battery with one from an older bike computer then pocketed the "dead" one for reference to buy extras.

At noon standing in my kitchen, I was unaware I had just made the first two mistakes of my ride: (1) I made a hugely wrong assumption about the weather (more on this later) and (2) I didn't READ THE MANUAL and therefore made a MORE hugely wrong assumption about bike computers. When I rolled my bike out of the garage, there was an obvious problem with the computer - the display was working but the numbers were all zeroes. I adjusted the sensor and tried again. Nothing. I read the manual. There it was in black and white: if the speed number is blinking, THE SENSOR NEEDS A NEW BATTERY. NOT the computer. And I just sent Jim out with the only other "good" battery.

Jim was treated to a frantic phone call, after which he stopped for batteries and made his way back home as quickly as possible. The bike computer was back up and running by 1:30 pm. At this point, in any other city, I would have looked up at the sky and said "no problem." But I live in Cleveland, and I know better. And I was having a massive anxiety attack about the weather.

I jumped on my bike and began my journey through the hilly west branch of Cleveland Metroparks. The wind had already begun to kick up as my route headed north. By the the time I reached my turnaround near the lake, I had been riding for 34 miles almost directly into the wind.

At this point, it would be a safe assumption that riding out against the wind means you'll be riding back "with" the wind. This is never a guarantee in Cleveland. We truly live by the old saying: "if you don't like the weather in Cleveland, wait 15 minutes - it'll change." I looked up at the blue sky and then whipped out my iPhone to check the weather.

And there it was in front of me - around 4 pm, the wind would change direction. And it did. On my way back, the wind shifted from north to east to southeast. What direction was I headed? South. Then east. In disbelief, I mused that this must be the kind of day that leads us to recall how bad we had it in the "olden days." I could just hear my future self: "..way back when I was a triathlete, we rode into the wind, BOTH ways."

More from the "mad scientist": Weather Underground plots
prove the wind changed direction between 4 and 5 p.m.

By the time I hit 50 miles, my speed was dwindling from the hills AND the wind. The clouds had rolled in and the temperature was fighting to stay above 40 degrees. My wind-stopper jacket had done such a great job that I was soaked through the layer underneath it. I was now starting to feel the cold. I stopped again and called Jim, hoping for some moral support and to ask him to meet me somewhere with dry clothes, another water bottle and the lighter lenses for my sunglasses.

What I really wanted to do was pack it in. I was cold. I was tired. I didn't want to finish my ride in the dark. My legs were rebelling from running 21-miles with hills the day before. And worst of all, my motivation had taken a nose-dive. Jim's moral support came more like a warning: "if you don't do 100 miles today, you'll have to do it next weekend on the trainer because it's going to get cold again." Ouch, the double whammy - slamming my attitude AND the crap Cleveland weather.

But it worked. Ok. OK! I'll finish this thing. He offered to meet me with supplies on the second out-and-back leg. I was about to head into - and subsequently, out of - the Cuyahoga Valley. I had visions of having to walk my bike up those final hills. In the DARK.

Shake it off!

The downhills into the valley were good for some speed, even into the wind. And by the time I turned around, I was feeling better mentally and physically. In the 20-mile homestretch, I would FINALLY be riding with the wind at my back. Jim met me and I was able to quickly change into dry clothes and get back on my way. Would I make it home before dark? Jim gave me a little blinkie light just in case.

Warmed up and dry now, I was able to get back on the road with newfound enthusiasm.

It lasted about 10 minutes. Then I heard what distinctly sounded like acorns hitting the pavement. Hmm.. I glanced around. No acorns - in fact, no nuts of any kind. And then it hit me - right smack in the face. The SOUND (the one of "acorns hitting the pavement") was not acorns hitting the pavement but RAIN DROPS hitting the pavement. Enormous MONSTER rain drops. Rain drops with attitudes of their OWN. And they were hitting ME now. I heard myself groan. This ride had now entered the realm of the Disaster Magnet.

The rain clouds darkened the conditions even further, and I decided to take the quickest way out of the valley - mostly for safety. I got off the road and onto a paved bike trail for as long as I could. By the time I rolled into my driveway, I was soaked from the outside in, the roads were slick, drivers were yelling at me and it was almost completely night.

And on my (now working) bike computer read the following: 100.2 mi.

The Idiot Set

Yesterday, I started thinking about my swim workout well before I got in the pool. This is never a good sign. Especially because I was thinking about it in the car. When I allow my mind to do specific thinking in the car (as opposed to just driving), I do stupid things - things like panicking because I can't write down what I'm thinking. Thankfully, I my iPhone has an app for taking notes. And, NO, I didn't use the notepad.. I used the voice memos. I'm not an idiot.

But, incidentally, the swim workout I was thinking about was called the "Idiot Set" by my college swim coach. I never knew why he called it the Idiot Set. Was it formulated in the minds of idiots? Would only an idiot do it? I never asked - I usually just groaned. It was not something we did often, and we usually forgot what it was and made him explain it every time. But on days like yesterday, when I'm tired of doing the same old sets of 100s and 200s, I unlock dark things from memory - like the Idiot Set.

The Idiot Set was a set of 13 75-yard repeats (three laps in a 25-yard pool). The 75s were done individual-medly order in the following progression: (1) three laps butterfly, (2) two laps butterfly, one lap backstroke, (3) one lap butterfly, two laps backstroke, (4) three laps backstroke, (5) two laps backstroke, one lap breaststroke... on through freestyle and ending with the final three laps butterfly. It was not a lot of yardage for a single set, and for butterfly specialists, it was probably cake. But for me, every lap was torture. By the time I got to the final 75, I assumed WE were the idiots. The joke's on us. I can't remember ever making it through that last 75 without resorting to the one-arm butterfly stroke.

So why would I EVER do this workout by choice? I'm still asking myself that question. I could say it offered a nice change-up to my usual boring pool workouts. I could say that it would be a challenge to see if I could actually finish it. But I think the main reason I would choose to do this workout is to prove I can mentally handle it.

Memories of the Idiot Set then conjured up all the "idiotic" things done through the years in the name of endurance. Like the time I ran a 30+ miler in my marathon training. Like the time my swim team did a 24-hour relay for fun. Like the time my high school swim coach made us swim in sweatshirts, jeans, and sneakers. Or like my friend Bob who once did, as a single workout, FOUR repeats of 25 miles on the bike followed by 5 miles running. Looking back, many of these workouts are borderline idiot sets -- did they really do anything but potentially injure us?

Yes, they gave us mental fortitude. I was reminded of a guy I met during the bike leg of Ironman Lake Placid last year - he said "I hate to tell you, but we STILL have a MARATHON to do after this." I felt like screaming "YOU IDIOT!" (the key to the Ironman is NEVER going to that mental place.) The most important thing these "idiot workouts" do for us is idiot-proof us - by building mental strength. If you can make it through them, then half way through the Ironman, you won't have one of those "oh-my-God-what-am-I-doing?" moments. When you have to reach deep down inside and pull out that mental strength, you KNOW you CAN. Because you've already done it. And I think that's what the Idiot Set is all about.

(Would love to hear others' idiot sets in the comments)

That Bike Thing: Avoiding Future Bike Disasters

The struggle in Clearwater

In my last blog, I promised to address the lingering (read: mind-boggling) questions from my 2010 season, one by one. The first one on the list, and most important because it continues to plague me relentlessly year after year no matter what I do, and it's approaching the point where I'm ready to tear my hair out and re-dedicate myself to just marathon-running, is: "how do I get faster on the bike?"

I look at the question and think everyone is staring right back at me with accusations, thinly veiled as questions: "how can you be so stupid that you can't figure out how to train on the bike?" and "do you even ride your bike?"

So, yes, I feel like an idiot when it comes to biking -- because I DO ride. I ride hills. I do long rides. I do trainer intervals with a heart-rate monitor. I ride a LOT. During the season, I ride three or four times a week with at least one week-day ride after work exceeding two hours. And during my Ironman build-up, I ride at least six long rides of 100-110 miles. People I've ridden with have even told me I'm strong biker (after which, unfortunately, I have to scrutinize them for signs of insanity).

Yet, I never improve. I don't get any faster. In fact, I got slower this season. My training log says there's no way that could have happened (my training log even reached out to strangle me more than once this year while screaming "what the hell is wrong with you?"). I logged more miles and harder miles than ever before, and my race speed has not changed. And what's worse, I reach speeds in training that are faster than I ever do in a race (on similar terrain). The day before my final 70.3 in Clearwater this year, I went out for a short easy spin and my legs felt better and I rode faster than I did on race day. And the question resurfaces: "what the hell is wrong with me?"

How is it that, for me, the laws of training and racing (i.e., hard work equals improved performance) do not seem to apply to biking. Even at my advanced age, it still works for swimming. It still even works for running. But not for biking. Is biking that much different? Does it take years to see improvement? Are my biking muscles deceptive in their behavior? Do they hate me? Am I not working hard enough when my legs are burning and I'm sweating buckets on the trainer only to get off and feel like jello for the rest of the day?

I buy books with training plans in them. Last year I bought a book called Going Long: Training for Ironman-Distance Triathlons by Joe Friel and Gordon Byrn. The book has an eight-week muscular endurance program for the bike that I followed religiously. Based on my performance on the bike this season, it didn't seem to have any effect at all. Yet, every other piece of advice in the book was good.

So now what? What can I do different? I talk to other "bikers" (i.e., people that seem to have figured out this biking thing, or, pretty much every triathlete on the planet). Besides recommending things I already do, their answers boil down to the following:

1. Add strength training with weights
2. Ride with a group of faster bikers
3. Train with a power meter
4. Get a CompuTrainer

After exploring these possibilities, I have deduced that yes, indeed, triathletes, in general, make much more money than I do (i.e., recommendations 3 and 4 are well above my income level even when eBay is selling them). I have also deduced that weight training is something I need to add. I will HAVE to figure out a way to fit it in around my work and training schedule. Riding with other bikers will take care of itself this year because I now have a team to train with -- I think I mentioned them in my previous blog, the Bike Authority Fleet Feet Multisport team.

Because I've heard and read such amazing things about it, a CompuTrainer would also be high on my list of training tools. There's always hope for a miracle windfall or some other way to scrape up $1600+ -- not to mention, being a Mac devotee, I'll have to come up with another $3-500 for a Windows PC.

Whatever happens, you can be sure I'll chronicle it here and let you know what the results are... or give you the disaster fallout details.

Equipment Update, Winter Behavior and Irrational Fears

The weather has not cooperated in months, forcing me to do all my rides indoors. Weekly, I've been meeting my goal of four rides, including one long ride. My long trainer ride is up to three hours (yesterday's workout). I also made a final decision on bike saddle two weeks ago. After a few more rides on the three saddles, I realized my anatomy needs a cut-out more than cushiness on my sit-bones -- mainly because my newfound comfort in the aero position doesn't impact my sit-bones as much. The Profile Design Air-Stryke was the obvious choice. To my surprise, it was also the least expensive of the three saddles I tested.

Running, on the other hand, has not been as consistent as I had hoped. My plan for the prep phase of Ironman training was to do regular 10- to 20-minute runs after every bike ride. I have been struggling with lack of motivation to run in (and on) snow and ice at 9 pm in temperatures in the teens and 20s after getting off the bike soaked in sweat. I keep telling myself I have plenty of time to get used to the transition, but I'm disappointed in myself nonetheless. To combat the mental block, I bought new trail shoes. Thanks to the Borders Rewards Perks program, I got a pair of New Balance 840s for under $50. They fit perfectly and have monster treads that give a little grip on snow. Sometimes, I just need to jump-start the desire, and it already got me out the door for two runs of 1:15 this week.

And finally, I'm back in the water, swimming at least three times a week. After almost two months off, I'm concentrating on building strength in the water using a pair of old-style rectangular Speedo paddles. I know I'm getting stronger because my arms have that old familiar soreness.

The last component I have yet to add to my training program is the weights. I still don't know how and where it will fit into my schedule, and I'm fighting an irrational fear of weight rooms. Not the weights themselves, but the self-consciousness I feel when I'm using the equipment: Am I doing it right? Is someone going to yell at me? Are people staring at me? I think it stems from my childhood when my swim coach sent us to a Nautilus facility (when Nautilus was "new"). We were "whipped" into submission by muscle-bound arrogant weight-room Nazis who probably polished the equipment after each person used it. The whole trip there, I would cry in the car knowing my every move was going to be scrutinized by a macho mimbo who had nothing better to do than to wield his attitude over a 14-year-old girl. People don't learn by being punished and forced to do three more sets of reps. It made me hate the weight room.