Try the Tri

I’ve been doing triathlons for so many years, in some ways it’s hard to remember a time when I didn’t consider myself at least a part-time triathlete.

What I still remember vividly, however, was that initial trepidation about making the transition from a single-minded runner to a multi-sport athlete, and all the specific fears that accompany it. Fears like being terrified of open-water swimming. Wondering what kind of bike to use. Or whether or not to wear socks.

Since my newspaper column is generally geared toward novice runners, it’s logical extension to write a column every now and then about making the transition from running to triathlon, and that’s the subject of the Monterey Herald article that follows below. The intent was to describe the simplest route to becoming a beginner triathlete.

The column is also noteworthy for a couple other reasons …

1) After I got called out last month for committing the high crime of misidentifying the color of a marathon shirt, I set a little goal for myself to use the word “periwinkle” in as many newspaper columns as possible from now on. So far I’m one for one.

2) Also in the wake of that marathon board fiasco, it was a refreshing contrast to work with Terry Davis, the owner of Tri-California Events. He’s one of the most gracious, humble, and generous people you’ll ever meet. You’ll also be hard pressed to find someone who’s done more for the sport of triathlon over the years than Terry and his wife Betsy. I’m always happy to give them a little extra publicity.

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Running Life 5/7/09 “Try the Tri”

Let’s say you’ve recently completed a marathon, and you’re wearing your periwinkle race shirt with pride, but wondering what your next big challenge could be. Or maybe you’ve done so many road races that they seem repetitive, and you’re looking to add a little more excitement to your athletic exploits.

If so, we’ve got the perfect antidote for you: taking on the Triathlon at Pacific Grove this fall.

September 12th and 13th will be the fifteenth anniversary of the PG Tri (as it’s locally known), which was one of the first races created by Tri-California Events, owned by Terry and Betsy Davis of Pacific Grove. The race is another example of the world-class offerings we have right in our Monterey Peninsula backyard.

Through the years, both Tri-California and the PG Tri have enjoyed enormous growth in size and prestige. The first Pacific Grove race had just over 200 entrants, and the business operated out of the Davis’s garage on David Avenue. This year nearly 2000 triathletes will participate in what has become a two-day event, with an Olympic Distance race (1.5k swim, 40k bike, 10k run) on Saturday and a shorter Sprint Triathlon (.5mi swim, 12.4mi bike and 2mi run) on Sunday. Go to http://www.tricalifornia.com/ for detailed race information.

Tri-California has expanded to include races throughout California (including the world-famous Wildflower and Escape From Alcatraz triathlons), and has grown from a shoestring budget to a successful enterprise that also raises thousands of dollars for charity. Their events attract top professional talent as well as amateur and novice triathletes of all ages – and the PG Triathlon is definitely the best opportunity for locals to get their feet wet in the sport of triathlon.

Transitioning from running to triathlon isn’t as complicated as it might initially seem. Obviously, you’ll need to adjust your training schedule a bit, and make a few investments in (or borrow some) basic gear - but your general fitness from being a runner will carry you a long way towards getting started in triathlon.

The timing of the PG Tri is perfect, as warm summer days and long daylight hours provide expanded opportunities for training. The race date in September typically sees ideal weather conditions. And if you start now, you’ve got more than three months to prepare, which is plenty of time.

Here are some tips to get started …

· Assuming you’re already a runner, decrease the number of days per week that you are running, and substitute a swim or bike workout instead. You won’t lose overall fitness by cutting down running mileage to cross-train; in fact, it will probably improve. Try to bike and swim at least once per week.

· Get a bike – but it doesn’t need to be expensive or fancy. In fact, it doesn’t even have to be a road bike; many first-time triathletes use off-road bikes for the sprint distance. Use whatever you already have or can borrow; you can splurge on a bike after you decide to become a full-time triathlete.

· Likewise, you’ll definitely need a wetsuit for the cold ocean swim. If you can’t borrow one, you can rent one online at http://www.wetsuitrental.com/ or similar sites. Until then, your swim training can be done in a pool.

· Fleet Feet Sports in Monterey schedules coaching sessions for new triathletes. Call 831-372-5664 for details and times.

Many local athletes successfully jump back and forth between the sports of running and triathlon; with a good plan and a little bit of help, this may be the perfect time for you to join them.

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Ironman vs. 100 (Part 2)

In our last episode, we discussed the training necessary to prepare for an ironman-distance triathlon in relation to a 100-mile ultramarathon. We compared triathlon to rock music, and ultrarunning to reggae. There was also a picture that generated some discussion, but that’s neither here nor there.

So today we’ll talk about the reason for all of that training: race day. In musical terms, think of it as the day your favorite band comes to town to play in concert. Whether you go to several concerts a year, or only attend on rare occasions, the concert is almost guaranteed to be memorable, and will hopefully justify your being a fan for all that time beforehand.

In high school and college, I frequented a lot of concerts. The best rock shows were typically held in smaller venues, where people cram like sardines while screaming and yelling and otherwise acting like complete lunatics, with loud music and darklights and pyrotechnic displays completely overwhelming your senses, when everybody feeds off the energy of everybody else until you start doing things that you never dreamed you’d allow yourself to do in public.

(and, um … before I incriminate myself further, I’d better stop there. Let’s just say that sometimes things got crazy.)

By contrast, the best reggae shows were usually long, slow-paced, mellow affairs. They often took place at large fairgrounds and had names like “Sunsplash” or “Reggaefest”, with several bands playing throughout the day, while people got themselves baked - both on ganja and by soaking up the warm sun. Most attendees were just looking to chill out for a while, taking in all the sights and sounds, with their primary goal simply to make it to the end of the day without ending up in an ambulance.

Short and intense versus long and mellow: does any of that sound familiar? With that in mind, let’s continue our comparison.

RACING

1. Time investment

This is the category where ironman devotees might feel like they’re being kicked in the teeth. After all, one of the reasons the ironman is so compelling is the huge intimidation factor involved with doing an activity that takes the better part of a day and night.

The duration of the ironman-distance race, and the corresponding length of training sessions needed to complete it, is frequently the greatest source of pride (and in more than a few cases, arrogance) when Ironman racers compare themselves to cyclists and runners and shorter-distance triathletes. At Kona, at least one vendor sold shirts saying “You ran a marathon? That’s cute.” Clearly, the duration of the event is the distinction upon which Ironmen and women stake their image and reputation.

And make no mistake, the Ironman is a long event. While the pros typically finish in 9 or 10 hours, most age-groupers are on the course for several hours afterward, fighting their bodies’ overwhelming instincts to cease and desist. As night falls, many athletes are still on the course, trying to beat a certain goal time, or as a last resort, the 17-hour milestone that denotes the end of the event.

Sure, that’s pretty daunting … but at 100-mile races, do you know what they call the 17-hour mark? The 50-mile cutoff.

Almost every single person who lines up at the start line of an ultra knows that he or she is going to pull an all-nighter (and in some insane cases, two) simply to finish the event. Some races see a handful of finishers under 20 hours, but even world-class ultrarunners typically need at least 16 or 17 hours to cover 100 miles. Races with relatively flat profiles generally set a finish cutoff of 30 hours, but more challenging races have cutoffs in excess of 40 hours. In that context, the question of which event is a greater test of endurance is a no-brainer: it’s ultras, hands down.

(I know that the instinctive reaction of IM folks is to say “but if you’re out there that long, you can’t really be racing.” As hard as it is to believe, some ultrarunners actually do straight-up race each other for 20 or more hours at a time. From my experience, the percentages are very similar in the two sports: a select number - probably less than 10% - of athletes are truly competing [responding to an opponent’s move, using surges at strategic times, etc] for overall or age-group spots, while the vast majority are just trying to reach the finish as quickly as possible on their own terms. You can’t use arguments like temperature extremes [e.g. Kona] or difficulty of terrain, either, because there are 100-mile races in all of those conditions, too. Sorry, Ironpeople. On the bright side, nobody is selling “You did an Ironman? That’s cute.” shirts yet - at least, not as far as I know.)

So this sounds like a big victory for ultrarunning, right? Not so fast. Remember, in Part 1, I awarded points based on which sport was a more practical endeavor for regular working schlubs to accomplish. Since the Ironman is a shorter event, that makes it more easily attainable – therefore the point for this round is awarded to triathlon. (That’s Ultra 3, IM 2, if you’re keeping track so far.)


2. Degree of difficulty

This is basically a recycled argument from what I said in Part 1 about the difficulty of training: for many triathletes, there’s one segment that comes less easily than the others, but you can’t avoid dealing with it on race day. For example, it seems like many triathletes dread the swim portion of the IM, even though it’s a disproportionately small percentage of the overall race in terms of duration. It makes sense, though - if you hate swimming, or you’re really slow or inefficient or prone to panic in the open water, the prospect of spending 90 minutes or more on that segment would pose an enormous challenge.

Triathlon also has the potential for mechanical issues on the bike, ranging in severity from minor annoyances to catastrophic problems that necessitate withdrawal from the race. This obviously varies with each person based both on the quality of his bike and his familiarity with making mechanical adjustments. And the pros aren't imune to this problem – as defending champion Chris McCormack can tell you after bike problems sabotaged his race at Kona this month.

By comparison, ultrarunning is pretty tame stuff; as we established earlier, people don’t get into this sport unless they really love trail running. And since we generally don’t have to worry about the soles of our shoes tearing loose, equipment malfunctions are pretty low on our list of worries. Score another point for ultrarunning.


3. Enjoyment

For most folks, this is the primary reason we get into the sport: to enjoy ourselves and have fun. (Healthy living and looking good in a swimsuit are a close second and third. Eating ice cream is probably on that list, too – but I’m getting off the subject.)

Think again of the rock concert/reggaefest analogy that introduced this post. This is one of those questions about which reasonable minds may differ: what type of experience do you prefer? Do you favor the rush of high-intensity, borderline dangerous experiences, or the Zen-like satisfaction of introspection and enlightenment?

I can honestly say that in my ultrarunning experience, I haven’t found anything nearly as exhilarating as bombing downhill on a bike at 45 mph, or getting thrashed in the washing machine at the start of the swim segment, or the panic of transitioning from swim to bike as quickly as possible without making some crucial error than will ruin the rest of your day. In many ways, those are the experiences I live for – even more so than the self-awareness of ultrarunning - so I’m scoring this round in favor of the Ironman; but feel free to overrule this one if you’re keeping score at home.

4. Injury potential

Here’s an experiment for you: ask anyone who’s finished a 100-miler to tell you about their race, then click your stopwatch. I’ll be shocked if you make it 30 seconds before the runner starts describing some kind of injury or another that impacted his or her race performance, and caused lasting problems for weeks or months afterward.

There are several reasons why a 100-miler grinds your body down much worse than an IM. First, as we’ve established, you’re out there for twice as long. Since you’re only doing one activity, the potential for developing soft tissue (muscle, tendon, ligament) injury or other crippling situations such as blistering or chafing is magnified significantly. Medical conditions are both more common and more threatening in 100-mile races than any other event (I’ve written a whole article about this), and the task itself becomes more dangerous as the miles grow longer.

If you’ve done an Ironman, think of the injury risk this way: imagine that your bike segment ended at midnight, and you still had to run your marathon completely in the dark, when your body would normally be sleeping. Now imagine that your run course still has several thousand feet of elevation change, and that it’s exclusively on narrow, rocky, root-strewn trails where slipping could blow out your knee or send you down a steep embankment. Those last 26.2 of the ironman seem pretty tame by comparison – and that’s why 100-milers are the more hazardous event.

But remember, points are awarded here for the relative ease of entry to the sport in question – so in the category, score another point for the Ironman. (And I’m one step closer to thinking those “Ironman? That's Cute.” shirts aren’t such a bad idea.)


Have you noticed that the score is all tied up? Which is fitting, because both the Ironman and 100-milers inspire the highest degree of competition imaginable. If only there were some completely subjective, idiotically intangible criteria by which I could declare a final winner …

(You can probably guess where this is headed … )

5. Sexiness

Remember the picture of Desiree Ficker from yesterday’s post? Of course you do. The crazy part is, that took me about 0.14 seconds to find in a basic image search. And I didn’t have to pick Desiree – I could have just as easily gone with her or her or her. (Or, in the interest of fairness to the ladies, him or him or him.)

Clearly, triathlon is a sport that’s just bursting at the seams with sex appeal. There’s something about seeing hot athletes wearing hot outfits using hot gear that’s unquestionably, … what’s the word I’m looking for? … hot. And while the men and women of ultrarunning are perfectly attractive in their own right, there’s really no question as to which sport has long since brought sexy back.

Whether that’s enough to justify scoring another point in favor of triathlon is really up to you. (It is, however, enough for me to justify including one more Desiree photo above.) It’s another question where people may reasonably differ: do you think of beauty as breathtaking and glamorous, or understated and inspirational? I guess it’s all in the eye of the beholder.

Finally, the fact that these events finished in a deadlock wasn’t merely coincidence; these two posts are my extremely long-winded way of saying that both the ironman and a 100-miler are fantastic accomplishments. Training and racing in them will impact your life in wonderful and extraordinary ways that you never imagined. Perhaps above all else, the most important characteristic they share is this: they each need to be experienced in order to be truly appreciated.

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Click here to read Part 1

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Ironman vs. 100 (Part 1)

Growing up, I was very much a music junkie. While I developed an extensive knowledge and appreciation for almost all genres, my heart belonged to two specific styles: rock music and reggae.

Rock music was always a part of my identity, and shaped the way I see the world. It was loud and crazy and intense and unpredictable and endlessly fascinating. Along with playing sports and chasing girls, it was the primary thing that made life worth living.

(This was before I became a grownup and discovered things like family and goodwill and spirituality … but to this day, rock music is still a solid top-5 on my list of greatest joys in life. I’d better not tell you exactly where it ranks - but it’s a solid top-5.)

By contrast, reggae spoke to my soul. It was uplifting and gracious and peaceful, and made me appreciate the gifts in my life and the wonder of the world around me. Although the two musical styles are remarkably different, there’s no reason why somebody can’t develop a passion for both; indeed, I’ve spent the better part of forty years doing precisely that.

All of which is a roundabout way of introducing my comparison of ultramarathons and Ironman triathlons.

Between August 2007 and August 2008, I was fortunate (feel free to substitute the word crazy) enough to complete an Ironman distance triathlon and a 100-mile ultramarathon. At points along the way and afterwards, people asked me which one was harder to prepare for, which was tougher to complete, which I enjoyed more, and so on. So this post will hopefully provide a long overdue answer to a lot of those questions.

Triathlon is rock music: it’s vain and flashy and crazy and intense, and it’s loaded with sex appeal. Professional men are like rock stars: all the women want to be with them, and all the guys want to be them. (Best of all, the triathlon attraction crosses genders quite nicely; while I’ve always found rocker chicks to be somewhat scary, I’d jump at the chance to share a few workouts with Desiree Ficker. Yes, this is a cheap excuse to post her picture again.) It’s a hard lifestyle to maintain, but those who successfully do so feel almost immortal – or if not that, at least forever young.

(I’ll set aside my usual cynicism and resist the easy joke about suspected drug use in both groups. No need to thank me.)

Ultrarunning is reggae: much simpler, while simultaneously much more profound. Just as the reggae sound is more complex than it initially appears, so too is ultrarunning more meaningful than the repetitive rhythm of one foot in front of the other all through the night. Those who practice it regularly can readily describe humility and hard times, yet typically manage to keep a positive outlook in the midst of hardship.

So think of the events as two different genres of music – while most people will prefer one style over the other, having an attachment to one doesn’t automatically preclude you from enjoying the other. In fact, the two sports have a lot more things in common than they have differences – and that’s how we’ll base the comparison.

Finally, a few ground rules before we start. First, I’m only comparing the longest distance events – so the discussion here pertains to an ironman-distance tri and a 100-mile ultra. Second, there are actually two separate categories to consider: one that revolves around training regimens, and another about actually participating in the events. Accordingly, I’ll break this analysis into two sections – training and racing – and make this a two-part post. In each subsection, I’ll indicate which event has an advantage, and add up a final tally once we reach the end. (This might be interesting - I honestly have no idea which way the scores will go.)

My goodness, I’m already rambling way too much - why don’t we just get started:

TRAINING

1. Time commitment

I could break this down hour-by-hour and tell you how exactly how much time per week I spent training for each event – at least, I could have if I had ever bothered to keep track of things like that. Unfortunately, I’ve never been one to follow a rigid training program, and I’ve long since given up the compulsion to record every single workout ever completed, so you’ll just have to settle for generalizations here.

The main idea is that either one of these events will completely dominate your free time. They’ll also eat into family time and work schedules and vacation plans and just about every other leisure activity you enjoy. From the time you sign up until you finish the race, one concern will dominate your thoughts: I’m probably not training enough.

If you were to survey the triathletes lined up at the World Championships in Kona earlier this month, I’ll bet 95% of them will tell you that they wished they had trained more in preparation for the race (they’ll also tell you that they would like to be 10 pounds lighter, but that’s a separate post). These are the best athletes in the world – and if they’re not satisfied with their training volume, what makes you think that regular schmucks (in other words, all the rest of us) would be?

Part of this compulsion is simply the nature of people who are drawn to these events, but another major factor is the daunting prospect of the ironman distance, and the need to be proficient at three disciplines. Anytime you go more than a couple of days without doing one of the three, you feel like you’re falling behind or losing fitness. The only way to keep up is to do two workouts per day, or back-to-back workouts that take several hours.

At one point in my IM buildup, I was doing three workouts per day, and it didn’t seem the least bit excessive – it was just what I had to do to keep up the mileage I wanted to complete. At my peak, I was logging approximately 7000 weekly yards in the pool, 180 miles on my bike, and 50 miles running – and all of those numbers felt entirely too low. Even if I had figured out some way to do three-a-days on a regular basis, I probably still wouldn’t feel like I’d done enough training. That’s just the way it goes.

Training for an ultra, the compulsion is similar – especially if you’re somewhat new to the sport and have no idea what is required for success. Visit a few ultra forums, and you’ll see discussion threads about how much weekly mileage is recommended to complete a 100-miler. And no matter how many miles you run, you’ll probably feel like you should be doing more.

There’s a common expression among ultra runners that “if you can run it in a week, you can run it in a day”, meaning that whatever distance your event is, that’s what you should aim for in weekly mileage. However, in my experience, 100 miles per week on hilly trails takes an enormous amount of time, and leaves you completely drained. I settled into an average of about 70 miles per week, with a high of 110 – which sounds like a lot, until you consider that one of my favorite ultrarunners was averaging well over 200 miles per week before Western States this year. Have I mentioned that it never seems like I’m doing enough?

There’s one distinction worth noting on this subject, however: veteran ultrarunners will tell you that once you have a 100 under your belt, you can continue from race to race with very little training in between events. For example, if you’ve got a 100-miler, a 100K, and another 100-miler in a three-month span, your weeks in between events might only feature 15-20 miles of training. All of that training for the first one is like an airplane working to climb to its flight altitude, where it can then level off and cruise for a longer period of time with less fuel consumption.

With IM training, in order to maintain your speed and remain sharp at three disciplines, you’re in climbing mode before every race. It’s a subtle difference, but enough to give a very slight edge in this category to ultrarunning.

2. Fatigue

If you’re like me - meaning you have a family and job that place demands on your time – the only way to do so much high-volume training is to get up VERY early in the morning, and log as many miles as possible before the rest of the world awakes. It doesn’t take an Einstein to guess what happens when you do this for about six months in a row: you’re tired nearly every doggone day of your life. Your body doesn’t really care whether you’re getting up at 4AM to do a 30-mile run, or to squeeze in a 2500-yard swim before work; all it knows is that you really should be sleeping.

Even when you’re able to get some midday or afternoon workouts done, the cumulative effect is the same with IM training or ultra training – so we’ll call this category a draw.

3. Difficulty of training

I’ve found – somewhat to my surprise - that my background in triathlon differs from a lot of amateurs in the sport, in that I was fairly comfortable with all three disciplines from a very early age. As a kid, I was always on a local swim team, rode my bike all over the neighborhood every day, and was always up for a good footrace. (The fact that somebody invented a sport that combines all three of those things was my greatest confirmation to date of the existence of a benevolent God. I’m not exaggerating one bit.)

On the other hand, many triathletes struggle with one discipline or another. I’m always encountering people who were terrific runners but can’t swim, collegiate swimmers who have no power on the bike, or strong cyclists who can’t run a fast mile. Triathletes often say to “train your weakness, race your strength”; in that case, I imagine that a lot of triathletes spend a lot of hours doing training that is either awkward or uncomfortable in the discipline they like the least. That would get pretty old after several months.

Ultrarunners, however, concern themselves with just one thing: running. It’s a pretty good bet that before they sign on to run 100 miles, they usually recognize whether or not running is something they enjoy. Even if they’re not fast, many ultrarunners come to the sport because they’ve discovered that the long miles on the trails offer them much more than simply the physical benefits of a good workout. If you’re doing something that you love, the training doesn’t seem nearly as mundane. Big advantage to the ultrarunners here. However …

4. Injury potential

If you’re only doing one activity, your chances of developing an overuse injury multiply exponentially. I’ve already written an article about this hallmark of most runners, and about how triathletes (the smart ones, anyway) are much less likely to aggravate an injury because they can cross-train to maintain their fitness. So this is a major point in favor of triathletes.

Of course, this refers only to the cumulative, day-to-day injuries that befall most athletes – not the career-ending, life-threatening variety such as getting crushed on your bike by an 18-wheeler, attacked by some sort of predator in the ocean, or any other sort of freak tragedy. I tend to lump those types of incidents into a separate “lightning strike” category, meaning they can happen to anyone at anytime, regardless of what we’re training for. I mean, I cracked three ribs on a boogie board, for crying out loud – should we count that as a tri injury or a running one? Better to just chalk it up to bad karma.

5. Gear and Expenses

No doubt about it, triathlon is a rich man’s (or woman’s) game. It seems like every time you turn around, you need to drop some money (sometimes a lot of it) just to keep on training.

You pay pool dues and insurance fees and buy a wetsuit and goggles and pull buoys and paddles. You drop a few grand on a bike, then upgrade it with so many new components that it barely resembles the thing you saw in the online catalog. You shell out top dollar for cycling shoes and helmets and power meters and aerodynamic hydration systems. Even the most basic tri-outfits seem to cost hundreds of dollars. By the way, this is in addition to all of your basic running gear.

Triathletes are also prime consumers of all sorts of crazy gadgets (speed laces, anyone?) and nutritional supplements. Nobody uses Gatorade or Gu during workouts or eats normal food between sessions – it’s all specially developed formulas and superfoods that promise to help you shave a handful of minutes off of your IM time – perhaps enough to make it from 19th place to 17th in your age group. Yahoo!

So it’s easy to see why ultrarunners think they have a huge advantage in the finance department. However, once you start calculating the costs of several pairs of trail shoes per year, state of the art hot or cold weather clothing, hydration packs, lighting systems, GPS devices, and a lot of those same nutritional expenses … well, it’s STILL a lot cheaper than triathlon. But that doesn’t mean it’s cheap. Score another point for ultrarunners.

Those are the major training issues to compare, which brings us to the conclusion of Part 1. At the intermission, our score stands at Ultrarunning 3, Triathlon 1, with one draw. Will ultrarunning gradually pull away and drop its competition in the second half? Will triathlon come back to even the score? Will we have any more silly rock and reggae analogies? All these questions and more will be answered in Part 2.

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Click here to read Part 2

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The Running-While-Injured Life

At the conclusion of my 2008 race season, I spent a fair amount of time pondering the sports of ultrarunning and triathlon. My plan is to distill these thoughts into a post next month comparing the relative degrees of difficulty between an ironman triathlon and a 100-mile ultra, both in terms of pre-race training and race performance.

Unfortunately, the official post is going to take me a while - so in the meantime, I’ve got a couple of somewhat related items on a similar theme:

* First, I think I’ve got myself a new hero, in the form of a guy named Graham Cooper. Ultrarunners should recognize his name as the winner of the 2006 Western States Endurance Run. He was primed to reclaim his title this past summer, until the wildfires ruined everyone’s plans. While many people (like, um … me) moped and then scrambled for a substitute 100-miler, Cooper smoothly shifted gears and entered Ironman Canada instead.

Check that – he didn’t just enter, he smoked the course and earned a slot to compete in the Ironman World Championship at Kona on October 11th. (Thanks to Scott Dunlap for the legwork on this info). There are literally thousands of extremely talented, dedicated amateur triathletes who work their whole lives to earn a slot to Kona; to think that Cooper did it as a rebound race is absolutely stunning.

I used to have this theory that somebody could participate in both ultrarunning and long-distance triathlon, but that it was next to impossible to perform well in both sports simultaneously. Now Cooper comes along and proves – as if there was any doubt left anymore – that I’m simply an idiot.

So to all of you ultrarunners who claim that you don’t know the first thing about triathlon, and can’t relate to any of the type-A obsessives who populate the triathlete ranks, now you’ve officially got someone to root for at Kona next weekend. And I’ll be cheering for Graham Cooper right along with you.


* One of the training advantages triathletes enjoy over runners is the ability to vary their training based on how their body is feeling. If your legs are fried from a hard tempo run, you spend a couple of days in the pool focused on upper body technique. When your neck and low back are sore from being in an aero position on the bike for six hours, you do an easy run the next day. You’re always building fitness, but having several different means to do so decreases the strain on any particular area of the body.

Dedicated runners, on the other hand, don’t have that luxury. Consequently, they’re much less willing to wait a couple of days until a problem area resolves, and more likely to train with persistent aches and soreness. Inevitably, many of those aches become injuries of varying severity – but that usually doesn’t stop a hardcore runner from doing the activity he or she loves.

That was the premise behind last week’s Monterey Herald column, which follows below:

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Running Life 9/25/08 “The Running-While-Injured Life”


We typically utilize this space describing all of the benefits of running – however, sometimes it might be possible to have too much of a good thing.

Many avid runners become so hooked on the sport that it often consumes their thoughts. Sure, a hardcore runner may appear alert and attentive on the surface - but it’s a good bet that internally, that otherwise normal-appearing person is completely preoccupied with all manner of details pertaining to his or her running.

They’ll spend countless waking hours thinking about how many miles they logged today, what their average time for the run was, when and where their next run will be, how many miles they’ve run this week, how much longer it will be until they need a new pair of shoes, which running clothes they need to buy once the weather changes, how much fluid they should be consuming during the day, when their next race is going to be, and whether or not one of those nagging sore areas is going to turn into an injury.

That last point is a critical one – because when a runner develops physical problems, all other concerns get pushed to the back burner. Runners are notorious for having tunnel vision when it comes to focusing on (and worrying about) anything that prevents them from doing the activity they love. Unfortunately, injuries are an all too common occurrence among this crowd.

For example, here’s a typical conversation that might take place between any of our group of friends who cross paths in their everyday (non-running) lives. Let’s say they meet unexpectedly on Alvarado Street this week. They certainly have a wide variety of discussion topics to mull over: the economy, the presidential election, the war, career changes, or family developments.

Despite all of that, it’s a virtual certainty that the conversation would unfold something like this:

Joe: “Hi Susie, haven’t seen you for awhile. How are you doing?”

Susie: “Good to see you Joe. I’m OK but I’ve hardly been running at all. My piriformis problem just isn’t going away. I’ve been stretching, doing ice massage, and taking Advil. I’m even going to Bikram yoga a few times a week, which helps for a few hours, but by the next morning it’s bothering me again.”

Joe: “That’s too bad. I haven’t been running much either. My left shin is really painful when I run, and hurts all day long afterward. I had an x-ray and MRI last week and there’s no stress fracture right now but the doc says it looks imminent if I keep running. I don’t think its shin splints. It could be compartment syndrome. I’m seeing my physical therapist but the progress seems really slow. Occasionally I’ll try the elliptical machine but it’s just too boring.”

Susie: “Yeah. It’s really frustrating…. Oh, look, there’s Ted.”

Ted: “What a coincidence. How are you guys? I’ve been decreasing my mileage because of some Achilles tendonitis. Luckily, it’s not a complete tear, but when I run it’s extremely painful. I’m also doing some pool running, but I don’t get the same endorphin high in the water. And I feel like everyone’s laughing at me when I’m wearing my swimsuit.

Joe: “Yeah, I hate it when that happens. My wife just had a knee operation for patellofemoral syndrome and did some pool running during her rehab. She’s favoring her right side a bit now, so her left plantar fascia is becoming a problem. She does ice massage and flexion exercises using toe curls and a towel. It takes about an hour a day - really a hassle.”

Ted: “Hey Susie … how is Dave doing?”

Susie: “He hasn’t been running a lot either. His right hip hurts and he aggravated his left illiotibial band because he was running funny to protect his hip. He’s going to both the physical therapist and chiropractor but he still has problems. He’s also trying myofascial release therapy and it seems to be helping a little.

Ted: “Wow, good luck to him for sure. Did you hear about Rod? He ran a race last month and right near the end he pulled a calf muscle. He had to beat someone in his age group so he gutted it out, but now he’s injured again. He’s doing intermittent heat and ice treatments. He also sees a massage therapist twice a week for really deep muscle work. Hope he gets better soon.”

Joe: “So … are we all running at the regular place tomorrow morning? 12 miles on the Wharf starting at 5AM?

Susie: “Sounds great to me. See you then.”

Ted: “Someone should call Rod and tell him – he’ll probably show up.”

Joe: “Yeah. It will be great to talk with everyone again!”

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Pictures Worth Saving

Although it’s not surprising that endurance events have enjoyed soaring popularity in recent years, one development that continually baffles me is the prevalence of companies who specialize in race photography.

I’ve never understood how the math works out in favor of any of these companies turning a profit. Consider the sequence that has to occur for anyone to actually buy a race photo from a given event:

1) The photographer finds a scenic point of the course which also has optimal light conditions, then
2) Captures images of the athletes - in the middle of competition - that aren’t even a tiny bit unflattering to one of the most vain subsets of people you’ll ever encounter, then
3) Hopes that the athlete doesn’t already have a friend or family member taking race pictures, and that
4) The person loves the photo so much that he or she is willing to pay top dollar for it.

I mean … the chance of all of these things happening on a regular basis seems staggeringly low, doesn’t it? I suppose that’s why they have to charge so much per picture to try and break even. They’re certainly not making any money on me; in the past several years, I’ve purchased only one photo – and that was only because my son was in the picture with me. Otherwise, I’m a lost cause for the photo companies.

However, while I’m not one to shell out fifteen bucks for a 4”x6” race photo, I’m certainly not above doing a few screen grabs and turning it into a quick post. I may be cheap, but I’m also resourceful.

I’m also somewhat unorthodox, in that the following pictures are out of sequence. We’ll start with the run:

This is what I look like while struggling through a half-marathon after leaving my legs on the bike. I mean that almost literally – I had no legs during this run. If you don’t believe me, look at this next picture:

OK, this isn’t a race photo – it's a drawing of me, made by my 4-year-old daughter. She’s developed a fondness for sketching her family members, so I’ve got about 30 portraits of myself taped to walls and scattered on desktops and nightstands all over my house and office. This was drawn shortly after the race – and see? No legs. Of course, there are no ears or nose or arms, either – but that’s a separate issue.

Meanwhile, back to the triathlon …


I seem to have pretty decent luck with cycling pictures in triathlons, and this one is a good example. There’s nothing in particular to complain about, and I don’t look like a complete idiot. It’s a nice photo … but it’s not 15 dollars nice.

Actually, that isn’t even my favorite bike shot from the race – because I like this one better:


It’s closer up, I’m the only one in the picture, and – twice in a row! – I don’t look like an idiot. This might make a good profile pic someday, if I ever decide to update. Of course, I once declared that I’ll never change my profile pic, so that in cyberspace I can stay eternally young (just like I’m forever 25 years old on my current driver’s license photo), so I’ll have to mull that one over for a bit.

I said that the bike picture was my favorite from the race – but even that’s not the best self-photo I’ve seen over the last week. That would be this one:

That’s me, as seen by my 4-year-old. The letters say “Dad Mom”, but the picture is just me. Notice that I now have arms and legs, but as of yet, no feet. I honestly didn’t care about the lack of appendages – because you know what those little dot-looking things are? They’re hearts, because she loves me so much.

(I’ll pause for the “awwww ….”. Don’t act like you didn’t think it.)

Fortunately, I’m not the only one she loves. It occurs to me that I’ve never posted a photograph of my wife on this blog – so today, since I’m in a good mood, I’ll throw in a special treat: a picture of my beautiful bride:
Isn’t she a hottie? She’s tall, has heavenly long hair, and one eye about 10 times larger than the other. (All right … I’m kidding about the eye, but the other parts are true.) Notice all the hearts around her, as well. Needless to say, I consider myself a very lucky man.

Triathlon photos will come and go, but family portraits sketched by 4-year-olds are the things you grab onto and cherish. I’d gladly pay fifteen bucks for any one of these; thankfully, I’ve got a source who provides me with them for free.

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Instant Recipe?

I’ve read enough fitness magazines over the years that almost nothing surprises me anymore. Whether related to running, triathlon, or ultras, most mag articles fall into predictable categories: training tips, weight loss advice, motivational incentives, race reports, “lifestyle” pieces, and so on. After a while, the themes and prose grow commonplace and repetitive.

But every now and then, I read something that causes me to sit up and say, whaaaat??

Such was the case when I read the Starting Lines column in the August 2008 issue of Triathlete. More specifically, it was the following line that almost made me choke on my drink: If you want to start a profitable business with an instant recipe for success, consider starting a triathlon somewhere.

Maybe it’s not an outlandishly insulting notion at first glance, and perhaps in some parts of the country, that sentiment might even be true. However, it struck a chord with me, because my friend Mike and I had just written a pair of Monterey Herald articles about the enormous difficulty in putting on successful road races.

In the first column, we reminisced about all the races that had folded – 28 by our count - over the years we’ve lived in Monterey County. (I haven’t posted it here, but if you’re interested, contact me and I’ll e-mail it to you.) Then last week, we indulged in a little creative writing exercise to illustrate just why so many races have difficulty sustaining themselves for even a single year, let alone becoming profitable over the long term.

The scary part is, the costs and problems we identify are pretty accurate; we didn’t have to fabricate too much in order to convey the daunting challenge of hosting a race. The political angles were culled from experiences that both of us have had on race committees over the years.

And remember, these are just running races we’re talking about. With a triathlon, you can figure that the costs and red tape are not merely tripled, but increased by a factor of 10. So while it’s not usually my nature to call out a fellow writer, in this case I can’t help but think that the premise of getting rich by creating a hometown triathlon is patently ridiculous.

Anyway … our Herald article is below – and if we’re way off base, feel free to offer a rebuttal afterwards.

**

Running Life 7/19/08 "Let's Put On a Race"

A few columns ago we lamented the passing of several local races - 28 to be exact. So why is it so hard to maintain a road race, anyway?

For the answer, let’s eavesdrop on the town council of Pancake Flats, as they discuss putting on a local 5K. Maybe we’ll learn a bit about race economics and politics. The Mayor is presiding.

Ms. Mayor: “We'll schedule the 5K for the first Sunday in May in order to show off our city, bring in tourists, and get our families fit and healthy. Let’s try to get 300 people.”

Reverend Shepherd: “But Ms. Mayor, Sunday is the Lord’s day. We don’t want people staying away from Church.”

Ms. Mayor: “Can we do Saturday then, Rabbi Ginsburg?”

Rabbi: “Vell, I von’t run … but it vill be OK. Ve’ll suffer through it.”

Ms. Mayor: “I thought we’d start at the town square and run south on 2^nd street and turn around and come back.”

Mrs. Halfpenny: “Then no one will see our businesses on the north side of town! Let’s start at Northside Mall and run to the Town Square instead.”

Ms. Mayor: “If we do that, we’ll need buses to take people back to the start area when the race is over. I’m sure the school district or the transit company will donate them for such a fine cause.”

Mrs. Skinner (Head of the School Board) and Mr. Wheeler (President of the transit company) both speak at the same time: “Hey - times are tough, budgets are restricted, gas is prohibitive, insurance is expensive, we have to pay overtime on Saturday, and you’ll need 8 buses and drivers and the minimum rental is 4 hours. The best we can do is - and this is a bargain - $6,500.”

Mr. Biggs (head of the Town Council): “While we’re talking about money, even though this is a city event, you need to pay the City’s event fee of $500 and the use fee for the Town Square of $500.”

Officer Badge (Chief of Police): “For all those road closures, we’ll need a dozen officers for overtime on Saturday to handle traffic control. That will be $2,000. And don’t forget you’ve got to close the freeway offramps at 2^nd street, so you’ll need State Dept. of Transportation permits for $500.”

Mr. Clean (Chief of Sanitation): “Make sure we have enough porta-potties. They’re $50 each and $100 for the disabled ones. You can never have too many potties. I’ll provide 10 of each at the start and finish areas, and 3 at each aid station. There’s also a cleanup fee at the end. Total cost will be about $2,000.”

Ms. Mayor: “Why do we need disabled porta-potties at a race?”

Mr. Clean: “State law, for spectators, and you might have some wheelchair participants. And I almost forgot - we want a Green race don’t we? That costs another $750.”

Ms. Mayor: “Green race?! What makes our race Green?”

Mr. Clean: “We leave no environmental footprint. Just let me worry about that. That’s what you pay me for.”

Mr. Goodfella (union representative): “I’ll make you a deal - we’ll charge you rock bottom for setting up the tables and awards stands and everything you need at the finish line. I can get my guys for $3,000. Set up, take down. No worries.”

Ms. Mayor: “This is getting out of hand. Why can’t we just have some volunteers set up the tables?”

Mr. Goodfella: “It’s a Union town. That’s how you got elected, Ms. Mayor. No one sets up an event without Union workers.”

Ms. Mayor: “How about you Mrs. Brooks - you’re the Pancake Flats running club President. What do the runners want?”

Mrs. Brooks: “We expect the Pancake Flats 5K to have all the usual amenities of other races. The course needs to be USATF certified ($1,800) and sanctioned ($300). We want long sleeve technical-fabric shirts for all participants ($4,500), and finishers medals for everyone ($1100). Awards 5 deep in each 5 year age group for both men and women from under 15 to 85 and over ($3,000) are standard. We need large, highly visible mile markers ($1,000). Rock bands at each mile and at the finish area ($2,500) would be great. We also need chip timing and timing mats at each mile so we can see our splits on the Internet the next day. ($10,000). That’s about it.”

Ms. Mayor: “Is that ALL?”

Mrs. Brooks: “Well, that’s not counting food - coffee at the start, and a buffet at the finish. Not just the usual bananas, gatorade, and power bars – but maybe free beer, bratwurst, pancakes, or sandwiches. Great food gets you a lot more runners for sure. ($3,000)

Ms Mayor: “And I’d like to ask the City Attorney, Mr. Counsel, what do you think?”

Mr. Counsel: “We need race liability. I’d say about $1,000 for race day insurance. Don’t forget medical support and two ambulances and doctors on duty just in case anything happens ($3,000). And we need communication systems to make sure this all works ($2,500).

Ms. Mayor: “Wow. Is there anything I’ve forgotten?”

Mrs. Brooks: “We haven’t mentioned basic race expenses: advertising ($1,000), race bibs ($200), printing of race brochures and entry blanks ($1,500), creating and managing a race website ($1,500), start and finish banners and traffic control signage ($3,000). Most races collect money for charity as well, maybe $10,000 donated to some local causes.”

Ms. Mayor: “I’d like to ask Mr. Balance, our City Treasurer, based on our discussion today to compute what our race entry fee would be to break even.”

Mr. Balance: “Well, we have around $70,000 in expenses and I’m sure we’ve forgotten some so let’s round it to $75,000. We’re expecting 300 runners, so we’ll have to charge $250 for our 5K in order to break even.”

Mrs. Brooks: “That’s CRAZY. No runners will show up at that price. The city of Rolling Hills has a 5K that’s only $25.”

Ms. Mayor: “Yes - but for this one year, our Pancake Flats will have the BEST 5K EVER!”

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Vineman Report, Part 1

"I sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind.... "
~Albus Dumbledore, from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, by J.K. Rowling

**
I knew that Vineman would be difficult. I had no idea about the race report.

As if hobbling around on a sore body wasn’t enough, I’ve been dealing with the inevitable sickness in the wake of last weekend’s triathlon, as my immune system went into complete shutdown mode almost immediately after I returned home. I felt like I wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere – and it took me almost two days to reply to e-mails from friends asking how my race went.

Then I went about the process of organizing my thoughts on the whole race experience, which became an ordeal of its own. I guess it’s predictable that after an event of this magnitude, there’s just too much to say for it to all fit into one post. What I really need is a pensieve like Dumbledore has, to store all of my memories for future viewing (yes, there are certain to be one or two Harry Potter references as we go along). But I suppose that's what this blog is all about, when you get right down to it.

So in the absence of an actual pensieve, let’s approach this recap in segments, with Part 1 today, and the others as soon as I can get around to publishing them. Feel free to comment as we go along, or hold your reactions until the final installment – either way is fine with me. (And if you’re a lurker … I guess it doesn’t matter anyway. Just go ahead and keep on lurking.)

Before we get to the details, I’ll expand on the executive summary a bit, and say that my overall experience was very enjoyable. There were brief moments of uncertainty and/or near-panic (as I’ll explain later), but for the most part, I had nothing but positive feelings before, during, and after the race. Even the “bad” parts of the weekend are memories I want to keep in that penseive for a long time.

If nothing else, an ironman race makes for some interesting storytelling – which happens to be right up my alley. And on that note, why don’t we get started?

Pre Race: The Incredible Mascot

I checked in at Windsor High School for the race expo on Friday afternoon, received my race packet, then stood in line to get one of these t-shirts:

You know what? Maybe that M-dot logo isn’t so bad, after all - especially when compared with this creepy mascot the Vineman folks came up with.

I mean, I get the idea that all of us competitors are heroes, yada yada yada, and the mascot represents the strength that we possess inside of us. But when I think of endurance sports, an impossibly muscular Incredible Hulk-looking character on a steroid rage is probably the last image that comes to mind. Shouldn't a triathlete superhero be some scrawny dude with a swim cap and a disposable razor, wearing three kinds of straps and monitors around his chest and arms, and carrying a bottle of 10 different vitamins and supplements to help him on his mission? Or, you know ... something like that.

Anyway, I grabbed a small size of the official race shirt for my son, then walked to the concession booth and bought a much more subdued shirt:

There, that’s better. More simple, more classy. Initially, I thought it was the smartest 20 bucks I had spent in a long time, but then I wondered: do you think they purposely gave us ugly race shirts so that we’d spend extra money on a nicer one? If so, I was a sucker for the trap - but I still don’t regret spending the twenty.

The rest of the night was blessedly uneventful. I settled in at a friend’s house, watched the Giants blow a late inning lead (typical), and drifted off for about 6 hours of sleep.

RACE DAY

Part 1 – The Swim: Bubble Toes

(Before you read this section, try this: click the video player below, and listen to the Jack Johnson song while you’re reading. Then by the time I reference the song, you’ll know what the heck I’m talking about.)

Race morning dawned surprisingly warm - which was nice in that we didn’t have to deal with the early morning chill while setting up our gear in T1, but an ominous sign of conditions to come later on. The race announcer used the PA system to repeatedly remind athletes to wear sunscreen and hydrate often when we got to the road later on.

The announcer also killed time by mentioning some of the notable athletes at today’s race. While we didn’t have a former Bachelor contestant, we had somebody almost as cool: Nick Diaz, a talented Ultimate Fighting-Mixed Martial Arts competitor who was doing his first Ironman. Hearing this, I looked over at Nick, then made a mental note to avoid drafting behind him – because I suspected he might have a pretty harmful kick.

We waded into the Russian River, and treaded water in the dammed portion before heading upstream at the sound of the starting gun. The initial frenzy lasted for about ten minutes before I settled into a smooth gliding rhythm, trying to stay as relaxed as possible for the long day ahead.

(photo from Vineman website)

The swim is a two-loop course without a water exit, and as we approached the first turnaround point, I was overtaken by a guy with a very nice-looking stroke, so I veered over behind him, and settled into his wake.

There’s an old Jack Johnson song called Bubble Toes, which became stuck in my head as I thought of nothing else but following the bubbles behind this guy’s feet. For the next several minutes, I kept repeating the lighthearted chorus to myself, and coasting behind a seemingly perfect pair of bubble toes. I was as relaxed as possible, and feeling good.

**Is it Time to Panic? Part 1 ** But just as I was la-da-da’ing along behind Bubble Toes, I nearly scraped my hand against a concrete bridge support, and realized we were significantly off course. As I paid closer attention over the next quarter mile, I figured out that Bubble Toes was doing a lot of zigzagging up and down the river. Maybe he was purposely trying to shake me, or maybe he was just terrible at swimming in a straight line.

Either way, I had a decision to make: I could stay behind him to keep swimming effortlessly – but adding more distance – or I could chart out a direct path on my own, and expend more energy to swim a shorter course.

I went with the first option, for this reason: the Russian River is fairly narrow. Even if Bubble Toes veered wildly to one side or the other, he probably wouldn’t get too far off course before hitting the shoreline (to our right) or crashing into oncoming swimmers (on our left). Obviously, if we had been in the ocean, I probably would have decided differently.

At any rate, Bubble Toes wore himself out by the third turnaround point, and I was left to swim most of the home stretch on my own anyway. But by saving all of that energy during the previous mile and a half, the last half mile of the swim still felt pretty comfortable - and I kept the mellow la-da-da groove in my head the whole way. I really don’t think I would have saved any time if I had made a solo break further back.

As I approached the swim exit, I heard the PA announcer’s voice calling out people’s names as they exited the water. When I exited, I had the ramp all to myself, and I heard the following announcement:

PA guy: Now coming out of the water we have …

Me: (smiling, giving a little wave)

PA guy: IT’S ULTIMATE FIGHTER NICK DIAZ!! ULTIMATE FIGHTER NICK DIAZ IS OUT OF THE WATER!!

Apparently as I reached the top of the ramp, Ultimate Fighter Nick Diaz had just poked his head out of the water, and was following me to T1. So I missed my first opportunity for a little recognition at the hands of the UFC guy. I can’t say that it bothered me – at least, not yet. I was just happy to be done with the swim.

Swim Stats: 2.4 miles in 1 hour, 1 minute.

**

T1: Happiness is a Full Bike Rack

When I first started triathlons, I’d routinely come out of the water to find nearly empty bike racks, and realize that almost everyone else was already ahead of me. Nowadays, that doesn’t happen very much anymore – and I’m always delighted to get out of the water and see rack after rack still clogged with bikes.

I spent nearly 5 minutes in transition, taking extra seconds to scrape river dirt out from between my toes, and struggling to put on a cycling shirt whose pockets I had already loaded up with seven Clif Bars (it didn’t work – I spent additional time picking said bars off the ground after they fell). But one nice thing about an Ironman is that extra transition time hardly matters at all in the overall results – so I had no worries about taking as much time as I needed to get all of my gear ready for the long ride that awaited me.

Even as I exited T1, the bike racks remained full. I jogged my bike to the mounting area behind Ultimate Fighter Nick Diaz and a handful of other racers, and headed out into the great unknown.

And that’s where we’ll pick up the story next time.

Click here to read Part 2
Click here to read Part 3

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