Humility

So, today's training called for a 4000 yard swim with no rest intervals. I guess it could basically be called an Ironman swim. Okay, it's off by a couple hundred yards. Yes, those couple hundred yards are very important (and challenging). Still, in the grander scheme of things, 4000 yards may as well be an IM swim.

Completing this kind of swim calls for close planning on my part. With my pace averaging around 2:00/100 yards and the knowledge that it probably WON'T be 2:00/100 yards after about 3000 yards are completed, timing is everything. Forty 100-yard lengths. Two minutes per 100. That's 80 minutes in a perfect world. Start swimming at 5:10 a.m. Finish at 6:30 (in that same perfect world). That leaves less than an hour to shower, dress, and drive the 25 miles to the office. Like I said, planning is essential.

I was quick on the draw, this morning. I got to the pool a few minutes early and was in the pool by 5:05. I hit the water right away and started the 400 yard warmup. By the end of that warmup, I knew I was in trouble. Even with my lowly swimming skills, it usually takes way more than 400 yards to have me feeling fatigued. Not today. With more than 2 miles left to swim, I was already feeling it.

A quick review of the past 24 hours provides two likely culprits. One is unavoidable. Monster Girl didn't sleep very well, last night. The 5.5 hours of sleep I counted is being generous. That was all broken up. Even so, I've trained on far less, far worse sleep. Perhaps it was something else.

Like the strength session that was scheduled for AFTER the swim. The one that I moved to 12 hours BEFORE the swim, because timing would otherwise preclude getting the session completed. The one that had me feeling it as I headed home. The one that turned my arms and legs to mush. But still, it MIGHT have been the sleep. So I'm holding Monster Girl responsible. Since she's only 16 months old, she probably won't care. And it will give her something to hold against me when I'm old and forgetful and she's taking care of me.

Still, just to be safe, avoid putting a strength workout right before a breakthrough swim session. Well, unless you want something to keep you humble. Getting to 3700 yards and having to call it a day is frustrating. And yes, I DO question my sanity. A few months back, cutting a 750 yard session short by 300 yards wouldn't have bugged me, at all. Today, missing 300 yards on my long swim drives me batty. Especially when it's simply because it's because I swam slower than usual because of a moved workout. That will keep me humble for a while.

While You Were Out

So, yeah. Every now and again, life interferes with blogging. Funny how that works. One second, you're a freewheeling blogger posting every day. You keep up with all the posts on every blog you follow. You even find time to wander around and seek out interesting new blogs.

Then, WHAM! You're knee deep in a mess and can't find time to read e-mail, let alone blogs. In my case, I haven't even made it into my office in a week. I'm working out of a training center, keeping two temps assigned to help clear a backlog of work. They've been super and all their work will make my boss look very good. The downside is that I've been working so much that any spare time has been dedicated to training and my kids.

And in the interim, time has somehow kept counting down the days, and I suddenly see myself looking at a 148 on the countdown timer. ZOOM! Right past 150. I planned on balloons and confetti when the timer hit 150. That's a major number in the countdown. But Noooooo! I missed 150 and went right to 148. Though important, 148 is nowhere near as cool as 150. So, I'll keep my eyes open for 99 days. That will be the next MAJOR milestone. Double digits. That will be big.

Training has been going well, though I took an extra rest day due to a cold and upper respiratory infection that opted to settle into my lungs. Anyone who has dealt with pneumonia, bronchitis, and/or sarcoidosis can relate. The extra day of rest will help me get more out of training, this weekend.

AND...

A sure sign of spring was visible at the Pol homestead, last night. Mrs. Pol wandered into the bathroom to investigate the odd noise she was hearing. She walked in on her beloved hubby being shorn of his locks. (For those who aren't aware, those would be the locks on my legs. I'm not sure I have enough hair left on my head to be "shorn.") She questioned the use of hair clippers for the task. I pointed out that using a razor to shave after six months of growth is a sure fire way to both clog the shower drain AND go through several razors for one shave.

So, the legs are shaved, and I'm ready to get The Pol-R Express back onto the road. The trainer has served its purpose, but the blacktop beckons. Spring is here, and none too early. With the timer under 150 days, it is time to start racking up the miles and getting ready for IM Louisville in earnest.

Feed Me, Seymour!

In the Broadway classic Little Shop of Horrors, the main character, nerdy florist assistant Seymour, finds and nurtures an odd plant named Audrey II. The plant is named after the object of Seymour's infatuation, another flower shop worker. After learning that blood makes the plant thrive, Seymour begins feeding it drops of his own blood.

Over time, the plant grows and its needs increase. Single drops of Seymour's blood no longer suffice. In fact, the plant requires entire people, leading Seymour to kill in order to feed the insatiable Audrey II. It also leads to what is certainly the most memorable line from the entire show.

"Feed me, Seymour!"

Right now, I feel much like Audrey II. While I don't have an insatiable appettite for human blood, I am beginning to hit the "always hungry" phase of the season, again. Last year, I ignored Iron Audrey and maintained a "normal" diet. This year, Audrey is demanding more. If the demand for food is ignored, I will suffer greatly.

I've hit the bottom of the weight range I want going into a summer of heavy triathlon training. So, the bottomless pit otherwise known as my stomach will have to be satiated.

Luckily, I have less discriminating tastes than Audrey II. Where she demanded one and only one source of nourishment, I'm fine with a broad range of food. Seymour won't have to go to the same extremes. But he's still going to hear the same cries from the master...

Feed me, Seymour!

No Pain, No Gain

I played football for four years in high school. Wait, let me rephrase that for accuracy. I was ON the football team for four years in high school. I think my total playing time would easily have fit within a single quarter. At the time, I was quite jealous of the kids who were "naturals" at the game.

I was right there with them suffering through practice. I memorized plays like they did. I hit the weight room to work out. They just got better results. Or had better genes.

Through the prism of age and experience, I've learned better. Yes, the better players on my team certainly got more out of practice, workouts, and playbooks than me. It was really just a function of effort. Namely, they put it in, and I tried to fake it.

Over time, that has changed. I've learned that improvement isn't easy and often requires some amount of pain. Perhaps it's the pain of getting up much earlier than is desired. It might be the pain of working the body to the point of exhaustion. Or it might be the good pain of a threshold workout. No pain, no gain. I didn't understand that in high school.

Nothing has taught me this as much as the past year of triathlon training. Learning to swim was challenging enough. Learning to swim well and to swim faster has called for intense and sometimes painful workouts. Taking my mile pace from 11 minutes down to 8 minutes took a year of challenging base and speed workouts. And getting back on the bike demanded I put out of shape muscles back into action.

Now, I am working hard to get into the game. I take the training seriously. I listen to the coach. I accept that some training is going to demand that I push myself to the limit. And I do push those limits.

This time, I'm going to play the whole game. Whether it takes 45 minutes or 17 hours. 10K to Ironman, I'm going to be a starter.

Getting Serious

A co-worker and training partner is running his first marathon in May. With just under nine weeks to go, we were discussing his training and current condition. The fact that his first child was born just about two weeks ago has sort of wreaked havoc on his marathon training plan.

So, he wants to know what can be done to avoid having to scrap the race. I told him we'd run 12-14 miles, this weekend, and make a determination then. To date, the furthest he has ever run is a half-marathon. And that was last season. Going from 13 miles to 26.2 miles in less than eight weeks poses a real challenge.

Mostly, I told him he needs to get serious. That is an important factor in completing a marathon. I sincerely believe that a half-marathon can be completed without any real knowledge or serious training. Why do I believe that? Because that's how I ran my first half-marathon. And I've met lots of others who did the same thing.

There is a huge difference between 13.1 miles and 26.2 miles. And it takes a serious respect of the distance and dedication to completing the race to motivate proper training. Cutting corners and "faking it" doesn't work so well at the full marathon distance.

And that got me thinking about my own training for Louisville. I started looking at the training hours. I noticed that for nearly every week there was a noticeable difference between scheduled and actual hours. Granted, "scheduled" included optional swim and/or run sets each week, but still, falling short every week is hardly a sign of respect and dedication.

Just like the difference between a half and full marathon, it is highly unlikely that I will be able to "fake" the training the way I did for my sprint and Olympic distance races. Reaching the finish line in August will require that I get serious. Those training hours should be met closely every week. Perhaps a little short here, a little long there, equal on average.

I have trained far more, this year, than ever before. Even so, it is time to ratchet things up to the next level. I have an 8-week program until the 16-week Ironman program commences. My goal for this phase is to get back into full training mode and hit those goal times. Feel free to call me on it. Accountability is everything.

Flubbing, Flubbing, Flubbing

On board Navy vessels, casualty situations are announced over a PA system. This isn't a Bose quality system, so sound quality sometimes leaves a lot to be desired. The people making the announcements are rarely professional voice artists, and they are often rushed and full of adrenaline.

That results in announcements sounding much different than the alarm you know is being sounded. My favorite was always flooding. This casualty is sounded when water is entering a space faster than available systems can evacuate that water. When called in, the announcement is always made by repeating it three times. Due to the quality of the overall system, "Flooding, flooding, flooding" often came across as "Flubbing, flubbing, flubbing."

That was the call I got from Mrs. Pol, yesterday. She had gone into the basement to get some things before leaving the house, only to find several areas with standing water. She called me, and we were able to isolate the cause of the problem. The dreaded sump pump failure. (For those unfamiliar with basements, a sump is an area designed to collect water that would otherwise leak into the basement. A sump pump clears water from the sump to somewhere outside the house.)

Sadly, this sump pump failure was more human in nature. Specifically, it was a human from the genus "Furnace Technicianis Forgetfullus." Simply put, a service rep unplugged our sump pump and forgot to plug it back in when he finished his work. Net result, lots of water in my basement.

We were actually lucky. First, Mrs. Pol found it early. The potential for serious damage was pretty high. Second, we don't have a lot of valuable items sitting directly on the floor. The worst damage was to some old magazines and some clothes that haven't seen the light of day in a decade.

Cleanup is another story. Training last night was wiped out by hours spent cleaning up water and damaged or wet items. Our server and computer had to be taken apart, dried, and reassembled. Items in wet boxes had to be transferred to new storage containers. And fans had to be set up to help everything dry out. We were up until well after midnight doing that.

And that pretty well wiped out training for this morning, as well. I threw my bag in the car and hope to get my swim in on the way home. We'll see how things go.

Spring is usually a boon for training. The snow is gone. Freezing temperatures give way to the cool days that are so perfect for training outside. Then again, all the water has to go somewhere. And sometimes, "somewhere" happens to be inconvenient.

House Cleaning

Well, things have been hectic. No worries, though. Rumor has it that the lives of prospective Ironmen sometimes get that way. So, just to keep things up to date and let people know I'm alive, here are a few housecleaning items.

First, my 5000 yard swim went fairly well, this weekend. A bit short, but well. The gym where I was swimming had a pool open for laps at 5:45 a.m. Unfortunately, they didn't actually open their doors until just after that time. After rushing in the locker room, I was in the pool and swimming by about 5:55. That gave me roughly an hour and 50 minutes if I wanted to skip showering before my meeting at 8:00.

The first several thousand yards were great. I maintained my (New and Improved!) time trial pace and felt good. After 2500 yards, I hopped out to drink some Gatorade, and got back at it. Around 3500 yards, I experienced some foot cramping. That was an off and on thing for the next 1000 yards. My pace dropped quite a bit as I was winding down the day.

In the end, I completed 4600 yards. A bit short, but there were some definite silver linings. I hit the 2.5 mile point in 1:30, a great sign for IM Louisville. And I maintained a reasonable pace for about 3500 yards. If I can bring that pace back just a bit (stop going out so fast), I should be good for the whole IM swim.

In other news, we had eight young people at our first team meeting and they are excited about the opportunity to complete a triathlon. Since my original vision was to have perhaps 10 kids total, this is a great start. We may have others that didn't make the meeting, and some will sign up when we get more into it. Our first training day is March 31, and they are already bringing up additional events they think we should complete. It was awesome.

The Tri Blog Community IM Louisville team is growing. I just added Myles and his wife, who happens to run the ever popular Athena Diaries. That brings the TBC team to seven. IM The Ville participants in my links list are shown in red. Keep in mind that we want to know participants and supporters alike. If you will be in Louisville and want to be included in possible meet and greet opportunities, let me know.

Finally, work has kept me swamped, so don't fret if you see a few days go by without a post. I'm training hard, working hard, and taking care of the family. Occassionally, I'll let the blog slip a few days. No fears! I'll always be back in a day or two.

Something Wicked This Way Comes

Tomorrow should prove interesting. Somebody (that would be me) had the brilliant idea of scheduling a meeting at 8 a.m. It is the first meeting with the kids who will participate in our fledgling youth triathlon team. The concept is that we will weed out the uncommitted with the Saturday morning meeting.

Of course, there's the slight challenge of fitting a 5000 yard swim into the mix. And, of course, my best chance for putting in that kind of time swimming laps is from 5:45-7:45 a.m. So, the kids will get a firsthand look at the effects of more than 2.5 miles of swimming. And I will get a quick lesson in planning a meeting. Like 8 a.m. is a bad time when you have a major swim to accomplish.

There is, however, a bright side to this. Having a tight schedule will give me something concrete to break down the swim. I have two hours max to swim the distance. So I must complete 2500 yards per hour. That gives me a target of around 2:15/100 yards. If I maintain that average, I'll be fine. Anything less and I'll be late for the meeting.

The Sign

Here's my "Top 10" indications you are completing a Mike Ricci swim focus.

10. You look at a 2000 yard workout and wonder why an easy day was scheduled.
9. Your hair feels like dry grass no matter how much conditioner you use.
8. You look forward to strength training days. They mean shorter swim sets.
7. It isn't important that you forgot your glasses. You have swim goggles.
6. You see a 60 minute run scheduled, figure Mike must have made a mistake, and swim 3500 yards, anyway.
5. You begin scheduling half-days off in order to complete your mid-week long swims.
4. The gym staff automatically tell you the pool conditions when you walk in the building.
3. The water aerobics participants start asking about you if you don't swim during their class.
2. You have a 5000 yard swim scheduled and the only question you have is whether you should bike before or after the swim.
1. Your co-worker says, "Do you smell that bleach, what is that?" and your reaction is to hold up your arm and say, "You mean this?"

Not that any of those have happened to me.

RTWQ!

In the Navy, it was common to receive tests back with the cryptic scribbling "RTWQ!" scrawled across the answer to a question. It was also common to see a note indicating how many points were lost on that question.

RTWQ is shorthand for Read The Whole Question. The implication is that the answer provided by the student was good, and might have warranted full points if it had only answered the entire question. Generally, RTWQ was all the student needed to figure out why points were lost. They would reread the question, see the part they missed in the fog of testing, and slap their head on the table. Hard, if they happened to do exceptionally poorly on the test.

That is what was going through my head during my swim workout, this morning. If you can recall all the way back to yesterday, you'll recall I was giddy with excitement about the short swims of the week. Well, as long as we consider the "week" to end on Friday. Saturday, that's less exciting. Even so, the short swims of the week looked great.

So, this morning I'm headed to the pool thinking about my 1500 yard swim. That's barely a workout. I've done straight swims as part of longer workouts that exceeded 1500 yards. What a break. As I head to the pool deck, I'm start reading the set list. Warm up 300 yards by 25s, IM.

Okay, wait. Stop. IM? I don't suppose that stands for "Imagine what it will be like to be an IM finisher while you do this warmup." I've heard the term IM associated with swimming, before. That would be that butterfly, backstroke, breast stroke, freestyle thing. Well, that about flushes the "easy swim" thing down the drain.

Well, perhaps it can be modified just a bit. Butterfly isn't happening. How about just replacing it with a freestyle length. That should be doable. So, free, back, breast, free. Repeat three times. That will work for the warm up.

Main set. More of the same. Suddenly, 1500 yards looked a whole lot longer than it did on Sunday night. My "easy" swim got a whole lot more difficult.

Even so, I did complete the sets as modified. I even did an actual (using the term loosely) backstroke. Note to local YMCA. Now that I understand what those flags ABOVE the pool are for, I suggest we invest in a few.

I'm feeling it. And I know it will help. I understand better why others have said the backstroke helps you better understand rotation (because it's impossible to do the backstroke without good rotation). I feel different muscles being worked. And I know I can rely on alternative strokes in the event I need to in Louisville.

Now that I know to RTWQ, I might be more open to adding more IM sets in the future.

Well, yeah. There's That.

As a general rule, I print out all of my workouts for Monday through Thursday on Sunday night. It allows me to have them all sitting on the dining room table, ready for the duffle bag (swim or run) or to guide me to the basement for bike sessions. Last night, I was a bit excited as I printed them.

Monday, short swim (short, of course, being a relative term) with a short bike in the evening. Tuesday, frighteningly short swim. Wednesday, short run with strength training. Thursday, another short swim. I was giddy. This looked to be one big step back week.

So, imagine my surprise when I started pulling weekly totals from my training program for entry into my log. Total swim distance of 14,100 yards. "Wait a minute, if I'm barely hitting 2000 yards a day for a total of three days, how am I at 14,000 for the week?" I am, after all, an accountant by day.

That led me to Saturday. Warmup 1000 yards. Just so you know, that's an ominous clue in and of itself. While I am certainly getting better at swimming and bringing my pace down, I haven't yet moved to the "1000 yards is a warmup" category. Well, not YET, anyway. After my "warm up," I get to do eight 500-yard intervals at time trial pace. Lucky me, my cool down is 10 minutes in the hot tub. After that swim, my first attempt at 5000 yards, my cool down just might be 10 minutes at the bottom of the pool. Perhaps the lifeguard will pull my limp body out of the water before that.

Seeing that on the schedule, particularly the "at T-pace" part, reminds me of the ultimate cruelty of irony (or karma, or Coach Mike, or whatever it is). On Friday, that T-pace would have been 2:11 per 100 yards. Today, it's 2:01 per 100 yards. That will teach me to see how beneficial training has been BEFORE finding out what is coming up on the schedule.

Of course, on the brighter side, you will note that my endurance pace has dropped dramatically. I guess I'll take that into the water with me on Saturday. "Yes, it's a long way to swim. But just look how it's already paying off." I'll take it all the way to the bottom of the pool.

The Plunge

So, I've been watching some videos of Ironman swim starts. I can already tell that's going to be a big gremlin. Probably the one that poses the biggest threat.

Gremlins aren't a huge concern on the bike. They just aren't all that fast. I've completed some pretty challenging rides in my life, and know I'll be able to train for anything IM The Ville has to throw at me. Well, if they ever actually figure out what the course might look like. The most recent response I got was, "Soon." Not bad considering the previous response was "just after the New Year."

Gremlins generally leave me alone when it comes to running. They know how little concern I have for setting any kind of records and understand that I've lived with them for a long time. Going into Ironman, I have fairly low expectations for my marathon time, and feel comfortable with my ability to run in even the worst of situations.

The swim is another story. The gremlins know this is my weak area. They know it is the area in which I have the least experience. And they know all the right buttons to push.

What they seem to forget is that training, racing, and (most importantly) planning are effective at smooshing gremlins. The challenge is finding 2500 people to go out swimming so I can practice an Ironman swim start. Hopefully some of the smaller races will enable me to get a feel for this. My current plan is to start all my races right in the middle of the pack. If anything can prepare me for the IM start, that would be it.

Gremlins can be nasty little buggers. Their entire existence is aimed at ruining our day. The entire time we are preparing for a race, they are preparing, as well. We train our bodies, and they make us question our health. We gain experience and they try to convince us we are too green to succeed. We increase our distances and times in training, and they remind us that we still have to put it all together on race day.

But gremlins are weak. They only have as much power as we give them. Most importantly, no gremlin will ever be an Ironman. They can't go the distance. So always remember, any gremlin that shows up is only there for the short term. Put on a burst of speed or focus on your motivational mantra (you have one of those, right?) and they'll give up.

You are stronger than any gremlin. Even if it's a gremlin with a fixation on the swim start. If he likes the water so much, ask him to join you on your swim. Then splash water in his face or dunk him underwater. He'll get the message.

Swimming Naked

Some days you just want to take it all off and swim naked. Sure, it might be somewhat taboo. Yes, others in the pool may look in shock when they realize what you're doing. And yes, you'll probably be a bit self-concious.

You head into the pool quickly, hoping nobody you know is there to see you. Jumping into the water, you start to swim quickly. You eye the lifeguard hoping he doesn't notice, or at least doesn't say anything. After all, you've seen others do it, before.

You count laps so you'll know how far you've gone before anyone says anything. You eye the clock so you'll know how long it takes for someone to notice. But the freedom is wonderful. Every lap is easier when you don't have to worry about the normal constraints society places upon you.

The pool empties quickly. Perhaps it's just because of the poor weather. But maybe it's because of YOU. Only one guy is still in the pool when you leave. You head back to the locker room quickly, glad that none of your normal swim partners saw you.

Yes, some days you just want to swim naked.

And other days, you forget your watch at home.

T-10 Seconds and Counting

Coach Mike Ricci of D3 Multisports has a plan to help me cross the finish line at Ironman Louisville in August. A major component of that plan is preparing me for the rigors of completing a 2.4 mile swim and enabling me to finish the swim with plenty of energy for the balance of the race. While it has been voiced by a certain member of the Tri Blog Community that "it's all about the bike," failing to make the swim cutoff and/or being physically exhausted after the swim can make the bike somewhat irrelevant.

The past six weeks have been part of an eight week swim focus designed to improve my ability to complete long swims. Prior to Mike becoming my official coach, I completed a four week session at his suggestion and saw dramatic improvement. Given the success of that program, I was willing to tackle this more intense and more guided eight week plan.

In the first week of the program, I completed a time trial to determine my "T-pace," which is used for setting time requirements during swim workouts. At that time, I was averaging around 2m 11s per 100 yards. While far from Olympic pace, that showed the value of the first four weeks, as earlier in 2006 I averaged around 2m 30s per 100 yards.

The past two days have had interval sets based on that T-pace. In general, I've found the 2:11 pace to be exceedingly slow. Most of the intervals I've been completing in the 2:00 range. While a time trial is needed to get an accurate number, it looks as if my T-pace has dropped by another 10 seconds or so. That would mean an improvement of nearly 30 seconds since the end of October.

For those who have been interested in the results of these exercises, that should provide sufficient motivation to consider your own swim focus. To put that in perspective, if the improvement is only 20 seconds per 100 yards, I'll be able to get out of the water 14 minutes faster. If I can maintain the 30 second improvement over the course, I'll have an extra 21 minutes.

And Mike's real goal is also being realized. I can maintain that pace for longer distances and come out of the water feeling better. This means more energy for the bike and run. And those are disciplines I can rock.

Help... Buried!

Okay, I'm trying to post. Little things keep interrupting me, and they aren't my kids. I've had this window open for two hours trying to get my comments from this morning's swim down, with no luck.

Perhaps after lunch I'll have more luck.

Until then, the dry humor of this post will have to suffice.

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

Mondays can be rough. Between training, work, and Mrs. Pol's class, it's a busy day. Add in several inches of new snow to shovel in the morning, and the day gets really interesting.

Knowing snow was in the air, I woke up planning to either bike on the trainer or swim, depending on what the driveway looked like. What I didn't plan on was spending more than an hour shoveling and blowing snow. That essentially wiped out any morning workout. Well, other than shoveling and blowing snow for an hour.

As luck would have it, my swim for Monday was "optional." Given the conditions, I read that as "opportunity for cross training." Otherwise known as shovel snow for an hour. That left an hour on the trainer to fit in during the evening.

That takes us back to Mrs. Pol's class. In addition to helping her better understand her faith, this class is very much about "adult time" for my wife. That, of course, leaves dad home to care for the kids. Last night, it was a "picnic" in the living room with chicken stew and "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang." I think I got an extra workout in from all the laughing while watching my kids "dance" to the songs.

Monster Girl started it during the title song. For her, dancing primarily involves spinning. And spinning. And spinning. Falling down, and spinning some more. B-Boy had to join in, adding to the complexity of the dance by repeating "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" as he spun. It was so hilarious I had to video it. This is footage that is sure to come back and haunt them as kids.

Caring for them pushed my spin training back until 10 p.m. I considered scrapping it, but got it done, in the end. The combination of guilt, a short schedule for today, and general principal helped provide motivation.

Well, that and the fact that I was all wound up from showing the video of the kids to Mrs. Pol. It almost brought me to tears the second time around.

It's All About Participation

A certain well known blog friend likes to say that it's all about the bike. After all, we tend to spend most of our time in a race on the bike, and blowing up on the bike leaves us ill prepared for the run. A poorly fitted bike can leave our legs wasted on the run. Poor nutrition on the bike leaves our energy reserves tapped as we head into the final stage of the race.

Of course, we all know he's wrong. (No, say you DIDN'T just call the one and only P-Dawg Leader WRONG! The consequences of such an action are unknown, but certainly foreseeable. How could you make such a rash comment?). A triathlon is all about three disciplines. Become a master of only one discipline and the best you can hope for is a record in that portion of the race. Yes, the bike is important. But give up 20 minutes in the swim and an hour in the marathon, and you had better be able to make Lance Armstrong look like he's using training wheels. Because you'll need that kind of lead to hold off the elites who excel at all three disciplines.

Of course, I'm wrong, too. It isn't really about the swim, the bike, or the run. At the end of the day, it's all about the participation. Few of us are ever going to be elite level athletes. In fact, many of us have few hopes of being truly competitive in our age groups. For most triathletes toeing the line at any given race, motivation must come from something other than a podium finish. For them, participation is the key. They are there because they want to be there.

Usually, they have something to prove to themselves. Perhaps they want to test their limits. Sometimes, they just need a "light" at the end of a training tunnel. They win just by showing up.

Perhaps some in our sport, including the leadership in the companies that oversee the pinnacle events in triathlon, need a refresher on that subject. A video from NA Sports (thanks for posting it, Comm) attempts to highlight the Ford Ironman triathlon. Unfortunately, it seems every image on the video is from the IM World Championship in Kona. Watching this video, one would think that the only 140.6 mile race in existence is in Hawaii.

It is little wonder that outsiders are unaware there are races all over the world. And while NA Sports may have little motivation to promote non-Ford IM events, they might do well to at least advertise those.

And beyond that, they might do well to remember that triathlon is about far more than Ironman. Just as Ironman is about more than the bike, most triathlons are something other than 140.6 miles, and most triathletes have yet to become an Ironman. Many never will.

As someone relatively new to the sport, I can safely say that the image outsiders see is that of the 140.6 mile race over the hot lava fields in Hawaii. I was surprised to learn there were lots of alternatives, many of them shorter than the marathons I have already completed. Perhaps it's time to market those shorter events and grow the sport from the ground up. That will be far more successful than attempting to find newbies interested in going the full 140.6 miles.

Junior Freud Needed

A while back I posted about one of my dreams. For those who recall, it was all about showing up at Kona and not actually checking in. There I was on race day without a race number, unsure of where my bike was located, and trying to get checked in as the cannon was sounding.

You'll be pleased to hear that in last night's dream, I had my bike. Apparently I had learned my lesson from the previous dream, and was in Louisville early to get checked in.

But what is the deal with the mattress strapped to the roof of the car?

And why on earth was I carrying extra luggage, mostly full of socks, and trying to sell it on the streets of Louisville?

A little help here. Somebody throw me a bone and clue me in on this one? The last one was easy. But this one? Bonkers.

It's All About the Visualization

Early in my endurance career, my primary focus was on survival. "All I have to do is survive this 1.5 mile run and I'll keep the doctor happy." "If I can survive two laps of my 6.75 mile course, I'll be ready for a half-marathon." "If I can survive all 26.2 miles of this race, I'll be a marathoner."

Survive was a common thread in much of what I did. That carried over to triathlon, too. That was mostly about the swim. Survival isn't always a given when I get into the water.

As I've become more involved and experienced, I've learned to use visualization as a tool to improve form, efficiency, and pace. The first ones I picked up comes from Meb Keflezighi, the US runner who captured silver at the 2004 Athens Olympics. One image he suggests is to imagine you have a hook in the top of your head that pulls up, which helps keep you straight and tall as you run. The second is to imagine sitting on a bike that is a touch too tall, so that your toes barely touch the ground. This helps keep you light on your feet. I've used both visualizations for the past 12 months, and they really have helped.

In my quest to improve my swim, I did some digging for video of proper swim form. Two criteria were very important. First, I wanted to see a variety of angles in a non-competitive format. In other words, I wanted something that was meant to teach. Second, I wanted something more than a 15-second clip.

Before I can begin to use visualizations to tweak my form, I want to make sure I know what good form looks like. So, if this works, here is a video that meets those needs. This is video of Australian Bill Kirby, gold medalist at the 2000 Sydney Olympics.

Blank Page

Hmmmm, writer's block. Or perhaps writer's fog is a better term. You know, those times you have a great concept to discuss. The only thing lacking is the right way to say it. That's where I'm at, right now. It isn't something with which I frequently struggle. Trust me, I usually have something to say, and have little problems saying it.

The title Blank Page is in reference to the way I attempt to approach my training. I have experience in endurance events, and want to avoid the arrogance of saying, "I know how to train." I have experience training for triathlons and have to accept the training would have been more effective if guided by an experienced coach. Going toward Ironman Louisville, I have to be a blank page and allow my coach to write the script. I have editorial discretion, but he's the author. This approach is designed to minimize my tendency to disregard the advice of others because "I know it all."

It is the same with any blog post, research paper, or even major literary efforts. They all begin with a series of blank pages. It takes the efforts of a great many people to ensure success. The author, the editor, the publisher. And, yes, the reader. Without the audience, the pages may as well be blank.

Our triathlon efforts are exactly the same. Whether a newcomer trying a sprint event, a first time Ironman attempt, or a sponsored elite, we all experience the same things. So thank you to everyone who takes time to read these posts. Yes, this is my journey. These are my blank pages. But they are your pages, too. And who knows, perhaps something that fills in the blank space will be exactly what somebody needs to hear.

Excitement, It's Contagious

Much of the excitement around Ironman is focused on the event and the athlete. After months, sometimes years, of training, thousands of triathletes poise at the starting line waiting for the gun to sound. Others, however, share that excitement.

B-Boy called for me after I had put him to bed. I had changed into tri-shorts and a cycling jersey in an effort to get in a short workout on the trainer. Laying in bed, my son asked why I was wearing biking clothes. I pointed out I was trying to train, and that he should be asleep.

He looked at me and asked, "Am I going to be at the finish line with you?" "Yes, you'll be there." One more question. "Will I get to run across the finish line?" "Yes, if you want."

"I do, daddy. I'll go to sleep so you can get ready for the race."

I didn't hear another peep out of his room. With more than 185 days to go, even a 3-year old knows what's coming.

Quality vs. Quantity

Early in my endurance sport career, quantity was all that mattered. After all, if the goal is to run a marathon, mileage is what counts. That changed a little bit after my first half-marathon (the one where more experienced runners expressed concern that I trained for a 13 mile run by running 13.5 miles). Even so, a great deal of the training for my first marathon was also based on sheer quantity of miles.

There were a couple of key outcomes of that approach. First, I spent a great deal of time fighthing issues such as shin splints, back pain, and fatigue. Second, my time was just as easily measured with a calendar as with a stopwatch.

Over time, experience and education have helped me to shift my focus from quantity to quality. Of course, time and mileage are still vital, they just take a back seat to quality. Training sessions are pointless if poor swim, bike, or run form are being reinforced. Included in this is proper bike fit, correct shoes, and appropriate attire and support equipment.

My swim sets from the past two days are a perfect example of quality over quantity. Yesterday's session was scheduled as 4000 yards, with intervals at increasing intensity and decreasing distance. After the first couple hundred yards of warmup, the lifeguards started setting up inflatables for an open swim, and asked if I would move to their meter pool. I was fine with the move, but concerned about the "meter" aspect. I decided to just swim the sets as if they were yards, and make decisions about when to stop closer to the end. I wound up completing all of the sets (total 4355 yards) and felt strong at the end. Tired, but strong. My form was good, and I still felt solid and smooth on the last several hundred meters.

Contrast that with today's swim. 3100 yards with some mixed sets. Easy, moderate, fast, drills, it was all there. After about 2500 yards, my form started to get sloppy. And I called it quits after just under 2700 yards. I hadn't managed to find my form in the 200 yards before ending the session, and it made little sense to practice poor form for another 400 yards. In a race, I'll live with poor form. Training for the race, I'd rather do it right.

The saying is to "Train like you race." Restated, "You'll race like you train." Quality over quantity. It's better to do it right over a shorter distance than to do it wrong for twice as long. Get it right, then increase the distance. That's the way to race.

Speaking of Quality and Quantity, anyone considering a Tri One-O-One event, sent me a note and I'll forward a copy of a discount e-mail I received.

Subtle Hints

I like to think of myself as horribly brilliant. However, I have serious challenges when it comes to catching hints, at times. For example, if you happen to be related to me and want to provide a hint about a birthday or Christmas present, a good approach is to send me a note, call me to remind me about the note, and then send an e-mail to confirm the discussion. At that point, I'll probably remember that I should by you something for Christmas. I'll have no idea what to buy, but I'll get something.

I can be the same way about myself, as well. As I approached high school graduation, I had been doing everything possible to go to college. This despite all the signs that perhaps another path might be more appropriate. God gave me a hard head for a reason. It's a gift. A gift I use regularly. So, God had to resort to some fairly straightforward signs about what I should do with my life. Little things like a broken jaw and a complete lack of money did a good job of redirecting my energies. It took time, but I finally heard what was being said, and now find myself where I should be.

Yet I still find myself prone to missing subtle hints about a variety of things. My plans for last night were to have dinner, get the kids to bed, and do a couple hours on the trainer. Sure, I was tired, but training takes precedence. After all, with Friday being a rest day, I would get to sleep in (all the way until 6 a.m.).

My body apparently had other plans. B-Boy got to stay up a bit late while I got Monster Girl to sleep. After reading a chapter in our book, brushing teeth, and ensuring the required horseplay was completed (last night was a "foot ride" which entails him cruising around the house sitting on my foot), it was off to bed. I laid down to listen to B-Boy's prayers. And woke up two-and-a-half hours later.

At that point, I called the bike workout a bad idea, and crawled into bed. Let's face it, if you pass out on the floor for over two hours, you are either very tired or fairly drunk. It seems my body was trying to tell me something, and I wasn't listening.

Training is important. But we must remember that rest is a part of training and is just as vital as workouts and nutrition. In running, we use a rule of one minute for every mile of training. That means if you are training 30 miles/week, you should be getting 30 minutes of extra rest each night. The same rules apply to triathlon. As training time increases, your daily rest must also increase.

While sometimes challenging, ensure you are giving yourself sufficient opportunity to rest and recover from your training. Injury, illness, and burnout become increasingly likely as we become fatigued. So, as you progress in training, remember to give proper attention to your sleep.

Silly Eardrums

This morning, I accomplished my scheduled swim. It was a doozy, at 3500 yards. The distance, however, is not the source of pride. I finished the 2 mile swim (yes, I did the extra 20 yards to get there) in just under 1:22. The time isn't a source of pride, either (though it is a good pace, for me).

I am proud of myself for completing the entire swim because my earplugs started leaking somewhere around 1700 yards. While many swimmers wear earplugs to minimize motion sickness, I wear them to keep water out of my inner ear. Any time I actually fill my ears with water (such as getting into a pool without plugs), I'm almost guaranteed an ear infection. So, when I started feeling water leaking into my ears, I started planning when to stop.

As I finished that particular 500 yard set, I decided to start the next one, and see how things went. And the next. And the next. Part of me kept saying, "Stop. Getting an ear infection during training is just dumb." Another part said, "You might have to deal with leaking ear plugs in Louisville." The latter voice won out.

While vigilant about potential injuries, I am starting to push myself to complete workouts and meet training goals. That is particularly important in swimming (my limiter) and strength training (the one I'm most likely to blow off). Come August, the option to "cut it short" will be very unpalatable. It's time to train like I'll race. Go the distance, regardless of times. Do the things required for success, even if they are inconvenient or painful. Listen to the coach, because he knows what he's doing.

IM Louisville is about 190 days away. Race season starts well before that. Every day is vital to ensuring I'm prepared for the events that are fast approaching.

Peace and Stuff

There are a lot of changes going on at work, lately. In an effort to better group some of the staff, a lot of office moves are underway. I seem to be at the bottom of the pile, in more ways than one.

At the end of the day, I get to make a very short move (next door) with big implications. While I will be moving, the furniture will be staying. Somehow, I have to figure out how to move from an executive L-shaped desk to a small manager's desk without a return. Apparently, much of my paperwork is about to go from "in my face" to "in some drawer." Too bad, I'm sure that most of it is fairly important.

And the office next to mine is being remodeled. Whatever they are using to prep the walls is sure to have an extremely high street value. All those years spent just saying "No" to sniffing glue are going out the door. In fact, the current Internet radio station of choice is playing hippy tunes from the 60s and 70s. I'm just waiting for a tie-dyed VW Bus to go rolling down the hallway.

Hey, what's a little glycol ether among friends, right? Peace, man. Spread the love.

Leader of the Pack

As athletes, we all face requests for donations to various charitable organizations. Frequently, we have our own fundraising goals or pet projects. It can be a real balancing act determining where to send our contributions while ensuring we don't break the bank. And sometimes, the decision is easy.

Greyhound is doing the BP MS 150 to raise funds for multiple sclerosis research. For him, it is personal, as his wife battles MS every day. Having an aunt who has lived with MS for the better part of 20 years, I understand the desire to help raise funds. These funds have led to developments The Pack Leader benefits from every day. See Greyhound's post, as he does a much better job of telling the story.

As triathletes, we understand that huge things can be accomplished with small steps. By making enough small deposits into an Ironman account, we manage to complete a race many would consider impossible. If we all help out with a small step, Grey can reach his fundraising goal and the National MS Society can take more steps towards finding a cure. You can support Grey by making a contribution here, or by visiting his site and clicking the banner in his sidebar.

Going in Circles

Training for a triathlon is demanding and takes a great deal of discipline and dedication. Whether that first sprint race, an Olympic distance event, or Ironman, the concept is the same. All that changes is the time and distance put in during training. Of course, Ironman events require an extensive training program, and sometimes call for training to be performed during cold, dark, winter days.

That is where I find myself, at the moment. Sub-zero temperatures are far from conducive to biking, so I'm relegated to the basement, spinning on the trainer. This has its positives and its negatives. On the negative side is the lack of real life circumstances. There is no wind, hills are simulated, and the bike is locked into a single position. Of course, this is all offset by the television. Let's face it, training for Ironman puts a serious dent in T.V. time. But shows can be justified if it's all in the name of training. "I'll be up right after this episode of The Dead Zone. No, really. I'm SUPPOSED to train for 3 hours, today."

The sheer volume and frequency of swim workouts has called for some flexibility when it comes to both time and location of those sessions. I've found myself swimming in circles in just about every YMCA in the Fox Valley. Fortunately, most are within 10-15 minutes of home, and all are part of the same organization. And unlike Virginia Beach locations, all have towel service.

And then there's the real challenge. Running. So far, at least, the runs on my schedule have been straightforward and short. The weather, however, has been uncooperative. Ten miles is easy enough. Ten miles with snow on the ground, still okay. Ten miles with real temperatures in the negative column (and wind chills in the horribly negative category), less exciting.

So, it has been more "off to the Y" for me. And only the very real risk of severe hypothermia and/or frostbite will lead me to run 110 laps on the track. Swimming in circles is boring enough, but at least the risk of drowning helps keep me focused. Running in circles, just blah!

At the end of the week, month, and, most importantly, August, it will all come to a point. If I've completed enough circles, I'll have enough in the bank to go the distance in Louisville. And there won't be anything boring about that.

Look Both Ways

At just about any given time, somebody looking at my race schedule will see something on the horizon. While I can train without an upcoming event, paid registrations have always been the best motivation. Whether $15 for a local 1oK or $450 for Ironman Louisville, the result is the same. Money spent equals training accomplished.

Perhaps it is a function of the first marathon I ever completed. After a year of ribbing from a co-worker, I took a leap of faith and registered for a race I wasn't sure I could complete. If nothing else, signing up allowed me to go, "See, I'm entered." Even if I failed to finish, at least I had signed up.

Or maybe it's just that races give me a goal. A target for which to shoot. Winning isn't really a likelihood, but there's always a PR. Or a new distance. A race I've never completed. Something new to say I've accomplished.

I've rarely looked back, though. Once the race is completed, it's history. Finisher's Medals accumulate dust in a box. Race shirts wind up as sleeping attire. And race day anecdotes only come up when someone asks. The memorabilia from my biggest race to date, The Chicago Marathon, went into a display that was shipped to the cancer survivor for whom I ran the race. It's all just stuff.

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to see the videos put together by Tac Boy documenting the Tri Blog Alliance at IM Florida. Watching it, I realized that IM Louisville is going to fall into an entirely different category. The journey is longer. The demands are greater. The personal investment is much greater. *Nancy Toby asked if I was implying IM Louisville is somehow longer or more difficult than IM Florida. I see now that I poorly placed my statement. The intent was to compare IM with my previous events, not IMKY with IMFL. Dang! I've revealed the secret that I am, apparently, only human.*

And it appears there will be a slightly larger audience for this trip. And in August, a new reader might just ask the question, "What's all the hype about? What have I missed." So, I'm going to try and start documenting a bit more of this journey in pictures. Pictures of training, before and after pictures, and race day pictures.

Those of you who are on the same journey should consider the same thing. Just as Kahuna, Tac Boy, and a multitude of others put together the Tri Blog Alliance presentations, we can put together an "Ice Breaker" show for when we get together in Louisville. And if we're lucky, we'll have someone of Tac's caliber to document race day.

Because someday we'll want to be able to look back and say, "See, see what I did!"

TBC Finds Fixes Blogger Misses

Okay, between Nytro and Flo, at least one of the major bugs of "new" blogger can be resolved. Spread the word, because most are still lost on this one. Blogger is included in "most" as they are clueless to the problem. This is evidenced by the fact that none of the requests for help on this issue from the past six months has had a single response.

The issue at hand is the "No Reply@blogger.com" addresses in e-mails resulting from comments. Both have offered information that may help resolve any challenges posed by blogger.

Nytro addressed an address issue in a previously mentioned post. Though my address wasn't altered, apparently some addresses are changed to gmail.com extensions or removed entirely. This results in incorrect or no address being used. This can be corrected in your profile.

Flo pointed out that the beta version requires each of us to select whether an e-mail address is shown. It doesn't specifically mention it, but this is the item that determines whether your e-mail address is shown on comment messages. You can set this in your profile, as well.

Thanks to these two for identifying an issue and sharing it with the world. I am baffled as to why blogger/google admin types haven't offered this assistance. That's okay, though. We know the TBC is the best in the world.

Ketchup

Sometimes, the hardest advice to follow is our own. Those of you who have been reading my posts and comments for some time are aware that I am quick to let anyone know that a few days off for illness or injury is better than pushing too hard and causing further damage. I truly believe that. I'm just terrible at heeding my own warnings.

So, when Saturday's swim wiped me out and opened a chink in my armor, I was faced with some tough decisions. Sunday, I had an hour run scheduled, as well as a meeting of our local triathlon club. After church, I took the opportunity to get a nap and try to break the fever that had been plaguing me since the swim. I quickly decided that the meeting was out, and abandoned the run as a bad idea. It's tough to run when you're sleeping and covered with all kinds of blankets.

After a couple hour's rest, I woke up and threw on my cycling clothes. The fever had almost broke, so what harm was there in a simple spin on the trainer (Power Intervals DVD). That would be at least something in the trianing log.

By half-time of the Super Bowl, I knew that a long swim Monday morning wasn't going to happen. Frustrating as that was, I yielded to common sense (and my wife mentioning she would unplug the alarm clock if I set it for 4:30). I also opted out of Tuesday's training sessions. Wednesday, I switched my swim for a one-hour run. While still exercise, I was at least out of the water.

That still leaves me playing catch-up for the week. Though I know I'll be unable to get back all the training, I'm trying to get some quality workouts in, now that I'm feeling somewhat better.

This morning, I did the scheduled 1000 yard swim. I was going to skip it, until I saw it was only 1000 yards. The short swim gave me time to get some strength training in, as well. Tonight, I'm doing a bike session that was moved from Monday. By the end of the day, I'll basically be short two swims. Long ones, but only two swims. I'll take that after being down for three days.

At the end of the day, we have to be willing to listen to our bodies. They are extremely accurate when it comes to identifying the need for rest. And this time of year tends to find us fighting any of a wide range of health issues.

Training is important. Just remember to listen to your body as it provides feedback about your health. There is little to gain by struggling through a workout because we're too stubborn to admit we might be sick or injured.

Blogger Proves Their Blow Factor

Well, Blogger proved just how idiotic they could become. As they continue to struggle with the bugs, errors, faults, and complaints about Blogger Beta (call it what they want), I came across this, today.

Bloggers,
We've been giving you warnings. The signs have been there. Preparations have been made. Now, it's time!
That's right, it's time to embrace the new version of Blogger! Starting today, a small percentage of users who log in to an old Blogger account will be required to move to the new version. This involves moving your current Blogger account to a new or existing Google Account. After the move, you will need to log in to Blogger with your Google Account username, which is always the email address associated with your account. If you're one of the lucky folks who is prompted to move your account over to the new version of Blogger, you'll be able to postpone this process once (and only once) if you *really* need to get a post out of your head or want to say goodbye to the old Blogger. After that, it's time to befriend the new Blogger!

This explains those who have indicated that they were forced to switch. Now, I too fell prey to their lack of forethought. Of course, I saw it coming and, faced with various options, chose to wait them out. I had hoped they would leave the true blue blogger up and running until the issues plaguing their beta were resolved.

No such luck. So, we'll have to do the work for them. See Nytro's post to resolve at least the e-mail issue. Hopefully, others will come up with fixes for other issues. Now, it's off to see if I was luckier than Bold (who lost a sizable chunk of his pictures when they converted his page).

Time Keeps on Drifting

Take a peek at the countdown timer on the sidebar. Go ahead, don't be scared. Well, maybe a little, especially if you are one of the lucky participants registered for IM Louisville.

It's amazing how the simple move from 201 to 199 changes perspectives. When the clock read 201, there was all the time in the world to train. It was no big deal that swimming 4600 yards took enough out of me to lower my resistance and let me get sick. With 199 days, missing a few days training because of that illness is driving me batty.

When the race was 201 days out, having little more than rumors and broad generalities about the course was a minor issue. Now that we're down to 199 days, missing this vital information is nerve wracking. How do we train for a race that is just around the corner when we don't even know what the course looks like?

With 201 days to race day, I wasn't too concerned that the lake has a big sheet of ice on it, making it difficult to test my new wetsuit. With 199 days left, I'm doomed to wonder if spring will ever arrive and push the ice downriver.

There is, however, good news. I have a coach who also knows there are only 199 days until race day. And he has a plan to give me the tools to get from the starting line to the finish line within the 17 hour limit. This eases the "199 days" concerns in two ways. First, the advice provided prior to even being an official trainee paid huge dividends. Second, Coach Mike has had great success with triathletes at all levels. I trust his experience and my abilities. Though time keeps on drifting, 199 is enough, for today. Tomorrow, 198 will have to do.

The Sounds of Silence

My blog/tri sister Veeg just sent a note indicating she was having some issues with the site, and she estimated it was due to the music. So, we're going to see if the strong, silent type blog is more to her computer's liking.

Besides, I haven't come across a particularly motivating song in a few days.

Training has taken a hit the last few days as I battle a bug. It's something I've been holding at bay for a week or so (the kids have been struggling with it, as well). After Saturday's long swim, I was so tired that my body finally gave in. So, a couple day's rest were in order. Not desired, appreciated, or expected. But needed.

One for the Corps

In the Stanley Kubrick film "Full Metal Jacket," former Marine R. Lee Ermey plays the hardcore drill instructor Gunnery Sergeant Hartman. His portrayal of a tough Marine molding young men into "killing machines" earned him a Golden Globe nomination.

In one scene, Hartman is attempting to "motivate" one of his privates to complete pullups. He asks for one for the Commandant, and then one for the Corps (his "beloved Marine Corps"). When the private is unable to complete the last pullup, Hartman barks, "Well, I guess the Corps doesn't get their's." As I came to the end of my long swim, this weekend, that is what was running through my head. After completing what I believed was 4500 yards, I dug deep to do an extra 100 yards, just in case I had messed up somewhere along the line.

I had gotten everything correctly. For that swim, the Corps got their's. 4600 yards completed in 1:46 and change. As I climbed out of the pool, I felt like I had just spent an hour getting cycled by Senior DI Hartman. Few events in Navy bootcamp pushed my limits as this swim did.

There is a lot to be learned from pushing ourselves, and testing our limits. We grow the most when we are at the bounds of our abilities. I can learn about myself from a 500 yard swim. I learn more when another zero is added. The same can be said for the bike and the run. We improve ourselves in our routine, daily training. We learn about ourselves when we go outside the bounds we thing limit us.

And just like in boot camp, we have to leave a bit of ourselves behind. That part that says "I can't do this" or "This is too hard." If we those gremlins with us, they'll bite us in the butt come race day.

The 4500

A few years back The USA Network came out with a show called "The 4400." The premise of the show is that 4400 individuals abducted by aliens suddenly return to earth, each with amazing new ability. Of course, that's relatively superflous, as all I'm really interested in is the number.

That's because 4400 yards is exactly 2.5 miles. It is also the longest swim I have ever completed to date. And most people reading this understand the journey from 100 yards to 2.5 miles. On Saturday, the plan is to make 4400 the second furthest distance I've ever swam.

And this 4500 will be a different creature than my first 2.5 mile swim. Though it is still scheduled to be a straight swim (no rest intervals), it is a mixed set of swim, drill, and speedwork. Keeping everthing straight as I swim should be interesting. The main set is something like this:

300 at time trial pace MINUS 3 seconds, 100 drill, 100 fast, 50 non-free. So, for 300 yards, I have to exceed my time trial pace. Add in the 50 non-free, and I'm sure to be feeling it by the end of the workout. Even so, I'm actually looking forward to getting this done. Like a 20-mile training run, I see these 2.5 mile swims as confidence builders for Ironman. I will definitely be pulling that card out on race day. "Hey, you've done this x number of times, already. And that was without a wetsuit."

I think this has to be one of the serious benefits of having a coach. I've always tried to have good plans, and I've always tried to complete the big training goals. Having a coach to help make sure it all falls together in the right way is sure to pay huge dividends.

So, coached or winging it, get out and get your training in, this weekend. Race season is fast approaching. Whether 2 weeks or 200 days, will you be ready?

Tag - I'm It!

Tag sort of things generally get blown off when they hit my computer. I don't forward the "bad things will happen if you break the chain" chain letters. Jokes languish in the hell that is my Deleted folder (unless they're are TOTALLY hilarious and fitting, then I forward to whomever is most applicable). And any hoax sent my direction gets sent right back with a link to whatever website debunks the myth.

I will, however, yield this one time. First, Lisa in Madison is the one who tagged me. She just completed her first marathon, so she deserves some kudos. Second, Veeg showed some link love when she responded to the same list. Finally, I need something to cover up the rant (see previous post). Rants are all fine and dandy, but they don't count as real posts, in my book.

1. Describe a memory from your first triathlon.

Let's see, that would be the sprint race that was scheduled as a 220-yd swim, 15 mile bike, and 5K run. It turned into a 220-yd swim, 7 mile bike, 7 mile run, 1 mile bike, 5K run. Yes, I know, that's an odd way to do a race. That's what happens when the chain on your brand new bike breaks with only 8 miles on it. Running seven miles of the bike portion of a race while barefoot will leave an impression on most people.

2. Describe a memory from your most recent triathlon.

I ran a sprint tri in place of a training partner's girlfriend. I found out Friday night that I was racing on Saturday. I happen to have biked to and from work that Friday (56 miles total), and my goggles were in my transition bag, which was at the office.

3. What is the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you in a tri?

If anyone missed item one, that would have to take the cake. Let's face it, a racer comes riding into T2 on a different bike than when he left T1. With no shoes. And black feet. Dead last. Yeah, that was special.

4. What's the most thrilling thing that's ever happened in a triathlon?

Most my "thrilling" moments were before or after races. In my first triathlon (see 1, above), I won a $25 gift certificate to a sports store because I had the guts to finish the race, despite the broken chain. At my second race, I got to meet Sarah Reinertsen and Veeg. And in every race, it's awesome to see my kids at various points around the course.

5. What is something I've learned about myself doing triathlons?

First, I can, in fact, swim more than 250 yards. Second, I have a slight "go for it all" disorder.

6. What is the BIG goal toward which I am working?

The finish line of Ironman Louisville, before 11:59 p.m. on August 26, 2007. My other huge goal is to get my youth triathlon project rolling along smartly. We have 50 kids interested, and we're working on additional funding to pay for the project. Introducing 50 youth to the sport of triathlon will probably mean more than finishing in Louisville.

Beta - It's a Good Thing - A Rant

Well, I'm glad Blogger has made the announcement that their "Beta" version is now the NEW Blogger, instead of a beta.

Too bad their no-longer-a-beta-because-it's-working-so-well system seems to be broke, again. Perhaps they can remove the little "x" they put over the "beta" on their pages and announce they're back in beta testing.

There's just something about attempting to post a comment and having the system tell you that you have to log in, even if you are logged in. And then say that you have to enter a verification code, only to have that code not be shown. Or to have your comment entirely blown away because the comment section says you had a required field left blank, even if there were no fields in the first place.

Ah, non-beta-betas. They're such fun. Okay, rant over.

Tougher Than Iron

Many people hearing about a quest to complete an Ironman race conclude it will be the toughest challenge the triathlete will face in life. And certainly the prospect of completing the entire 140.6 mile race in the alloted 17 hours is a significant undertaking. Individually, none of the disciplines gives me pause. Completing a marathon after a 2.4 mile swim and 112 mile bike, that's another story.

Even so, finishing in Louisville will rank no higher than second on my list of life challenges. That's because I'm a parent. And the stakes are so much higher in parenting than in any triathlon. That's because the cost of failure in a race is minimal. Sure, there's the long hours of training. Yes, the entry fee is high. And, of course, my ego might take a hit if I miss a cutoff.

But that's it. I train, anyway, so that's no real cost. Race fees are at risk as soon as they are paid. And my ego is neither so elevated nor so sensitive that a DNF will be that big an issue.

Parenting, though, that has real impact. And there aren't clean little 24-week training plans for parenting. It's a lifelong workout. And the stakes, well, they're astronomical. And there's no telling when a parent will be asked to pay the piper, though it is safe to assume it will be pretty much every day.

The past few days have been a struggle with our son. His late night (well, really early morning) antics have led to a very grumpy boy during the daytime. Emerging independence is pitted against the desire to be the baby. Opposition to potty training has run headlong into a dislike of diapers. "I can do it myself" turns into "You do it for me." And a growing sense of self sometimes voices itself inappropriately.

This is where the balancing act of the triathlon lifestyle comes into play. And the discipline to continue training when things go badly at night. There will always be those times when it is just easier to turn off the alarm. Then again, will the extra hour sleep REALLY provide a benefit?

Last night, I found that the desire to get more sleep once again outweighed by the need to make sure my son was alright after calming down. And I left the alarm alone. Because an extra hour of sleep helps less than another 2500 yards in the pool.

Madness

Some would say that attempting to complete an Ironman is madness.

I say it is one step beyond.

Swimming and Math

Okay, it's a fairly well known fact that swimming is my limiter. It's also rumored that math, which is one of my strengths, mixes poorly with swimming. I've been known to forget to breathe when I'm trying to figure out laps, lengths, sets, and other such nonsense. What usually happens is the math interferes with counting arm revolutions, and I never get to four (and breathe). I'm fairly certain I've done entire lengths of the pool without a single breath as I attempt to figure out how many lengths I have likely completed, and whether I'm on the second lap of my second 400 or the first lap of the fourth.

Lifeguards generally start following me around with poles about that point. They know what's coming. Somewhere around the second length, math starts getting difficult as oxygen deprivation sets in.

So, this morning, my scheduled swim reads like something needed to put man on the moon. WU 400, 6x50 with each 50 faster, 4x 400 on 20/15/10/5 rest, 200 ez swim, 6x75 with last 25 sprint on odd, last 50 sprint on even, 200 CD. Things were going along, well, swimmingly until my printout vanished during one of the 400 intervals.

Of course, there was a lot of math going on, mostly about which lap of which interval I was on. It's quite possible the previously mentioned lack of oxygen became a factor and I ate the printout somewhere along the line. Or perhaps someone forgot their workout and was masochistic enough to try mine.

So, I started to go off memory. Only, lack of oxygen does odd things to the memory. Now, I'm trying to do math, count laps, AND remember exactly how much of what I'm supposed to be doing. I muddled through the workout, and left VERY concerned. This was a 3000 yard workout, and I have a 3200 yard session scheduled tomorrow.

The outlook for my actually making it to work on time after a 3200 yard swim was bleak until I got the lap information off my watch. First, I added an extra 50 yards at the end of the swim (don't ask, because I don't know). In addition, the 6x75 became 8x75, likely because I did all that math and knew that 6x75 is 450, and I was definitely swimming 3000. I didn't have any other odd 50's in there, so knew 450 was bad. So, my 3000 yard swim came out to a nice round 3275 yards. The silver lining is that tomorrow's 3200 yard swim will be easier than today's.

Note to self: Write down which lap corresponds to which set in the workout. Reading is much easier than math.

Bugged

Well, it finally hit. B-Boy was sick a while back, and he still sounds like he's coughing up a lung, sometimes. Monster Girl succumbed fairly quickly and has been the worse for it for about a week and a half, now. She bears the brunt because she can't blow her nose. That means she faces the suction bulb. I know a lady who used one on herself just to see what the kids experience. She said it sucked, literally and figuratively.

I resisted the bug for quite some time, getting my training sessions in and doing well. This morning, before the alarm ever went off, I knew an hour run was unlikely. So, I opted to get a bit more sleep and see if I can get the run (or at least an hour on the bike trainer) completed, tonight.

The worst part is that events at work make a sick day out of the question. I believe that if I'm sick enough to miss a training session I'm sick enough to miss work. Since I'm at work, I have to get the training in, somehow.

And once I'm all better and reenergized, I'll post something more interesting. Until then, it's the sick baby blues.

Whooda Thunk?

Things I never thought I'd say or do in the pool:

1. Just 2000 yards, today

2. I'm just swimming too fast

3. Find myself swimming SO slowly I focused on form issues, only to find the minor changes were making me go faster (which was already a problem, see 2)

4. Talking with other swimmers because 20 seconds rest interval is just TOO long

And now for something completely different...

B-Boy on the slide

B-Boy and Grandpa B

My babies at the beach

My Strength is My Weakness

I have long thought that swimming was my weakest discipline in triathlon. Biking has long been a hobby of mine, and even after years away from the sport it was easy to hop back in the saddle and hammer out 40-50 miles. While far from an Armstrong or a Basso, I do alright on long rides and know many of the areas in need of improvement.

Running is much the same. I won't be winning any marathons, and I have lots of room for improvement. Even so, I have thousands of miles behind me and have gained a lot of knowledge over the past several years of marathoning. And I can run 15-20 miles on the spur of the moment and suffer few ill effects the following day.

Anyone with minimal exposure to this site knows that swimming is an entirely different story. Even the smallest gain takes a lot of effort. I know just enough to realize how much improvement is needed. I have long accepted that swimming is the weakest link in my iron chain.

Until this past week. One session in the weight room proved that my strength is my weakness. Coach Mike gave me a fairly straightforward strength session including his beginner (you know, the wee baby stuff) core workout. The freeweight portions were easy enough. Four years of football provided sufficient background to accomplish that. The core workout, that was another story.

His plan was for me to complete two sets of his Core Set I. I completed only one. Well, one if we are fairly liberal with the term "complete." It was a killer. Mind you, he also has Core II through Core VI. Like I said, this was like the kindergarten workout, like playing kickball.

I completed that one set, and knew I was wiped out. The next morning, I had proof when I went to get out of bed. My stomach revolted, filed a grievance with the union, and left the building for a smoke break. Today, four days since that workout, and my stomach is still feeling the effects of that workout.

That leads me to the conclusion that my strength is, in fact, my weakness. So, sore tummy or not, I'll be putting a solid emphasis on the workouts provided by Mike. And those core workouts, they're my new nemesis. And like any good nemesis, they must be thrown down. They must be shown that I'm tougher than they. It's likely to hurt. But it's also sure to help.

So, if you can't find me in the pool, check out the weight room. I just might be hanging out with my new friend, the Fitball.

Disco Death and the Wrong Y

Okay, I'm on vacation and attended a wedding, yesterday. After the wedding and reception, we found out that many from the party were going to hit a local dance club. As it is a club I frequented quite a bit in my "younger" years, I made an exception to my 9 p.m. bedtime and headed to the club at 11 p.m.

When we arrived, it was easy to see how 10 years can change a joint. My memories of the club included bands like The Ramones, Agent Orange, and various ska bands. What we walked into was straight out of the hip-hop manual. Well that, and something bordering on a gentleman's club (the scantily clad women dancing in the "don't touch me" box.

While I listen to a wide variety of music, including various hip-hop styles, it is far from the music I prefer when dancing. Then again, perhaps I'm just getting old.

In training news, I have commenced the plan provided by Coach Mike Ricci at D3 Multisport. Having a formalized plan is great. Starting it at a "foreign" YMCA, not so much.

As the entire Pol family is in Virginia, I had to find a local Y for my swims. I hit the nearest facility for that first swim, and found what can only be described as a very short pool. It can only be described that way because in two days and six staff members, nobody has been able to tell me the exact length. My guess is 20 yards. Making 71 turns for a mile is bad enough. Making 87 is just that much worse.

Add to that the lack of towel service (which I didn't know the first day = I drove home fairly wet), and I wasn't impressed with everything. I am, however, the visitor, so I adapted. I took a towel and wrote down the lengths needed for each portion of today's session, and all went much better.

So, a training plan has been born, and a favorite disco has passed on to a new life. What was it Elton John sang for The Lion King...

Oh yeah, The Circle of Life.

Benefits of Training

George Schweitzer has an entire series of posts titled Reasons to be Athletic. Most are lighthearted observations about the benefits of training, and all provide insight into some of the reasons people do train. Next to his race reports, these are some of his best posts. By the way, if you're looking for information about races or trying to benefit from what others have done, definitely read George's race reports. They are a wealth of knowledge and tips.

Last night, I had my own "benefits of training" moment. And it all centers on owning a car with over 100,000 miles. That's because there's this thing called 90,000 mile maintenance. It's a big one. Between the maintenance and a few recall issues, the dealer had my vehicle for two days. And when I got it back, all was well. Okay, all was well until outside temperatures became more winter-like. One brisk morning, as I headed to the pool and then work, it became very apparent that things were less than perfect in the heat category. As in "wow, it's taking a long time to warm the car up" turning into, "ummm, that's awfully cold air my vents are blowing" type imperfect.

Fortunately, my dad was available to get me from the dealer to the Boys' and Girls' Brigade where I lead a group of 8th graders. That, however, left me to my own devices for getting back to the car. When the program ended at nine, I headed out the door. My options were to have my wife pick me up (with the requisite bundling up of children), or put all this training to good use AND get in an impromptu run workout.

So, I headed out the door and started running. I'm sure many people questioned my sanity. It was cold. It was late. And I was running. I, however, very honestly viewed it as a short jog to get my car. And it was short. Probably 1.5 miles. I did it in 10 minutes and never broke a sweat. Remember, it's COLD. Five years ago, the Navy could barely get me to jog 1. 5 miles as part of the mandatory physical readiness test. Today, it isn't even a warmup.

Add it to the list of reasons to be athletic.

Daddy DoIt!

Prior to the birth of my son in 2003, I had changed exactly one diaper. That was during a visit by my sister with her daughter. That was only because of a leaky diaper emergency. As my sister was about to leave my house to catch a flight home, she picked up her napping daughter only to find out the diaper was leaking (mostly onto my sister's skirt). She handed the baby to me and ran from the room to wash off her skirt.

She left me, as it were, holding the bag. Only the bag was my niece. And no amount of holding was going to keep that diaper from leaking, now onto my couch and carpeting. That's where fireplace mats come in handy.

Oh, I changed the diaper. It even stayed on when I picked her back up. Only minor corrections were required when my sister returned. The miracle of disposable diapers. Thank goodness no clothing changes were required.

The limits of my knowledge of all things baby came to light when I made my first attempt to change my son in the hospital. As he was born by C-Section, Mrs. Pol was limited in her ability to help me at that exact moment. No worries, Super Dad can handle anything. Well, perhaps most anything. Okay, maybe exactly NOTHING that needed handling at that specific moment. That's okay. That's what nurses are for. They are experts at taking pictures of a new dad trying to change a baby for the first time. And then stepping in to provide some much needed guidance.

Given the ineptitude of that first attempt at changing our baby, it is amazing how both of my children now react. When we arrive anywhere in our car, cries of "Daddy do it" can be heard emanating from the back seat. That is my son requesting (okay, demanding) that only daddy can let him out of his car seat. When it is time for bed, the call of "Daddy do it" reaches my ears, letting me know that mom isn't allowed to put B-Boy down for the evening.

And in the middle of the night, when bad dreams or a wet diaper have awoken him, the plaintive wail of "Daddy" lets me know that I am needed.

Of course, when daddy is nowhere to be found, mommy is the only acceptable substitute and she must handle any and all needs. And if the kids can be convinced that daddy is otherwise tied up, sick, dead, or missing, she can take care of them, as well.

This morning, as I headed from the nursery (where I answered a "Daddy do it") to take a shower, I was intercepted by Monster Girl. She has started to adopt some of B-Boy's more endearing qualities. Namely, she's a daddy's girl. The melt down that resulted from her being unable to join me in the shower was heart rending.

It's good to know my children love me. I know that in time they will become more distant and I will yearn for "the good old days." And "Daddy do it" is something they will always seek. But sometimes, just sometimes, I await the time I hear "Mommy do it."

Can I Jump in the Mix

A few of you out there are familiar with my previous secret identity, Running Pol. Prior to the challenge to attempt a triathlon, Running Pol lived a double life engaging both marathon training and political issues. I had readers from both walks of life, and a few who share my passion for both. As triathlons entered the mix, I decided to leave politics and debate out of the picture. Well, mostly.

Sometimes, however, a situation requires attention. Nancy Toby posted an entry that has generated quite a bit of feedback. Oddly enough, it also generated some publicity. The author of the article to which she refers, Michael Boyle, caught wind of her post and a public relations campaign ensued. I'm unsure if everyone who posted a comment received e-mails, but the support team at Boyles' forum has sent me a couple, primarily aimed at defending the lack of communications channels with Mr. Boyle.

Mr. Boyle, showing great respect for Nancy's arguments, felt justified in posting a response on his column. Unfortunately, he didn't have enough respect to provide a link to Nancy's site. He then proceeds to throw logic flaw after logic flaw out in an attempt to defend his rather tenuous position.

Mr. Boyle provides this explanation for why Nancy responded negatively to his original post, "Oftentimes people read what they want to read. They interpret it through a personal lens. Nancy took my article as an attack on her and those like her." He assumes that a great deal of interpretation was done while reading his column. If there is, he must also note that every comment I've seen came to the same conclusion. Either we are all poor at understanding what we read, or his column conveyed the wrong message. The message I received, though take with a grain of salt, is that he feels women are constructed poorly for participation in running events. While I will agree that men and women are constructed differently, I've had my butt kicked in marathons by too many women, many of whom he would encourage to not even run.

Want a nice red-herring argument? Here's one from Mr. Boyle. "The reality is that whether you are male or female, endurance-athlete training can lead to overuse injury. My point is that the female body type puts them at greater risk. Was my article intended to be a chauvinist rant aimed at demeaning women? No, exactly the opposite. It was meant as a word to the wise."

Okay, first, anyone who approaches endurance training without a healthy respect for the risks inherent with any exercise may be putting themselves in jeopardy. His "word to the wise," however, isn't that women (and men) should exercise caution in training. He states that most women shouldn't run. His comment, not mine.

Did you like that logic flaw? Why not go for two. Another quote from Mr. Boyle. "Here is another interesting thought for which I have only anecdotal support. The running and aerobics boom of the late seventies corresponded directly with a huge boom in the practice of physical therapy. More exercise led to more injuries in our more-is-better world. People weren't happy with a run. It had to be a Marathon."

This doesn't even qualify as anecdotal. Without statistical analysis, we can't even be sure that his comments are correlated. He wants to claim that the physical therapy boom of the 70s is a result of the running and aerobics boom. While that might have a causal relation to poor mechanics, I would contend a significant amount of research would be needed to prove that. First, it is likely that both men and women were seeking therapy, pulling support from his "women shouldn't run" theory. Second, there are a great many other variables that might be the cause of the physical therapy boom. Factors such as marketing and new diagnostic techniques likely helped fuel the surge.

What is most interesting to me is that Mr. Boyle continues to hide behind his support crew. The e-mail responses I received from my comment indicated he is too busy to personally handle all direct e-mail. With all the red herring floating around his column, I shouldn't be surprised to see them in e-mails. First, you can still have an assistant sort through personal mail. Second, he is authoring in a public forum. If he is unable or unwilling to deal with feedback, both positive and negative, perhaps he should stick to coaching those who find his arguments valid. He's welcome to his opinion. He just shouldn't expect others to suppress their's.

Party of Three

IM The Ville promises to be an exciting event. From the obvious "it's an Ironman" to the mundane "it's a vacation," it promises to be an awesome party. Today, the Iron Pol party grew by one. I found the time to get over to the blog of another mid-westerner who will be participating in the inaugural race.

Her name is Iron Snoopy. And her profile picture is awesome. Really, go by and check it out. And when you do, leave her some comment love, because she's racing Louisville and I consider her my newest teammate. And she's in my age group, running her first Ironman, so we have a few things in common.

More importantly, she knows about Appleton Rum. And anyone familiar with that is okay in my book. I've been known to climb to the top of palm trees just to win a bottle of Appleton rum. Okay, it might have been ANY rum at the time, but it wound up being Appleton rum.

*Side note- climbing a palm tree is far easier than getting down from a palm tree. Consider that a public service announcement from your friends at Iron Pol.

So, Iron Snoopy has been linked, and we'll be tracking her progress and hoping to meet up as race day approaches. And judging from her site, she'll do awesome.

Condensed Version

Training for endurance events is often affected by the events in life. Kids get sick, spouses have meetings, and other demands place a strain on the hours available for training. Injury or illness can wreak havoc on plans. But who knew that a former home-owner could create so many difficulties?

It goes something like this...

Mrs. Pol called me at work a short while back to notify me that the house was a brisk 58F. While we like to conserve energy (okay, money), that's a bit cool for our taste, particularly with the children in the house. So, I headed home from work to look into it. While I wasn't able to resolve the issue immediately, I did get the furnace working without a visit from the HVAC mafia. Sometimes, it's good to work with dozens of engineers specializing in dryer equipment.

Things moved along well until Christmas Eve, when the temperature in the house again dropped below 60F. Armed with the prior knowledge gleaned from co-workers, I took apart the entire furnace condensate system and found out that the drain line was filling up with water, causing all sorts of issues in the furnace's safety systems. While a condensate pump was clearly in order, a bucket sufficed for the holidays.

Last night, I picked up a condensate pump and PVC piping in order to put a more permanent fix in place. After figuring out how the PVC pipe would be layed out, I broke out a blow dryer to start work (blow dryer plus PVC pipe = no fittings needed). I plugged the blow dryer into the outlet on the furnace, previously used for an April Aire system. And got nothing. Hmmm, check the other outlet. Equal nothingness.

This is where the former home-owner comes into the picture. It seems somebody had a penchant for wiring electrical components in what can only be termed a half-assed manner (sorry Mom, it is what it is). My 30-minute task of bending some pipe and plugging in a pump turned into a several hour affair of rewiring the electrical going into my furnace. Thanks former home-owner.

After getting everything into a stable condition and hooking the condensate pump discharge up through a temporary hose, I got to bed VERY late (okay, 11:30 p.m., which is like early morning for me). Between that and Monster Girl screaming for food, I was wiped when I headed out for training in the morning.

Which led to my work clothes staying on the garage door knob instead of going to my car. Which led to my getting to the YMCA for a swim and heading right back home.

I decided to spin on the trainer instead of going back for the swim. It appears I'll be swimming in the Water Aerobics Wave Pool, tomorrow. Ahhh, training.

The Year of the Ironman

The Chinese zodiac uses a 12-year cycle representing a cyclical concept of time. With each year represented by an animal, the Chinese zodiac can be much more useful than the moon signs utilitzed in much of the world. In addition to offering broadly general personality traits, knowledge of an animal signs allows for fairly accurate guesses at an individuals age without asking the taboo question, "How old are you?"

Born in 1968, I am a monkey. If you ask my mother, she will tell you, I'm a monkey regardless of what year I was born. Of course, I think that has less to do with personality traits assigned by a zodiac chart and more to do with an odd penchant for climbing anything with handholds. Then again, monkeys are far less prone to falling (and the associated broken limbs) than I.

2007 is the year of the boar or pig. People born in the year of the pig are extremely dedicated. They put all their strength into any effort the undertake. Retreat is rarely an option. And when you befriend a boar, you have a friend for life.

While I have little control over the Chinese zodiac, I am declaring 2007 to be The Year of the Ironman. Ironmen, and those pursuing that goal, have many of the traits exhibited by boars. They are extremely dedicated, see obstacles as something to be overcome, and are fast friends once you've managed to divert some of their attention away from training.

In addition, the Ironman is extremely disciplined and organized. Even the most disorganized Ironman is capable of juggling training, family, work, and other commitments for many months at a time. The Ironman is often up long before the sun rises and generally completes more training before sunup than many complete in an entire day (or week).

And for me, 2007 is the year I will become an Ironman. It is fitting that this be accomplished in the year of the pig. So, join me in making 2007 the Year of the Ironman. Our impact on Chinese culture may be minimal, but we can certainly share the fire of our pursuit with others.