Cycling Camp

"Cycling overload phase begins this weekend!"

My training log brightly pronounced on January 26.  I had watched other teammates go through "run camp" and "swim camp" and wondered what exactly was involved in this, and why wasn't I going through camp?  Now I was going to get some first hand knowledge as I entered my very own cycling camp.

I embraced the training and the ability to get stronger and faster for Ironman Texas which is quickly approaching!!  Right away, my group ride got rained out and I ended up with a 3 hour trainer ride full of big gear intervals and things that immediately made me wish for death upon myself.  I pronounced that I hoped it never rained again as I would much rather be out chasing fast boys down than killing myself on the trainer.  Either way, it hurt.

My new bike getting set up by the pros at Cyclologic.

The weeks flew by and I began to notice improvement.  Even though after the second week I was in a constant state of muscle fatigue, I was getting stronger on the climbs, and faster on the flats.  Between work, second work, and moving I had zero time to do anything but train and sleep.  And I am sleeping like a rock.  Like the dead.  I can literally feel myself healing during my 8 hours of rest at night.  I crawl into bed full of aches and pains and wake up feeling like I could do it all over again the next day.  And I did.

The Dimond.  My gem.  

With fatigue building I began looking for a light at the end of the tunnel.  And then, I tipped over the brink.  After a weekend of 300 bike miles, followed by another couple of long rides I awoke to THE HARDEST WORKOUT EVER.  On paper, it seemed rather simple.  Without going into specifics of the workout, I had to hold a prescribed pace on the treadmill and throw in some climbing intervals.  The pace was relentless.  One I would have trouble sustaining on a good day, let alone when my legs are absolutely trashed.  The climbing intervals weren't so bad, but when you come down off the hill and expect recovery only to realize the pace wasn't slowing at all.... it was all I could do to stay upright.  I prayed that if I were to fall off the treadmill backwards at least someone would have the decency to catch it on video.

I didn't fall off the back of the treadmill.  It took every ounce of effort and self control not to adjust the pace in the final 20 minutes, or step onto the rails for a quick break.  I knew if I did I would only be cheating myself.  No one cares about my training except me.  No once cares if I qualify for Kona except me.  And on race day, when I am falling apart and want to quit, I will remember this workout and KNOW that I can do anything.

After the HARDEST WORKOUT EVER I slowed the treadmill to a walk and tried to catch my breath.  Once my heart rate recovered I stepped off the 'mill slowly cause I was sure I was going to fall over, and wandered/ staggered over to the stretching area.  I laid down on a mat and just stared at the ceiling.  I didn't even have the energy to stretch.  Several people asked if I was OK.  I must have looked as bad as I felt.  Then when I arrived at work an hour later, I could not stand for the duration of my first 2 hours worth of appointments.  I ended up sitting on the floor with the dogs after their exams were finished.  Thankfully in my profession this is acceptable, and often appreciated as bonding with my patients.

Her inaugural ride!

A few days later I saw the workout log updated for the following week.  March 2nd declared "3-4 days easy to let the work sink in and get ready to hurt self at camp!"  Hurt self at camp.  Hurt. self. at. camp.  I was already hurting and now it was going to get a billion times worse.  I easily conjured memories of the pain inflicted at last year's Team HPB camp.  I kept telling myself, just get through Saturday... you've got a trail run on Sunday and then camp taper.  Just get through Saturday.

I made it through Saturday which ended up being a brutal long ride through some horrific headwinds, crosswinds and not enough tail wind.  I was so looking forward to running my favorite trail on Sunday morning.  The plan was for my husband to bike out to the park and meet me so that when my run was over we'd hit the bikes for 2 more hours and then grab lunch.  As I was driving to the park on Sunday morning he called me... "did you remember the duathlon is going on this morning?"  Shit!  I had completely forgotten and though I had so been looking forward to my favorite trail I knew the parking situation was going to be a mess and I had no intention of competing for space on the trail with the racers.

Climbing Pass Mountain

I was already in the car driving and made a last second decision to head to Usery Mountain instead.... the hardest trail in my repertoire with almost 3k of climbing in an equal number of miles.  I wanted to cry.  I knew how hard this trail is on a good day... The run itself went fine.  Despite the grueling terrain, Pass Mountain is one of my favorite trails because it's quiet and the scenery is gorgeous.  The weather was overcast so I only encountered 5 other people in the first 75 minutes.

Enjoying the views.

My husband was waiting in the parking lot of the trailhead when I finished.  I sat down in the car and began pseudo-crying (whining, but no actual tear production).  I was so tired.  My legs were so fatigued.  I just wanted to take a nap, and not go get on the bike for 2 hours.  I was just beyond that point of exhaustion.

I went through the motions of getting my bike kit on and ready to ride.  We headed out and for the first 45 minutes or so I felt OK.  Then I progressively got more and more tired.  And my husband accused me of soft pedaling.  And I went off.  Screaming.  Crying.  I AM NOT SOFT PEDALING!  IF YOU CAN'T SEE THAT I'M WORKING...  and on and on and on.  I'm certain he was A) thinking I was completely nuts and B) contemplating divorce in that moment.  But instead he tried to make me laugh.  Which made me want to cry even more.

Beautiful morning for a brutal trail run!

From that moment on, our ride was all uphill.  And for many miles, uphill into a headwind.  I struggled through every single mile until we turned into the park.  And then I struggled a few more miles back to the car.  I have never been so glad to be done with a workout.  And I really believe that had I been able to do the trail run that I had so been looking forward to I wouldn't have fallen apart the way I did.  It was a difference in expectation versus reality.  Something I'm going to have to learn how to manage on race day because not everything is going to go perfectly.

I have appreciated a couple of easy days and look forward to heading to Team HPB Camp tomorrow afternoon.  It's going to be a hard week of training though I am hoping to see the fruits of my last 4 weeks.  One more week and my cycling overload phase is completed!  Despite the fatigue, I am feeling ready and excited for the start of race season.  I believe in myself in a way that I did not before.  I am stronger than I've ever been, and am continuing to improve.  2015 is MY year!

When I need a reminder that all is good in the world...  My boys.  

Building Power

October.  The time for crunching through fallen leaves.  Drinking good beer.  Sipping hot cider and pumpkin spice lattes with a good book.  The morning air is crisp despite the days still being warm and sunny.  The windows are left open and in the middle of the night you reach for the blanket to ward off the chill.

I am overcome with the urge to run.  Run long distances.  On soft, dirt covered trails.  Over mountains and through the desert.

Just because it's fall.

Some people get spring fever anticipating the change to nicer weather.  Here in the Valley of the Sun, I get fall frenzy.  Spurred on by that subtle change in the weather that reminds me there are days that don't require heat advisories.  Some people go into hibernation, pack on a few pounds.  I lace up my running shoes and pound the pavement.

While most people are wrapping up their racing season in Kona or New York City, I am prepping for my final build to Ironman Arizona.  In the process I am looking forward to next year and beginning to set goals for the season ahead.

Since coming back from Wisconsin Coach put me back on trails once a week and has had me knocking out some hard workouts on the bike utilizing my new Powertap.  My husband has remarked on several occasions that he hasn't seen me work this hard since our build up for IMAZ 2012 (my PR race).  And it's true.  Since 2012, I slacked off on the bike and lost some fitness.  Now, with the truth staring me in the face, there's no avoiding work.  I can no longer rely on my "perceived exertion" which, let's face it, is less than accurate.

Little by little, I am starting to gain fitness on the bike.  I love the feeling of being completely smashed after a hard 4 hour ride.  I had forgotten that I could feel like this after a bike ride.  It's generally a feeling reserved for the longest of long runs.  And I am thriving.  I crave that endorphin fix, and the burn in my legs.  The feeling of complete exhaustion combined with accomplishment.

Little by little I can see how this new tool is going to revolutionize my training and racing.  I start to look to next year.  I know that Arizona is too soon.  In analyzing my training and racing data, what we have discovered is that I have been taking it way to easy in training and then when I race I push myself far beyond anything my body has been prepared for.  And subsequently I don't have the legs I need to execute the marathon.  Ironically, I can cheat my way through the half iron distance and still manage to post podium or near podium results.  But when it comes to Ironman, my weakness is exposed.  The good news is that with the right training, my bike leg is about to be revolutionized and I will be able to get off the bike and run the pace that I know I can run.  I don't have enough hours in the remaining 5 weeks to do the work that needs to be done.  But maybe, just maybe, by May I will be an entirely new athlete.  With weeks upon weeks of work behind me, and redefined legs as proof.

I've been doing a lot of reading lately.  Athlete's blogs.  My coach's blog.  Random people on facebook who have an opinion about what it means to follow a dream.  One thing I have come to realize is that some dreams are never going to happen.  No matter how much I love ballet and worked hard through my childhood to be the best dancer I could be, my body will never be that of a ballerina.  I have a weird pelvic alignment.  I am not able to turn my hips out.  It's never going to happen.

I have also realized that when a dream is within reach, only relentless hard work, laser focus and single-minded dedication will chip away at the proverbial rock day after day until one day that rock bursts into a million pieces and I am left standing at the top of the podium.  

I am not afraid of work.

I am not afraid of commitment.

I am not afraid of having a dream... and putting it out there for all to see.

I am not afraid of Finding Kona.  No matter how long it takes.

Bike Intervals

I can do it.  I can do it.  I can do it. 

Strong.  Cadence.  Strong.  Cadence.  I repeat my focusing mantra as I am pushing my limits up the Beeline Highway in pursuit of my husband.  It's Sunday, long ride day.  With my new bike focus (new as of May) I've been working on incorporating higher mileage and interval training into my plan.  I'm trying to get faster for IMAZ.  I AM getting faster for IMAZ. 

We set off on our 3 hour ride with the plan to warm up for 1 hour, do 3 x 20 minute hard efforts followed by a recovery spin back home.  We hit the Beeline and started the first interval.  It was a little windy out of the NE and we were headed into it.  Coasting comfortably in his shaddow for a moment I realized that I was not going to get the full training benefit of the wind sitting behind my husband.  I backed off just a bit till I was legal distance behind him.  Now, feeling the full effects of the wind, I began to work. 

In my overly-competetive mind, I wanted to keep him in legal distance.  Normally, over the course of six miles, he would leave me in the dust as we are both supposed to be at a hard effort, his hard effort being faster than mine.  In theory, I probably should have been riding no faster than half IM effort.  Instead, I was all out sprint effort maintaining my distance.  As we crested the final rise he gained a little bit of space on me, but I finished our first effort only about 10-15 seconds back.  I was completely spent, but super proud of my effort. 

After recovery, we started the second interval down the Beeline- a 10 mile effort to our turn around at McDowell.  I was hauling.  With a slight downhill grade for the first couple of miles I was maxed out in my gear and averaging 30 mph.  The lower 7 miles are more level and I focused on maintaining my effort and cadence, keeping my heart rate up, but after overdoing it on the first interval I finished well behind my husband for the second interval.  We recovered and then hit our final interval, a 4 mile stretch heading back to Gilbert Rd. 

By the time the intervals were over, I was definitely fatigued and ready to head back home.  Only now, my husband throws the final gauntlet.  Whatever my average pace is at that point, it has to be the same when I reach home.  No slacking.  My pace for the first two hours was 19.1 mph.  With 4 miles slightly uphill and into the wind, I had to work to not let my average drop.  Thankfully the final 8 miles were and easy spin and I cruised into the driveway at exactly 19.1 mph for 56 miles. 

We threw on our running shoes and hit the canal for a transition run.  I can tell I'm adjusting to the heat as these runs are much easier than they were a few weeks ago.  Don't get me wrong, 100 degrees is hot no matter how you slice it.  But I know how much water to carry, and when to push and when to back off.

My final few days leading up to Tahoe are all about rest and recovery.  Lots of swimming, mixed with some sleeping in.  I may not be in peak shape for Saturday, but I'm damn sure not going to ruin the race by going in tired.  4 days and counting!