Coaching Smarter Triathletes: Brian Maiorano

Running the Entire Ironman Marathon

If you've watched or raced an ironman distance race, you know that half of the field walks much of the marathon. For those prepared to walk, and who have goals of just finishing...that's fine. But if you've trained and prepared to run the whole marathon...it can feel like The Zombie Death March.

Finishing an ironman is a great athletic achievement. But running the whole marathon is a whole other challenge; it will put you in the minority of those who cross the finish line, and is a sure sign of a successful race. At Triathlon Lifestyle Coaching, we've honed the type of training needed to do this. It's a complex mix, and involves being prepared physically, mentally, and logistically.

Of course, athletes hoping to podium or those with a lot of ironman experience will have different strategies. But here's a formula that's worked for most of the athletes we coach.

Running Fewer Miles Than You Think

There's a myth that to run the whole ironman marathon, you need to put in mega-mileage running weeks. Not so. If you take a long-term approach (ie: 5-6 months), you can get by with no more than a few 30+ mile weeks. Even if you're only running 10-12 miles a week now, a steady build over six months will give you all the run fitness that you need.

Running Frequently and Consistently

While you may not run mega-miles, you do need to run consistently. In most weeks, you need four runs. Depending on the season, there may be speed work or a brick. But always a long run, and always a transition run (2-3 miles) after your long ride. Commit to these runs, week in and week out.

But if you do miss a run (or a whole week of running), don't try to “make it up” by cramming in extra miles the following week. That's a recipe for injury. Instead, accept that you've had a setback, and adjust your plan accordingly.

Staying Injury Free

Training for an ironman involves a long-term plan. It means slow and steady fitness gains. It's common for self-coached athletes to become impatient and rush the process—or feel that more is better. But ramping up long runs too quickly, trying too much track work, or running too many miles in general are all big risks for causing injury.

And there's no quicker way to lose fitness than to spend a few weeks laid up from injury caused by an overly aggressive training plan. And few people who get hurt during ironman training have the patience to back off long enough to heal properly. An injury 3 months out from race day often means racing with some niggling version of that injury.

We strive to totally avoid injuries. We build training plans where improvements are low risk, incremental and consistent—which will lead to race day fitness greater than if you'd jumped in head first but gotten injured because of it.

Swimming Efficiently

It all starts with the swim—and you need to be efficient and relaxed through it. Energy wasted here will haunt you ten times over during the run. Even though the swim takes up only 10% of the race, it can ruin your race if you exhaust yourself in the water. But don't confuse speed with efficiency. Sure, we'd all love to breeze through the swim in sixty minutes. But you can have an easy, relaxed swim even with a 1:40 hour split.

We've found it's best to focus on perfecting your swim stroke. You want to be comfortable and efficient in the open water, and can cruise through the 2.4 miles with relative ease—even if you're middle or back of pack. That efficiency is much more important than speed for the overall success of your race.

Learning to Love Your Bike

Running the whole marathon is all about being fresh after the bike. In a sense, the bike is just a warmup for the run. There are books to be written about this topic alone—but in short, you need to train long and hard on the bike. Like the swim, it doesn't inherently matter if you're fast or not—you just need to be fit enough so that 112 miles on the bike really isn't that big of a deal. Likewise, even if you run a 3 hour stand-alone marathon—if you don't have great bike fitness, you probably won't be running the entire ironman marathon.

Pacing and Realistic Goals

Success on the marathon is also tied to proper pacing. And that starts with setting realistic goals. I've heard all sorts of wildly optimistic ironman goals that involve blazing bike splits and marathons approaching the racer's last half-marathon pace. And often times people will hit them—but pay dearly late in the race.

Pacing matters even on the swim. Think about the effort it takes to swim an extra 10 seconds/100 faster. Even if you push that hard through 2.4 miles, you'll save a grand total of 7 minutes. And if you've worked really hard to gain those 7 minutes, you're sure to pay them back many times over across the next 10-12 hours.

Likewise, riding too hard is one of the biggest causes of a terrible marathon. Ironically, this seems most problematic for faster cyclists—because there's a desire to exploit their strongest sport. Learning to pace yourself on the bike is a huge factor—I spend more time coaching this than almost anything else. It's often hard to realize just how slow this pace is when compared to even moderately hard training rides. For example, on race day, the first 25 miles should feel ridiculously easy.

Similarly, it's typical for people to start the marathon too fast. The first 3-6 miles may feel pretty easy, and you'll need to hold yourself back. You need a realistic goal pace, and need to stick with it early on. While you shouldn't expect to negative split the marathon, you also shouldn't be slowing more than 2 minutes/mile over the 26.2 miles. Slowing by 3-4 minutes/mile is a sign of having started too fast.

Fueling

Gastrointestinal issues are another reason people walk much of the marathon. A lot of these are caused by fueling mistakes—taking too much/not enough of the wrong food at the wrong time. You need to practice your fueling and hydration from week one of training, so you get it dialed in by race day. Most people start their training by not taking enough calories, and it takes time to adjust to digesting more while riding and running.

Write down a plan for what and how much you're to eat during each portion of the race. By all means, don't just wing it.

But even if you pull this off as planned, ironman is tough on the digestive system, and you still might have problems. Diarrhea and nausea are common, but they don't need to stop you from running. You just need to be prepared to deal with them. A quick tip: learn about Imodium. It may become your best friend on race day.

Mental Preparation

Regardless of how well you've trained, paced, and fueled , running the last half of the marathon is going to be extremely hard. It will hurt a lot, and it just might be the hardest thing you've ever done (unless you're a mom—I understand the marathon is a piece of cake compared to the second stage of labor...). But this is where you get to show your toughness, and separate yourself from the half of the finishers who are walking much of the course.

You'll find many people who had good fitness, good pacing, and good fueling—but just mentally give up and start walking. The mental preparation needed to avoid this is a whole other topic. But, in short, you need challenging yet reasonable workouts to prepare you for these last couple of hours, and strategies for staying in the moment. You need to embrace your discomfort, prevent it from turning into suffering, and be prepared to keep running through it all.

Training Consistency and Incremental Improvements

Big Success through Baby Steps

Since last year I've had the pleasure of coaching two fantastic athletes (Riikka and Rachel) who have had phenomenal races this spring. I'm certain their success has come from incremental improvements gained through consistent training. Not killer workouts, monster training weeks, or go-so-hard-that-you-puke track intervals. Don't get me wrong: they worked super hard. But it was the day-in, day-out kind of hard work that mattered—not the “I'm going to kill myself this workout (or this week) and then lie on the couch for a few days and moan” intensity and duration.

Some Background

Riikka was training for her first half-ironman (Super Frog). Last season in her first year of triathlon, she was strong in all three sports and had some age-group success at smaller local races. But she needed more speed and more endurance to compete at the 70.3 distance. We knew she was capable of an overall podium.

Rachel was training for her first ironman (St. George). She started off as an elite swimmer and a strong cyclist.  But her running endurance and speed was...well, pretty non-existent. A 6 mile run counted as a long run for her, and she'd never before run longer than 30 miles in an entire month. Word on the street was that at St. George she'd kill the swim, do really well on the bike, and walk most of the marathon.

Their Successes

Riikka has had fantastic success. At her first half-ironman (Super Frog), she won an overall podium (third amateur woman), finishing just a few minutes behind some pros. And her raw speed has also improved —a few weeks later at the hugely competitive Wildflower Olympic-distance, she took 2^nd age group and 11^th overall (out of 800).

Rachel has had similar success.  At Ironman St. George, she did indeed kill the swim (first amateur woman out of the water) and rode strong (top 25% of the women's field). And to the surprise of all but a few of us, she ran the entire marathon (all 2400 vertical feet of that hilly course), with a run split in the top quarter of all women. It gave her a finish in the top 15% of the women's field—quite amazing for a first-timer.

Training Secrets that aren't Secrets

Their successes have some common threads. It's what I call training smarter, not harder—but they're really just basic training principles:

• Consistency
• Incremental improvements
• Adequate rest and recovery
• Staying injury free

Training Consistency

Both of their training consistency was remarkable. They seldom missed workouts. Even so, sometimes life gets in the way of training. I tell them them their key workouts each week; if they need to miss a session, we try to make it one that's not so important.

But neither one was obsessive over it.  Over six months, each had a handful of weeks where health, travel and/or work situations caused them to largely miss 4-7 days of training. We didn't stress about it, and simply adjusted their training plans. We didn't try to “make up” missed sessions with monster weeks or double-hard days.

Incremental Improvements

With that consistency comes incremental improvements. On a week-to-week basis, they're barely detectable. Over a month they're noticeable. And over six months, they add up to huge gains.

Riikka focused a lot on speed gains, so she did a lot of interval work. They were very hard efforts, but not so hard that they made her miserable, or so wiped her out that she'd miss the next day's workout. Speeds increased gradually, as did how many miles she did speed work. Baby steps. 

Rachel's focus was increasing her endurance. Starting from pretty much a zero-miles-per-week run base, we knew that getting her to run the entire marathon would be a challenge. And increasing her training while keeping her injury free would be an even bigger challenge. So weekly mileage increased very slowly. As did speed work. As did hill work. She stayed injury free, and on race day was in the minority of racers who ran the entire ironman marathon.

Rest and Recovery

Everyone has heard of the importance of rest, but yet few of us take it seriously. I insisted on it. On a weekly basis, they almost always took at least one rest day. When doing a lot of speed work, they'd intersperse those sessions with easier days. And every three to four weeks they'd take a full week of recovery, with training volumes 50% to 60% of normal.

They also learned to listen to their bodies, and back off when they were overly tired, or skip a workout when they were exhausted.

Staying Injury Free

The first three principles are key to staying injury free. Consistency keeps us strong and limber. Incremental increases in speed and duration allow our bodies to adapt slowly to stress, strain, and pounding. And rest allows minor traumas to heal, and muscles to grow stronger. And this comes full-circle—time lost to injury means huge losses in consistency and fitness.

Riikka and Rachel both learned to listen to their bodies and distinguish between pain and the normal discomfort/fatigue/soreness that comes from training. When they did have pains, we'd back off either some or a lot. Maybe by reducing intensity. Or using an elliptical machine instead of running. 

But mostly I think the lack of injuries came from the consistency, incremental improvements, and rest & recovery.

No One's Saying It's Easy...

Even though these principles are easy to understand, they're not easy to follow. Especially the consistency. Riikka and Rachel are two of the toughest, most determined people that I know. It shows in their training and racing, when they push through fatigue and discomfort, and train on days they'd really rather just stay in bed.

But that motivation and drive can come with a cost: it's hard to keep from going too hard, for too long, without enough rest. It's where my biggest role as a coach comes in. In addition to helping them set reasonable goals and helping to motivate them, my greatest challenge is reigning them in.

Competitive athletes want to do more than their bodies can sustain. I think it's why so many self-coached athletes have a lot of injuries. An outside, objective eye can moderate over-enthusiasm and make sure the whole season is great, not just a few weeks of it.

Staying Fit in the Off Season

So it's now 15 weeks out from Wildflower, which means my off season was over a week ago.  And it means I had a close to three months where I wasn't doing any serious training or racing.  For me, the off season is a chance to be unstructured, eat whatever looks and tastes good, and generally put triathlon at a lower priority. 

Taking a Mental Break

Anyone who has tried to do 7-9 workouts in 3 different sports over the course of a week knows that triathlon can demand a lot of structure in your life.  Trying to fit it all in around family and work schedules, as well as pool hours and friends' training schedules for group workouts--sometimes it's a little overwhelming.

So during the off-season I relish being able to just "do what I feel like doing."  I don't worry about pace, or miles, or hours per week.  I still end up with 5-6 swim/bike/run workouts per week anyway, but it's without the stress of feeling like I "need" to do every one.

Reduced Training Hours

During those three months my training averaged out to about 6-7 hours per week, compared with my normal 9-10.  I don't think I did any two-a-day workouts, and most individual sessions were shorter than normal.  I also backed off on frequency--training 5-6 days per week instead of the normal 6-7.

The Weighted Vest

The book "Championship Triathlon Training" suggests sometimes running with a weighted vest to build strength.  Which I find a bit redundant--because by mid-December I had gained about 6 pounds, forming my own natural "weighted vest." 

But to me, that's all part of the mental break.  I race at a very lean 154-155 pounds, so 6 extra pounds isn't a big deal.  And it means I get a few months of indulging my sweet tooth, three Thanksgiving dinners, and more evenings of dining out than normal.

BTW, even though I really like the concepts in the "Champsionship Triathlon Training" book, I think that running with a weighted vest is a really bad idea.  Any extra weight increases the shock and pounding on our joints, which just doesn't seem like a good thing...

Improving Technique

The off season is a great time to improve your technique.  Any improvements usually take some short-term efforts that can be frustrating.  Whether it's swim technique, running form, or bicycle cadence, the initial change will always seem hard because you're using muscles in a new way. 

I used the off season to improve my running form.  I had been a terrible heel striker, and tended to keep my weight back.  So I worked on "leaning at the ankles" and shifting my center of gravity in front of my front foot.

At first it was hard work--I'd get out of breath at ridiculously slow paces.  But after about three weeks things finally clicked.  My running has improved immensely from it--I'm definitely faster, and it feels much easier.

This video gives a really good depiction of it.  While they're advocating Newton shoes, it's applicable to everyone.

So I've Started a Coaching Business

Triathlon Lifestyle Coaching

I've tossing about the idea of coaching triathletes for the past year.  But really wasn't sure what I wanted to offer, or who I should target.  Spending the year with the fine folks in the Triathlon Club of San Diego answered both of those questions.

I've met a lot of beginners who are just overwhelmed with the logistics of training for three different sports.  And some of these "beginners" are already great athletes in at least one sport, and no stranger to training.

I've met a lot of people who've injured themselves by making poor training decisions.  It's seemed that a lot of those injuries can be explained by looking at their training schedule--"too much, too soon".

I've met experienced triathletes who have reached a plateau, and need something new to kick them over to the next level.

And I've met a lot of people who spend A LOT of time training without seeming to get much faster.  If spending six hours per week on a bicycle is an end in itself, then fine--but manyof these folks have ambitious race goals that they aren't getting closer to.  They're literally and figuratively spinning their wheels without a clear idea of how best to get what they want.

And in this past year I've had the great fortune to train alongside amazing athletes who know how to meet their goals and even win races--and yet somehow they balance their training with the rest of their lives.  I've learned what works for them, and also that it's usually much different than what works for some other top athlete. 

All of which explains how I discovered who I want to coach, as well as how I want to coach them.  And it all fits in with the notion of "Train smarter, not harder".

Coaching San Diego's Finest Triathletes

It crystallized toward the end of the summer after a ride with my friend Rachel.  She is a top athlete, but new to triathlon and with extremely little running background.  She had signed up for Ironman St. George, and I felt the need to just once try to talk her out of the race--my concern was that she would injure herself by ramping up her running mileage too quickly.

Of course I knew that I wouldn't talk her out of it.  So a week later I asked if I could at least be her run coach to guide her toward an injury-free finish.  She said yes, and as we were developing her running plan I asked how we should mesh it with her bike plan.  She responded, "What bike plan?" and suddenly I was her ironman coach...

I quickly discovered how much this is, and really can't imagine a better job or a more fun group of people to work with.  I've spent the last month teaching myself website design and getting everything about the business launched.  Check us out at Triathlon Lifestyle Coaching.

Sticking with a Nutrition Plan Versus Adapting to New Conditions

Following a Nutrition Plan

A few weeks ago I wrote up a nutrition/fueling plan for my friend James to use while racing the Chicago Marathon.  He'd had intestinal issues during the Rock 'n' Roll Marathon, and wanted to make sure his stomach was solid in his attempt to qualify for Boston.  It was a detailed plan, listing exact quantities of gels/liquids at various times, starting two hours before the race and listing at which times/mile markers in the race to take another gel.

My last text to him before the race was "stick to your plan even if there's chaos."  By this I meant that during a race with 10,000 people, the unexpected is sure to occur.  Maybe it'd be hard get to crowed aid stations, or he'd drop a gel packet or two, or something else entirely. Regardless, it was important for him to maintain his calorie intake.

To help himself stick to the plan, he wrote the mile markers (and corresponding times) of when he should take each gel. And when the race started,  he stayed with his plan perfectly. 

Because he likes drinking Gatorade at aid stations, we had made that a major component of his fueling plan--over the whole race he would take in 400 calories worth of Gatorade.  This would comprise almost half of his calories and all of his fluids (about 2 quarts, or 3.5 bike bottles).  

One unforeseen condition was that the raceday temperature was much cooler than he's used to training in.  Because he was sweating a lot less than normal, he didn't need as much fluid as usual.  So by midway through the race his bladder was very full...

His choices at that point were to 1) stick to the plan and figuratively cross his legs; 2) stop and pee; 3) stop drinking fluids; or 4) substitute a gel for some of the Gatorade.

Stopping to empty his bladder would have taken precious time, and stopping drinking fluids would have had the effect of him not getting the calories he needed.  Substituting a gel for the Gatorade would have worked, but it would have required some thinking that's not always present during the single-focused mind that comes with racing.

So he chose option 1, stick with the plan and cross his legs.  It worked out perfectly.  He ran a remarkably consistent pace the whole race, beat his goal time by a minute, and qualified for Boston!

Knowing (or not) When to Adapt to New Conditions

Last Saturday I raced the Olympic distance course at Pumpkinman, outside Las Vegas.  The course features a long, hilly bike course through the desert.  On Saturday it was particularly hot (low 90s) and windy.  I had made up a hydration/nutrition plan knowing the weather forecast, but had failed to grasp just how much fluid I'd really need, even though I've trained quite a bit in those conditions.

The last climb on the bike course took almost 40 minutes (it was a long course--my bike time was 1:38, and even the fastest bike splits were almost 1:30).  There had also been a last-minute change in the course that lengthened it--and I hadn't grasped the magnitude of it.  We were on the bike course for 15 minutes longer than we were anticipating. 

Anyway, during the last climb, I knew something was wrong because my power output was about 10% - 15% lower than what it "should" have been. But it didn't dawn on my that it was dehydration at that point--so I stuck with my hydration plan.

Or at least I meant to.  The unforeseen condition was just how steep this last climb was, meaning that my speed was generally less than 14 mph (often lower than 10 mph) and that I was out of the aero bars, grabbing the bullhorns in a more upright position.  The problem with this is that I use a drink holder on my aero bars that holds the straw right at mouth level--but only when I'm in an aero position.  It's normally a great way to effortlessly drink. 

But, with being out of the aero bars for 40 minutes, the straw was out of my immediate vision, and I forgot to drink.  The consequence was that not only did I come into T2 thoroughly dehydrated, but I did it with water still on my bike.  So when I blazed out of T2, thinking I was in a really good position, I promptly doubled over with stomach cramps within 200 meters.

Stomach cramps while running are a classic sign of dehydration.  But it still hadn't dawned on me, and I stuck with my original plan of thinking I just needed a cupful of energy drink at each aid stations.  So I walked off the cramps and started running again (at my planned race pace, instead of slowing down...).  And within a mile was doubled over again.

It wasn't until mile three that I finally realized how dehydrated I was, and started gulping water at aid stations.  Of course by this time it was far too late--my stomach was still cramping, and I was thoroughly exhausted.  My "run" was reduced to shuffle, walk, bend over, repeat.  I was glad to just cross the finish line.

Even though I drank probably a gallon of fluids after the race, it wasn't until 9:00 o'clock that night I finally urinated.  Dehydrated, indeed.

All the Ways that I Failed to Adapt

Unlike James' decision during his marathon, it was not wise of me to stick to my plan--conditions were just too different than what I was expecting.  Here's all the ways I should have adapted:

• When we got to the race site on Friday I realized how hot it was--but didn't adjust my plan.
• I didn't learn more about the course adjustment, and didn't plan for more water for the extended time.
• Halfway through the bike course I noticed how hot and windy it was--but didn't grab an extra water bottle at the aid station.
• During the steep climb when I was out of the aerobars, I should have reminded myself to drink, even though it was inconvenient.
• After my first bout of stomach cramps on the run (and feeling a huge ring of salt around my mouth) I should have stopped at the first aid station and drank a lot of water.
• During the run I should have slowed down my pace--instead I tried running at my planned race pace, and consequently had to walk quite a bit. 

 

Picking a Safe Cycling Route, Part One

Friends Don't Let Friends Do The Coast Ride

In San Diego--as well as most cities--you can find a few wildly popular cycling routes infested with all types of riders.  The coastal highway north of San Diego is a classic--mostly flat with drop-dead gorgeous views of the Pacific, and pleasant weather most days of the year. Weekends bring out parents towing bike trailers, seniors on hybrids, couples on tandems, small groups of triathletes riding in aero bars, multitudes of clubs riding in pelotons and shooting nasty looks at anyone who interrupts their cadence, and triathletes riding in pelotons in their aero bars (yikes!)

Unfortunately, on this route you'll also find an injured cyclist virtually every weekend day.  It seems that most weeks one of the 50-ish people just on the triathlon club ride alone has a wreck there. 

Yes,  statistically speaking we're likely to find more accidents on a popular route (ie: If the accident rate is xx injuries per million miles ridden, a million cyclist miles will be reached more quickly on a popular route than on an empty route). But the accident rate on this stretch of highway seems much higher than in other areas I'm familiar with.

All the Biggest Cycling Hazards in One Convenient Location!

I'd guess I've been on a bicycle 7,000 - 8,000 days over the past 35 years.  I've learned a lot of situations that are dangerous, and I try to avoid them.  Here's my list of the biggest hazards, in no particular order:

• Roads with a lot of stop signs or traffic lights.
• Roads with cars parked along the shoulder.
• Roads with a lot of driveways and parking lots (ie: a lot of turns onto and off of the road).
• Congested parking areas where drivers are focused on finding a parking spot.
• Busy roads with narrow shoulders.
• Roads with a lot of cyclists of varying speeds (ie: cyclists are passing a lot of other cyclists).
• Scenic views that distract drivers from watching the road.
• Lots of tourists who are distracted from driving.
• Riding in a peloton with more than 5-6 people.
• Riding in a group with more than a few beginners.
• Riding in low-light conditions, fog, or rain.
• Riding directly into or away from the sun when it's at a low angle in the sky (and blinding drivers).
• Riding with cyclists who are not very aware of their surroundings, or who don't have good bike-handling skills.
• Riding in an area where drivers are drinking alcohol.

Yes, it's a long list.  But the wildly popular coastal ride has all of them along it's entire length--except for the narrow shoulders part (that's only sporadic).  I think it's no coincidence there are so many accidents there.

So, What is a Safe Route?

In my opinion, having few vehicles on the road will almost always make for a safer ride.  My ideal ride from a safety standpoint?

• Rural roads, with very little traffic.  The width--or even presence of--a shoulder becomes almost irrelevant when there are few motor vehicles.
• Riding with a handful (no more than 7-8) of experienced cyclists who travel at the same speed.
• Lots of hills so there's not the temptation to bunch up into a group and draft for a few hours.

But aren't Rural Roads Dangerous for Cyclists?

A lot of people are scared to ride on rural roads.  We've all heard stories of drivers throwing beer bottles and of pickup trucks running cyclists off the road.  We have stereotypes of "rednecks" and how much they hate cyclists. 

I've spent the past 20+ years riding on both extremely rural roads and bicycle-commuting daily on congested city streets.  And I'll pick a rural road with no shoulder over a busy road with a wide shoulder any time.  Yes, a couple of times out in the sticks I've been called a "faggot in spandex", and have been majorly creeped out by a few situations.  But I can't count the number of times my heart has nearly stopped at some near-incident on busy roads where a driver didn't see me and pulled/swerved right in front of me.

I'll write more about riding on rural roads in a future post--but trust me, they're worth learning to love.

Sprintman--Triathlon Champion Of My Block

Don't Worry, It's Parody In Good Fun

It doesn't take much time around triathletes to know that sometimes we take our sport and our participation in it a little too seriously.  I've done it myself, but usually manage to step back and laugh at myself.  Apparently it's a habit of mine to poke fun at things that seem a little pretentious, as I've been nominated as Chairman Of Irreverence (or Chairman Of Irrelevance, take your pick) of our tri club. 

I'll first note that some of my best friends do ironman races, and are quite good at them.  They devote incredible time and energy to training, and at races find themselves on the podium earning trips to Kona.  It's important in their lives, and I'm proud of them for setting high goals and reaching them.

But triathlon doesn't define their existence.  They're well-rounded individuals who balance racing with family and friends and work and manage to not take themselves too seriously.  

Anyway, one day we were laughing about the debates that go on in forums at places like slowtwitch over topics like: Who can legitimately get an M-Dot tattoo? (Only those who have done an "official" ironman? What if you walked the whole marathon?  What if it took you 16:30 hours?  What if it was "only" an Ironman 70.3? What if you don't have 6-pack abs and an aero helmet?).  It all seemed rather silly to me.

I remarked that since I was never going to be in the world championship for anything and really don't foresee myself ever doing an ironman, could I get an S-Dot tattoo? 

Team S-Dot

Really, we're not mocking people who do ironman races.  Only those who take themselves too seriously over it and think that it's the end-all and be-all in triathlon.  And we're certainly not mocking those who don't race any further than sprint distance.  For many people, doing their first sprint race requires overcoming more hurdles (physical and mental) than it does for a veteran athlete to train for an ironman.  And training for that distance allows them to still race while juggling family, school, work, etc.

In the year leading up to my first triathlon I lost 25 pounds, ran the first mile of my life, and swam the first lap of my life.  And was darned proud when I finished that race.  And, looking back, that year was much more challenging than anything I do now, even though I train longer hours and am way faster than I was.  The grand irony, of course, is that I'm not even the Champion Of My Block, as I have two neighbors who are retired pro racers...

We all have different reasons for racing--and as long as there's not too much ego wrapped up in them, most are reasons to be proud of.  

If you want to be part of Team S-Dot, we can hook you up with apparel.  Right now there's some logo wear on Cafe Press, but to be honest it's kind of pricey.  I'm putting together an order for shirts and bike bottles that will be be much cheaper.  Shoot me an email if you're interested.

You can be a Sprintman Fan on Facebook. And, yes, stick-on tattoos now exist.  We wear them with pride.

I'm a Triathlete, I Don't Need To Kick When I Swim! Right???

Now, It Makes Sense.

My plan of once-a-week speed intervals in the pool wasn't working out, mostly because the ocean temperature has been in the low 70s and swimming without a wetsuit has been so glorious.  No motivation at all to get in the pool!

But I did schedule a tune-up session with my swim coach, Rachel.  It had been awhile since our last session, and I was expecting a lot of correcting of old bad habits that I might have slipped back into.  Surprisingly, I was mostly still doing correctly the things she had taught me, so we moved on to some finer details. 

One thing I was cranky about, however, was my kick.  I had always thought that I didn't really want to kick during a race, as it would wear out my legs for the bike and run.  So I had learned to mostly drag my legs behind me--doing a quick flutter kick to help rotate my body, but then pausing and letting them coast while I completed each arm stroke.

I had never really understood the whole 6-beat or 4-beat kick thing, or how to synchronize my legs with my arms, and wasn't convinced I needed to.  So near the end of our session when I was tired and ready for lunch, I was cranky about tackling something new that I had such a mental barrier over.  But Rachel pushed me (I think it was payback for the all the times I've made her work hard on the bike...) and had me do a couple of drills.

And within two 50-meter lengths, something had clicked!  My legs were synchronizing with my arms, and my entire body felt smooth and flowing.  I really can't convey how much difference that one change made in my entire swim stroke, except to say that it fundamentally changed my view of how humans move through water. 

Here's Why We Triathletes Kick

Debates rage about whether or not triathletes should kick, usually revolving around whether or the added propulsion (it's not much) is worth the energy cost.  What's often missed (and what I didn't understand a couple of weeks ago) is the importance of the kick in body position.  As described by Mr. Smooth, the importance of the kick is two-fold:

1. It lifts our legs up to prevent drag.
2. It drives our body rotation.

And it can do those things without being strenuous, and without adding much propulsion.

I now describe not kicking correctly as similar to trying to run with our hands tied to our sides. Everyone knows we have to synchronize our arms with our legs when we run--it comes natural to us and it's almost impossible not to (go ahead, try it).  But, being land mammals, we don't have that same inherent understanding of synchronizing our legs with our arms when in the water.  But, now that I've learned it, I can't imagine any other way.

More About Mr. Smooth. 

Mr. Smooth is a website and free downloadable computer program that shows an animated "perfect" swim stroke.  It's an amazing tool for visualizing all of the verbal instruction we hear but that is so hard to see someone else do in the water.  One caution: it's easy to look at the animation and think, "Sure, I'm swimming that way."  (Hint: If you're a middle-of-the pack swimmer, you're probably not.) Which simply illustrates the difficulty of learning good swim techniques--it's very hard to teach and correct ourselves.

I recommend this: hire a coach to give you pointers on how to correct your stroke.  And then go home and watch Mr. Smooth to help visualize what you've been taught.

And A Blurb About Aquarium Fish.

A few months ago I spent an inordinate amount of time watching fish in the Monterey Bay Aquarium.  I was trying to figure out how they swim.  Especially the ones with small fins, and very especially the big, fast and powerful ones (like tuna) that aren't particularly sleek (compared to other fish, that is).  And I started to understand that their propulsion comes from wriggling and snapping their bodies. 

It's hard to translate this to how humans swim, but after awhile (okay, it was a really long time...) I started to see the similarity.  If you get a chance, take some fellow swimmers to the aquarium and watch the fish with this in mind (Don't bring non-swimmers--they'll think you're crazy).  I found it fascinating.

Back To My Swim Progress.

So Rachel now tells me that I have a "near perfect" stroke.  Which is exciting (but also high pressure--it means I no longer have an excuse for middle-of-the-pack swimming!).  So I decided to try a coached Master's workout.  This was was my first speed intervals in over a month--my swim endurance is good (from ocean swimming), but my speedwork is extremely lacking.  I learned three things:

1. My timed sets were my fastest ever (in a 25-yard pool, 50"/lap for 300s, 48"/lap for 200s, 45"/lap for 100s).  And they didn't even feel that hard.
2. The on-deck coach gave me a couple of very minor pointers about stroke imbalance.  This is notable because prior on-deck coaches would say something like, "Wow...something's going on with your stroke that's really too much to put into words..."
3. The next day, for the first time ever, my lats were sore.  This is huge because it means I'm getting my power from where I'm supposed to--not primarily from my shoulders and triceps.

Note that these changes came with only three individual coached sessions!  There's no guarantee that everyone will see such drastic changes so quickly, but for me these lessons have been by far the quickest, cheapest way to improve anything I've ever done in triathlon.

Gasoline is Cheaper than Energy Gel, Part Two

Last week I wrote about how it was cheaper to fuel my car with gas than it was to fuel my body with food to ride my bike.  In short, it cost 59 cents in gas to drive my Prius 10 miles, but 93 cents in food to pedal that same route at an easy pace. 

Another way of making the comparison is by calories per mile.  Pedaling those 10 miles burns 320 calories.   My Prius burns 0.20 gallons of gas (50 mpg) over that route, using 6200 calories (gasoline contains 31,000 calories per gallon).  

At first glance, the bicycle seems much more efficient.  But, let's consider weight.  I, my bike, and my clothes probably total out to about 175 pounds--meaning it costs me about 1.8 calories per pound to pedal 10 miles.  

My Prius and I total about 3200 pounds--meaning it costs me about 1.9 calories (of gasoline) per pound to drive 10 miles.  

	Weight	Caloric Cost to Go 10 Flat Miles	Caloires Burned Per Transported Pound (for 10 miles)
Me and My Road Bike	175 lbs	320	1.8
Me and My Toyota Prius	3200 lbs	6200	1.9

Again, Please Don't Shoot the Messenger

Really, my only point here is that similar calories per pound are used to move both a cyclist and a Toyota Prius.  I'm not claiming that one is more environmentally friendly than the other, and I'm not trying to make a socio-political statement.  And, truly, I'm not interested in knowing the size of anyone's carbon footprint.  

And, yes, I know there are some caveats to the above comparison.  The biggest is that I haven't figured in the energy costs of making and transporting the food and the gasoline.  But I do know that, given the amount of petroleum that goes into producing food (transport is the least of it--think fertilizers and farm equipment), it's possible the calorie/pound equation could swing wildly in favour of the Prius.

Anyway, I simply find the comparison fascinating.  If you're not similarly fascinated, don't worry; next week I'll resume writing about equally esoteric topics, but ones that are at least of some relevance to triathletes.

Parting Bit of Caloric Trivia

The standard energy gel packet is one ounce, contains 100 calories, and costs about a dollar.  In other words...

	Cost	Calories	Miles it Will Propel a Prius or Cyclist (as the case may be)
Gallon of Gasoline	$2.95	31,000	50
Gallon of Gu Energy Gel	$128.00	12,800	400

The Nutritional Expenses of Cycling. Or: It's Cheaper to Fuel Your Car Than Your Body

Yet Another Cost of Cycling

While sitting in the shade after a ride, chowing on Jen's delicious homemade bread, we discussed how expensive all of the "fake" food is that we eat while riding and running.  Energy bars, powdered drink mixes, and those delicious Clif Bloks that in no way resemble anything from nature.  During long, hard rides and runs their primary benefits are that they are easy to transport, don't spoil, and are readily digestible.  But how much do we pay for those qualities?

The Cost of Real Food

The U.S. Department of Agriculture has compiled a "market basket " of food that provides a nutritious diet for eating at home.  On a regular basis it updates how much it costs to buy all of those items in a grocery store.  The menu is quite healthy--lots of fruits and vegetables and very little processed food, fried items or dessert (It's much more healthy than the way I eat...).  They predict that a single male between the ages of 20 and 50 would spend $57.50 per week to buy the items in this basket.  At 2800 calories per day, this works out to 29 cents per 100 calories. 

The Cost of Triathlon Food

Here's a cost/calorie analysis of some typical food consumed during/after bike rides and runs. 

Energy Bars Energy Drinks

	Cost Per 100 Calories
Energy Bars
Clif Bar	$0.42
Power Bar	$0.53
Energy Drinks
Hammer Heed drink mix  (32 servings)	$0.63
Hammer Perpetuem drink mix(16 servings)	$0.63
Cytomax drink mix (27 servings)	$0.52
Gatorade (51 ounce powdered mix from WalMart)	$0.14
Energy Gels
Clif Bloks energy chews	$0.95
Gu enegy gel	$0.95
Hammer Gel (27 serving jug)	$0.85

These are just some typical prices; you can find cheaper prices by scouring the web and buying in bulk.  Note that energy gels are the most expensive (but generally the most convenient for running), and energy bars are the least expensive (but hard to digest on the run or during a hard ride).  A large container of powdered Gatorade is by far the cheapest--but note that you can't make a super-concentrated mix like the other drinks.  In other words, you're stuck with 150 calories per bike bottle, whereas I can easily put 600-700 calories of Heed into a bike bottle.

The Nutritional Cost of a Bike Ride

Our standard weekly ride through the mountains is a 40 mile loop with 3200' feet of climbing that takes us about 2:30 hours.  We ride this hard without stopping--which means we're either working hard or descending at 35 mph.  In other words, I can only consume and digest energy drinks or gels while riding.  Typically I'll eat a big breakfast two hours before riding, and consume 500 calories of Heed during the ride.  Yesterday I ate a Clif Bar (240 calories) back at the car, and then topped off with various "real" foods.    My Powermeter reported that I averaged 214 watts over this ride, and the Training Peaks software calculates that I burned 1600 calories (or 400 calories per 10 miles).  Which means I needed 860 calories of "real food" to replace the remainder of what I burned.  Here's what it cost me to replenish that fuel.

Source of Calories	Number of Calories	Cost Per 100 Calories	Cost
Hammer Heed	500	$0.63	$3.15
Clif Bar	240	$0.42	$1.00
Real Food	860	$0.29	$2.50
Grand Total	1600		$6.65

The total cost of $6.65 works out to $1.66 per 10 miles.  Note that this is a conservative cost; it doesn't include the espresso smoothies we stopped for on the way home or the fact that I eat at restaurants a lot (both a lot more expensive than eating at home)--I use the USDA market basket cost simply as a consistent guideline to illustrate how cheap it is to eat real food.

Driving Would Have Cost Less in Fuel

I paid $2.95 per gallon of gas here in San Diego last week.  I drive a Toyota Prius, which gets 50 mpg.  Figured another way, it takes $0.59 of gas to drive 10 miles.  I would have consumed $2.35 in gas to drive the same 40 miles that we rode.  Even a car that gets 25 mpg takes only $1.18 to drive 10 miles, or $4.72 to drive the 40 miles. Note that piling all three of us riders into the car would have cost about the same in gas (it would increased the net weight of the car by less than 10%-not enough to make much a difference in fuel economy).   Elizabeth and Jen burned fewer calories than I did (because they're much lighter), but amongst the three of us we probably burned $15 worth of food during the ride.

What About a Real-Life Commuting Example?

To be fair, most people don't commute 40 miles over the mountains (but they do go for a 40-mile recreational scenic drive, which is more the equivalent of what our ride was).  I dug up some Powermeter files from when I was just out tooling around on mostly flat terrain, which is the type of commuting most people do (especially when trying to not work up a sweat).  Using a typical example, I averaged 164 watts and burned 385 calories to ride 12 miles in 45 minutes.  This works out to 320 calories per 10 miles (a full 20% less than riding hard through the mountains).  Since I don't need food during such a short ride, I can replenish those calories with inexpensive "real" food at a cost of $0.93 per 10 miles (320 calories @ $0.29 per 100 calories).  Compare this to the fuel costs of $0.59 per 10 miles of my Prius, or $1.18 per 10 miles of a typical car.

Don't Shoot the Messenger

No, I'm not necessarily claiming that it's cheaper to commute by car than by bike.  I've only looked at fuel costs (food versus gasoline).  I'm not considering fixed capital costs (the cost of the bike versus the cost of the car), maintenance costs (tires, tune-ups, etc.), the value of time spent/saved, parking costs, or insurance.  I'm also not considering the presumed lower health care costs that come with being a fit cyclist --or on the other side of the coin the injury costs of cycling (how many cyclists do you know with broken collarbones?).  There are a ton of variables that go into this equation and will vary for each individual.

But my calculations show that, for me, fueling my car with gasoline costs less than fueling my body with food to ride the same distance by bicycle.  I haven't figured out why this is: I may need a mechanical engineer to give me data on the efficiency of internal combustion engines.  I do know that the human body is quite inefficient (much of our generated power is wasted as heat).  

Type of Transport	Cost in fuel (food or gasoline) per 10 miles
Cycle hard through the mountains	$1.66
Cycle easy on the flats (commuting)	$0.93
Drive a typical car (25 mpg)	$1.18
Drive a Prius (50 mpg)	$0.59

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