Paying the Piper. Big Run post Big Party

 

Saturday night was one for the books! A close friend celebrated their 50th birthday by hosting what might have been the party of the decade—or even of my lifetime. The theme was a glamorous mix of silver and white, prompting a frenzy of orders for sequins, glitter, and the perfect white ensembles. After several returns and exchanges, we all found our ideal outfits.

The day began with a solid gravel bike ride and a much-needed nap to prepare for the night ahead. John, ever the responsible one, drove us to the event, as he planned to stay sober while the rest of us were ready to indulge fully. The evening kicked off with drinks on the patio, seamlessly transitioning into a night where we barely touched our dinner plates, choosing to spend hours on the dance floor instead. We returned home around 12:15 AM—a late night by my standards, as I'm usually deep in REM sleep by then. Despite not having indulged to this extent in over five years, I miraculously woke up at 6 AM feeling surprisingly okay, pondering whether I had avoided a hangover or was still slightly inebriated.

I started the morning with 1500mg of PrecisionHydration and a bagel, then met up with Hilary for an ambitious 11-mile run, with intervals. Despite my legs holding up well, my stomach was less cooperative, rebelling against any intake of fluids or gels. The run was technically successful, but physically, I felt washed out and had to endure several emergency porta pottie stops.

Exhausted, I still had to coach a master's swim session, during which I couldn't eat or drink without feeling nauseous. Dragging myself home afterward, John cheerily inquired about the day's plans, to which I could only think of getting horizontal ASAP. Later, after a couple of hours and some ice water, my appetite returned with a vengeance, culminating in a feast of vegan pizza and chocolate.

By the evening, I felt about 70% recovered and turned in early. I returned to normal by Monday

, reflecting on the unforgettable night and the following grueling day. It was a blast, but not something I'm eager to repeat soon. However, I'm proud of pushing through that run—it felt like a necessary toll for the night's festivities. No more zero-fuel long runs in my future, but that one did the job for that day. Next up: Morro Bay!

Oceanside 70.3 #14

Tomorrow is my 14th Ironman Oceanside 70.3!

Throughout the years, I've raced with varying levels of fitness. This year, I am in good shape for swim and bike, but the run has proven more challenging than anticipated. My progress was notably hindered by a fracture last year, making my comeback to running both humbling and gradual. When asked if I'm ready, yes, I'm as prepared as possible under the circumstances.

Borrowing a term from a friend, I'd describe my current state as curious, lets see what happens!. It feels like I've been cramming for the run, wishing for just a few more weeks. I plan to swim and bike as I've always done and run to the best of my ability. I've adjusted my expectations to be more realistic.

Having not raced since last May, my excitement to race again is through the roof! I'm thankful for the ability to run and stand at the starting line again. I'm ready to endure whatever comes my way and to welcome the challenge with open arms. I will do my best to smile and thank the volunteers!

Lets do this!

Tucson Triathlon Camp!

 Reflecting on the insanity of the Tucson training camp, it feels like it’s only been a second since we wrapped up that whirlwind of pain, laughter, and a staggering 26 hours of making our bodies question our life choices. Heading into this fitness fest, I was not fit for this camp; I was going to be chasing fitness! 

Camp, in its masochistic glory, is the BEST:

• Surrounding yourself with fellow masochists (aka like-minded souls)

• Six glorious days of swimming/bike/running with zero guilt about neglecting 'real life' chores

• Doing just enough work not to get fired, because, apparently, life doesn’t pause for training camp

Recap of the Torture Fest:

• MONDAY: We kicked it off with a 48-mile bike ride that made me spew a cliff bar. Nothing says "Welcome to camp" like revisiting your breakfast. The swim got zapped by thunder, and we capped the day with a 45-minute run that was an easy shake-out run. But on

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  day 1 of camp, everyone is ON FIRE! 

• TUESDAY: A 117-mile bike that I thought   67 miles. Surprise, motherfucker! Double that with a climb to Kitt Peak because why not torture ourselves? Surprisingly, the post-ride run was not a death march, albeit only for 15 minutes.

• WEDNESDAY: Swam 3200 yards and replaced our track workout with hill repeats because the universe loves to watch us suffer.  12x1 min - send it!  

• THURSDAY: Conquered Mt Lemmon on a bike for 4:30. It was a buffet of pain and caloric desperation.

• FRIDAY: The swim involved some spicy 100s ending with a 100FT, and we did a double-run day because, apparently, we hate ourselves. The 30-minute AM shake-out run was okay; the PM Saguaro Canyon 9-mile adventure was devastating, but the—popsicles. Popsicles make everything better.

• SATURDAY: Last day of camp a 50-mile bike ride featuring sprints that had us all cursing each other’s ancestry. Then, we had a 40-minute progressive run OTB with an ambitious start that ended in a world of pain, promptly healed by an iced latte and a vegan cinnamon roll the size of a small child.

This camp blended euphoria, agony, and many f-bombs! . We pushed our limits, laughed until it hurt, and embraced the suck. The camaraderie was the glue that kept us together, helping us carry each other's spirits (and gear) through each day. And let’s not forget the logistical wonders of SAG—carrying our crap, filling our bottles, and being the unsung heroes who luckily didn’t need to fix a single flat for me (bless tubeless tires).

Aftermath: a unique blend of stink in my laundry room, a newfound aversion to Swedish Fish and Nutter Butters, and a profound respect for chamois cream. Every night ended with a romantic date with my Normatecs, dreaming of the day my legs wouldn’t feel like lead.

Two weeks on, and the bike is feeling great!  Though the run still has a ways to go. But damn, the post-camp fitness surge is real. I left Tucson with my heart full of triathlon love, grateful for the old faces, stoked about the new ones, and secretly plotting my return.

For those on the fence about training camp: leap over that damn fence. It’s a rollercoaster of pain, gain, and insane memories. Plus, you haven’t lived until you’ve seen a grown man cry over a popsicle. Tucson, you were a magnificent bastard, and I can’t wait to do it all over again.

Gravel, Grit, and A Lot of F Bombs: Surviving My Third Gravel and Whine

 This was my 3rd go at Gravel and Whine! My affection for this race has evolved over the years. My first attempt was a rollercoaster of getting lost, battling deep sand, yet crossing the finish line with laughter. The following year was a revelation; the stats above do not reveal true differences in 23 and 24. 2023 was epic and fun,

Pro tip from a guy I was with, no brakes just relax and cruise down

2024 was transformative. The 2024 race upped the ante with about 70% gravel, more arduous climbs, and impossible, truly mountain biking, single tracks. Despite similar appearances, the experiences were worlds apart. My power meter malfunctioned, making the power stats irrelevant, but the intensity and training load tell the tale of why I was so smashed at the end. 

Sure this is rideable.
 

This year, I “welcomed” one of my athletes from Colorado and two friends to join in. I pitched the race as manageable and non-technical. All 3 by the way finished the course!  So kudos there. Yet, early on, I realized this year’s course was a different beast. It wasn't the challenging but doable course, it was soon about enduring fear, exhaustion, and taking risks on precarious descents, yearning for the end. The water scarcity at two out of three aid stations added an unexpected challenge, especially since I opted out of my camelback, complacent from last year's smooth sailing. A lesson was certainly learned there.

For most of the race, I was alone or accompanied by random fellow riders. Days like these can shatter your spirit, yet they are the ones that fortify it. Gravel racing pushes me out of my comfort zone in unpredictable ways. Confronting a 12% grade on a rocky path with deep crevices, running out of water miles from civilization, and facing dirt roads with no amenities - these are the moments that test you. I fell into the sand, tired to the bone, then summoned the effort to empty sand from my gloves, shoes, jersey and then to continue to the mud section.  Where some hilarious person placed a narrow plank to bridge the puddles and deep mud as if I could ride over that.   I tried to walk it but ended up in the mud, so be it.  I was cursing at my optimal level to the amusement of others and even talked a few riders out of quitting. There's something profoundly rewarding about overcoming such discomfort and fear.

I know many choose to cut the course short, but I'm glad I stayed the course. Finishing late, after the raffle and meals, was a humbling experience. I'm far from mastering this, but there's an allure in the challenge and the resilience it demands.

2024

2023

Quitting, Pulling the Plug, Modifying: Learning to Listen to Your Body

 As a triathlon coach and seasoned athlete, I've always pushed the boundaries of my endurance. Yet, there comes a time when you must confront a tough decision: stopping a workout before it's completed. Today, I found myself in this situation during one of my all-time favorite rides—a 120-miler through East County, encompassing the challenging terrains of Mt. Laguna and Engineers Road. This ride, which I partake in at least once a year at the renowned Smiles for Miles Winter Camp hosted by Hillary Biscay, is a testament to endurance and resilience.

Reflecting on my journey, let's rewind to 2023, arguably my most challenging season. In May, a persistent GI bug took up residence in my gut, leading to a miserable two months. This illness cascaded into multiple stress reactions in my foot, halting all running activities for the next ten weeks. My training shifted to a painful mix of biking and swimming. As my foot started to heal, an unfortunate encounter with a pinecone during a bike ride resulted in a fractured trochanter—a major setback that paused my biking and newly resumed running for six weeks. Back to swimming I went.

By November, I began rebuilding my routine, focusing on consistent swimming, biking, running, and strength training. The journey back was more humbling than ever, but I stayed the course. In early December, just as I was regaining some normalcy, my back gave out, a consequence of an overzealous run and an unfortunate collision with a dog. The following three weeks were incredibly tough; I was on the brink of quitting the sport altogether.

However, I persevered and gradually began rebuilding my strength and stamina. Fast forward to today: I've had eight successful, pain-free runs, slowly but surely increasing my time on foot. The Winter Camp was going well, with no issues during Thursday's coastal spin or the challenging Palomar + Cole Grade ride on Friday, despite some back pain post-ride. Saturday's hike/run and a 100x100 pool session went smoothly too.

Then came the "Queenstage Ride" today. Initially, I felt good, but about 90 minutes in, my back started to twinge. The old me would have downed more ibuprofen and powered through, but I've learned that sometimes, the bravest thing to do is to pull back. I wanted to run tomorrow, so I made the tough call to turn around, cutting my ride to 4 hours instead of 8. It was a decision I struggled to feel good about, yet it was the smart thing to do.

Over my 10+ years of coaching, I've seen athletes of all kinds—from those who regularly give up to those who push through at all costs (like I used to). The key, I've learned, is to find a balance. It's about understanding yourself as an athlete and a person, and making decisions that lead to being the best you can be. Today, I chose to listen to my body, and though it's a challenge to accept, it's a step towards being a smarter, more resilient athlete and coach.