Friday, June 25, 2021

Perhaps this is my "why"

Ironman has this triathlon community engagement campaign that has many people sharing their "Why" for maintaining the decipline it takes to commit to training for recreational racing.  I didn't really think I had one, or at least not a deeply personal one that anyone else might find motivating if shared.

I'd signed up for IM Saint George (planned race date in May 2020) ahead of racing SOS (meaning even though I was having trouble running) out of shear enthusiasm for getting to take a shot at its beautiful and hilly bike course.  But after SOS my motivation for training was pretty low, and once race postponnements were announce due to Covid, I took the opportunity to punt to Couer D'Alene 2021.

With no need to train and everyone in lockdown due to the pandemic, I poured my efforts and anxieties into working on the house (some painting in nearly every room) and drinking too much.  And that's how I acquired my "freshman 15", or covid 20, if you will.

I let my coaching contract expire without a word.  I'm not terribly proud of that.  There were more than a few communication issues between us that I didn't have the guts to raise.  And I'd long-pondered whether his coaching style was the right match for my abilities (loss of ground since I had surgery) and my personality (prone to feeling like a failure when I repeatedly miss a projected time despite the work ethic, my once-present focus, and his constant enthusiasm).

And so I was in a rough spot heading into 2021.  Heavy, all prior fitness blown, living as a recluse, anxious about inconsistent mandates & social expectations for wearing a mask when outside the house and around other people.  I also felt silly thinking about hiring a new coach against both that backdrop and uncertainty the June race would be a go - vaccinations were not yet widely available, communities may not grant the pemits, travel restrictions, etc.

But the 20 week mark was fast approaching so after some discussion I hired a friend to coach me.  Focus was on how things felt versus trying to hit any particular pace.  I swam almost exclusively with a snorkel with aim of removing all panic about breathing and instead allowing room for me to focus on form.  How to pull without making my shoulder, neck, & elbow hurt.  How I could improve engagement of lats, glutes & core.  I ran with walk intervals that started as the longer segment (R 1 min, W 2 min).  I worked to flip this and then shortened the walk a bit (to R 2 min, W 45 sec).  Walking is slow but provides a nice stretch for my hip flexors, which are insanely tight.  Working from home at my non-standing desk & evenings on the couch watching tv have not done me any favors in this department.

And there it is.  Add several missed trainings for whatever reasons, a touch of lonliness that none of my friends are racing this one too, a major side dish of self-doubt, and smother it all in projected race day temps in the 90-100 degree range...  I'm destined to be riding the struggle bus for this one.  Yet (as I write this in flight to Spokane) I'm still looking forward to racing and it took until yesterday to understand why.

Because this is how I live out loud, instead of just in my head.

Even if I don't finish this race, I'll have dared to toe the line.  And this is infinitely better than hiding in my house, watching the world go by from a pixillated screen.

Sunday, June 20, 2021

What's So Bad About "Fast and Flat" Courses?

Preamble.  I penned this a couple of years ago but lacked the courage to publish it.  Since then, Saint George was brought back (limited edition basis) so maybe this post has no place.  Whatever.  Gotta dust off this blog somehow.  Original content continues below.

I know I have a reputation for not respecting flat courses and worse, not respecting the athletes that prefer them.  However, this isn't really accurate.  And since I've done a bad job of conveying it verbally, I'm going to try to make sense of it here.

I came to triathlon in a very happen stance way.  Didn't know much about it and never really gave it any thought prior to biking with a new acquaintance in Austin, who one day asked if I did them upon hearing I was also a runner.  I took it as a challenge to learn to swim, and after working up to one mile in a pool I felt I had a suitable level of proficiency to complete a sprint tri, which had an 800 m swim.  I was both correct and under informed.  Swimming in open water, in a disorganized mass of thrashing bodies & without ability to touch the ground or grab a lane line, is actually nothing like swimming in a pool.  It's far more difficult and is an activity that frankly warrants respect.  There's also more to completing a triathlon than the stringing together of 3 sports that I could do on an individual basis.  Being overwhelmed and out of breath coming out of the swim makes running to transition to grab your bike tough.  Running after biking hard is another transition that one should practice.  Those things said, triathlon is survivable on good fitness but incomplete preparation if one correctly positions their expectations.

ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE

I love the positivity conveyed by these words, but I don't take them lightly.  Maybe because I'm missing that innate-seeming, blissful confidence that I assume comes from a youth of feeling well-loved, my approach to the things I undertake often involves a great desire to be well-enough prepared as to assure non-failure.  Maybe I'm wrong, but I get the impression from social media that some approach triathlon differently. Some people toe the starting line unsure they'll meet the swim cut-off.  Some people rely on equipment that may not or even will not be allowed on race day.  Not just wetsuits, but cell phones and headphones as well.  And so weird to me, they don't seem to care - somehow appearing to not give a damn that the rules are meant to apply to them as well.

The combination of this inspriring tag line and the expansion of allowed registration numbers has resulted in crowded courses.  And they seem to be crowded with people who appear to be more interested in the swag with name brand recognition than in the process.  Too many convey a lack of respect for the rules because they "aren't there to win anyway". 

FLAT DOES NOT EQUAL EASY

It's simple human nature to take the easier path.  Sure, lots of individuals choose the path less trodden, the one that looks more challenging.  But how many folks do you see waiting around to cram into an elevator relative to those who eagerly take the stairs?  Understand, this is not a judgement - it's a simple fact that most people, when presented with multiple options, will choose the one they deem easier.  And to most people, that's the straight walk into the elevator vs taking the stairs.  There's nothing wrong with this.

Whether the course is flat or hilly, racing is hard work.  Don't let anyone tell you otherwise and please don't miscredit me as thinking differently.  I also understand there are different definitions of racing other than aiming to win, including the challenge of hitting a specific personal goal that may not even be time based.  I've done countless events racing nothing more than the monkey on my back, who chases me whether or not the course has hills.  But for a moment, can we get back to the people who like the experience provided by elevation gain?

FLAT AND FAST

It's pretty common for new comers to look for an easy way to belong.  Read any triathlon-specific Facebook group and you will find someone asking, "what's the easiest..." half ironman, full ironman, swim course, etc.  Again, there's nothing wrong with this.  But while race directors continually describe their courses as Flat and Fast, and racers continually cram those courses, the events that can't claim this are suffering from lower and lower enrollment and cancellations, leaving no choices for those who enjoy beautiful courses with hilly topology.  This phrase is destroying choice, and it rubs me wrong.  The effects are far reaching. 

For some of us there's a sweet spot for registration numbers - enough that the course doesn't seem lonely, but low enough to not be crowded.  Hillier & non-brand events can't compete because so many people are drunk on F&F and brand recognition that the smaller race can't get the registration numbers to stay afloat.   Opportunity to truly race for time against a decently sized field is now restricted to huge and highly expensive events.  Sure, if your focus is a world championship slot, you have no choice but to race WTC events.  But if your goal is to challenge yourself among a mid-sized AG group of 15-20 participants, the choices are slim. 

I also think this phrase is negatively impacting those who like flat courses, who can't get a fair go of it because the crowding limits opportinity to race clean vs having to compete against cheating drafters or around people biking with positional disregard for those that would pass them.  This crowding brings loads of bad attitude as well, with some people putting down the efforts of those working to hone their craft; I'm referring here to the negative commentary directed at athletes who try moving bike mount/dismunt techniques.  I don't understand this mean-ness.

Anyway, if you genuinely like racing un-hilly courses, good on you.  Just, understand that when I hear 'Flat and Fast' I cringe and feel a bit of anger that your choice is working to deny me of mine.