New wetsuit has arrived.

The wetsuit arrived Monday evening. Went with a XTERRA Vector Pro X2 Fullsuit small long, on a killer deal through John. Excellent fit. I’ll be putting it to work starting this weekend up in Connecticut with some much needed open water swims. I’ll try to get around to a review, but at a minimum look for details in the next post after this weekend’s brick in the hill country.

Fuzzbusted: Part II of II

Another week has slipped by…dang!! Hopefully the lapse between posts won’t incite riots amongst the hordes of followers! But seriously, thanks for keeping me in check. What I do hope is that the wait hasn’t built up any unrealistic expectations of grandiose or even super-human training days. Nope, just some rock solid awesomeness, and as I recall: an awesome ride in the hills of Connecticut (only hills it would seem) surveying the Rev3 course, two welcome bricks, and a gaggle of the fuzz.

Last week, despite my best efforts for this continuation, was incredibly busy. A slow/recovery week it was, but Michelle and I had my Mom and aunts in for the majority of it for a lovely visit. I am however not sure if I got my 10 hours of sleep; not that I couldn’t have, just don’t think my body will allow my to sleep at all past 7 anymore. 7 is the new 10.

Anyway anyway, let’s get to it. Going two weeks back now to 4/10, for what was the start of my first back-to-back long weeks. Something I was a little nervous, but equally excited to get under way. These type of training weekends were to set the stage for months to come, and was anxious to see how far I’ve come. That Saturday took us up to the country retreat courtesy of Melissa and Jay (can’t thank you enough) in Bethany, CT for some serious riding. Truthfully, I hadn’t a clue just how serious the riding would be. I had every intent to do some recon on the Rev3 Quassy bike course, leaving directly that morning from the Labbe homestead, heading north. I mapped it the previous night, for a grand total of a very realistic 95 miles, shooting for a 6 hour spin knowing ‘some hills’ were in store. HA! That was a grand understatement…

Connecticut owns me.

The riding was amazing, just absolutely beautiful. What a treat it is to go for a ride for 4-5 hours and not see another soul (cycling) along the way. It’s a wonderful reminder that the only reason I’ve become disenchanted with cycling these past few years is because of geographical locale. (Luckily, we’ll remedy that sometime soon.)

Connecticut is such a beautiful place. That same night before the ride, I made a cue sheet so I wouldn’t get too lost along the way. Although, I seem to remember some of the best rides I’ve ever had involved getting lost. Then again that probably had something to do with the company as well. This day however, cue sheet in hand, I set out on a fairly brisk morning in the low 50’s, around 9AM. How quickly reality came crashing in as not two miles into the ride I was heading up the first series of climbs of the day (still excited at this point). Didn’t feel so brisk out anymore after that climb, which immediately set the tone for the day.

I rode some beautiful country roads, and some crazy-town hills for all of 70 miles. Recon on Quassy did eventually happen, but the 95 mile ride was cut fairly short as I worried about saving some in the tank for first brick coming the next day. Before starting Rev3 course, I took a moment to survey the park lake, which happened to be open, envisioning race day excitement not more than 8 weeks away. As I started the course after leaving the park, I immediately realized everything I heard was true, i.e., it will be a tough day. I was hoping the 20 miles or so up to the start of the course from Bethany was some alter-universe-type anomaly, where near every street name I came upon ended with ‘Hill’, and surely didn’t disappoint in delivering on that promise. However, that was not the case, as Quassy proved to be just as demoralizing.

In a good way of course. Hell, just being out of NYC is a day worth shouting about. I eventually cut the course short, but not before seeing a few like-minded tri-geeks out there doing the same. The ride back to Bethany, proved to be just as lovely, and the wind was much more forgiving heading south (which can be a bugger in it’s own right). I must say, again, it’s beautiful country up there. Cut the prescribed 6 hour ride to 4.5, and called it a day with an awesome dinner concocted by the power of 2.

Inaugural Brick.

After making our way back to the city that night from the highlands of Connecticut, we fueled up at our favorite local Tex-Mex joint and called it a night. I had some anxiety about the next day, as it had been sometime since I had bricked anything (approximately 10 years), and never the three together. Thus, food in belly, sleep was the next item on tap.

Sunday started at 6:30AM with my usual power-slam breakfast of oatmeal, raisins, walnuts, bananas, and Greek yogurt. I would have gladly started the day much earlier, but the swim as it turns has dictated otherwise, with the gym not opening its doors on the weekend to practically noon!! Well, 8AM really, and in my warped perception of time, equally midday. Good weather was in the forcast, I believe with temperatures reaching the low 70’s, which would surely make things all the better. So I hoped.

The brick started officially somewhere around quarter to 8AM when I found myself pedaling to the gym for an on time 2000 swim start to the day. Nothing too exciting to report and after a smooth 30 minutes, I popped out immediately and made my way to the locker for a quick change and pedal home for the commuter to trusty steed bike swap.

After a nutrition check for a long day, essentials in jersey pockets and onboard bottles, I headed out the door shortly after 9AM. All and all, despite being somewhat of a mind-numbing repeat ride, I had a really good day on the bike. I did however go just a little too hard I believe (more on that later), but the sun was shining and it was hard not to be just a little amped. That day’s ride took me by way of Nyack, NY up 9W. Pretty standard for these parts, but I opened it up in a few places to kill the boredom. On that note, strangely my legs felt just fine from the killer hills the day before. That in itself was a welcome reassurance of the four months of base paying off.

I activated Michelle when back in Brooklyn for the planned bike/shoe swap. This pretty much entailed a ‘The Eagle has landed’ conversation as we reconfirmed our planned meeting location in Prospect Park. We met shortly thereafter, and after hopping off my bike, lacing up, changing to a singlet, a big sweaty kiss on the cheek, and a self-assuring ‘This is fine’ spoken aloud, I took my first steps…a very gelatinous first few steps. That was my indication that I went just a little harder than I was aiming to. I did however find my pace after approximately a mile or so – and kicked it over with a comfortable 45 minute 5 miler.

That was it. I did it! Overall I felt a little tired, but not trashed. About a 7 hour day in total.

Fuzzbusted.

So, I’m going to skip the details largely of brick part two, as in day-long format the two are identical. Rather in all the natural anticipation I’ll get right to the heart of the matter, i.e., the explanation of the title. Funny thing is, in the week and a half since that happened most of you have already heard it’s explanation. Ah well, here it is again, documented for history…

So coming into this week, I had a new approach for the ride after some real world experience and some sage advice from John. Basically that entailed nothing more than pacing myself. I’m quickly finding out how much of this is about just that. It’s a long day out there, and it’s the combo that counts, i.e., you can’t go out and kill yourself on the ride, and blow up on the run. It’s a fine line refined only by experience.

So again, 9W was the plan of the day. However I had decided to switch it up a bit with a ride along the Palisades Interstate Park for a change of scenery. What I didn’t know was that the apparently areas of this beautiful stretch are off–limits for bicycles. Really? In a park? On a road traveled by cars?

So how did this occur to me? Well I was heading up a really nice long climb in said park when I happened upon not one, not two, but three(!), yes a grand total of three NJ police cars. Your (NJ) tax dollars hard at work! In all seriousness, as I made my way up to the blockade, reminiscent of international border security, cop A entered the scene by extending his arm into a very forceful stop signal followed by a verbal ‘Halt’. Yes, sadly, I’m being honest. Some of the standard ‘Do you know why I’m stopping you?’, and ‘Do you have your ID?’ came shortly thereafter. ‘No’ to the first, ‘Yes’ to the latter. So as cop A disappears to a car to check-up on me, another cop, we’ll call him cop B starts chatting me up:

‘Are you from the city?’

‘Yes, Brooklyn’, as I remember the brim of my Brooklyn cycling cap plainly visible saying just that extending from under my helmet.

‘So dey don’t let yous guys ride in central park?’

’90 miles get’s pretty boring really quickly.’

Shortly thereafter cop A returns to lecture me on this road being prohibited for this or that reason, with a sign being somewhere that I must have missed, and I had to walk my bike for the remainder of the hill up to 9W. After which, he mentioned in passing to cop B that he was done for the day after handing me a very appropriate 50 dollar fine.

Lovely. Suppose that was bound to happen. Just glad it took 15 years, however I really wish it could’ve happened under different circumstances. Like how about all those times when I was breaking the speed limit? Really, wouldn’t that be rad?

‘Yeah I got a speeding ticket yesterday.’

‘Really, I thought you didn’t own a car.’

‘I don’t.’

The bad, with the good.

Sometimes things don’t quite click. Sometimes, things just feel a little off. Today was one of those days. I felt clumsy, awkward, inefficient, tired; like a noob. All of these feelings were happily validated by ‘demons’ of the psyche. But, you know what? That’s OK. I mean that too. I could dissect the millions of reasons my brain is offering me right now on why things didn’t go right this morning. I can tell myself, that I already know why. Or, I do what I know I was going to do before I even sat down to jot this. Let it go, remind yourself where you are, where you came from, and where your going. It’s a day. A snapshot of the big picture.

That’s it. My two cents. For me, as much as anyone reading.

Part II of Fuzzbusted coming soon, I promise. But I want 10 hour of sleep first.

Fuzzbusted: Part I of II

To all my loyal following I do apologize for the huge gap between this and my last post! My ‘populous’ is waiting as Michelle says. Anyway, in all seriousness, it’s been a tiring two weeks on and the 2-3 hours a day that I had to myself these past weeks before I found myself drooling on the couch half-asleep at 9PM, despite the best intentions, left the blog gathering dust. I can however say there is a lot to update on, primarily being my first two long days totaling out at nearly 8 hours, and one killer ride in a state that grows hills. Let’s get to it.

These two weeks on started somewhat frustratingly (to put it nicely) back on the 6th with a way overly crowed morning swim. I guess you can’t not expect this every once and a while living in NYC, but it does make workouts a near impossibility, as you have to default to lap swimming, and on this particular morning with 4 other individuals. Truthfully, it was the first really nice day of Spring, abnormally nice if I remember correctly topping out at 80+, which brought people out of the woodwork to go for a swim. Cest la vie. I liken it to the start of the year in gyms across the country, i.e., crazy town. With time, it returns to normal. I have confidence the same will happen with the pool.

Besides that, weekday training was spot-on, with everything really clicking into place. Generally I feel great albeit pretty wiped come end of day, but I guess that’s to be expected. The interesting thing I’ve started to notice is how much volume I’m able to do now, and still feel fresh the next day. I was trying to narrow it down after a few surprising examples I’ll get to, but I truly believe its just my base fitness/adaptation continuing to increase. I’ve never done over 4 months of base, so it feels pretty amazing to have a really tough day, completely recover, and do it again the next. Of course it’s not that easy, and nutrition and rest factor into this 10-fold, however it certainly has gotten easier these days.

As an aside to that, I can say without the slightest hesitation that I feel better than I’ve ever felt in my life. The best. Stronger, healthier, leaner and happier (can’t attribute it all to being a triathlete of course). It never crossed my mind that I would ever tip the scales at a lean 163, a morning resting heart rate in the upper 30’s, healthy strong lungs with not a hint of asthma, etc., etc. If you know me, you know I’m only saying this out of excitement, excitement that all this is just a result of doing something I’ve found and truly am more passionate about than anything I have ever been before. Even in what I thought to be my previous healthiest points in 15 years of cycling, I came nowhere near as close to where I am now (and I have still so far to go!). I love the diversity the 3 sports, being an endurance athlete, and the physical and mental limits it can push you to. It’s addictive, and more satisfying than any high, natural or unnatural, I’ve ever had. That, and I wish I found this sooner, but to be cliché, better late than never.

And who would of thought, in addition, swimming would be something I’d actually look forward to? Yeah, really, I’m nearly there. Really enjoying it that is. Swimming continues to improve for me, with noticeable improvements in stroke and breathing efficiency. My swim totals were approximately 9500-1000 each week, and continue to consist of two targeted 3500-4000 strength/endurance, with a new weekend addition of 2000 as part of my first bricks (more to come on that). My 2000 aerobic (not killing myself) time is just a little over 30 minutes now. Few things to round out here over the upcoming weeks, mainly pertaining to some open water practice in my wetsuit, but I’ll get there. Both are on schedule for the upcoming months in the lakes of Connecticut.

Running. Man I still love it. Who would’ve thought? Anyway, my two 20 milers on these past Wednesdays went status quo, with comfortable long pace times at 7:30-7:45/mile. Shorter Friday runs the same, but with the shorter hour on, pretty much are base/recovery runs. Changed it up a little on this past Wednesday with a new route up to Chelsea and back. Good for a change of pace and next week I’m looking into just running to work. I wish I could report more here, but things continue to improve, with the satisfaction of a good run never waning…

So what does the title of this post refer to? I think I’m far enough behind to break this update into two parts. I’ll get to that and the weekend details come tomorrow. Way past my bedtime, but then again, it is a recovery week…

29 something?!

Homecoming Scotland Day 10K Race Report

No, not hardly. That was the, not mine, winning time of the day. And if you know me enough to know that I’m just being snarky when I say that wasn’t my time, you’ll also most likely realize the true undercurrent of how impressed I am by that winning finish from Saturday’s race. Saturday very much put things into perspective for me, and the absolute power and speed of some these guys and gals have out there. Not to mention, a (re)newed appreciation even amongst my fellow corral members who spoke casually before the gun went off of sub 6 targets.

I suppose, last week’s 15K changed everything for me, where once a sub 7 seemed an impossibility, and the effort it took to accomplish such, compared to the winning time of the day like my time compared to those crossing the line with an approximate 8:20 pace. This is not ego, no, this is awe. For instance, if 8:20 is teetering on not even my long run pace border, but a recovery run pace, does that mean these guys crank out their easy runs at a leisurely 6:30? That’s amazing. I ask these questions somewhat rhetorically, as I very well knew this before, but perspective somehow always changes everything.

That being said, Saturday brought Michelle and I to Central Park for her first race of the season. (One which she did awesome with, with a personal best 8:11!) It was an amazingly beautiful day, with temps well into the 50’s and full sunshine by the time we were lining up. The turnout this week nearly quadrupled last Sunday’s race, topping out near 8,000 people, which also had something to do with the nice weather I would imagine. All and all the energy was definitely heightened and we were immediately charged as a result.

After a short pit stop at my office to drop our gear, we headed over to the park around 9:20, which left us with just enough time for a super easy 2 mile warm-up on the cushy bridal paths followed by some light stretching. All in all by the time we were called to corral, we were jazzed and ready to go. My corral, being the first, left Michelle and I parting around 10 minutes to the gun (which happened to be just enough time to find here way back to her start position!).

There was definitely a whole different breed of racers out Saturday as we herded in like cattle waiting for the start. Not just in shear volume, but intensity. Don’t get me wrong, in general the comradery amongst runners is great, but the scent of serious competition was in the air (I think blood was there too). I never imagined myself in with the likes of some of those around me, but as I’m quickly discovering as I did with bike racing, one of the quickest ways to get faster is to run (ride) with people who will undoubtedly smoke your ass. Yep, there were more than their share this time around knocking shoulders with me who could, and would, do just that.

The gun went off right on time, and after the usual awkward shuffling as we all started kicking it over, it was go time. Make no doubt about it, the shorter the races get, the faster the field tends to get. Saturday was no exception. I quickly found myself getting carried away with initial pacing around 5:45. I also knew that that kind of effort would blow me up at no more than 5K, so I dialed it down a notch. However one of the best parts of racing with people that will most certainly kick your ass, is that only they have the key to opening that little bit of reserve you can never quite tap into running solo. The trick is finding someone that will only slightly kick your ass, and then hang on, i.e., the golden carrot.

The race took us on a full reverse loop of the park. Central Park racing is still somewhat new to me, so I can’t say I know what to expect, but truthfully I almost prefer it in running races, especially short course. There isn’t much to go into detail from here on out, as after I found my pace, and those that I would stick with, all that remained was the execution through the remaining miles. I did however manage to take some notes along the way, mainly with hill strategy. That and some adequate suffering rounded out the day.

I finished sub 40, and although my Garmin had my unofficial time at 6:19, I ended up with a 6:23 official. I was initially a little disappointed to be honest, hoping for 6:20 or less, but I’ll take it. I have to remember, above all, to be thankful just to be able to be out there enjoying myself. After downing some Gatorade, I managed to stand by and pick Michelle out as she came into the finish. We followed it up with some light stretching, downed some carbs, and ended the morning with a 1-2 mile cool down as we wound our way back to my office.

An awesome day in so many ways: 39:42, 6:23 Pace, 74/685 AG, beautiful weather, and lil’ Midge.