7 Weeks of Hell: May 7 to June 24, 2007
Week 1 of 7
The week started with a whimper. I raced on Sunday and age and treachery did not overcome youth and ability. I thought I would sleep in on Monday (knowing what is coming for the rest of the week).
This week my wind trainer (not a magnetic or fluid trainer but one with fans) finally croaked. I have been rebuilding it about 20 years old with assorted old and new parts. I found one in a used sporting goods shop. I should note that one of the advantages of living in Canada's second fattest city is all the barely used fitness equipment you can buy here. I pulled it off the shelf. They wanted $100 for it and with as much drama as I could muster I took it up to the till, took a deep breath, blew a bunch of dust off of it, and said, "I'll give you $50 for it." He said, "$60?" I said, "OK."
Where was I? Oh yeah, indoor riding. Another personality quirk that I developed from years of doing this is a lot of grunting, groaning, and loud cursing at the end of a hard workout. I do this in the basement and the family is used to this. I like to think of it as my "mighty barbarian yop" but I know I just sound retarded.
Erik had a school track meet this and was third in shotput. This is not a reflection of Erik's ability as a shot putter as he is 5'10" and 110 pounds, but is more a reflection of the sorry state of athletics at his high school. Erik also came home looking like I guess it could be best described as Lobster Boy after his first afternoon in the sunshine without a shirt on. I told him that he would feel better if he put some Lakota on his skin and had a hot shower. He said "no" because he heard me screaming last week when I did it.
On Wednesday I caught the 6:30 a.m. flight to Hamilton. Once a year I go visit Dr. Bob to do what Dr. Bob calls the Annual Pain Weekend. This is the 9th annual. How can I describe Dr. Bob? Dr. Bob is a biblical scholar who likes to ride his bike, and run, and like me, does not like to swim but will put up with it to get on his bike. Once a year we meet to engage in a weekend of male bonding and like a twisted sadomasochistic relationship Dr. Bob and I alternatively beat each other up and we like it. But before you get too excited, keep in mind that these are two middle aged men in spandex. We ride our bikes up and down the Niagara escarpment until we puke, and drink a lot of scotch. Actually, we drink more than scotch. Dr. Bob has a tradition at his house where we have martinis at 5:00 p.m., wine with dinner, then scotch while we watch movies. This is all after the traditional post-workout beer in the hot tub.
I got into Hamilton at noon. Dr. Bob picked me up. We went back to his house. I had my bike assembled inside of 20 minutes and we were out on the road to ride some hills and be back for happy hour. Thursday was much the same but without the flight to Hamilton. Unlike the last couple of years where I was hanging on for dear life, I made Dr. Bob curse my very existence. I ran 4 miles off the bike and we were done relatively early. I took the opportunity in the afternoon to take the train downtown to do some shopping and after traveling 3,000 kilometers I finally was able to find some running shorts in size small. On a whim, I ate an Egyptian restaurant. I had something called the babaganoosh, and it was delicious.
On Friday, Dr. Bob did not want to ride with me unless I was tired first and strongly suggested that I go for a hard run. Strongly suggested is a bit of an understatement. I know he was toying with the idea of driving me 20 miles out into the countryside and dropping me off with a pair of runners and a water bottle ... and, hopefully, clothes.
On Saturday we rode with the Oakville Cycling Club. I like riding with the Oakville Cycling Club. We ride in a tightly regulated double pace line and it is highly civilized and courteous unlike the people I ride with at home where the most often heard comment is, "Pull my finger!" It was windy, and cold. The irony of leaving the icy prairies to get some warm weather riding in was not lost on me because it was a hell of a lot warmer at home. I ditched the post ride run because it would interfere with happy hour.
That evening Dr. Bob and I made the huge tactical error of watching Rocky Balboa and in a scotch-induced haze decided that Dr. Bob's Ironman retirement is coming to an end and we are registering for Ironman Wisconsin in 2008. Doh! Dr. Bob's wife, Pat, who has only recently been able to tolerate me, is now officially back to hating me.
Sunday is long run day. Sunday is always long run day ... even with a hangover and the vague memory of making a stupid decision the night before.
I suppose there should be some useful training information in here. I have found that what you eat or drink right after a long workout is just as important as what you eat or drink during to help recovery, especially when piling on miles and intensity as I do in these weeks leading up to a long race. I mix maltodextrin, orange Gatorade, and protein powder in a bike bottle and use this both during and immediately after a long workout or short one that really digs into my reserves. Anyways, after drinking gallons of this over the week, and my eagerness to have a beer in the hot tub before getting on the plane, I thought I could just put some maltodextrin in my mouth and wash it down with some water. As I gagged, I thought of how lame is my death notice going to look "Found in Washroom in Burlington, Ontario with Bag Full of White Powder" when "Gunned Down in a Hail of Police Bullets" would have sounded so much better.
Weekly damage:
Run 55 miles
Bike 245 miles
Swim - nothing
Week 2
I slept in on Monday morning because it was a late flight back. In other words, Stephen won, Stimpy lost. The downside of Stephen winning is that this week I am trying to cram a week of training into 5 days so I can go fishing on the weekend with my dad and Erik and Anders without any guilt. As a result, Monday to Thursday was a blur.
From what I recall, I returned to the Swim Fit class on Thursday and still refused to do a stroke other than free style. The good news was that I had a lane entirely to myself. Oh the joys of being incontinent! Total swim was a whole kilometer.
On Thursday I was doing one mile repeats (running). I know that this is the last thing I should be doing 12 hours before a long brick (combined long bike ride and run) but I do a lot of things I am not supposed to do. Since the weather was decent for May and I had spent the last five months in a parka I took off my shirt to run. I could tell that my circus sideshow weight loss program was working because a passing by truckload of slack-jawed yee-hawing rednecks yelled, "You disgust me!"
On Friday I took the day off work to combine my long bike ride and long run and then get into a car in the afternoon and drive 5 hours to my parents' cabin. I biked 80 miles and ran 20 miles including the 5 k threshold run/time trial. This marked a high point of this workout and the next 90 minutes were a death march back home. However, I did get out to the lake and got in two days of fishing as well as four miles of running on both Saturday and Sunday because Stimpy said so.
Weekly damage:
Run 59 miles
Bike 180 miles
Swim 1 kilometer
Week 3
Monday is a holiday in Canada, the Victoria Day long weekend so I wasn't at work. Instead I worked out ... just for a change of pace. I slept in a bit, lifted weights, went out for a solid bike ride and then I ran with Erik for 8 miles including 10 times a 300 meter hill, and holy crap, he is getting fast. We did the last two hills in 51 seconds and the last one in 49. The second last hill, I saw stars. On the last one I saw Jim Morrison.
On Tuesday, I felt like crap but like a junky looking for a bigger fix, I worked out anyways: biked in the morning, ran at lunch and again in the evening.
No plan ever survives contact with the enemy. I am the enemy. It is Wednesday and I am sick. Being sick means an easy 10 mile bike ride on the wind trainer followed by an easy 2 mile run. I wish I could be sick like other people and sleep.
On Thursday I felt better. I was up early to swim, ran hill repeats in the evening, lifted weights, and rode and another 10 miles easy bike on the wind trainer.
Today was the high school city championships where Marit ran the 3000, the 800, the 1500, the 400, and the 4x400 relay. Erik ran the 800, the 400, and the 1500. Being an ex-800 meter runner, and sometimes coach, I tried to offer Erik some fatherly advice. He said, "Don't worry, I have a plan." Erik's plan was to spend the first 400 meters in second-last place and then run everybody down except for the leader. I don't like Erik's plans - they're stressful. So Erik was second in the 800, the 400, and was less successful in the 1500 and 3000. But that's okay; he gets to go to provincials. Meanwhile Marit was 4th in the 3000, 5th in the 800, 3rd in the 1500, 6th in the 400, and 3rd in the 4x400 and made provincials but, sick of local track politics, declined.
By Friday I realized that the music I listen to during my morning bike rides is getting progressively worse. This morning it was Motley Crue and Judas Priest. I'm sure next week I'll be listening to polka covers of Black Oak Arkansas. I noticed at work today that my grip on reality is loosening and maybe I really am a masochist. I saw a poster in the staff cafeteria that said "PAIN" and it immediately got my interest. As I got closer, I was disappointed to see that it was "PAIN-T BALL."
On Saturday I slept in until 7:00 a.m. then rode for 45 minutes on my own and met Team JFT at 9:00 a.m. There were 11 of us. Sometimes I think I have created a monster, but more on this later. Dr. Bob was in town and I rode with him and Conway who I have foolishly provided a training program to. To make a long story short, Dr. Bob and Conway teamed up to make me suffer and for whatever reason, I loved it. Conway made me cry like a little girl, beat me like a red-headed step-child, or a rented mule, etc. Conway has a new bike and told me that he has been "fisted" by some guy in Saskatoon. I thought this sounded pretty weird but whatever turns him on. During the one of the several times I got dropped, Dr. Bob took no small amount of enjoyment in pulling up beside Conway, gritting his teeth, and saying, "Stephen got dropped!"
There was one moment of joy, however, when we stormed past the "Look at me, I'm training for Ironman Canada (IMC)" group. The leader was wearing the official IMC cycling jersey, IMC arm warmers, IMC shorts, IMC socks, and, I'm sure, the IMC thong. I remarked as we passed, "Hey, did you do Ironman Canada or something?" The total ride was 80 miles. Then I ran 2 miles off the bike. For a brief moment during the run, it happened. Catherine Wheel's "Heal" come over the iPod and I found myself smiling at a passing insect.
On Sunday I was up early and biked 24 miles on the wind trainer, easy. Then I ran 36 miles and felt good, very good. A couple of hours into the run, the famous Sask RV drove past and stopped and said, "Hi." We chatted for a moment and then I ran off and I was thinking, "Gee, that was nice," just as the Big Sugar's cover of Mr. Fantasy came on the IPod and it happened again, I smiled at another bug. Gee, I am getting soft in my old age. In a few weeks the police are going to find me running naked through the field chasing butterflies.
Weekly damage:
Run 69 miles
Bike 180 miles
Swim 3 kilometers
Week 4
This week, worried about the excessive amount of metal I was listening to and the impact it was having on my psyche, I switched my cycling music choice away from metal to industrial. Monday morning it was the Genitorturers. I'm sure this will keep me well-adjusted.
There is just no rationalizing some of these bike workouts. I can't start them and easy and ease into it. They just hurt all the time. This was not a good week for swimming. I had a window of opportunity to swim at lunch on Friday but went out for lunch instead. The "city that rhymes with fun" has very few Mexican restaurants. One of these is a biker bar owned by the Hell's Angels. This is where I went instead of swimming. Not only is the food great but the rather skanky waitresses call me "honey" and "sweetheart."
My Saturday bike was pretty much a carbon copy of the week before same as before: Conway and a whole lot of pain. Why is it always truckloads of unattractive men that insist on making sexual advances as they drive past me? Once, just once, can't it be a bus load of Victoria's Secret models, just once?
So Erik won the provincial high school championships in the 400m Erik. Erik. Erik who sleeps 19 hours a day and shows up at the start line, hair uncombed, with eye-boogers, yawning, in basketball shorts, and without starting blocks. This must drive the real sprinters insane. Anywho, Mary and I drove a few hours to watch him run the 800m. It was stifling hot. Erik usually runs in a black bad t-shirt under his singlet. We were watching him from across the track and saying to ourselves, "Is Erik wearing a white t-shirt? Does Erik even own a white t-shirt?" Then it dawned on us, "OH MY GOD, THAT'S HIS TAN!!".
Erik was second in the 800m and ran everybody down in the last 200m except the leader. If he only started kicking earlier ... and dressed better.
On Sunday I dropped out of society again to run for 6 hours or about 36 miles. This begs the question: Does Stimpy really have my long term health in mind? It is also interesting to note that I started Sunday walking the dog in Sponge Bob pajamas carrying a coffee and ended it in leopard print bowling shirt clutching a Corona.
As a purely symbolic gesture, I mowed the lawn after the run. It was symbolic because our lawn is about the size of a postage stamp. At least I tried to maintain the impression that I can contribute to the household.
Marit is getting a bit militant about being seen in public with me as the weeks go by and had been heard to remark on more than one occasion, "Dad, hygiene, remember?" On a related note, I've stopped shaving on weekends. It's just too much work. Alarm bells will not start to ring however, unless I stop wiping. I talked to my mother on Sunday. She thinks I should have my old jeans back. Finally, we rented the van for Quebec from "Hertz," of course. I am the only one who thinks this is funny?
Weekly damage:
Run: 75 miles
Bike: 188 miles
Swim: well. nothing
Week 5
I awoke on Monday and suddenly realized that I need to swim ... something about an 8k swim looming in the future. I also checked the race website and noted with no small amount of alarm that original leisurely float down the St. Lawrence with the current and outgoing tide which raises the possibility of actually hydro-planing, overshooting the finish and ending up somewhere in the North Atlantic has been changed to a multiple lap affair in a "sheltered bay." Fuck.
With a slow and painful death on race day firmly ensconced in the back of my mind, I returned to Swim-Fit at lunch on Tuesday and the now heavily sedated instructor didn't care what stroke I used. Once again I got my own lane. Word of my previous indiscretions in the pool travels fast in the tightly knit local swim community.
On Wednesday June 6, a full three and a half weeks earlier than I've ever done this, a few of us drove out the lake for a quick swim. I lasted a whole kilometer. I've jokingly expressed my longing on some occasions to feel the "icy hand of death." I no longer want to make that reference, at least not for a while.
On Friday, I desperately wanted to sleep in but NOOO! I was up at 4:30am and ran 10 miles including 10 hill repeats. But it just gets better.then I swam for 5k with pull buoys and arms only. Since I forgot breakfast, had a big cup of coffee instead and 2 water bottles in the pool I found that all of this liquid went through me like the bullet train. The Y needs to drain pool ... perhaps tear it down and start again from scratch.
On Saturday I rode for 160 miles and whatever crazy ass Zen Buddhist monk version of myself I summoned from the depths of my psyche to get me through this was immediately drowned in Corona as soon as I was done.
On Sunday I found out that my dominatrix is on vacation so I ran for another 60k instead.
Weekly Damage:
Run 79 miles
Bike 213 miles
Swim 7k
Week 6 - Flogging a Dead Horse
I woke up on Monday morning with a backwards ball cap sun burn on my forehead and my testicles are no longer speaking to me. I also note that the pile of stinky workout clothes has become self-aware.
I did my weekly 10mile indoor trainer time trial on Tuesday morning and, much to my surprise, I am still able to squeak out some improvement. I knew it was going to be a good day when the Pantera's "Vulgar Display of Power" came on and I dropped my chain into my second highest gear and could still turn it over. I have a one more gear on my bike, an 11 tooth cog just to show that I have a sense of humour. I planned to have wanted to hear the Headstones "Unsound" to start playing as I hit the final 4 minutes, only to hear the line "I'd give you more but you know I have noting - hardly get any sleep at all". This was more than appropriate. By 9 am at work that day I crashed. I had already eaten my lunch and the spent rest of day looking for food.
I took Wednesday of work to bike for 96 miles including an 80 mile time trial and to watch Stewy run his school city championships in the afternoon. I know I shouldn't bet on grade 5 and 6's but I did anyways. Anyways, I wanted to get my long ride in early in the week because I'm racing an Olympic distance tri in Saskatoon on Sunday and entertain hopes of doing well.
In other news, I got some consulting work in Alberta after a long dry spell.then I got another project there. It's funny that lately I can't seem to attract flies in my home province ... well, that's not true. I attract a lot flies after a long run.
We visited some family on Saturday and I noted that I fell asleep twice will sitting up. I'm glad that the end is near.
Sunday was the last time I'm racing in Saskberia which felt rather strange. I don't need any short course racing in 2008 and after the Deca thingy, I doubt I'll have much enthusiasm for it. Finally, local triathlon politics are getting just too ridiculous for me.
Here's some history. In 2001, Regina Multisport Club (RMC) wanted to offer bike and run training. I volunteered to lead this and do it as a volunteer (as in free). Instead, they hired a board members wife to do it on a profit basis. After this failed, I started my own club. Actually, it wasn't me alone but I was the lightening rod for all the backlash. I think it is pretty juvenile and stupid and never ever responded to any of it until now and this is as far as I will go. Please note that I have retained a detailed email trail of my volunteer offer and it denial just in case any doubts the authenticity of the above.
Anywho, this year RMC, in there infinite wisdom, determined that online race registration is/was reserved for club members only. With races selling out in a matter of days this meant that even if you are from out of town you have to be a member of the local club to race. (I signed up Marvin as a youth member, he's only 7, to accommodate those who wanted to race locally without forking out the extra cash to join the club.) The Saskatoon club, in turn, made it very difficult for out of town athletes to do their races such as a Thursday night only race package pickup, no exceptions. So, I'm not interested in any of this and will race elsewhere, thank you very much.
The race was ok, I guess. My swim sucked, my bike split was 64 minutes and change which was tolerable for cold and raining. The run course was closed after I finished 5k because there was a single crack of lightning. I went and finished the run anyways, by myself, in the rain. It was all very anti-climatic for a last local race.
I was up at 4am on Monday to run 23 miles before work. It's my training log and I'm counting it as belonging to Week 6. If it was possible to sleep and run at the same time, I did it here.
Weekly Damage
Run 57 miles
Bike 160 miles
Swim 5k
Week 7- Flogging the guy who died while flogging the dead horse
Monday and Tuesday I worked long and hard on the consulting contract while still training and working my day job and was pretty pooped by Tuesday evening. I ran hills anyways. This required the least imagination and mental effort. The Running Room group was on the hill. I resisted the temptation to call Cult Watch. I must look like as much as an alien to them as they do to me. They have on cool max shirts, matching, baggy shorts, and run carefully heart-rate monitor monitored paces. I'm in a t-shirt, split shorts, no heart rate monitor, and weeze, grunt, fart and drool as I run uphill. I should note I own several coolmax shirts, usually from races, but reserve these for "formal t-shirt" occasions. I did run in one once, by accident. It felt kind of refreshing to not be all sweaty and clammy but I figured that something that feels good has to be wrong and I reverted to poly 50/50 blends.
I surprised myself by still being able to squeeze just a tiny bit more performance from my skinny little body. The prognosis for Quebec is good, very good ... and I could still drag my sorry ass to the pool on Friday morning and swim 4.5k (arms only) with pull buoys.
We headed up to the lake on Friday evening and then while riding on Saturday morning in the winds and hills I finally cracked and finished up 20 miles short of my goal. However, being sick and twisted, I did the final 20 miles on the wind trainer when I got home on Sunday night to make up for it.
The coup de grace for the 7 weeks of pure unadulterated Stimpy-led abuse was a 40k run on Sunday with 2 hours of it down a trail in northern Saskatchewan covered in honey and raw hamburger to work on speed. Actually, I ran with a bear bell because, although I'm not much of a meal right now, I'm a big coward when it comes to bears.
I'm developing a new appreciation for the lake mostly due to the lack of cell phone access (a very good thing), no TV, no internet, and no radio reception except for a very fuzzy am radio station from Melfort: 750 Oldies. Being a glutton for punishment, I just have to hear what they will play next. Where else are you going to hear Andy Kim, the Poppy Family, The Archies, and Keith Hampshire?
So, what was it like to finish the 7 weeks and taper? You know at the end of "Holmes on Homes" when the owners see the renos and there is all that relaxing music playing? It wasn't like that at all. To celebrate the beginning of taper time I stopped at KFC in Melfort and was promptly rewarded by 2 days of explosive diarrhea.
Weekly Damage:
Run 58 miles
Bike 165 miles
Swim 4.5k
The week started with a whimper. I raced on Sunday and age and treachery did not overcome youth and ability. I thought I would sleep in on Monday (knowing what is coming for the rest of the week).
This week my wind trainer (not a magnetic or fluid trainer but one with fans) finally croaked. I have been rebuilding it about 20 years old with assorted old and new parts. I found one in a used sporting goods shop. I should note that one of the advantages of living in Canada's second fattest city is all the barely used fitness equipment you can buy here. I pulled it off the shelf. They wanted $100 for it and with as much drama as I could muster I took it up to the till, took a deep breath, blew a bunch of dust off of it, and said, "I'll give you $50 for it." He said, "$60?" I said, "OK."
Where was I? Oh yeah, indoor riding. Another personality quirk that I developed from years of doing this is a lot of grunting, groaning, and loud cursing at the end of a hard workout. I do this in the basement and the family is used to this. I like to think of it as my "mighty barbarian yop" but I know I just sound retarded.
Erik had a school track meet this and was third in shotput. This is not a reflection of Erik's ability as a shot putter as he is 5'10" and 110 pounds, but is more a reflection of the sorry state of athletics at his high school. Erik also came home looking like I guess it could be best described as Lobster Boy after his first afternoon in the sunshine without a shirt on. I told him that he would feel better if he put some Lakota on his skin and had a hot shower. He said "no" because he heard me screaming last week when I did it.
On Wednesday I caught the 6:30 a.m. flight to Hamilton. Once a year I go visit Dr. Bob to do what Dr. Bob calls the Annual Pain Weekend. This is the 9th annual. How can I describe Dr. Bob? Dr. Bob is a biblical scholar who likes to ride his bike, and run, and like me, does not like to swim but will put up with it to get on his bike. Once a year we meet to engage in a weekend of male bonding and like a twisted sadomasochistic relationship Dr. Bob and I alternatively beat each other up and we like it. But before you get too excited, keep in mind that these are two middle aged men in spandex. We ride our bikes up and down the Niagara escarpment until we puke, and drink a lot of scotch. Actually, we drink more than scotch. Dr. Bob has a tradition at his house where we have martinis at 5:00 p.m., wine with dinner, then scotch while we watch movies. This is all after the traditional post-workout beer in the hot tub.
I got into Hamilton at noon. Dr. Bob picked me up. We went back to his house. I had my bike assembled inside of 20 minutes and we were out on the road to ride some hills and be back for happy hour. Thursday was much the same but without the flight to Hamilton. Unlike the last couple of years where I was hanging on for dear life, I made Dr. Bob curse my very existence. I ran 4 miles off the bike and we were done relatively early. I took the opportunity in the afternoon to take the train downtown to do some shopping and after traveling 3,000 kilometers I finally was able to find some running shorts in size small. On a whim, I ate an Egyptian restaurant. I had something called the babaganoosh, and it was delicious.
On Friday, Dr. Bob did not want to ride with me unless I was tired first and strongly suggested that I go for a hard run. Strongly suggested is a bit of an understatement. I know he was toying with the idea of driving me 20 miles out into the countryside and dropping me off with a pair of runners and a water bottle ... and, hopefully, clothes.
On Saturday we rode with the Oakville Cycling Club. I like riding with the Oakville Cycling Club. We ride in a tightly regulated double pace line and it is highly civilized and courteous unlike the people I ride with at home where the most often heard comment is, "Pull my finger!" It was windy, and cold. The irony of leaving the icy prairies to get some warm weather riding in was not lost on me because it was a hell of a lot warmer at home. I ditched the post ride run because it would interfere with happy hour.
That evening Dr. Bob and I made the huge tactical error of watching Rocky Balboa and in a scotch-induced haze decided that Dr. Bob's Ironman retirement is coming to an end and we are registering for Ironman Wisconsin in 2008. Doh! Dr. Bob's wife, Pat, who has only recently been able to tolerate me, is now officially back to hating me.
Sunday is long run day. Sunday is always long run day ... even with a hangover and the vague memory of making a stupid decision the night before.
I suppose there should be some useful training information in here. I have found that what you eat or drink right after a long workout is just as important as what you eat or drink during to help recovery, especially when piling on miles and intensity as I do in these weeks leading up to a long race. I mix maltodextrin, orange Gatorade, and protein powder in a bike bottle and use this both during and immediately after a long workout or short one that really digs into my reserves. Anyways, after drinking gallons of this over the week, and my eagerness to have a beer in the hot tub before getting on the plane, I thought I could just put some maltodextrin in my mouth and wash it down with some water. As I gagged, I thought of how lame is my death notice going to look "Found in Washroom in Burlington, Ontario with Bag Full of White Powder" when "Gunned Down in a Hail of Police Bullets" would have sounded so much better.
Weekly damage:
Run 55 miles
Bike 245 miles
Swim - nothing
Week 2
I slept in on Monday morning because it was a late flight back. In other words, Stephen won, Stimpy lost. The downside of Stephen winning is that this week I am trying to cram a week of training into 5 days so I can go fishing on the weekend with my dad and Erik and Anders without any guilt. As a result, Monday to Thursday was a blur.
From what I recall, I returned to the Swim Fit class on Thursday and still refused to do a stroke other than free style. The good news was that I had a lane entirely to myself. Oh the joys of being incontinent! Total swim was a whole kilometer.
On Thursday I was doing one mile repeats (running). I know that this is the last thing I should be doing 12 hours before a long brick (combined long bike ride and run) but I do a lot of things I am not supposed to do. Since the weather was decent for May and I had spent the last five months in a parka I took off my shirt to run. I could tell that my circus sideshow weight loss program was working because a passing by truckload of slack-jawed yee-hawing rednecks yelled, "You disgust me!"
On Friday I took the day off work to combine my long bike ride and long run and then get into a car in the afternoon and drive 5 hours to my parents' cabin. I biked 80 miles and ran 20 miles including the 5 k threshold run/time trial. This marked a high point of this workout and the next 90 minutes were a death march back home. However, I did get out to the lake and got in two days of fishing as well as four miles of running on both Saturday and Sunday because Stimpy said so.
Weekly damage:
Run 59 miles
Bike 180 miles
Swim 1 kilometer
Week 3
Monday is a holiday in Canada, the Victoria Day long weekend so I wasn't at work. Instead I worked out ... just for a change of pace. I slept in a bit, lifted weights, went out for a solid bike ride and then I ran with Erik for 8 miles including 10 times a 300 meter hill, and holy crap, he is getting fast. We did the last two hills in 51 seconds and the last one in 49. The second last hill, I saw stars. On the last one I saw Jim Morrison.
On Tuesday, I felt like crap but like a junky looking for a bigger fix, I worked out anyways: biked in the morning, ran at lunch and again in the evening.
No plan ever survives contact with the enemy. I am the enemy. It is Wednesday and I am sick. Being sick means an easy 10 mile bike ride on the wind trainer followed by an easy 2 mile run. I wish I could be sick like other people and sleep.
On Thursday I felt better. I was up early to swim, ran hill repeats in the evening, lifted weights, and rode and another 10 miles easy bike on the wind trainer.
Today was the high school city championships where Marit ran the 3000, the 800, the 1500, the 400, and the 4x400 relay. Erik ran the 800, the 400, and the 1500. Being an ex-800 meter runner, and sometimes coach, I tried to offer Erik some fatherly advice. He said, "Don't worry, I have a plan." Erik's plan was to spend the first 400 meters in second-last place and then run everybody down except for the leader. I don't like Erik's plans - they're stressful. So Erik was second in the 800, the 400, and was less successful in the 1500 and 3000. But that's okay; he gets to go to provincials. Meanwhile Marit was 4th in the 3000, 5th in the 800, 3rd in the 1500, 6th in the 400, and 3rd in the 4x400 and made provincials but, sick of local track politics, declined.
By Friday I realized that the music I listen to during my morning bike rides is getting progressively worse. This morning it was Motley Crue and Judas Priest. I'm sure next week I'll be listening to polka covers of Black Oak Arkansas. I noticed at work today that my grip on reality is loosening and maybe I really am a masochist. I saw a poster in the staff cafeteria that said "PAIN" and it immediately got my interest. As I got closer, I was disappointed to see that it was "PAIN-T BALL."
On Saturday I slept in until 7:00 a.m. then rode for 45 minutes on my own and met Team JFT at 9:00 a.m. There were 11 of us. Sometimes I think I have created a monster, but more on this later. Dr. Bob was in town and I rode with him and Conway who I have foolishly provided a training program to. To make a long story short, Dr. Bob and Conway teamed up to make me suffer and for whatever reason, I loved it. Conway made me cry like a little girl, beat me like a red-headed step-child, or a rented mule, etc. Conway has a new bike and told me that he has been "fisted" by some guy in Saskatoon. I thought this sounded pretty weird but whatever turns him on. During the one of the several times I got dropped, Dr. Bob took no small amount of enjoyment in pulling up beside Conway, gritting his teeth, and saying, "Stephen got dropped!"
There was one moment of joy, however, when we stormed past the "Look at me, I'm training for Ironman Canada (IMC)" group. The leader was wearing the official IMC cycling jersey, IMC arm warmers, IMC shorts, IMC socks, and, I'm sure, the IMC thong. I remarked as we passed, "Hey, did you do Ironman Canada or something?" The total ride was 80 miles. Then I ran 2 miles off the bike. For a brief moment during the run, it happened. Catherine Wheel's "Heal" come over the iPod and I found myself smiling at a passing insect.
On Sunday I was up early and biked 24 miles on the wind trainer, easy. Then I ran 36 miles and felt good, very good. A couple of hours into the run, the famous Sask RV drove past and stopped and said, "Hi." We chatted for a moment and then I ran off and I was thinking, "Gee, that was nice," just as the Big Sugar's cover of Mr. Fantasy came on the IPod and it happened again, I smiled at another bug. Gee, I am getting soft in my old age. In a few weeks the police are going to find me running naked through the field chasing butterflies.
Weekly damage:
Run 69 miles
Bike 180 miles
Swim 3 kilometers
Week 4
This week, worried about the excessive amount of metal I was listening to and the impact it was having on my psyche, I switched my cycling music choice away from metal to industrial. Monday morning it was the Genitorturers. I'm sure this will keep me well-adjusted.
There is just no rationalizing some of these bike workouts. I can't start them and easy and ease into it. They just hurt all the time. This was not a good week for swimming. I had a window of opportunity to swim at lunch on Friday but went out for lunch instead. The "city that rhymes with fun" has very few Mexican restaurants. One of these is a biker bar owned by the Hell's Angels. This is where I went instead of swimming. Not only is the food great but the rather skanky waitresses call me "honey" and "sweetheart."
My Saturday bike was pretty much a carbon copy of the week before same as before: Conway and a whole lot of pain. Why is it always truckloads of unattractive men that insist on making sexual advances as they drive past me? Once, just once, can't it be a bus load of Victoria's Secret models, just once?
So Erik won the provincial high school championships in the 400m Erik. Erik. Erik who sleeps 19 hours a day and shows up at the start line, hair uncombed, with eye-boogers, yawning, in basketball shorts, and without starting blocks. This must drive the real sprinters insane. Anywho, Mary and I drove a few hours to watch him run the 800m. It was stifling hot. Erik usually runs in a black bad t-shirt under his singlet. We were watching him from across the track and saying to ourselves, "Is Erik wearing a white t-shirt? Does Erik even own a white t-shirt?" Then it dawned on us, "OH MY GOD, THAT'S HIS TAN!!".
Erik was second in the 800m and ran everybody down in the last 200m except the leader. If he only started kicking earlier ... and dressed better.
On Sunday I dropped out of society again to run for 6 hours or about 36 miles. This begs the question: Does Stimpy really have my long term health in mind? It is also interesting to note that I started Sunday walking the dog in Sponge Bob pajamas carrying a coffee and ended it in leopard print bowling shirt clutching a Corona.
As a purely symbolic gesture, I mowed the lawn after the run. It was symbolic because our lawn is about the size of a postage stamp. At least I tried to maintain the impression that I can contribute to the household.
Marit is getting a bit militant about being seen in public with me as the weeks go by and had been heard to remark on more than one occasion, "Dad, hygiene, remember?" On a related note, I've stopped shaving on weekends. It's just too much work. Alarm bells will not start to ring however, unless I stop wiping. I talked to my mother on Sunday. She thinks I should have my old jeans back. Finally, we rented the van for Quebec from "Hertz," of course. I am the only one who thinks this is funny?
Weekly damage:
Run: 75 miles
Bike: 188 miles
Swim: well. nothing
Week 5
I awoke on Monday and suddenly realized that I need to swim ... something about an 8k swim looming in the future. I also checked the race website and noted with no small amount of alarm that original leisurely float down the St. Lawrence with the current and outgoing tide which raises the possibility of actually hydro-planing, overshooting the finish and ending up somewhere in the North Atlantic has been changed to a multiple lap affair in a "sheltered bay." Fuck.
With a slow and painful death on race day firmly ensconced in the back of my mind, I returned to Swim-Fit at lunch on Tuesday and the now heavily sedated instructor didn't care what stroke I used. Once again I got my own lane. Word of my previous indiscretions in the pool travels fast in the tightly knit local swim community.
On Wednesday June 6, a full three and a half weeks earlier than I've ever done this, a few of us drove out the lake for a quick swim. I lasted a whole kilometer. I've jokingly expressed my longing on some occasions to feel the "icy hand of death." I no longer want to make that reference, at least not for a while.
On Friday, I desperately wanted to sleep in but NOOO! I was up at 4:30am and ran 10 miles including 10 hill repeats. But it just gets better.then I swam for 5k with pull buoys and arms only. Since I forgot breakfast, had a big cup of coffee instead and 2 water bottles in the pool I found that all of this liquid went through me like the bullet train. The Y needs to drain pool ... perhaps tear it down and start again from scratch.
On Saturday I rode for 160 miles and whatever crazy ass Zen Buddhist monk version of myself I summoned from the depths of my psyche to get me through this was immediately drowned in Corona as soon as I was done.
On Sunday I found out that my dominatrix is on vacation so I ran for another 60k instead.
Weekly Damage:
Run 79 miles
Bike 213 miles
Swim 7k
Week 6 - Flogging a Dead Horse
I woke up on Monday morning with a backwards ball cap sun burn on my forehead and my testicles are no longer speaking to me. I also note that the pile of stinky workout clothes has become self-aware.
I did my weekly 10mile indoor trainer time trial on Tuesday morning and, much to my surprise, I am still able to squeak out some improvement. I knew it was going to be a good day when the Pantera's "Vulgar Display of Power" came on and I dropped my chain into my second highest gear and could still turn it over. I have a one more gear on my bike, an 11 tooth cog just to show that I have a sense of humour. I planned to have wanted to hear the Headstones "Unsound" to start playing as I hit the final 4 minutes, only to hear the line "I'd give you more but you know I have noting - hardly get any sleep at all". This was more than appropriate. By 9 am at work that day I crashed. I had already eaten my lunch and the spent rest of day looking for food.
I took Wednesday of work to bike for 96 miles including an 80 mile time trial and to watch Stewy run his school city championships in the afternoon. I know I shouldn't bet on grade 5 and 6's but I did anyways. Anyways, I wanted to get my long ride in early in the week because I'm racing an Olympic distance tri in Saskatoon on Sunday and entertain hopes of doing well.
In other news, I got some consulting work in Alberta after a long dry spell.then I got another project there. It's funny that lately I can't seem to attract flies in my home province ... well, that's not true. I attract a lot flies after a long run.
We visited some family on Saturday and I noted that I fell asleep twice will sitting up. I'm glad that the end is near.
Sunday was the last time I'm racing in Saskberia which felt rather strange. I don't need any short course racing in 2008 and after the Deca thingy, I doubt I'll have much enthusiasm for it. Finally, local triathlon politics are getting just too ridiculous for me.
Here's some history. In 2001, Regina Multisport Club (RMC) wanted to offer bike and run training. I volunteered to lead this and do it as a volunteer (as in free). Instead, they hired a board members wife to do it on a profit basis. After this failed, I started my own club. Actually, it wasn't me alone but I was the lightening rod for all the backlash. I think it is pretty juvenile and stupid and never ever responded to any of it until now and this is as far as I will go. Please note that I have retained a detailed email trail of my volunteer offer and it denial just in case any doubts the authenticity of the above.
Anywho, this year RMC, in there infinite wisdom, determined that online race registration is/was reserved for club members only. With races selling out in a matter of days this meant that even if you are from out of town you have to be a member of the local club to race. (I signed up Marvin as a youth member, he's only 7, to accommodate those who wanted to race locally without forking out the extra cash to join the club.) The Saskatoon club, in turn, made it very difficult for out of town athletes to do their races such as a Thursday night only race package pickup, no exceptions. So, I'm not interested in any of this and will race elsewhere, thank you very much.
The race was ok, I guess. My swim sucked, my bike split was 64 minutes and change which was tolerable for cold and raining. The run course was closed after I finished 5k because there was a single crack of lightning. I went and finished the run anyways, by myself, in the rain. It was all very anti-climatic for a last local race.
I was up at 4am on Monday to run 23 miles before work. It's my training log and I'm counting it as belonging to Week 6. If it was possible to sleep and run at the same time, I did it here.
Weekly Damage
Run 57 miles
Bike 160 miles
Swim 5k
Week 7- Flogging the guy who died while flogging the dead horse
Monday and Tuesday I worked long and hard on the consulting contract while still training and working my day job and was pretty pooped by Tuesday evening. I ran hills anyways. This required the least imagination and mental effort. The Running Room group was on the hill. I resisted the temptation to call Cult Watch. I must look like as much as an alien to them as they do to me. They have on cool max shirts, matching, baggy shorts, and run carefully heart-rate monitor monitored paces. I'm in a t-shirt, split shorts, no heart rate monitor, and weeze, grunt, fart and drool as I run uphill. I should note I own several coolmax shirts, usually from races, but reserve these for "formal t-shirt" occasions. I did run in one once, by accident. It felt kind of refreshing to not be all sweaty and clammy but I figured that something that feels good has to be wrong and I reverted to poly 50/50 blends.
I surprised myself by still being able to squeeze just a tiny bit more performance from my skinny little body. The prognosis for Quebec is good, very good ... and I could still drag my sorry ass to the pool on Friday morning and swim 4.5k (arms only) with pull buoys.
We headed up to the lake on Friday evening and then while riding on Saturday morning in the winds and hills I finally cracked and finished up 20 miles short of my goal. However, being sick and twisted, I did the final 20 miles on the wind trainer when I got home on Sunday night to make up for it.
The coup de grace for the 7 weeks of pure unadulterated Stimpy-led abuse was a 40k run on Sunday with 2 hours of it down a trail in northern Saskatchewan covered in honey and raw hamburger to work on speed. Actually, I ran with a bear bell because, although I'm not much of a meal right now, I'm a big coward when it comes to bears.
I'm developing a new appreciation for the lake mostly due to the lack of cell phone access (a very good thing), no TV, no internet, and no radio reception except for a very fuzzy am radio station from Melfort: 750 Oldies. Being a glutton for punishment, I just have to hear what they will play next. Where else are you going to hear Andy Kim, the Poppy Family, The Archies, and Keith Hampshire?
So, what was it like to finish the 7 weeks and taper? You know at the end of "Holmes on Homes" when the owners see the renos and there is all that relaxing music playing? It wasn't like that at all. To celebrate the beginning of taper time I stopped at KFC in Melfort and was promptly rewarded by 2 days of explosive diarrhea.
Weekly Damage:
Run 58 miles
Bike 165 miles
Swim 4.5k
posted by Stimpy at 6:55 p.m.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home