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.

Returning from injury, not linear

Life has a way of throwing curveballs; sometimes, those curveballs come in the form of injuries. For an athlete, an injury can be a devastating setback. But every setback is a setup for a comeback, and that's the journey I've been on for the past 18 weeks.

The Timeline of My Recovery:

• June 10 (18 weeks ago): A stress reaction on 5 bones in my foot.

• July 29 (9 weeks ago): A greater trochanter (femur) fracture. This was a double whammy, meaning 10 days of complete inactivity.

• August 9-25: Swimming was my only solace. I swam a whopping 49,000 yards during this period.

• August 26: A significant milestone. I took my first spin on the bike, rode the coast, and felt so exhausted that I came home and napped. After 5 weeks of cycling and 4 weeks of no biking, I'm currently at 80% of my strength and improving every week. The joy of riding my bike has returned!

• August 23-30: I began climbing stairs and within a week, I was doing them for an hour while wearing a 20lb weight vest. This was just 10 weeks after my foot injury.

• September 8: Another milestone. My first run in 12 weeks, albeit for just 15 minutes.

• Today, September 29: My longest ride has been 4 hours, and I'm gradually building my stamina. My longest run is 35 minutes, and while it's slow and painful, I'm optimistic. Given the time off and considering my age, I expect the discomfort to last till December. But the silver lining? I'm running pain-free.

The Challenges of Recovery:

The journey hasn't been without its challenges. The strength I lost during the 4 weeks of inactivity was astonishing. Simple exercises like lunges became Herculean tasks. My left side, where the femur fracture occurred, felt weak and unstable. But I've been committed to my recovery, working on balance, stability, and strength.

I've been visiting the bproject, a unique PT organization I discovered in 2018 when I tore my hamstring. Their approach is unparalleled. Each session involves 30 minutes of hands-on work on the table,  followed by an hour of challenging exercises. Today, I struggled with single-legged deadlifts using just 10 lbs. It was a humbling experience, and I left the session in tears, feeling old and defeated. We are working on what I lost in my crash and issues with my hips for as long as I can remember. 

Running has been another challenge. Every run feels like a battle, not because of my hip or foot, but because of the sheer physical exertion. Some days I feel clumsy, like a baby giraffe trying to find its footing, and on others, I feel as heavy as an elephant. But I keep reminding myself that I'm running, and it will get better with time.

The Ups and Downs:

Yesterday was a high point. I rode GWL, feeling stronger than I have since my crash, and even managed a transition run. But today was a low. It's a stark reminder that progress isn't linear.

Injuries can be mentally and physically taxing, but they also teach resilience, patience, and the value of perseverance. I'm optimistic about the future and determined to come back stronger than ever.

This picture explains it all.  Right, WTF is that?  No, I am not a radiologist, and I do not play one on TV, is that even a foot?

2.5 weeks ago, I started a foot-strengthening program. No big deal, right? I did it barefoot and finished off with tip-toe walking a bad idea. I thought I was being proactive with all the trail running impending, getting my feet strong and ready, 

I woke up at 3 am, desperately needing to use the bathroom. But disaster struck as soon as I swung my feet off the bed. My top foot started screaming in agony like a 10lb weight was hammered on it. I nearly face-planted right then and there.  

But hey, being the determined athlete that I am, or an idiot, I soldiered on. The next day, I casually knocked out a 100-mile, 9700-foot ride. It was all going fine until I had to unclip or walk around; cue #1 was not good. However, I just assumed it was a minor issue.

I bailed on the run OTB. a smart move here.  My foot was sore Sunday morning, but it seemed like it might loosen up. LOL. Oh no, it was sore on a whole new level. I headed out to run, thinking it might loosen up and be okay. Big mistake. The pain escalated from a 6 out of 10 to a solid 10 in just two miles. I limped back home, feeling utterly perplexed. It turns out my foot had a bone to pick with me (pun intended).

From that point on, every day was more painful than the previous one. Walking became a Herculean task, and running? Ha! That became a distant dream. I was swimming and biking, and when the pain did not cease, I stopped biking, hoping it would turn around.  Without luck, I finally resorted to the dreaded boot. The fashion statement of the year, I tell you.

Meanwhile, I was playing the "Guess the Diagnosis" game with a parade of medical professionals. Strained tendons, muscles, you name it—they all took a stab at it. The X-ray was clean, not surprising. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I got an MRI. And the verdict? A stress response, bone marrow edema, blah blah blah.  Simply put, my foot was throwing a hissy fit and didn't quite fracture but came close. Let's call it a stress injury, shall we? There is fluid and swelling around the bone. This the severe pain, my body saying STOP, you idiot, or this is going to break. The prescription? Four weeks of rocking the boot and absolutely no running or walking. Swimming is okay as long as I don’t kick, cue the PBB, and I can bike!  

The reminder here is as soon as you are injured, get to the Dr, get the imaging, and find out what you are dealing with,  I had people digging into my foot sure it was a muscle or tendon issue, and it turns out it was the bone, so digging was not so helpful.  

So, I was staring at my race calendar like a cruel joke. Ironman Worlds Finland in 7 weeks? Nope, canceled. BlackLake Xtri in 9 weeks? Not happening either. Goodbye.  If I can run in 4 weeks, that will be 6 weeks off running, and toeing up to a WC on 3 weeks of running is not that enticing, and a hilly AF trail running marathon OTB on 5 weeks of running, not so much.

I'm not one to wallow in self-pity for more than a few days or so, anyway. I quickly shifted gears to Plan B, or  "Making the Best of a Shitty Situation." Steamboat Gravel Black in August, perfect 142 miles of gravel bliss with 10K of elevation. Greek Hero Xtri in Corfu in October? Why not? t may not be the original plan; this is a solid backup. 

It is what it is. Life has a funny way of throwing curveballs at us, or in my case, footballs. No sense in letting let a little foot drama bring me down.  

So, here's a toast to resilience and adaptability. It's not the season I planned, but it'll be a damn good one nonetheless. Cheers to rolling with the punches and turning setbacks into opportunities. Let the adventure continue!