Extra Gravity Drag Training

Science has known for quite some time that mammals gain weight in the fall. As part of their natural energy cycles, hormonal changes are sparked by the decreasing available sunlight and falling temperatures to encourage the uptake of higher energy foods. Comparatively speaking, fat is physically superior as an energy storage unit. We've all (hopefully) seen the side by side glance of fat versus muscle/ protein. Proteins and carbs require a large volume of water to store them, making them dense and, therefore, heavy. Your body, recognizing the hardships of a long and grueling winter, opts to convert its excess units of heat into floatable fat molecules.

Just in case:

In most competitive swimming circles, the season is a fall and winter sport. That means coaches all around the world are getting their athletes at their most buoyant time. That extra buoyancy makes it more efficient for a swimmer to stay on top of the water and, consequently, easier to flow through the water. Contrary to popular belief, coaches hate this. Granted, they won't tell you directly. You have to pay attention to the indirect methods of communicating their disdain. They called it "drag".

Here are just a few ways that my swim coaches over the years have forced additional drag onto me and my swimming mates:

• T-shirts

  

  Wrong type of drag suit, coach

• Sweatshirts
• Second, and sometimes a third, swim suit
• Speedos with large mesh pockets (conveniently called 'drag suits')
• Shoes in the pool
• Boots in the pool
• Swimming with someone holding your legs
• Tying a bucket to your waist
• Tying a bungee cord to your waist and the other to the end of the lane
• Anyone got another favorite they'd like to add?

The concept was that if they could make your swimming hell harder during practice, then when you stripped down to your loin cloth made of spandex, you'd be able to swim even faster. Your arms would be so used to the extra drag that you'd just fly through the water. And you know what, for the most part they were right!

Cyclists are much better at playing the drag game than runners. They have race wheels for competitions and training wheels for the rest of the year. Training jerseys are the cycling drag suit equivalent. They have one helmet for daily use and fancy, aero-helmets for the show. Some go so far as to shave their arms and legs to save watts (a concept they stole from the swimmers, I might add). I could go on.

Most runners suck at the drag game. Perhaps Olympic level sprinters engage in considering aerodynamic clothing options. Some runners will train in their "normal" shoes and race in their "flats", citing weight differences as their reason. Note: the weight difference is about 4 total ounces. I've yet to read the impact of 100 grams of rubber might have on the overall speed. The problem with runners is that the move at relatively slow speeds to make any gains potentially gained by aero-tech virtually moot. Even worse if you have the run speed of a comatose box turtle; I.E. me.

Well, I haven't been running much lately. I have this annoying achilles tendon issue that's got some extraordinary hang time. I learned, from a hamstring issue last year, that coming back from an injury too quickly yields in yet more injury. So I'm taking it cautiously and waiting until I'm sure that training won't cause this particular issue to worsen.

My most recent selfie

Luckily, I have been eating more. One would think that it would be smarter to lose weight during periods of sloth. Well, and this comes as no surprise, I'm not that smart. Or, am I?

See- running is a weight to power ratio driven sport. Here's where the Extra Gravity Drag Theory takes form. As bipedals, for each stride of the run, the human body is launched from the ground and quickly falls back. In order to perform this task, the runner must overcome the force of gravity. Gravity, being one of the four fundamental forces of the universe (the others being the strong force, the weak force, and the call of a bag of chips), is an ever present bastard that continuously pulls a mass towards its center. Gravity doesn't care how much you weigh, it pulls you down just the same. But, your legs care a lot. The more body you carry, regardless of muscle or fat, the more your legs have to work to overcome the pull. That means it's easier for a lighter runner to cross the earth on 2 legs than it is for a heavier one.

Since there isn't much in the form of external drag for runners, I'm resorting to adding internal extra resistance in the form of blubber. In the near future, hopefully, I'll get back to logging miles. And when I do, I'll have to cart around all this extra luggage. Conveniently, I'll have all of the extra stored energy I could ever want. There'll be no excuses for being lazy, right? Come spring, which hits in early July in these parts, the days will get longer and warmer. If things go as planned (which they never do), I'll lose some pounds and running will magically become easy. That's the theory. Anyone want to join me in testing this idea?

IMCT 70.3(ish)- The Bike

This is part 2 of 3 in a series where I recap the shenanigans of my weekend at IMCT Connecticut 70.3(ish), formerly and currently known as Quassy. Part 1- The Swim can be found here.
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Transition 1
When last we left our hero, he (meaning me) had just come out of the water in pretty decent shape. And I use the word "shape" liberally here. I've been in kind of a funk lately due to a hamstring injury. When people asked me what my race goals were, I answered honestly, "To race without hamstring pain." That's how bad it's gotten for me. The typical follow-up question was, "What are you going to do if it hurts?" Honestly, I had absolutely no idea. This day was going to be an adventure.

The run from the lakeshore to transition was to be my first major test. All I had to do was exit the water and run up this little path to my bicycle. I'd be lying to you if I told you I wasn't a little nervous about this feat. I was faced with unknown choices that were roiling around in that chunk of mostly blank proteus material known as my gray matter. One potential outcome was that the hammy would hurt so bad that I would dnf in transition 1. Another was that I would feel some sort of twinge and continue racing, while evaluating the sensation on the bike. The final, best case scenario, was that I would feel absolutely normal (as if there's anything that could be considered 'normal' in my world) and forget that I even had an issue in the first place.

I know, the suspense is killing you. Well, since I've been openly clear that this post is part 2 of 3, I clearly did not dnf in T1. As to the real result of the test, I don't have a great answer. I did feel some tightness in my hamstrings. However, this was a different type of semi-discomfort than I remember from a month ago. It could have been the injury poking it's head through the effort or it could have been caused by the fact that I have the flexibility of a recently timbered piece of lumber. Since option 1, dnf'ing in transition, was officially off the table, I headed for my bike.

The Bike
True story, I don't have a lot of friends, (Note 1: By choice. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. /End Note.) I prefer quality over quantity. So, if there's any chance that I've donned the title of 'friend' upon you, there's a decent chance that you are a quality individual. Enter Pants (<-- which is an hysterical statement on multiple levels). Pants is the most recent addition to my inner circle of people that I've befriended. Honestly, this is an awkward introduction for Pants (linky to her bloggy thingy). For 1, she's one of the few females that have made their way in. This is partially because I'm horribly intimidated by womens. And this is partially because most womens can't stand me. Pants, for some reason, chipped her way through my inferiority complex and tolerates the weirdness emitted by my presence. I don't get it either. (Note 2: At some point, I might have to explain why she's called "Pants". That point is not now./ End Note 2.)

Click to see the Bottle of Unusual Size

The only reason I'm even discussing Pants at this point in the story is that she got me a gift right before the race. She bought me a water bottle with the caption of "Have fun storming the castle". Whereas this might not seem blog-worthy, I can assure you that it's quite significant. First, rarely do any of my friends feel the need to spend their hard-earned cash on the likes of me. Second, Pants has taken the opportunity to learn about my true loves in life. I'm a huge Princess Bride fan. In fact, I can't think I've ever met anyone who is a bigger PB nerd than myself. This homage to the PB was an excellent addition to ease my pre-race concerns. Bonus- it's a 26 ounce bottle, meaning that I my pre-mixed liquid nutrition bottle was less concentrated and more palatable. Pants has scored additional, unexpected points with this gift!

The bike ride at IMCT Connecticut 70.3(ish), formerly and currently known as Quassy is currently the most challenging on the WTC's half iron circuit. Take a gander at the elevation comparison which I found somewhere on a social media feed. My Garmin listed the elevation gain at 3891 feet, to make the ride a little more challenging than advertised. To add to the difficulty, the course wasn't slated to be the full 56 miles. I clocked in at 53.66 miles, which is pretty close to what the race organizers mapped out. This is also the reason why the race gets an (ish) disclaimer, since it wasn't even projected as a full 70.3, even if you disclude the shortened swim.

I left transition with a pretty good knowledge of the course, at least with as much knowledge as one of my limited intelligence can boast. The Outlaw and I drove the course yesterday and highlighted several of the more interesting points on the course. That excursion took about 90 minutes in the van. All I can remember is that mile 22 was the harshest and there was 1 point on the route which could be considered 'technical' due to the downhilliness and S-curved shape of the road. My hope for the ride was that I could exceed 20 mph while keeping my power levels at a manageable limit, which is around 215 watts.

As I undulated around the outback of Connecticut, I was reminded as to how spoiled I am for living in western New York, which might be the only time I'll ever admit this. I will often publicly complain about the dismal state of my residence. I will, from here on out, never complain about the condition of the roadways in my vicinity. One of the reasons that the ride was not a full 56 miles was due to road construction on the course. I'm guessing that the entire state of Connecticut repairs about 3 total miles of road surface a year with a smidgeon of this year's allocation going to a part of the race course. That's a win for future generations of Quassians, since the rest of the course was an endless vibrational existence.

I deluded myself into thinking that the mile 22 hill would be met with a rather benign ride back to the park. I didn't anticipate that the never ending thud-thud-thud of the roadway know as middle Connecticut would mess up my aerobars. At mile 25, my right arm plummeted a few inches lower than normal. I thought for a moment that there was something majorly wrong with my bike. I successfully pulled my right pad up to it's normal position. It stayed there until the next major bump, which was roughly 7 seconds later. Boom, back down to the uncomfortable position. I was able to pull it back up.

This process of bump, uncomfortable aerobar position, pull back up repeated itself for the duration of the ride. That included the technical S-curved section of the road. Now, I have minimal skills in most things sport. Descending is on my relative short list of strengths. It's weird to me that not everyone has the ability to relax and go downhill efficiently. It's free speed without doing any work. Just sit back and let gravity transfer out the potential energy that you've worked so diligently to store up and release the kinetics. As I traversed this section, passing several people on the way down, I slammed on my brakes around the 2nd half of the S-hook. There was a guy lying face down near the end of a guard rail. His bike was nowhere to be seen. Several athletes/ saints had abandoned their race to provide aid to this guy. I was ready to toss in my race to ensure that this bloke survived the day. One athlete took charge of the situation and waved athletes through the crash. He didn't want to cause a greater commotion for the next wave of athletes attempting to navigate this section of road. (Note 3: It's fun to be on the receiving end of excellent people who have the best interest of others in mind. The world needs more people like this guy! /End Note 3.) I made a pledge to find the next place where there were police, race officials, or anyone associated with the outside world to send emergency assistance to this guy. About 3 minutes later, there was a batch of sirens as police and first responders raced their way to the accident.

Aside: Further research has learned me that the guy skidded out underneath the turn's guardrail. His bike was in pretty bad shape. He suffered a broken clavicle and was in the hospital recovering from the incident. /End Aside.

The rest of the ride featured me battling the clock and that pesky aerobar problem. A successful ride of that distance, to me, means that I enter transition at 20 mph or faster. According to the Garmin, my bike time was 2:42.23 a speed of 19.8 mph. Not bad but just under my window of success. According to the official race results, I biked 2:42.29. So 6 seconds slower. However, they posted my speed at 20.2 mph. I'll go with the official!

Aside 2: Normally, I'm one of the more graceful entrants into T2. I've got it down to a science. I loosen my velcro bike straps and pull my feet out of the shoes. Then, as the dismount line approaches, I side-straddle the bike with both legs on the same side. As I cross the line, I step down and hit the ground running. Well, there was a dude just in front of me as we approached the line. He took to the middle of the lane. Totally acceptable and I took the right side. Just as he crossed the line, he biffed something resulting in a lost shoe. This lost shoe resulted in him veering sharply right, directly into my path. The pavement wasn't as dry as it could have been due to the high humidities and fog levels. When you combine the speed of my approach, lost shoe, dude in my path, and wet pavement, my ability to take evasive action was reduced to skidding on my backside with the bike on top of me. And I lost a shoe of my own. I was able to recover myself, shoe, and bike before the other bloke was able to gain his shoe. Sub-Aside: He actually expected me to give it to him. I was a bit tiffed at the encounter, was not exhibiting very sportsmanlike behavior, and ignored his request. I entered transition ahead of him. /End Sub-Aside. On the bright side of this mini-crash, I had completely forgotten about my hamstring problem as I ran my bike into transition. This amnesia wouldn't last long. /End Aside 2.

The bike effort gave me the 18th best bike split of my age group, out of 324 athletes. This was 144th fastest time amongst men (no idea how many dudes were in the race) and 150th fastest overall (roughly 2000 people). I am pleased.

The most challenging part of the day remained- The Run. Tune in shortly to hear that debacle. Same Banter time. Same Banter channel.

8 Days Without Training Makes 1 Weak

Warning, the blog post you are about to read has been rated PG-13 by the Blogging Association of America (BAA). It has been deemed that some information may be considered inappropriate and possibly awkward for young readers, sensitive readers, or readers that have at least 8 functioning brain cells. The subject matter has been deemed as highly sensitive in nature, not very exciting and on par with Vogon Poetry. The reader is advised to proceed with the utmost caution.

Let it be known that this will be the only opportunity I am granting on this particular topic in person or in print. I'm not one who normally hands out personal or private information but for some reason I'm feeling the need to tell this story in this medium at this time. Should you see me in public and ask, I'll likely make a distracting joke and not really dive into the topic nor answer the question. Sorry.

Here's the thing, after all the recent attention I've given on being consistent and then on feeling S.H.I.T.ty, if one were to look closely at my training log, I dropped off the face of the exercising Earth. Here's what I mean. If you look at the first 3-weeks of February, things look pretty darn good.

The biking fell off a little bit at the end, but that was in the middle of a biking-based recovery week and some other life stuff happened (more on this in a moment). That was also linked to my drop in indoor exercise motivation.

Here is the last 2 weeks, including today's exercise, in all of it's lack of glory.

What you see here is the excellent bike ride I did with the Boy and the Outlaw on the 20th. And you see a couple of runs. And then there's this great big gap in training. That's the first time I went that long without training in more than 2 years, which includes a stretch of time when I had a fractured bone in my foot. I went back in my training log and discovered that the last time I took 8 full days off of training was in 2016 after my final race of the season. I took a 10-day off-season and promptly got busy doing the next rounds of doings. 

This week wasn't considered a planned off season. I had some work done, umm, down there. Now, let me promise you that I'm not going to dive into too many details or specifics about what they actually did to my crotchal region. All the major parts are intact and I won't be receiving a sympathy call from Lance Armstrong any time soon. After the follow-up visit (tbd), it's highly likely that this will be the last time I pay a man to put his hands on my groin. The reason I won't be broaching the subject again is that I've found that most people really aren't that interested in anything my crotch has to offer. Every time that I've brought up my crotch in conversation or tried to provide a visual, the patrons cringed. Here's a re-enactment. 

The procedure took place on the first Friday of down week. It was quick and I'd like to tell you painless, but I'm not one to lie. Perhaps I'll embellish a bit for comedic reasons but that's not the same thing. I did not cry. I did almost bite my lip off and was congratulated on the record amounts of perspiration left on the examination table. So I got that going for me.

I asked the Doc about the recovery. He says that I'm to be on light duty for at least a week. Then after 7 days, give 'er a try. He speculated that biking might be the most challenging of the disciplines due to pressure points. I suspected that running would be worse due to the impact forces and jarring on the body. He said that I might have a point and to make sure I run slowly. We both had a good laugh at that one, as if not running slowly were an option. I asked him about swimming. He paused and we both had our second good laugh in as many minutes knowing that I have no intention on getting in the water.

The recovery period was tough. Not because of the procedure but because of the gluttony and sloth. Whereas the average American bloke relishes in the concept of being forced to not exercise, it's not something at which I excel. I could feel my muscles atrophy, which is significant since I don't have much to start with. On the bright side, my hunger was boosted meaning that I managed to pack on all of the pounds I took off in the previous 7 weeks. Score one for the Banter! Oh, wait. Never mind.

Day 8 arrives. It was a chilly but pleasant morning. The type of day that I wouldn't have hesitated to run outside.  I decided to head out to the treadmill. I had no idea how my body was going to react to the first day back and I didn't want to be miles away should it take a turn for the worse. I hopped on the dreadmill and pushed the 'slow' button (easily recognizable due to it's overuse while the faster ones are seemingly untouched). It was clear that after the first mile, my legs were happy to be back. My crotch was still a bit sensitive. My lungs were on fire. O.M.G! It was as if someone reached inside my chest and squeezed all of the life juices directly out of my alveoli. This would be considered pretty good had I been attempting to make wine. But for a slow run?

I eventually got to 45 minutes and all of my cells, crotch-related and the other ones, were for once in agreement that I'd had enough. I came in and got cleaned up. I was afraid to wash my nether regions in fear of the pain. I shuddered to think about what I'd become.

Now, a smart man would have called it a day. The Banter? (I think the question answers itself.) I decided to put on some lycra and head back out to the workout room for a bike ride. I just had to know if I was more correct than the doctor about which discipline would be worse for wear. Since the run was slow, I decided to attempt to be fair to the competition and make the bike slow too. Normally I finish a weekend workout in 90 minutes with a normalized power around 230 watts (out of about 270). This day I went for 60 minutes with an NP of 183 watts. On a normal crotch day, this would be considered a recovery ride. And, since I'm recovering...

You'll be pleased to know that I was indeed, from my anecdotal n=1 pseudoscientific experiment, more correct than the doc. The areas of concern were not in contact with the bike saddle. The legs felt pretty good. The lungs weren't leaking any ethanol. I have to go back for a follow up visit in late April. I can't wait to tell him. (Ya know, because I'm trying to boost his knowledge base.)

Based on my running experiment, I decided to take one more day off. I have expectations to re-start normal training on Monday. It'll be more of the same. Run slowly, not necessarily by choice. Bike in the garage, begrudgingly by choice. Play with my crotch. Repeat. I'm happy to put this experience behind and am pleased that I can again get jiggy with it it happened early in the season. I'm so motivated that I may even get back in the water. (<--You're supposed to laugh at that.)

Nuances of a Group Ride

Apparently, people get together and exercise in groups bigger than one person. In fact, they do so often. For some people, they refuse to go riding unless there are other people around. As an introverted triathlete, this makes no sense to me. I can't think of a better ride where I can go for hours without seeing another person. Why these other people need to get together in skimpy clothes and ride so close that you can actually smell the stench and get smacked in the face with their sweat-laden backwash is beyond me. They've even invented internet based apps so that you can participate in a group ride even when there's no proximal group to be had. (Efforts to import smells and perspiration droplets to be added in future versions to make the experience more authentic.)

If I had to be honest, I'm a little afraid of the group thing. It's probably because there are some rules that I don't fully understand. Groups typically don't like aerobars. They expect you to call out obstacles, such as potholes, cars, and hotties running down the road. You're expected to take turns in the front of the pack- a condition oft referred to as "breaking wind". (Note- this might help explain that smell I was telling you about.) If someone is too slow, you kinda have to know whether or not it's cool to leave them behind- known as dropping them- or to hang out with the pokies.

Given that it's February and I'm dead stuck in the middle of feeling like S.H.I.T., motivation to ride has been waning recently. Then, Mother Nature (who apparently reads my blog), decided to toss a little bone towards the indoor riding angst and make it nice outside for a day. And this niceness coincided with a day off. Since everyone was being nice, I hollered out to a couple of guys who I know wouldn't pass up a chance to do the group thing (although, looking back, one of them may have been expecting something completely different).

The forecast had called for a rainy morning with the clouds breaking by early afternoon and highs in the mid 60ºs. With the overnight and morning wetness, the roads would likely be slick but at least most of the salt would be washed off. I scheduled for the Outlaw and the Boy to come over at around 1:00. (Aside: I had no intention of actually riding at 1:00. I was stalling to give the weather a chance to improve and hopefully dry itself up. Plus, the guys are rather pleasant to hang out with, especially even when donned in lycra. The weather wouldn't fully clear until about 15 minutes after the ride ended. That's the way it goes. / End Aside)

My bike has been locked on the trainer since October. Temperatures and daylight dictate that outdoor riding is reserved for maniacs and badasses (Aside 2: There's a fine line between maniac and badass. Both terms are meant for people who are willing to do things that normal folk wouldn't even attempt. Riding when it's cold and dark is on the list. It's such that I can't normally tell maniac apart from badass. It's mostly moot since neither are adjectives that would be used to describe me anyway. /End Aside 2)

Our small group rummaged around my cluttered garage looking for items that we'd normally already have out and about but have been relegated to being tossed aside for the hibernation. For example, my helmet, sunglasses, and riding gloves. I don't need these things when strapped-in to my trainer. The Boy didn't have a spare kit or even a place to hold his spare kit. I had an extra bike bag that I found underneath a shelf. No, not on the bottom shelf, but underneath the bottom shelf. I have no idea how I knew to look there. I handed the bag to the Boy and don't expect it back. He sees it as a gift. I see it as getting rid of crap that I'm not using and freeing up some space underneath a shelf. It's win-win. He asked for some CO2 cartridges, which I buy in bulk. I handed him a couple realizing that it was stupid since he didn't have a chuck to dispense the air. (Aside 3: It' was a completely wasted gesture. The Boy didn't even know that he needed a chuck nor how to use one if he'd had it. It was pretty clear that if he had a flat that I'd be changing it for him with my gear, either first hand or donated stuff. This is the reason he's been dubbed "The Boy". /End Aside 3)

Our 1:00 ride started promptly at 1:45, earlier than expected. I, being the senior member of the group by more than a decade, and being the host, was expected to set the course. Like any good guy, I like to include the junior members in the decision. Option 1- go on the same route I've taken them before. This route is through the country and features 1 stop sign in roughly 40 miles of road. It's mostly flat and has frequent views of Lake Ontario. Translation- it's perfect! Option 2- go on a mostly new-to-them route with several stop lights, higher densities of traffic, and a lot more climbing. The road conditions would be considerably crappier. It has a fun-factor several degrees lower than option 1. Just when you think the people you hang out with are intelligent individuals, they surprise you. The guys opted for the latter.

In their defense, one of the reasons for choosing the more tedious, less-fun ride was the fact that the Bay Bridge was open to road traffic. Or, I think it was closed to boat traffic. Okay, I'm not exactly sure how they term this as open or closed. It depends on perspective, I guess. Either way, we likely won't get the chance to do this route again for a very long time. Most of the year, the bridge looks like this:

This means getting from one side to the other is difficult. Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking dear god why am I still reading this gibberish that we are triathletes and therefore swimming across should be in our skill set. However, you're overlooking the simple facts that most triathletes aren't well-known for their swimming prowess (although this group actually breaks that mold since we were all collegiate swimmers) and we are pansies (this group embodies that mold since we're pansies). The water temps in the winter time are well below YMCA climate standards and, since it was warm outside, we didn't have our wetsuits on.

During the winter months, when the seafaring blokes in the area put away their boats, the Bay Bridge looks like this:

This is much easier to navigate, even for a few lycra-wearing pansies like ourselves. We took advantage of a rare, warm, winter day to traipse through a section of road that would otherwise be off limits. Let's do this thing!

Now, I had full expectation of going easy and enjoying the ride. Then, the male-ego kicked in. And, it wasn't just for me but for the Outlaw and the Boy simultaneously. An easy effort would have me well below 200 watts. Our first 5 miles averaged 226 watts, which is roughly race pace for me. The Boy thought I was going too slow so he broke the wind for a while <insert joke about the smell here>. When we turned the corner to go up a hill, the Boy was still in the lead. The Outlaw rode up next to me and asked, "How long until he fizzles?" I panted my answer, "Hopefully <gasp> sometime soon. <gasp gasp>" My wish was granted soon thereafter.

At around the 11 mile mark, I pulled the guys over to the side. This is one of those funky features of a group ride- talking to the people you are riding with. And, since I'm an out of shape, gasping for air pansy, we pulled into a parking lot. This particular talk was more of a lecture about the up-and-coming stretch of road. Specifically, there was going to be a nice downhill in which I regularly hit 40+ mph. Since it was winter and a rough one at that, I couldn't vouch for the pothole conditions and I sure as hell wasn't going to point them out at speed. It had also started raining again. I advised the guys to stay out of aero, not gun for speed, and to not bunch up so we could take evasive maneuvers if necessary.

We took off down the recently warned about stretch. My Garmin lists me as hitting only 35 mph. The Boy decided not to heed my warnings and draft. I'm sure his Garmin lists a top speed greater than mine, as evidenced by his passing me at said top speed. Then he pulls into my line, dumps all of his road spray directly into my face, and took evasive action on some potholes. Yup, it'll be a while before he ditches "The Boy" monicker.

The Outlaw was proving to be the most intelligent rider of the threesome. He's been concerned about his ability to ride. His early season training has been run-focused. He thinks that his power on the bike is dropping and that his training plan hasn't been sufficient to keep up with even lowly riders like the Boy and the Banter. I think he's dead wrong and this ride did more to validate me than him. What am I using as evidence? The climb up the other side of that hill, that's what. As I attempted to clear out the gunk from my eyes and glasses, the Boy was doing something that resembled riding, the Outlaw powered past us like we were standing still. When he hit the hill, I was pushing over 400 watts to hold just under 9 mph in a feeble attempt to stay on his wheel. He might have finally broke sweat for a short period of time on that 1/2 mile stretch.

The route for the next 5 miles was less than ideal but a necessary evil to get to the next stage of good riding. The reason for the evil lies in the ever-growing battle for road space between the vroom vrooms and the guys who need to 'get off the road you bike riding freaks- the roads aren't meant for your types'. Sigh. These people really should do some research as to why roads became existent (hint: it wasn't for cars). There's no reasoning with motorists when they're in this mindset, including with the bloke that almost side-swiped the Boy. You really have to be missing something in your moral compass to want to physically harm someone because they forced you to slow down for less than 10 seconds of your life. The good thing is that an overwhelming majority of people on the roads do not share this mentality and are pretty good people. The bad thing is that it takes just one of those mentalities to really ruin someone's, possible more people's, life. We ducked off of the easy path to meander through a residential neighborhood.

The Boy and the Outlaw are known for their short bursts of racing. While in the side-neighborhood, I told them of a nice stretch that would cater to their racing needs. When that section hit, they took off. I was going to (attempt to) hang. It was still raining, but the drops had turned to drizzle. As they took off, I felt an unfortunate wobble in my back wheel that was reminiscent of a flat tire. I slowed a bit and tried a couple of on-board tests. After reassuring myself that the tires were fine and it was the road that sucked, I looked off into the distance only to notice that we never set rules as to if this was a no-drop ride or not. I had clearly been dropped.

The guys took a break from their hijinks to pull over at a gas station and wait for the old man to join the happy couple. I really wish I was there the whole time, only because I learned that the Outlaw can't dismount his bike without hitting a pothole and falling off. The Boy was there and he recapped the story in all it's glory. I almost feel bad for laughing since the Outlaw was slightly injured from the fall. It was that injury that made the decision to head back versus extend the ride.

From that gas station, it was a short decline down to that gloriously open/ closed bridge. Being old also means that I have experience at such skills as getting into my cleats and taking off. I was able to do so and catch the green light while the inexperienced Boy and the injured Outlaw struggled and got stuck by the red. The red light also meant that the cars weren't coming either and I had the whole wet lane to myself with no fear of getting a face full of idiot backwash. Once over the bridge, I pulled over and waited for the guys to rejoin.

The rest of the ride was familiar and uneventful. I dropped the guys off at the Boy's house, chatted for a while, and concluded the day with a short jaunt back to my house. According to my data, the ride was just over 31 miles of wet but pleasant February riding.

When I got home, I surveyed the damage. Okay, there was no actual damage, just about 12 pounds of dirt and grime caked to various parts of me and the bike (10.5 pounds directly caused from riding behind the Boy). From a distance, it doesn't look that bad. (Click to enlarge)

Up close, the dirt better presents itself.

I got out the hose and sprayed down the bike. Then I found a towel (possibly under a shelf), wiped off all of the good spots. Then I got out the lube and applied liberally. It had been a pretty fantastic day.

Shortly after settling in for the night, I received a message from Strava (one of those virtual group ride app thingies). The email is screen shotted here to preserve all of it's glory.

Like I said, I don't fully understand the group ride thing. And, it's possible that they are using the term 'ride' differently than me. I had thought about doing the group ride thing more often but this email has me second guessing that thought...

MMBOCC- Round 2 and Championship Crowning

Here’s the thing: You and I aren’t that different when it comes to March Madness. I haven’t watched a single moment of the basketball tournament. You haven’t watched a single minute of my working out. How in the world would we get the results of either? Read about them on the internet of course!

When last we checked in on the Battle of the Crotch Creams, the number 1 seed Assos had firmly defeated the old pro Chamois Butt’r. This was to be expected and there was no Cinderella story here (unless, of course, you count my bits turning into something pumpkin-like once the 2^nd ride was complete). In the Skin Cream Bracket, the contenders included the top of the line diaper rash goo as the number 1 seed versus a slick yet moisturizing balm found in the pet section.

First up, Desitin. 

There were a literal gazillion gallons of this stuff sold throughout the world on an annual basis. Luckily for Desitin, people keep breeding. Babies are pretty much undeveloped cyclists. Both typically sport shorts with an extra thick lining. Both are notoriously bad at crotch region hygiene. To test the cream in action, I did this ride.

This was an uncomfortable experience start to finish. In the beginning, I had to apply the sauce between my legs. Whereas I’m typically happy when I reach my hands in that area of my body, the addition of this white stuff drastically changed the situation. The cream has an initial silky texture that is almost immediately altered upon skin contact. It’s possible that they have some sort of drying agent hidden in a moisturizing cream. This was quite apparent due to the tingling in my fingers. (Ironically, there was none of that tingling down below.)

I set this cream up for success. With Monday as an off day, the crotch was ready for a pounding without being pre-sore. Sadly, the cream provided little to no relief on the ride. The friction built rather quickly and soreness was the norm for the ride. I finished the work and walked away from the bike a little more bull-legged than normal.

I also noticed a couple of oddities. First, my bike seat was a little more white than normal. I’m interpreting this to mean that there is next to no adhesive quality to the cream and it squished itself out. Second, my tri shorts were also more white than normal, a phenomenon I’ve not experienced since…

The second seed in this bracket is Bag Balm. I discovered this product reading about chamois cream alternatives on the internet. Basically, someone asked a question to a forum of riders, “How do you lube your crotch?” (I’m paraphrasing.) There were several suggestions and Bag Balm was a repeated answer. I’d never heard of the stuff before. When I asked someone at the grocery store, they located it in the pet aisle next to the dog biscuits. I kinda wonder how the people recommending this product discovered it in the first place. (I don’t think I’ll be doing an alternative nutrition query any time soon.)

Bag Balm is the thickest salve in the group. It’s also the only non-white contender. It presents as a super thick petroleum jelly with a minty scent. I had to apply more than expected pressure into the tin in order to get a similar amount of substance to transfer to the nether regions.  Here’s the ride data:

I was pleasantly surprised by Bag Balm’s performance. It stayed in place for the entire ride. Despite the fact that I was still smarting from the beating I received during the Desitin test, the perineum felt better after the ride than before. And, as opposed to smelling like I had a rash, I still sported a minty freshness. This might be the first time that I wasn’t rancid after a ride.

On the downside, Bag Balm was a little stickier than the other creams. The chamois pad stayed in place due to the adhesive properties of the balm. There was a small bit of rubbing on some non-contact areas of the southern states. Despite this flaw in performance, Bag Balm destroyed Desitin in this bracket.

I did do another week’s worth of testing, Bag Balm versus Assos. Here are the rides, just in case you think I’m making this up.

Bag Balm Championship Round

Assos Championship Round

Since I’ve been doing this field-testing for about a month now, the results were unremarkable. Assos won the tournament in a decisive victory over BB. If the competition were based solely on smell, the Balm would have won (Assos is neutral while Bag Balm hints of food). I’ll likely keep Bag Balm in my transition bag in case of emergency or for possibly post-race smell masking. I’ll continue to use Assos on a regular basis.

Here is the awards ceremony:

Assos gets the top of the podium

Bag Balm on the double stack

Chamois Butt’r sits the single stack

Desitin gets to watch longingly for some bling.

P.S. Does anyone want to buy a tub of mostly full Desitin?

The Disappointing Significance of 38:44

A couple of disclaimers before we get to the meat and potatoes of this post. First, I'm going to update the status of my injury. This will be, hopefully, my last blurb on this particular injury (a bit of foreshadowing, perhaps?). Partly because I am personally bored in thinking about it and partly because I don't want to bore you on the subject anymore. I've got other stuff I'd like to bore you with.

Second, I was talking to some people who have read some of my back work. Anytime I put in some historical or societal references, I research them first. It helps out with the creative flow. See, I like to learn the facts before I completely distort them to benefit my needs. It's so real that Fox and CNN are currently in a bidding war for my services. Having said that, I'm going to do you a favor and advise you to NOT research the numbers 38:44 on your own, just to see if I'm telling the truth. What you'll find is a lot of information about guns. Then you'll get put on a list. You might get a visit from an undisclosed government official who "happened to be in the neighborhood and just checking things out." Let this be a lesson to you youngsters out there- Incognito Search is your friend.

Now, on to the story...

Do you know how long it takes a strain to heal? I do. It's roughly 5-7 days. If you're unlucky (which sums me up pretty nicely), it'll take 10-14 days. Therefore, an injury that took place on, say, January 26th would, even under the most dismal of circumstances, would be healed by now.

Do you know how long a hairline stress fracture takes to heal? I don't. You know why? Because the darn thing ain't healed yet. There are rays of light on the horizon (metaphorically speaking since the sun is afraid to show it's head in these parts of the country at this time of year). This past Friday, I went 75% of the day without a noticeable limp! Sure I was still the slowest person in the building. One of the snails that inhabits one of the other science teacher's room escaped and said, "Excuse me please," since I was blocking it's path in the hall. I'm also pretty sure that that stupid gastropod gave me a virus because I had a roughness in my throat and a tickle in my nose for the rest of the day. Still, injury progress is progress. I anticipate it being at least another week before the discomfort is gone and another week after that before I attempt running again.

So, what's a guy to do with all of this free time? Ideally, whatever he wants. In reality, it's whatever the Wife wants. Thank goodness that she always has brilliant ideas and wants to do things that are Banter friendly!

On Saturday morning, she suggested that we pack up the dogs and head down to the Keuka Lake Wine Trail. I like dogs. The dogs like the car. I like wine. I like the Wife. The Wife likes wine. She tolerates me. I was immediately thrilled. I didn't even flinch when she suggested that we go to the outlet mall on the way back. (True foreshadowing here-I would grow to regret this lack of flinching.)

The day went exactly as you'd hope. We drove into wine country with the intentions of tasting some delicious vintages along with a few undesirables. Hey, take the good with the bad.

Here's the Wife doing a handstand in 40º temperatures on a picnic table with Keuka Lake in the background. She's a fine specimen and I'm a lucky man.

Here are the dogs. Different winery. Same lake. They absolutely refused to do a handstand. My dog is the one on the left side of the pic. The Wife's dog is up on the rock. The dog on the right is the dog-in-law, which came over for a play date with the Wife's dog.

As far as visiting the wineries went, the harvest was good. We got roughly 1.5 cases mixed between whites and reds. That should last us through the weekend.

We stayed on the wine trail until they kicked us off. I'm typically not the kind of guy who appreciates closing down a joint. But, we drove 2 hours and they closed at 5:00. Stepping up to a tasting table at 4:45 isn't nearly on par with walking into a restaurant 15 minutes before closure. We are efficient drinkers and could easily sample everything on the list before the clock runs out.

Having collected our spoils, we headed towards Waterloo. The Wife had a $5 coupon to use at one of the stores. It makes sense to spend $30 on gasoline just to save $5 on a hat, right?... Right? ... We couldn't just hit one store. Well, with the doggies stuck in the car, we rescued them from their 4-wheeled crate and took them around. I hung out with the pups outside while the Wife went in. This is another version of win-win for me.

Until it wasn't. I lasted only 1 additional store. Even though I have no idea for how long I was out there, I am quite confident that I developed a minor batch of hypothermia. Sore foot from before? Check. Sore throat from before? Check. Runny nose from before? Check. Brand new full body vibrations? Check. (<-- Not as sexy as they sound.)

As you can probably predict, I didn't wake up in good shape. The shivering had long since stopped. The nose faucet, however, went from a slow drip to a steady stream. The voice is so deep that I actually sound like a male. The foot is marginally better.

If you haven't figured it out by now, I'm kind of an idiot. In case you need more proof than what's already contained in the posts of this blog, I'll toss at you some more evidence. A person of near average IQ would take some medicine, drink some soup, eat some crackers, and take it easy with a book, movie, or nonsensical gibberish on the Internet. A Banter-caliber intellect will try and exercise.

In a normal world, I would have gone for a run. The foot said, "Nope," so I headed out to the, um, bikey place. At least I had the foresight to bring a snot towel with me. Knowing that I wasn't going to be able to put forth any impressive numbers on the bike (duh), I was hoping for an easy ride of about 60-90 minutes. Despite the lack of, um, smart stuff in my head, I have learned that there's healing and therapy in exercise. Not today.

As a life-long athlete(ish) guy(ish), most structured workouts that I've encountered end at a highly predictable and recognizable number. Almost always, those numbers are in multiples of 5. Sometimes a 2. If I was adhering to a plan, I would have ended my ride at 30 minutes, or 40 minutes, or 45 minutes. Here's my ride data:

As I was riding, my energy systems did not improve. Nor did my mood. Or spirits. Or overall well-being. Not once would I have ever predicted of getting off the bike at 38:44. It's disappointing on multiple levels.

Oh, just in case you were wondering, if a guy shows up to check your browser history, here's what you do: open the door, blow your nose with an old tissue, offer to shake his hand (with the tissue still in hand mind you), give off a cough, and invite him in. If experience holds true, he'll turn and run without ever stepping foot into your house. And then, apparently, he'll call Fox and CNN to cancel the story and they'll rescind any job offers.

What to Expect When You're Syracusing- The Bike

My intent is to pass along knowledge based on experience for any and all those who are planning on doing IM Syracuse 70.3 (even if you have no intention of ever doing this race, maybe you'll find it interesting). If, at any point along the way, please feel free to raise your hand and ask questions. (I suppose you could also leave a comment.)

Links to other posts in this series
Pre-Race
The Swim
The Bike (viewing)
The Run

A Short Blurb About Transition

If any of you have seen coverage of any of the Ironman races on TV or read about them on the internets, you might have this vision of a changing tent or large numbers of volunteers waiting on you hand and feet. And you'd be right on all accounts. However, this is not an Ironman despite the IM title. Syracuse is a half-Ironman, HIM, half- distance, or whatever else you want to call it. Therefore, you get nothing. Transition is a large, open field fenced off with temporary orange fences. There is no changing tent like the one in the pic. No volunteers will assist you. You are on your own.

You have to find your bike, put on your helmet, buckle your chin strap, put a race number on your body (body marking is not sufficient at this stage), and whatever else you might need. You have to run (or walk) your bike through the field towards the mount line. Once you pass that line, you are free to start your bike ride.

Tip 1: If you've practiced this before, clip your shoes on to the pedals and run through the grass barefoot. This style of running is more efficient and keeps mud/ dirt out of your bike cleats.

Tip 2: If you have not practiced tip one, run with your bike shoes in your hands to just past the mount line. Move all the way over to the side so as to not interfere with anyone, drop your shoes, and slide in your feet. Then mount and ride. Trust me, this will save time and grime.

The Early Stages of the Ride
Assuming that you have mounted the bike successfully and have started pedaling, the initial stages of the ride are quite nice. Head onto the road (there's only 1) and turn right. You'll be met with a nicely paved surface and a slight downhill. Don't get too comfy.  Be warned, there are 2 forms of evil lurking in your near future. These take the shape of railroad tracks. The first set is just before the 1st mile mark and the second is right around mile 2.

Do not underestimate the danger here. There is a 99.99999% chance that there will be no train traffic. In year's past, they even took the time to cover the tracks with astroturf-type carpeting or the like. I would still advise slowing down and not being in any aero position over the tracks. People have bit it badly on these tracks due to their lack of diligence. The tracks are, in all reality, quite simple to navigate. Just don't ruin your ride before it gets started.

As far as man-made obstacles on the course, that's the whole gamut. However, once you pass the second railroad crossing, a new challenge presents itself. You start to go up. Then you make a right hand turn and continue to go up. And after you've gone up, you go up some more. This pattern continues up until about mile 7. Then, you get some teaser false flats which continue until mile 8.5. Then, guess what happens? That's right, you go up. You have to survive the climb until right around mile 11.5. That's the end of the climb.

Tip 3: The magic word of the climb is spin. Try to get into a nice rhythm and don't grind too much. You will burn some of your energy matches just don't try and flame them all. You'll need some for the run. I understand that there will be lots of people passing you on the hill. Let them go and beat them later.

Tip 4: Just after the climb, there will be an aid station. Some people opt to bring minimal hydration so that they can save weight during the climb. They then pick up fluid and nutrition at the first aid staion. That's totally acceptable and up to you.

Aid Stations
There are 3 aid stations on the bike ride: mile 14, 23, and 41. Volunteers at these stations are more than happy to give you everything they have. Without a doubt, they will have water. They will also have sports drink, gels, chomps and bars (depends on this year's race sponsor, check the Athlete's Guide for specific product and flavors). They'll also have some fruit.

You'll know the aid stations when you see them. There will be a large line of people yelling and screaming. I'm serious that the volunteers literally want to give you stuff. They'll be jumping and dancing just to get your attention and in hopes that you'll get your hands on their goodies.

Before you get to the station, you'll want to do a little bit of prep. First and foremost, if you plan on taking advantage of their services, slow down. Don't hit the area at full speed. (If you're not in need, pay careful attention to those around you. It's a busy place. Move over to the left some. But not fully left as you need to leave room for others passing. Unless you are the fastest guy/ gal in the nearest 800 meters. Then, have at it.) If you have any trash, dump it before getting to the station. There will be a sign labeled "bottle drop" and a trash can. You do not actually have to get your trash in the receptacles. You may simply toss it to the side in the general vicinity and feel good about it. Just don't hit anybody (volunteer or athlete) with your crap or leave it in a place where someone behind you could hit it with their bike.

As far as product, first up will be water, then sports drink (both fluids will fit nicely into your bike's bottle cage), then a bunch of other stuff, and finally water. Know what you want ahead of time. Here's what you should do. Suppose you want a product and a nice volunteer is shouting out at the top of their lungs that they have the desired stuff. Shout back the same product and point at someone. Make eye contact. Get their name and phone number. Some volunteers will try and run along side to help you out. Amazing when it happens. Don't count on it. Most will extend their hand and loosen their grip. You reach out your hand and grab on tight (to the product, not the volunteer). Sometimes you miss. Immediately start the process over again. You may want to slow down a little more to increase your chances of success.

Aid stations end with yet another bottle drop and trash area. You should hold on to anything that doesn't make it off of your possession from here on out to the next aid station or back to transition. If you need to use the bathroom and don't know how to pee on the bike, there will also be porta potties available at aid stations. The potties will not run along with you, you must dismount your bike before going in. 

The Rest of the Bike Course
The rest of the course is a nice country ride. Don't expect to see large numbers of people out on this single loop course. There will be the occasional hotbed of spectators that will be yelling and cheering. Most of the time, it will be you and a couple of hundred of your new closest friends on the race.

Most of miles 12-56 are rolling with a net downhill. The entire profile is below.

I am obligated to point out the nice little dip in the profile right around mile 20. This is a hot little bugger. For roughly a half of a mile, you'll have the opportunity to test your mettle at break neck speeds. I got up to 50 mph of that section, which meant that it was over in less than a minute. This section of road is smooth and straight so it's a good time to go fast. Further, the other side of the dip is the photo negative of the hill you went down. It's a short, sharp, uphill climb that will test both your gearing and your quads.

The rest of the way, you should expect a rolling terrain through picturesque upstate NY. The last ten miles or so are down and fast. This should give you and your legs ample time to absorb any water or nutrition as you get ready for the run.

There may or may not be a no passing zone on the last stretch of road. You'll know it as 'the last stretch as you'll see a lane of traffic completely closed off just for you and your athlete buddies. There will also be cones separating you from your soon-to-be running buddies. You should know this information ahead of time, either from the optional Mandatory Athlete meeting or from asking someone in transition. Either way, this is a good time to do some last minute hydration, nutrition, stretching, kegel exercises, etc. There is a half marathon in your very near future, which I'll tell you about in the very near future (convenient, huh?).