Recently in Swim Category

One of my favorite distance sets is to increase your distances to a max and then work your way back down. It kind of looks like this:

Last night, I did this set, working the 300s & 500s hard, and maintaining a steady, moderate effort on the 400s & 600, while warming up and cooling down the 200s, respectively. Nothing too earth shattering, but I did like the results of the two 500s. With one week left before the Alumni meet and my annual swimming of the 500 against the JV, I was psyched to see some OK times. Because of the mountain, I didn't go my hardest, but I did concentrate on form and kicking. That lead to two 6:08s, which is just over 1:13 per 100. And then on the second 300, I went a 3:35, slightly slower than my T-pace average of 3:32, but again, I wasn't going all out and it was after 3000 other yards. This means I should hopefully be able to go under 5:40 next week, which is the main goal.

In other disciplines, Coach Will Smith has been keeping the bike training lively with all sorts of intervals, big gears, high rpms (120!), and long, grind it out type rides. I've been working my way through season 2 of The Wire for the shorter rides and look towards other action movies for longer rides. This weekend it's Hancock. I'm totally getting my money's worth in Netflix.

Running has been easier, but that's on purpose. The first few runs after the marathon were quite surprisingly grueling. Yet another reminder at just how tough a marathon is. So we started slow and short to get used to running again. I've worked myself up back to where I think I need to be. In fact, just this past Sunday, I covered 8.2 miles in 1:09. The best part is that my perceived level of effort matches years past, but the actually pace is faster. I owe all of that to the marathon training.

I should be getting my next training plan from Coach Will any day now, which will start my formal training for Ironman New Orleans 70.3. I can't wait to see what type of pain he has in store. Bring it!

This morning I did a bunch of broken swims. A broken swim is usually on fast swims where rest is provided within the given distance in order to maintain a higher effort. There's no getting around it; these sets hurt. But they're a necessary evil so I swim them anyway. Here's what I came up with:

• Warm up. Be sure to include some kicking as you will use your legs extensively to swim fast.
• 6 x 100 FAST, broken like this: 50 - rest 10 sec - 25 - 5 sec - 25. I rested for about 1:15 between each one.
• 6 x 50 DiSP for recovery
• 6 x 75 FAST, broken like this: 50 - rest 10 sec - 25
• 4 x 50 DiSP recovery
• 6 x50 broken like this: 25 - 5 s - 25
• Warm down

Feel free to drop the six repetitions to a number that more closely matches your fitness level/swimming strength.

Unfortunately, I didn't have the time to get to the broken 50s. I would've like to get through it all, but alas one must work to be able to pay to have fun like this. I'll come back to it in a couple of weeks.

After aquathon #3 was delayed twice due to blue-green algae blooms, aquathon #4 was upon us. My legs are tired from marathon training. The hamstrings are tight, my calf is on the verge of cramping, and my shins are a touch on the sore side. I notice Mark Harms, local triathlete extraordinaire, and instantly everyone's gunning for second. "At least I can draft off him (in the swim)," I say to myself.

SWIM
Right off the bat, and I'm behind. After a few lunges and it's me & Mark. Then it's just me. Then it's Mark & me again. Then just me. Mark was all over the place, hardly keeping a straight line. Oh well. I'll just swim by myself. I concentrate on my stroke as I tend to drop my head. Long strokes...breathe right once in a while...keep the head up...sight for the buoy..."Why isn't it getting closer?"...long strokes...so on and so forth. The wind carried the second buoy off course to make the course a touch long, and I notice (with my picked up head) the bubbles in front of me. I surge a bit to latch on Mark's wake and actually catch a draft to the turn. Then, he's gone. Way to the right. Sigh. I make my way to the transition and let some thoughts creep into my head that perhaps I'm in front? Nope. Mark comes in from the right and nips me by a few seconds.

RUN
Mark is out of transition first and I'm not too far behind. And then he's gone again. Not to the right, but right off the front. After the first turn, I couldn't see him. I commented to the volunteer at the turn, "Man, he's fast!" And she replied that he beat her to her spot. I was induced by his speed and went out too fast. At the first mile, it felt like I should be at the 2.5 mile mark. I blame the marathon training, but not necessarily unhappy with it. I laid back for the next mile, and then tried to build up the final mile. Coming down the final hill into finishing stretch, two guys pass me, but encourage me to finish with them. I pick it up, so do they. I hold my pace, they pull ahead. I finish just behind, collapsing to my knees on the timing mats.

Overall, not too bad given the lack of non-running training and crazy life this summer.Everyone concluded that the swim course was long. It was about a minute longer for me, so I was right at a PR if you take a minute off. I've got two more months before the marathon and hopefully can get all the house projects done by then.

Just a quick report on my second aquathon of the season.

There was a challenge issued among the local tri clubs to see who could get the most racers and the best times or something, so there were about 20 extra people there than normal. And it seemed they were all fast.

My main swim competitor, Brian, was there again. He and I led out the swim, but neither of us could hold a straight line. I tend to drop my head, and I think that pulls me off course. Halfway out the first leg of the 1000m triangle, I felt a surprise little tickle on my feet. "They'll drop away after the first turn," I thought. The turn came and went, and Brian and I are still side by side leading the race. There were still some tickles on my toes. Around the third buoy and headed for home, Brian and I zig-zag and occasionally run into each other. (I thought it was me, but after we confirmed it was the both of us.) Brian must've gotten caught in some waves, because I was able to open a small gap. Out of the water I crossed the timing mat first. As fun as it is to race the swim, I put forth a significant effort.

Brian passed me in transition. (I still have to mess with socks -- gotta break that habit.) I was out #2 and must've left the target on my back. I was passed up the first hill by the top female, and then by the next two guys down the hill. I kept running my race, got passed a few more times, but only once from the turn-around back in. I was actually able to hold off a group of four that were about 20 seconds behind me. (Small victories.) I need to learn how to run fast one of these years. The finish absolutely sucks on this course. You go up the hill, immediately down, and then turn to finish. There's no opportunity to recover after the hill (about the last half-mile.) I was actually yelling to myself to finish. My family scolded me for not acknowledging them down the finish chute, but I was too spent to do anything but make it across the line.

Official finish data:
overall place: 11 out of 92
time: 35:44
swim: 11:24
rate: 1:09/100m
trans: 0:38
run: 23:43
pace: 7:38/mi

I lead my age group for the overall series thus far.

I hesitated on which way to go home. Right meant going to the pool. Left meant going home and sulking on the couch.

Work ended rather poorly. I was busy all day and then I discovered a small goof with major implications. You know that part in Office Space when Michael Bolton ("Which song is your favorite?") realizes that he messed up on something small, like a decimal point or something, which causes a $300K glitch? Yeah, that's how I felt. Totally my fault. I'm just lucky someone else discovered it. I have to make some calls tomorrow to see what the impacts are on a multi-million dollar project. I already made a call on the other multi-million dollar project.

So I turned right. Perhaps I can pound out the issues in the water. I hop in and start out with 4x100, 4x200, 4x300, building each one so that the first 100 is the easiest and my last 300 is my best effort. Somewhere in the middle of the 200s, I randomly think of a kid swimming, and he visualizes that he is a car engine. (I have no idea how I got there) And as an engine, he finds another gear an surprises his coaches with his performance. Turns out, the thought carries through to my swimming, and I start concentrating on my form and start to churn out some swims.

I start out the 300s with a 4:21. Not too bad. I increase the effort for #2 and surprise myself with a 4:18. I continue building through #3, really thinking about long, smooth strokes, crisp catches and full pulls and post a 4:12. Now it's starting to get fun. The pool closes at 7:00. It's 6:55 when I start #4 and didn't realize that I'm the only one in the water. I push off and start to feel the fatigue building in my arms at the 150.

"Pain is good. Pain is weakness leaving the body. Concentrate on your form. Pull. Pull harder."

I flip at the 200 and notice I'm at 2:40. That leaves 1:20 to go 4 minutes even. I let everything go for the last two lengths and concentrate on my bestest form. At 10 meters to go, I look for the pace clock to gauge my finish time. I look and look. I expect to see 3:57...3:58...3:59, but there's nothing. It's blank. The lifeguards turned off the clock. I slam my last two strokes and finish. Exacerbated, I call out, "Where's the clock?! I was using the clock?" not expecting anyone to reply. I started to warm down, got whistled at by the lifeguard, and pleaded to finish one half length as a warm down. I climbed out of the pool just as the clock turned 7 PM. Fuck.

I was steamed. Knowing the time from that one swim really could've turned my day around. Instead, I came home and sulked on the couch. At least I got my workout in.

Winter's final grasp
After a record-breaking winter season of snow, spring and summer have had difficulty establishing consistent temperatures and conditions. Just this past Monday, it was 82. The following day, it was 55. We're three weeks away from the official start of summer and I haven't even taken the cover off the air conditioner. Thus, the long, drawn-out winter hasn't given enough time to warm the lakes. I asked the lady marking me if the lake was cold. She hesitated a long while before replying with a drawn out "wellll..." I asked if it was above or below 60°. I got no reply. Yikes!

I readied my transition area and went on a warm-up run. The ankle showed no ill affects, so I tested it with some successful strides; all was good on the running front. Next up: the lake. I squeezed into my wetsuit and went to the water's edge. Then I couldn't feel my feet. Actually, it wasn't that bad, but it was cold to be sure. The first few face plants in the water definitely took your breath away, but after a few minutes, you got used to it.

Since I'm more under-trained than I'd like to be, the strategy was to get on someone's feet for the swim and run my own pace & race. Nice and easy, just survive the day to get ready for the next one.

SWIM
The gun went off and we're off. There were two PRO* guys right in front of me. What better feet to draft off than a couple of PROs? Turns out, one's pretty damn fast, and the other can't hold his line very well. I'm on his feet one stroke, the next he's three feet to the right. Then he's right in front of me, the next, he's on my left, pushing both of us right. I let him go and resign to a long slow swim by myself until a catch an orange cap streaking up the left side. NICE! I'm on his feet until we turn around the first buoy when he stops dead in the water. I nearly scaled his back and swam over him but thought better of it and skirted around. I'm left to my own thoughts now, trying to keep my strokes long, even, and smooth. The cold moved beyond the exposed skin and is now sinking into my muscles. My triceps are heavy and stiff. I can feel the tension building with every stroke. All the more reason to keep things long. I try breathing to my off-side (right) for a while and catch myself drifting off-line. I continue zig-zagging the course chasing what I think are the two PROs in front of me, but I see nothing. I swim into the shore as far as possible until I grab clumps of sand instead of all water. Getting up is a challenge until the warm blood returns to the legs. Transition is empty save for the top PRO. Second out of the water? Really? That's a nice surprise. At my stuff, my hands are like clubs as I fiddle with wetsuit and try to put on socks and shoes. The other PROs arrive while I'm leaving for the run.

RUN
Everything about me is cold right now. My feet are anvils swinging from frayed ropes. I have no control over anything, but somehow I manage forward progress. It feels real funny. My fingers aren't really moving. My triceps are stiff and sore. And then a gull shits on my head. Then another. And another until I realize it's starting to rain. Fun! I settle into a nice pace. The other two PROs pass me before the first hill, which I climbed with surprising ease, probably because I couldn't really feel the pain. Back down the hill and around the path, I didn't get passed by the PRO woman until just before the turnaround. Now getting a first look at what was coming up my backside, I thought a few more could catch me. But I never heard footsteps. Up and down the final hill, I powered down the long straightaway that leads to the finish. It was now raining at a fine clip and I finally felt my fingers move. I held off a late charge to maintain fifth place overall.

I felt no feedback from my ankle, Achilles or calf, which is promising for the upcoming marathon training. And I also got a $15 gift certificate to Quaker Steak and Lube for my 2nd place swim.

1K SWIM: 12:01 (1:13/100m) 2nd/74
5K Run: 23:09 (7:28/mi) 28th/74
Total: 35:59 5th/74

What's shocking is that when comparing the times above to last year's performances, I'm right there. I swam slightly slower, but that's expected given the solo effort and cold water. But my run split was the fastest ever! At this point, I don't know if it's a fluke or a sign of things to come. We'll see what happens next time with a warmer lake.

*PRO to me means really, really fast. Plus, I heard them discussing other races and whether they'd be racing as PROs there.

Running is back on track. I had my final appointment with Jenny, the Super PT. The ankle is progressing nicely. Just a few more weeks of some jumping exercises and I'm as good as before. (If I said 'good as new,' I'd be a baby, and that's too young for triathlons.)

I finished my first run without a walk break this morning. At just over three miles, I'm confident I can get through the 5K at the aquathon next week. That is if I finish the swim.

Which brings me to Friday's workout where I thought things were good, but the clock said otherwise. I continuously came in about three seconds slower per 100 than I felt, so it was a bit discouraging. But tonight, tired after the weekend and this morning's run, was swimming long course 100s within 5 seconds of the short course yards on Friday. And doing it consistently. If I pace myself, I've got a fighting chance of finishing.

You remember that feeling during final exam week when you realize you know nothing? It is that feeling of despair mixed with a tinge of hope that if you could just stay up all night and cram a semester's worth of notes into a fatigued head, you just might be able to salvage a passing grade. Right now, it's occurring all over campus; and in my training.

I realized last week that I have a test in three weeks that I haven't studied one bit for. The first aquathon of the season is May 29, and I haven't swam with any regularity in the last three months. I've been distracted by my stupid ankle and stupid work. So now I have to cram three months of swimming in three weeks. And the first two sessions last week didn't go so well. I spent the weekend with some sore, stiff shoulders and back, and little to build from.

I need to get to work. HTFU, right?

Time again for the annual JMM Alumni Meet. Talking with my coach friend and classmate about how old we're getting, he asked what made us feel older: the fact that this is our 13th meet as an alumni, or the fact that the youngest kids I coached in high school are now alumni. Age aside, these meets have enough meaning, that if you haven't kept yourself in shape, you tend to pull yourself out to prevent embarrassment. Even us older guys try to keep in shape, and I consider this an important meet every year. In the build up since October, I had some excellent training sessions, showing some speed that got me psyched.

Every year I swim the 500-yard freestyle with the junior varsity. I swam sprints in high school, but because I know of no triathlons with a 50-yard swim leg, I've concentrated on the longest swim available to me. The toughest part of the meet for me is the warm up. The 500 is deep into the meet, usually an hour or more after the start. There is a ten-minute break two events before, so I got really loose during the formal warm-up and got back in for a few 100-yard strong swims at the break. I actually felt strong at the end of the break.

Behind the blocks, my junior varsity competition looked like they were fifth grade. Last year, every one smoked me by twenty seconds. I expected the same this year, so I tried to keep within myself and swim my own race. Jason said to follow my "easy speed," the speed based on adrenaline at the start of a race. The plan was to maintain a nice even pace and start to kick and ramp things up for the last seven lengths. Numerically, the goal was to open with 1:05 for the first 100 and follow up with 1:07s to finish around 5:35. Jeremy agreed to count and would keep me on pace if he could help it.

The start was quick and I was up and feeling good right away. To my surprise, I was out in front, scaring me that I was going too fast and would eventually blow up. After the first 100, Jeremy signaled to me that I went out in a 1:04. That and the thought of going out in front of everyone still was in the back of my head, so I dialed it back. I held that for the next 250 and then kicked it in when I saw the 13 on the lap counter. I built up the effort the rest of the way in. At the flip at 375, my arms were into some serious lactic build up. Mentally, this is where I tend to relax in workouts, giving into the pain. I pushed off the wall, breaking through the mental walls that have grown in my head. One lap later, the starter's pistol shot off over the leader's (my) lane, shocking the crowd and reminding me that I have two lengths to go. One more 50 and I kicked hard, finally seeing the double orange. One final turn, and I pushed toward the last wall and a finish.

I got a nice round of applause from the crowd and was overwhelmed to see 5:19 on the wall. Except that wasn't my time. It was the 450 split of the lane next to me. I double checked the clock and saw my time of 5:36.22. I was still very pleased with that. It's a four-second PR of my "adult" career and nice confirmation of consistency and hard work. (For comparison's sake, a senior won the varsity race in 4:43.

Looking at the video (posted to YouTube soon) and taking splits, I dropped back too much on the 2nd and 3rd 100. But I finished strong and met my goal times. A nice way to finish a direction-less 2007. On to 2008.

Here's how my splits broke down:

And here's the video proof:

Since the Berbee Derby, I've tried to get into the pool at least three times a week. And now, after three weeks I had my first indication that consistency is the key to any kind of improvement.

My second swim of the week tends to be many repeated shorter, faster swims. This past Thursday it was 100s split with some pull 75s. The 100s were grouped by two, with each group faster than the one previous; six, then four, then two. I decided to keep the descend going across all 100s, so that the set of four started just faster than the last two of the group of six, and the last two 100s were faster than the last two in the group of four. I kept the pull swims as recovery, but kept to the prescribed breathing; every 3rd-4th-5th stroke by length. The first 100s started off easily enough. The last two, without really trying, ended up splitting out at 1:07s. I was a bit surprised because I was just keeping things long and strong at this point.

The next 4 100s started off at 1:05 and then I pushed the last two to 1:03. The four 75s were a nice relief, a great recovery to set up the last two 100s.

When I tire in swimming, my head drops, and I fail to finish my pull, cutting my stroke off, and I lose out on a lot of power. The last two 100s were going to challenge me. Everytime my head dropped, I picked it up concentrating on the far wall. Then, I had to remember to flick the water behind me, finishing each stroke. And what a difference it made. I managed a 1:01, and then, for the first time ever (in a workout since high school), a sub 1:00. I probably touched at 0:59.99, but I did see the x:59 on the clock, so it counts. I was stoked.

My newly found speed was confirmed Friday night. I figure I get in some long, steady swims. I warmed up with five 200s, building up the set to a nice strong pace. Then I set off on three 500s. I thought I would keep things at an even pace; something like 1:14 per 100 for 6:10 per 500. Well...I touched the first one in at 5:59. Hmmm...okay. Maybe I'll hold back on the second one.

But, that didn't work out that well. After each 100, I could see the clock and I was splitting about 5 seconds faster that I should be. But, I was feeling fine, so I went with it. The second 500: 5:55.

For the last 500, I threw out all the stops and just went for it. Except I wasn't going to think about out it. I wanted to practice dissociating my mind from my body. I didn't want to see the clock. I didn't wanted to know how bad it hurt. I didn't want any feedback. I only wanted to concentrate on the wall, my stroke, and put myself into my race at the end of the month. Like Steve Martin, "Let the mind go and the body will follow." The last 150 really hurt. I counted each turn at the far end like there was a counter there, showing the 15, 17, and eventually the double red signaling the last length. I hit the last turn hard and flicked the water behind me to the final wall. I looked towards the clock and let out a surprised grunt and guffaw to the shock of others in the pool. I think the lifeguard even heard me. The time I saw on the clock was five minutes and fifty seconds later that what it was when I pushed off. Way faster that I expected, but so welcomed.

I've got one more week of harder workouts, then I'll taper for a week up to the meet. That is, if it stops snowing between now and then.