Trainer Confessions

Lost in Space

One of the Masses

According to the calendar and Puxatony Phil, winter's not over yet, and there's still ample time for a nasty stretch of cold and snow.  (As an aside, if that cold streak does make an appearance you'll most certainly hear someone talk about the myth of Global Warming dreamed up by Al Gore, so it disappoints me when those same people don't say anything about the weather we've seen this winter as being evidence that just might support a sign that things aren't right....)  But even if winter does make a brief return, I've lost one of my few competitive advantages heading into the spring racing season.

As someone who author's a blog called "Trainer Confessions", it should come as no surprise that I have no problems suffering endlessly during the winter months perched upon the trainer.  If the monotony proves to great for me, I'll just throw in a dash of time on the rollers.  So if needed, I can hunker down without hesitation and log hours and hours of training for weeks or months if needed without ever venturing outside. 

My unscientific polling data tells me that not everyone else is wired (or mis-wired) like me and the potential of such mind-numbing stints of riding in a cave easily justify extra days (or weeks) off the bike in the winter.  They keep their sanity, but at the same time they've allowed me to scratch out just a little bit of an edge (or at least allowed me to close the gap).

In a year when winter seemingly ended on Halloween, I'm guessing that the need to ride indoors has dropped dramatically for many racers.  Consequently, the excuses that justified extended time off the bike have been reduced, and subsequently, my competitive advantage has dissipated.  I haven't opted for an indoor ride more than twice on any given week this winter, and I haven't been forced to churn out an interval on the trainer since the first week of December.  If I'm not suffering indoors, that probably means I'm just one of the masses out taking advantage of the snow-free 2012 winter roads.

Disconnected

So while I'm concerned about the overall Climate, and I'm resigned to the fact that I'm not getting nearly the leg-up on the race competition I probably needed, the weird weather has offered me a somewhat surreal training experience on a regular basis.  In prior winters, most of my long interval work (intervals 8 to 10 minutes in duration, repeated anywhere from 4 to 7 times) was done indoors, where I was distracted by the computer or the TV.  If work was flexible (which was true way too often in my 2010 and 2011 racing seasons), I could crank out the intervals during an extended lunch-time break, where the passing scenery offered up a form of mental distraction.

But with work now keeping me busy during normal business hours, the daylight long-interval sessions no longer is an option.  And while cranking them out on the trainer early in the AM is still a possibility, it seems as though the TV and the computer never sufficiently distracted me from eventually watching the seconds slowly tick by on the clock.  The suffering truly gets butal once you slip into a mode of looking at the clock every so often, hoping that 5 minutes had just gone by, but realizing that it had only be 15 seconds since the last check.

So what's been new for me with the warm winter weather is that I've been logging nearly all of these longish intervals before the sun even hints that its about to make an appearance.  And I have to say that in a somewhat twisted sort of way, I've actually developed a slight bit of enjoyment from this form of suffering while under the cover of darkness.

As I hunker down and enter into interval mode (BTW, these particular intervals I've been doing are at a very low -- 50 to 55 rpm -- cadence), I switch the iPhone on and start pumping in heavy metal tunes from the 90s into my earplugs (NIN, Marylin Manson, GnR, etc), and I no longer hear any noises from the outside world.  You might say this is a tad bit dangerous as I can't hear oncoming traffic, but in the dark the headlights often give me all I need to stay safe and alert.

Also, because these efforts require me to sustain a constant effort and cadence throughout the full 10 minutes, I try to get myself into a comfortable position before the effort starts.  As a result, my I tend to lower my gaze when I do these longer intervals. My headlight is mounted on my helmet, so with the lowered head position, the next 100 feet of road ahead of me becomes brightly lit.  But because I'm riding on roads that mostly have no street lights, everything outside of the road immediately ahead of me fades away to nothingness.  

While the roads tend to be quiet at the odd hours I ride, those few cars that I do encounter once I'm in interval mode almost don't even mentally register as land-bound vehicles.  They enter my consciousness simply as flashes of lights approaching and then passing by at a very safe passing distance.  I can't hear them (due to the music) and I don't pick up on any features that would distinguish it as a car (as my focus is on the brightly shining road right ahead of me).  

It's almost as if they are space ships from some science fiction movie or video game, especially when I'm on a stretch of rolling hills.  Once a car overtakes me, the flash of light seemingly "flies" away up ahead of me.  I don't see the actual hills in front of me, so all I see in the corners of my peripheral vision are lights that are ascending upwards until they disappear, no different than a rocket launching off into the stratosphere.

Before you know it, the ten minutes are up.  My body is suffering (especially if it was the 7th such effort!), but my mind is unburdened as I never felt the pressure of the slowly ticking clock.  Instead, my brain was lost in space, disconnected from reality.  It might not be as fun as a drug induced disconnection from reality, but it still makes for a pretty surreal trip!

Check Engine Light

Theories on Fatigue

One of the interesting take aways I got out of reading "Hell on 2 Wheels" was the author's summary of the various studies on fatigue and pain thresholds.  Most people can't tolerate the pain associated with having their hands in ice water for more than a minute, and I bet the majority of the readers of this blog get fatigued after laboring through just two of my paragraphs.  Yet the somehow the hardy souls who race across the US can endure unimaginable pain and can transcend the all consuming fatigue for 8 to 12 never-ending days.  So how can they do it?

I know nothing about cars and don't care to learn about them either.  Yet for some reason after digesting the information summarized in "Hell on 2 Wheels" I've packaged it all up in the following car analogy.  Those few who do succeed at the RAAM are those who can somehow keep the "Check Engine" light from ending their ride.

The RAAM isn't just a fun adventure ride; the guys who end up on the podium hold a pace that most causal riders couldn't sustain even for an hour!  Most engines would go kaput if taxed at even a fraction of the power generated by the likes of 5 time RAAM winner (and now tragically deceased) Jure Robic.  So clearly one element in avoiding the dreaded check engine light is to have high-powered, uber-efficient engine.

And of course, regular fueling and maintenance are essential -- it doesn't matter how fast and powerful a rider might be if they neglect to fuel up regularly with high-octane gas.  Upwards of 8,000 calories need to be consumed per day to propel them across on their trek!  Those that don't consume enough and/or the right calories don't last very long without an engine malfunction.

But of more interest to me were the scientific studies highlighted in the book that focused on what people did once that check engine light inevitably started to flicker.  There are some that try their best to place duct tape across their car dashboard.  If a check engine light can't shine through the duct tape, then there's no indication that you're in trouble and you keep speeding along.  That's a risky approach if you ask me, and odds are that you'll ignore something that results in a catastrophic failure of your engine (and the tales of the RAAM are littered with such disastrous endings).

There was also information shared on strategies to calm yourself once the check engine light began to shine.  Rather than immediately panicking and pulling to the side of the road to call AAA for service, the successful riders were able to do things like tapping their fingers or creating mental images of success.  These techniques either distracted or calmed the rider rather than let the warning signs consume their brains and force them into an immediate reaction.  (I've since employed the finger tapping technique myself over the last week.)

The thing that I found the most interesting though were the theories on what causes someone to through the towel in after too much suffering with the check engine light on.  Some have theorized that it is strictly a biological function -- once a specific condition occurs in the engine (notice how generic that condition is -- I know nothing about cars!) and it starts emitting smoke, you have no choice but to immediately pull to the break down lane.  But others have theorized that there isn't a fixed threshold that would trigger one to throw in the towel, but instead, there's an active decision making process taking place in the brain evaluating the return on investment achieved by incurring more suffering.  

If you are out on a Sunday morning drive with no obvious destination (e.g. a training ride without any structure), then the ROI on continuing on with the check engine light on is low, and you'll pull immediately off the high-way.  However, if you're 10 miles from driving to your big job interview, you might decide to pass by the service station even though the check engine light has been on for the last 30 minutes.  Perhaps the engine melts-down before you get to the destination (and you in fact kept going beyond the biological fatigue threshold/trigger), but your brain decided that the goal is worth the chance you're taking.

End of the Road

So why the extended dissertation on fatigue?  My check engine light has been shining brightly over the last week.  Over the last 12 weeks I have gone to the gym to pulverize my legs three times a week (in addition to my riding of course).  Each week I've added either more sets and/or more weight to my reps, even during supposed "rest weeks" (where I cut back on the cycling, but not the gym).  The muscular fatigue never ceased, and only grew.  

By Wednesday of last week, I seriously toyed with the idea of actually skipping a work-out.  And yesterday, as I slowly worked my aching legs up the stairs to the gym, my legs felt as limber as steel beams.  I am almost embarrassed to say that I started thinking of ways I might want to "cheat" on reps and sets to ease the suffering.  If I had to go again to the gym today, I imagine that old ladies could push more metal than me.

There's no doubt that I had reached a point where I decided I could no longer ignore the check engine light, and I needed to get off the weight lifting highway and shut things down.  I feel as if even looking at an image of a barbell right now would hit me with enough force such that I collapsed in exhaustion.  

Fortunately that won't happen, as yesterday was the final day of lifting for the winter training plan given to me by Coach Bobby.  But I have to wonder -- did the Coach give me such a perfect plan that truly took me to my limit of fatigue?  Or, did I become so fixated on the check engine light because subliminally I knew that I was at my final (weight-lifting) destination and that there was no return on investment for additional suffering?

In any case, I'm certainly glad to now have the gym work-outs in the rear-view mirror.

Using My Brain

Sub-Story

Just finished up reading "We Might As Well Win", the true story of how Johan Bruynell led two different riders, Lance and Alberto, to Tour de France fame, supposedly without the aid of performance enhancing drugs.  I'm not a literary critique, so I won't offer any commentary as to how well the book was written.  But for me, a person whose TdF viewing was limited solely to snippets shown on Sports Center, it offered up enough light entertainment to distract me from the seemingly never-ending endurance rides done perched upon the trainer.

While I whipped through the book at pace that paralleled the speed of my whirling pedal strokes, most of what I read went into my brain and then flowed right through just as if it was water passing through a sieve.  But there was one nugget that proved to be meaningful enough to lodge itself more permanently.  Before Johan embarked on leading others to cycling greatness, he had modest success competing as a professional cyclist.  He never had the genetics to put him into the elite category, yet despite competing against far more gifted riders, Johan was able to win a few big races and stages (even holding TdF's yellow jersey for a day), and he proved himself to be an invaluable teammate.

Given my own middle of the pack genetic make-up, you can imagine that the sub-story of Johan's cycling career held my interest long after the sweat had dried from my trainer work-out.

Playing Chess and Riding a Bike

While I'd like to think that I have at least a slightly above average intellect, a race official's starting whistle consistently acts as an off switch for my brain.  Once the race is underway, there's very little of what I'd call intelligent thought going through my brain; any processing cycles are of the more primative kind.  I am aware that I am in a race, on a road (usually) with lots of twists and turns, ups and downs, and there are people swarming around me.  

I process all of that information and react to it just as stampeding gazelle would.  How do I best react to what I see to use up as little energy as possible to safely get me to the grasslands ahead of us without falling victim to the cheetahs and lions lurking on the perimeter?  I'm making quick decisions in response to the situation I find myself in; myopically focused on that precise moment in time.  No forethought as to how a decision now might impact the rest of the race, and no historical information collection adding to what might have been already lodged deep in my brain to the point it was almost instinctual.

By contrast, Johan raced as if he was the Deep Blue chess-playing computer system.  While truly elite Grandmasters could still beat Deep Blue back in the 90s, the Gigabytes of available information armed the system with enough decision-making input to pick off all but the best of competitors.  Johan raced with his brain as much, if not more, than with his brawn.  He studied every nook and cranny of the race course before the whistle blew; he constantly scanned the pack making mental notes of how each of the racers he saw were performing throughout the race; and he knew exactly who was in the break away and after considering a few key factors could instantly, and with amazing precision, predict if and when that break would become a threat.  Even while the pace of the pack eased and his body could rest, his brain was racing, taking in what he observed, and continually evaluating the next three or four moves that might get him closer to a checkmate.

So in addition to all of the training I'm putting my body through this winter to help me compete as a newly minted Cat 3 in March, I'm wondering if it is possible start training my brain to stay in the "on" position to help close that gap genetics already opened up between me and the lead 3s.  

Perhaps I can start within a few winter group rides, not to get a competitive advantage against friends and teammates, but just to begin to learn to use my noggin while riding (I can already chew gum while riding!).  Normal group rides for me are led by someone else much more familiar with the area, so my brain is normally in complete relax mode, unburdened with the need to pay attention to anything but the essential safety warnings.  Maybe I need to test my powers of observation on such rides, and then jotting them down afterwards to incent the brain from slipping into "off" mode.

While I'll likely give it a try, I'm still wondering if the pressures of an actual race effort, when my legs will be coursing with lactic acid and my lungs ablaze with fire, will force my brain to shut down any ways.  Perhaps I haven't been lazy in not remaining mentally engaged during races, but rather, the course and competition are so challenging that there's just no spare energy left in reserve to keep the brain running in addition to the body?

And it still remains to be seen as to whether or not all of my hard work will get me to a point where the gap between me and those far more gifted than me would be closed by adding brain power to the mix.  Its quite possible that if I can train my brain this winter, I'll be playing chess by myself come race day as the grand-masters leave me behind.  An active brain might result in more informative race reports posted here, but I'm pretty sure you might find the write-ups from someone alone and off the back pretty boring!

Failure

Rude Awaking

Tuesday morning was my first interval session of the 2012 training year.  If you needed further evidence that I'm a sadist, I'll let it be known that I actually was quite chipper as I descended the stairs at 5 AM, into the dark basement and then up upon the trainer.  

It had been nearly 3 months without any structured intervals -- my first month of training had me at the gym lifting weights 3 days a week, but on the bike it was strictly endurance paced riding.  And for the two months prior to that, it was all play time on the bike for me.  I was pretty jazzed to get back into the routine of precisely dosed pain for specific durations, so that excitement, plus my 24 oz water bottle of coffee, had me smiling through the first warm-up part of the work out.

The plan sent to me by my new coach for the season's kick-off interval was one designed to tax the muscular endurance system -- 3 sets of low-cadence 10 minute efforts at around my LT for last season (270W, which corresponds to the green horizontal line I drew on the WKO+ chart below).  It sounded like the kinda work-out I'd enjoy suffering through, but the smile on my face slowly fizzled though just a few minutes into the first interval.  I knew I couldn't keep the Watts at 270 at such a low cadence, so I went with a quick (and in hindsight, mistaken) decision to abandon the low cadence goal to at least maintain the Wattage goal.

Just a couple of minutes into interval #2 I had to choose between the Wattage goal and the duration goal, and again, Wattage won out, and I had to pare the effort back to just six minutes.  There was no hint of a smile on my face at that point.

And by the time I barely made it to the six minute mark for the third and final interval...well...let's just say it is a good thing that I'm in the basement and that the girls and Mrs D were still fast asleep two floors above me.  I'm sure I said things that I'd rather not have them hear, or at least I think I uttered some profanity.  I was too deep in the pain cave to recall specifically what actually happened vs. what I might have imagined.

0-3

In 2011, I was pretty proud of my training plan success rate -- I can think of only two interval work-outs prescribed by my old coach where I failed to meet or exceed the prescribed Wattages, cadence, and duration goals.  That's probably two misses out of literally hundreds of intervals over the year.

So you can imagine how much of a foul taste was left in my mouth after finishing up the morning's work-out, and I'm not just talking about the normal foul taste left behind after downing coffee from a plastic water bottle.  It only took one work-out for me to rack up 3 big misses in my intervals for 2012! 

Those of you who know me well would not be surprised that failure such as this had me quickly digging deeper, looking for answers. I knew it wasn't a case of me just wimping out.  As you can see by the yellow lines I drew on each of the three intervals below, the rate at which my HR zoomed up to 200 bpm got increasingly faster with each interval.  There's no faking 200+ bpm, so the pain was real, but what brought it on so quickly?

• Last year I had a very bicycle training friendly work schedule, so I rarely did big interval efforts so early in the morning.  Perhaps this morning I encountered a case where the mind was willing, but the legs were still slumbering?
• Also, with the bigger efforts coming later in the day last year, I had a couple of the day's meals in my belly supplying the muscles with a steady supply of energy.  While I did down the 24 oz of coffee early into my work-out, maybe there just wasn't enough juice in the system to keep the muscles pumping?
• Over the last three months nearly all of my riding time has been in the 135 to 155 W range.  Any time spent at 270 or beyond was during brief climbs or sprints.  Maybe I've lost too much fitness and I'm just not ready for such efforts?
• Lastly, I'm now training with a new coach.  While we've met once and exchanged a bunch of emails, maybe we need a longer "dating" period so that he gets to know me better, understand what I'm capable of (and all of what I am incapable of!), and until then his plans may miss the mark for me?

Rapid Response

It didn't take me long to get the answer (or at least an answer).  Within an hour after hopping off the bike, I had downloaded my data and fired off an email with my powerfile to my coach from the breakfast table.  By the time I headed upstairs to start the day of work, I already had a response back. 

After analyzing my powerfile, he pointed out that I completely ignored something he explicitly had called out in an email to me earlier in the week.  What made that even more remarkable was that the email he had sent earlier in the week was in response to a question I had raised myself, specifically to be proactive about the matter that I now ignored!

The plan he had given me had assumed my time would be outside.  When I had asked him earlier in the week if and how I should alter the plan if I was confined to the trainer, the recommendation was to knock 15 to 20 Watts off of what he had asked me to do.  Had I aimed my target at that lower Wattage adjusted for the indoor training, he was confident that I would have completed all three intervals as planned.

So perhaps the real reason for my failure was that I should have had two coffee-filled water bottles, as clearly with just 24 oz's worth of caffeine, my brain was unable to remember the clear directions I had been given.  I'll know for sure though on Saturday when I attempt the same work-out, but this time outdoors and after a bit more coffee! 

Back to (the new) normal

Zombie

I'm now nearly complete with my first month of training for the 2012 racing season.  The two week hiatus I took from all forms of exercise back at the end of October is fast becoming just a speck in my rear view mirror.  And were it not for the evidence documented here on this blog, the Awesome Autumn Adventures I Announced (and for the most part completed) could easily be dismissed now as a figment of my imagination.  I'm back to the normal training regimen, well, perhaps back to a new normal.

Unlike last year's start to the training season, my work-out schedule now needs to revolve around my work schedule.  In no way am I complaining as I still have it pretty good in terms of work/life/cycling balance, but I now need to assess my work Outlook calendar when planning my training, whereas last year I had the luxury to mostly just look at the Weather Channel to pencil in my training time.

As a result, most of my training over the last month has been done in the wee hours of the morning, either armed with lights outside or perched upon the trainer or rollers, often as early as 4:45 AM (and earlier on some days!).  And to maximize the time I can ride without infringing upon breakfast with Mrs D and the girls, I'm often on the bike within 10 minutes of shutting off the alarm clock.  No time for a pre-ride coffee, so instead, I've begun filling up my 24 oz water bottle to get my first dose of caffiene while I'm riding on the bike.

With the early wake-up calls and my uber-efficiencient time between bed exit and when I mount the bike I am guessing that last week I registered about 12 of the 19 hours of training before the girls even began to rub the crust from their eyes and notice that I was gone.  But as a consequence, I now feel like a member of the walking dead.

The New Normal

While my official start with my new coach doesn't kick off until next week Monday, I have been following a high-level four week training cycle that he shared with me back in October.  According to that plan, I'm now in what should be considered a "rest" week.  It is a week in which I had hoped to exit my Zombie-like state, perhaps have the dark circles under my eyes become slightly less resembling of a racoon, and maybe by the end of the rest week lose the urge to take a nap as early at lunchtime.

Unfortunately for me the zombie-like state persisted into day two of the rest week, and I began to question the plan that the new coach had me using.  While riding time is way down for this week, he still has me going to the gym and busting my butt (and my legs).  I had suspected that perhaps this guidance was given to me in error -- afterall, what I had was only a very high-level overview with general recommendations (I haven't started paying him yet, so I was getting the "free" version of the plan), so it seemed plausible that it might have contained an error, or that I might have misinterpreted what he wrote.

So before heading off for the gym once again (commuting by bike of course!) while the girls slept soundly at home, I fired off a quick email seeking clarification.  "Are you *really* sure I should be heading to the gym during a rest week?"

Amazingly I got a response to my question while I was still at the gym (talk about fast turn-around!).  When I glanced quickly at my cell and saw that I had a response in my inbox, my thoughts jumped to the possibilty that he'd say "Go home and back to bed Dennis.  No gym work-outs this week!".  Instead, I got a message that included this text: "Only the riding is easy on your winter rest weeks, which is what makes this time of year so difficult on your muscular system. Your heart is resting but you'll be consistently sore until you take an actual rest week in February."

So there it is.  I'm going to be a zombie right through February.  My "new" normal I guess.

How to upgrade

Blueprint for success?

The 2011 training season officially came to a close 11 days ago, so I am now just over 2/3rds of the way through my 15 days away from the bike.  I view the time off as a necessary evil -- my body needed a break and I'll be super-charged once the 2012 training season starts on Nov 7th.  However, I'm feeling like a alcoholic who was sentenced to jail for some minor infraction.  Each day that goes by, my withdrawals grow stronger and more and more I become consumed with that first beer I'll down upon my release from jail.

I'm hoping that first "beer" is just as delicious as those that I downed by the dozen in 2011, and I've started to give some thought as to what I can do in order to make 2012 as successful, if not more so.  Those of you who are regular Trainer Confessions readers know that I spend a lot of time pondering and speculating about the myriad of reasons that a given race didn't turn out as I had expected, with the hope being that I'll find one or two things that I might try differently the next time around.  But every so often I need to flip the process around and take a look at what went well, identify why things went well, and then figure out how to repeat those things into the future.

By all accounts 2011 was a resounding success for me; lots of new experiences, memorable adventures, and I got my Cat 3 upgrade.  I don't think I need to delve into the things I need to repeat to continue chalking up new experiences and memorable adventures -- just keep on riding the bike, and minimize the time spent perched on my trainer and holed up in my office. 

The recipe for the Cat 3 upgrade isn't so simple though.  What follows is an attempt to outline some of the main ingredients used in my recipe, though I can't say for sure whether or not mixing them up again will result in another large batch of hand crafted deep flavored beer for 2012.

Just more of the same

It's possible that there was nothing specific that I did in 2011 that I can point to as the secret ingredient to my special sauce.  It might be just a matter of good things come to those who wait.  My journey towards my Cat 3 upgrade took place over the course of three full seasons racing as a Cat 4.  In my first season I generally found myself finishing mid-pack; last year I was consistently finishing in the top quarter or top third, and this year I advanced just enough to cobble up enough top ten finishes to qualify for an upgrade (only nabbing the last required top ten on my very last event of the season!). 

I ended each season with legs slightly more covered with veins than had been visible through the hair on my slightly stronger legs ( I still refuse to shave my legs, and only shave my face slightly more frequently ); feeling slightly smarter about what to do and what not to do while inches away from dozens of other riders racing through a tight corner on a crit, and just a little more stable perched upon my bike while being buffeted by cross-winds and pot holes heading down the hills of New England.  I guess if I just keep on plugging away at this thing called bicycle racing for long enough, it might just have been inevitable that I would become just strong enough, smart enough, and stable enough to sneak my way up to the front.

Equipment Upgrades

I'm sure if I sought out the latest and greatest aero and feather weight technological advances and opened up my wallet, my path to success would have been shortened.  However, I'm not really a gadget guy and a bike to me is just a tool, a means to an end, and not something to be worshipped.  So it should be a surprise that nearly all of my attention has been applied to improving the "engine" (me) that powers that tool.

That said, I came to the conclusion after nearly being beaten down by hills like the infamous Devil's Kitchen in 2010 that my success in such races as the Tour of the Catskills could be greatly enhanced if I invested in a compact crank to replace the standard crank that originally came with my bike.  That was my lone upgrade in equipment last year.  I have to say that had I not made the change, I might still be a Cat 4 right now.  Had I still been running the standard crank at the Tour of the Catskills, odds are that I would have fallen a few spots in both stage 2 and stage 3, which would have meant my top 10 count for the year would have fallen short of the 10 required for the Cat 3 upgrade.

Bike Handling Skills

This year I barrelled down steep mountain descents with more confidence, felt more relaxed when my bike rattled beneath me as I traversed over pot-holed dirt roads, and cut the gap between me and the wheel in front of me by a few extra inches.  In the process I conserved energy and had more Watts in the tank ready to match moves when the competition got fierce. 

I have to imagine that my big step forward in bike handling skills played a role in my Upgrade, and I am certain that those skills were enhanced because of the time I spent during the off-season on climbing and descending a collection of nearby hilly dirt roads.  And those skills were further enhanced with my hours on the trainer being displaced by hours balancing on the rollers (that is, those hours spent on the rollers after my first few weeks where I fell so often I seriously contemplated wearing a helmet!).

Coaching

2011 was my first year training with a coach, and it was also the year I upgraded.  Coincidence?  I think not!  While I was very proficient at finding ways to thrash my legs without a coach, I found myself in 2010 focusing on parts of my "engine" that I had given short change to in the past, and in the process I built a proper base that kept me strong right through the end of the successful season.

Unfortunately the scientist in me can't exactly quantify any specific end result that could be tied back to the training plan the coach had me followed.  The target set by my coach was more or less framed as "doing better", and I find it hard to assail such a vague target.  But I'm a numbers guy and I get jazzed by an audacious & concrete goal like "improve my 20 minute max power by 25 Watts".  It might not end up with better race results, but because I enjoy training nearly as much (or more?) as I enjoy racing, I've opted to try out a new coach for 2012.

Weight

In 2009, my weight hovered between 150 and 155 lbs.  Two years ago, I raced at weights ranging from 140 to 147.  And in my most successful year, 2011, I weighed as much as 137 but by the end of the season I was down to 129.  Think there's any correlation between my weight and my racing success, especially given my affinity for hilly road races?

The bad news though is that further race improvements stemming from further reductions in weight will be tougher to come by.  All of the weight loss thus far can be attributed to improved eating/drinking habits while cranking out the miles. 

In order to drop any more weight, I'll actually have to start dieting.  I'm not sure if I want to cross that bridge.  I don't mind suffering on the bike for hours and hours, but the prospects of suffering at the dinner table don't have me very motivated.  It would also result in a further encroachment of cycling on family life ("daddy can't go out to dinner with us because he has to stay at home and eat his special diet food"), so I'm not sure if I'm ready to cross that line in 2012.

Work/Life/Cycling Balance

I find it hard to believe that 2011's race results would have shown even the tiniest of progression if it were not for the near ideal work/life/cycling balance I was able to strike.  Work was a disaster for me for the first five months of the year, where I found myself more and more under utilized to the point where I was told to go looking for a new gig.  Yet that work disaster allowed for a cycling boon-doggle, where I could plan my work hours around my cycling training hours.  While most folks had to choose between family time and cycling time when deciding if and how to increase training duration, I had the luxury for a majority of my 2011 training to choose between work time and cycling time.  Any guesses as to who won that decision? 

Add to the mix a wife and family that fully supported my quest to upgrade, and toss in a few "family" vacations in locations ideal for a mountain goats and hill climbers, and you end up with about the perfect amount of miles and hours in the saddle required to score a Cat 3 upgrade, and in a way that didn't seem to intrude on the other important parts of life.

Summary

I admit that the title of this blog is a tad bit misleading.  I doubt the ingredients outlined in my recipe above could be followed by someone else and end up with the same results.  I didn't even specify the measurements to use when adding in the indegredients, so I doubt you could even call this a recipe -- just a list of ingredients.  Furthermore, those that are genetically more gifted than me likely can get by a far simpler recipe, perhaps one of those quick dinners that only require 4 ingredients or less.

Heck, I don't even know if I can follow the recipe again (e.g. I can't easily control work/life/cycling balance now that work has picked up), nor do I know if the same recipe used for a Cat 3 upgrade would translate into success riding as a Cat 3.  But I'm excited to give it a try and start cooking up a successful 2012 as training will begin in about 91 hours!

Mid-Vacation Check-in

Another Notch on the hill climbing belt

I only have time for a short post today (well, I’m at least starting the post thinking it will be terse, but odds are that I’ll find the time to get wordy).  Odds are that I won’t have any more blogging time until after my vacation/hill-training-camp ends on Sunday and I’m allowed to “rest” on an early Monday AM business flight to Dallas.  It is a family vacation first and foremost, and as usual the time I claim as my own and away from Mrs D and the little ones needs to fit into the early AM hours, or during nap time.  Normally those Dennis D time blocks are sufficient to allow me to cycle and blog, but not this time around.  And I only have myself to blame for that!

You see, when I asked the Coach for my plan for the week, I told him to bring on the pain.  I didn’t give him any time limitations, and I told him to take full advantage of the fact that I’m surrounded by all sorts of hills.  It also is the last week of what will end up being the final three week “build” block of training for 2011, so I fully expected a loaded schedule in the mail.  My expectations were more than exceeded so to speak.  As I glanced at email one final time on Sunday night, I saw that the Coach had me logging 21.5 hours on the bike for the remaining 7 days of vacation, with a heavy dosage of hilly intervals.  And that was on top of the 5.5 hours I had already logged on the first two vacation days.

I had a fitful sleep Sunday night, mostly driven by the anxious spinning of the wheels in my head, trying to figure out how best to squeeze in so many hours on the bike in a way with minimal impact to the family vacation.  I even conjured up the Tetris tune in my head to help place the cycling hours into the right scheduling holes.  Eliminating blogging time ( as well as blog reading time) was the first idea, as well as getting the Mrs to drive to places like Santa’s Village (~50 miles distant from our home base) while I’d meet them there on the bike.  And of course any thoughts of sleeping in late (which for me would be 6 AM) went out the window as well.

Well, I must be “at one with nature” out here in North Conway, because some obnoxiously loud animal read my mind at about 3:55 AM on Monday to give me a very rude wake-up call.  I’m guessing it was a bird that made the rucous, and not these guys (who woke us up on Tuesday morning by ripping the siding off of our house!).

It's hard to see through the screen, but they really are ripping the siding off in an attempt to get in

 

I briefly thought of trying to go back to sleep, but then my anxiety driven plan quickly replaced the loud squawking keeping me from sleeping.  After many cups of coffee, I was off before the sunrise, ready to put a big dent in the week’s hours.  4.5 hours later, I arrived at Santa’s Village, much relieved to see the cheery little ones unloading from the car with Mrs. D.  I was excited to switch gears and focus on the kids, especially knowing then that I’d find a way to get the cycling hours in this week.  But what made my smile even bigger as I changed out of my cycling gear and into my daddy gear was the fact that during my circuitous route to meet up with the girls, I “discovered” a new hill for me, a diamond in the rough. 

I had never ascended Jefferson’s Notch before, not even by car.  I had only vague recollections about the ride having read a blog post some time back (after the ride I searched for it to refresh my memory – lots of good North Conway hill information here), but I really didn’t know what to expect for terrain, duration, or pain. 

I’m not sure where Jefferson’s Notch ranks in the White Mountains difficulty list, but I can safely say that it now rates very high in my all-time list of grueling rides.  Though that rating may be skewed by the lack of sleep, plus the 3.5 hours of hilly intervals that had already battered my legs prior to hitting the Notch.  The only rest I got during the 45 minutes of climbing were the small pavement sections of the road, sprinkled throughout the early stretches where the road made its frequent overpass of a bubbling stream.  The remainder of the climb was all dirt and rocks that were not quite packed down well enough to allow me to stand and mash the gears where the grade inched up over 15 or 20%.  I had to stay seated and steadily crank away, lest my tires spin out on the dirt and I took a tumble.

The picture is blurry as I snapped it from my iPhone while climbing -- can't waste any time to stop for pictures!

 

It wasn’t a very scenic climb; in fact, until the very top, I truly was in a pain “cave”, as trees and leaves entombed, I mean, enclosed the entire view throughout the ride.  It also wasn’t the greatest descent, as I never really could let it rip for fear of losing traction on the dirt switch backs (and given that I only saw one car during my climb, and given that I had no cell reception, I wanted to avoid sitting in a ditch for hours waiting for help while fending off bears).  But for a guy who for some reason loves to inflict pain upon his legs, you can be sure that Jefferson’s Notch will be added to my must-ride climbs when the Desmarais family returns in 2012.

My only rest stop atop Jefferson's Notch

 

Unanswered Questions

Rest week

I'm now just finishing up my first "real" rest week since the middle of April (right before Battenkill) and my first sub-10 hour riding week since early March.  While I knew that the batteries were running low and a good recharge was needed to jump start my preparation for the Tour of the Catskills, I honestly wasn't thrilled with the prospects of taking my foot off the training throttle for nearly a week.  I'm not qualified to speculate with any authority as to the physiological reasons asa to why I'd prefer to fast forward through the off week, but that won't stop me! 

I suppose there might be some sort of withdrawal effect in play, similar to how an addict's body might revolt when segregated from the drugs.  I tend not to sleep as well during rest weeks, mostly because my legs seem to be alternating between throbbing and then being overly tight.  I often find that I need to get out of bed to do extra stretching to help ease the feeling, but I know it is just a temporary shot of methadone when what I really need is a hit from my drug of choice, a good leg ripping bicycle ride.

I once thought that the revolt within my legs during off weeks might have simply been a sign that I had truly stepped over the over-training line, and it was simply good planning that I had penciled in the rest week to pull myself back from the precipice of training disaster.  But given that the swollen, throbbing, tight leg feeling always manifested itself no matter when I took my rest weeks, I figured there had to be some other biological process at play.

My latest hypothesis is that the leg turmoil is actually my body embarking on a massive reconstruction effort.  After weeks of wear and tear and constant abuse, the downtime is finally allowing the leg muscles to recuperate and regenerate.  Just like a big remodeling effort on a house, I've pictured my leg muscles surrounded by scaffolding allowing the workers to hack away at the damaged goods and bolting on the new and improved muscle fibers. 

With the work crew nearing the completion of their leg refurbishing project, I looked to knock down the scaffolding today and take them out for a test ride.

More questions...

The Coach and I had hoped to leverage the rest week and fully charged legs to help answer a few nagging questions.  As much as I've been busting my butt over the last 7+ months, I have yet to set any personal Wattage records.  Furthermore, I've suspected that what has kept me at arms length from reaching the podium this year as been one critical hill in each race where I lacked the near 5 minute power burst needed to avoid having the leaders leave me in their wake. 

The reason though (or at least one reason) as to why I've just "suspected" this as being a root cause limitation is because I thus far have been comparing apples to oranges.  When I was training without a coach last year, I regularly tested myself at 5 and/or 20 minute max power field tests to help gauge my progress.  Those tests were geared to focus solely on putting up a good number for a very specific time range. 

I've done no such tests though this year.  All of my seasons "bests" were logged during races where many other variables were at play (the terrain, how many efforts exerted earlier in the race, the actual duration of my all-out effort, etc, etc).  So it was somewhat misleading in doing the year to year contrast, until today's 5 minute max power field test.

 
I started out perhaps a tad too eager to put up the good numbers, but I quickly realized I was headed for the red and eased off a tad, as evidenced by the slight downward trending yellow line over the first minute. 

As you can see below from my PowerChart, I probably should feel good about today's 357 Watt average, especially when you normalize it against my body weight (136 lbs) and then compare it to supposed samples from other riders across different racing categories.

 

But...I'm not sure what to make of today's effort.  On the one hand, I fell short by 4 Watts in my effort to beat the PR of 361 registered last July.  Earlier this year I would have definitely wagered money that by now I would have smashed my 2010 records with the training plan the Coach has me on.  Yet as of even today, I've failed to even match last year's numbers, never mind exceed them.

On the other hand, I'm weighing 8 or 9 lbs less than I did last year.  While my absolute wattage is roughly the same as last year, the Power to Weight ratio (which is ever so important for a hill climber like me) year over year has improved by 6% (5.44 W/kg in 2010, and 5.78 W/kg in 2011).  That might suggest that the plan IS working.

But...I didn't starve myself to drop the weight, and I sincerely doubt that I've lost muscle in the process of cutting down the weight.  For the most part I think I had fat to spare without sacrificing muscle, so I should have been able to get stronger while at the same time getting lighter.  The weight came off as a result of my own dietary focus, and the strength should have blossomed as a result of the training plan, right?

Digging deeper though beyond the questions of progress and effectiveness of the training, you have to wonder (OK, YOU don't have to wonder, but I sure the heck am wondering) why the silly chart from above is telling me that my 5 minute and FT power numbers are worthy of a Cat 3 or Cat 2 (even verging on Cat 1 for the most recent 5 minute #s), yet I've only once cracked the top 5 in any Cat 4 race?  Even if you want to tell me that the chart is over-stating my ranking relative to the Cat 2s and 3s, you could bump me down a level in the chart and still expect me to be amongst the creme-de-la creme of the Cat 4s.

Maybe I need to spend less mental energy questioning my training and progress.  Time to maybe think harder as to why I show up with goods at a race yet fail to cash in.  Unfortunately with my next "real" race not slated until July 23rd, I'm afraid I might end up over analyzing that question in my search for answers...

BTW, there is one question that can easily be answered -- I'm no spinter!  Take a look at the last chart again and see where I rank for 5 second power -- pathetic!

70!

One for the record books

There aren't many records that one can safely say are unbreakable.  It could be argued though that nobody will ever even get a whiff of Barry Bond's record of 73 homers in a single season, especially now with the steroid era behind us.  There's such a gap between Barry (and his fellow steroid abusers of the `90s and `00s) and what a "clean" hitter has recorded that it's hard to imagine the unique individual and special circumstances that would permit someone from even dreaming to break 70 homers in a season.

I'm similarly now filing my cycling month of May into my own personal record books in the "untouchable" chapter.  Take a look (actually take three looks) at how May took me into uncharted territory:

My first time breaking 900 miles in a month (by a whopping 200 mile margin)

Like Barry's record, mine too eclipsed the magic number of 70 (hours, not homers)

And in terms of calories (which I'm roughly equating to kJs), this month I burned the equivalent of 10 more Big Macs than any other month over the last year.

Unlike Barry's record though, mine doesn't carry any asterisk.  No performance enhancing drugs (alleged or otherwise) will taint my record breaking results.  However, there are some changes now in my life that will put May in the untouchable shelf, just like the Congressional hearings on the usage of steroids put an end to 70+ homer record attempts. 

First, for the first and only time in my 4 years of racing, I let a whole month pass by without racing.  Due to various family and personal commitments, there unfortunately were no free weekends where I could escape for the large portion of a day required to do a race.  This had the side effect though of giving me a month with increasingly longer daylight hours to dedicate to training.  No tapering before a race, no days of recovery afterwards, and lots of sunshine before and after work.  I'm sure I'll have another race-free spring/summer month in the future, but I'm guessing it will be one caused by an injury or excess work travel, and therefore, unlike this month, lots of time off the bike.

Second, I was lucky enough to get away for 5 memorable days of riding in support of the Climate Ride, giving me over 22 hours and 350 miles.  Odds are that I'll be able to escape again in the future for a dedicated block of riding like that, however, I'm pretty sure that such an indulgence will need to be offset with a period of time before and/or after to catch up on life's other priorities, such as work.  And speaking of work...

I just started a new job last week, but for most of May as I ramped down at my old job, I was more or less just waiting in the bullpen, just in case the starting pitcher faltered.  I was ready and available if someone needed me at work, and I would have rolled up my sleaves to do whatever was asked of me in an instant.  But...the month largely passed by without my services being needed, so that left me in a situation where I planned my riding around the weather reports rather than around Microsoft Outlook's Calendar.

Now that June is here, my riding will need to once again be slotted in during the wee early hours before work.  No more cycling get aways.  And racing will commence in earnest once again, with the CT Stage Race this weekend, Purgatory Road race the following weekend, and Housitonic Hills RR on Father's Day.  Which leads me to the big question I've been noodling on lately -- will my record breaking miles, hours, and kJs of May translate to a podium or two for the rest of the summer?

Climate Ride Training Camp

Pre-Ride Jitters

I departed for my 5 days at the Climate Ride (again, not too late to donate!) with a bit more anxiety than I normally have before a big race.  I felt anxiety about driving in NYC, where cabbies honk their horns like aggressive riders at a Crit barking at me for opening gaps; I worried about whether my car would be safe while I left it there until the end of the ride as I had visions of the valet’s abusing my car like in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off).  I also was concerned about whether or not I’d figure out how to put my tent up as until last night I had never slept in a tent, never mind erected one on my own.

My tent is up!

 

All the anxiety came to pass though once I found myself out on the bike.  As it turns out, the one thing I probably should have been concerned about was finding my way to each destination.  Not surprisingly, I somehow missed what seemed to be some very well marked turns.  But given that I had no time constraints and no concerns about missing any deadlines, I welcomed the navigation mishaps as an opportunity for an added excursion and extra time to enjoy new roads.  While nothing that I’ve seen thus far has been overly scenic, the route has mostly meandered through the bucolic country side, especially today.  And there’s nothing like new territory to add some variety to your training plan.

No Racers Allowed

Yes, that’s right – I’m still following my training plan.  I’m here on a mission to make a difference with Global Warming, but I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m also selfishly using some of this time as my own mini-training camp.  It does make me stick out a tad, and I have to figure that at least some of the participants here think that I might just be trying to show off.  Aside from a rider from the Rails to Trails Conservancy (Ken) and a little friendly competition of town line sprints, there’s no desire on my part to compete while I’m out here.  It’s a charity ride, and not a race.  But given that I probably have 5 to 10 times as many miles under my belt this year than most of the other riders out here, the differences in my abilities out on the road are rather stark.

I had a hint that there weren’t going to be too many rabbits on this ride when we lined up to kick things off yesterday as I was the only rider donning a team kit.  But it was only after riding for a while that I realized that there weren’t any other racers amongst the group, and that sorta came as a surprise to me.  I suppose because I surround myself with racers in my cycling life, I just assumed that at least a portion of the racing community would make an appearance at the Climate Ride.  But it seems as though I’m the only one out of the 150 or so other riders.  I’m not sure what that means – is the racing community as a whole not aware of Climate Change?  Or is the racing community such a small fraction of the overall cycling community that I should have expected to be 1 out of 150?

I’m not sure what the answer is to that question.  All I can be sure of though is that I’m getting some great work-outs in at my Climate Ride Training Camp!