2 posts tagged “training”

I bonked this weekend. Hard. So hard that it felt like I'd never bonked before (though I certainly have) as this was an order of magnitude higher. A big full-body, day-ending bonk.

We had a brick(a two sport training session, in this case a swim and run) on Saturday that began in the Larkspur / Corte Madera area at Redwood High School. I got up early that morning, and ate right away: some scrambled eggs, around 7 am. I drank plenty of water, plenty of electrolyte mix, and was off.

The swim wasn't so bad, we warmed up, drilled, did a 12 minute time trial (which was tough, but short) and then practiced mass starts by swimming through a "gauntlet" for four lengths (100 yards) with teammates surrounding us on all sides splashing the water, pushing us down, pulling us, grabing our arms and legs, and swimming on top of us.

It was damn fun.

Afterwards, we sat and shivered for 45 minutes below a cloudy sky whiel the coaches gave us tips on fast tire changing and descents (while the other half of the team was in the pool). I think this long pause and cold weather may have hurt me. During the clinics, I ate a Clif bar. And then, I was off again on a 10.23 mile run through Ross up to Mt. Tam and a little way up its eastern slope.

I finished up with everything by 12:30 or so and after some dicking around in the parking lot, drove back to San Francisco a little after one pm. I dropped Maria off on the way, went to pick up my mail, and stopped in at the grocery to pick up some Sushi. At this point I was feeling pretty good, if very hungry. I was hoping to meet up with Andre if he came in my neighborhood to go bike shopping, and was even thinking I'd be able to get a drink that evening with Andy and Ami.

No such luck.

By the time I got home from the store, after 20 minutes or so of looking for parking, I was feeling pretty lousy, and things were acelerating quickly. I barely made it up the steps (four flights) with all my gear and groceries, and was gasping the entire way. By the time I got in the door, I realized I was shaking pretty badly, and was starting to get a little freaked out. I sat down and ate right as soon as I got in the door,at 2:40 or so, but it seemed like it was too late. I was completley sick to my stomach by this point, desperately nauseus and still shaking all over.

After eating, it was all I could do to drag myself three feet over to the couch and drop myself on it. It was Hell just getting my (still wet) tri shorts off. Harper was at work, and I was scared, really scared, and confused and disoriented. My whole body fet like it was breaking, and I curled up in a ball and tried to go to sleep.

Harper came in from work within a few minutes of when I had dropped on the couch, to find me a total wreck. Not only was I feeling lousy physically, I was done mentally as well. I was totally confused and scared, emotional, and just an all-around mess. She helped me get it together, got me in the shower, and made me a Cytomax recovery shake. Within a half hour or so of her getting home, I was starting to feel a lot better, but I was still pretty much a wreck the balance of the evening and felt like shit much of Sunday.

Lesson learned: eat within a half hour of working out. Eat while you're working out.

I know these things, I've known them for years, but I didn't practice them and I felt like I paid a huge price for it on  Saturday.

Today I ran 8 miles through Golden Gate Park out to the beach and back. This followed yesterday's brick, when I swam about two miles and then biked another 32.

As I've oft-bemoaned over the past few months, 2006 was the year of Living Fat. It was good and bad. I worked hard, made more money than I ever have before, played hard, ate hard, and generally let my body go to pot. (Sorry, bad pun.) I put on about 20 pounds, maybe 25. When I went to see the doctor in December, my oxygen saturation was 96 percent, and he, essentially, scolded me. Harper scolded me too. It was a far cry from where I was in mid-2005, when I could go out and ride my bike 100 miles in a day. I was chastened.

And so starting that month, I began running regulalry (I sporadically exercised throughout 2006, but sporadic exercise doesn't get you any further than none at all.) It fucking hurt. I couldn't even go two miles to begin with without having to stop and walk.  January wasn't much better, but at least I wasn't slugging along at ten-minute miles anymore.

Technology saved me. My Nike + iPod Sport Kit, and later, Garmin Forerunner made running interesting. Charts! Graphs! Music! Data!

I could get feedback and track my progress instantly. I can view my rides and runs in Google Earth. I can train with other runners in New York. I can download other runners' and cyclists' routes here in and around San Francisco to my wristtop and fucking race them. Race them!

                                   ....

I am not ultra-fit yet. I am just barely fit, I'd say. Nonetheless, I've dropped ten pounds since February 1, and my body fat percentage is now hovering at about 18-19 percent. I shudder to think what it was on December 1, or January 1 for that matter. Yes I could have done it without the $600 worth of electronic gee-gaws. But the gee-gaws have certainly made it more interesting.

And this morning when, for the first time, I rounded the corner on JFK drive with "No Cars Go" playing on my iPod, and looked out and saw the motherfucking Pacific ocean, crashing and heaving about in the morning sun, it was one of the most glorious things I'd ever seen.