Finishing Kick

8 Jun

Everybody has a play list when running. Mine is pretty wide ranging from Bruce to Genesis to Yanni, the Beatles and beyond. Lately I have incorporated this Satriani tune in my finishing kick. It has the qualities of a good ending song – it starts slowly and then builds and intensifies until it basically explodes. I try to use the last segment of my 5 – 10 mile runs as a sort of time trial against this song.  Its 6:33 long on my iPod and thus far I’ve managed to do it in 0.8 miles which is an 8:11 pace.  I get my HR into the 170’s.  This is a significant improvement from the winter when I was doing 12’s and couldn’t move my HR above 160 without discomfort.   My goal is to keep increasing the final distance, bring down the pace and take myself right to edge of puke.


Volunteering in the Rain

2 Jun

I spent my morning manning the Mossman aid station at mile three of the run of the Rev3 Quassy – Olympic.  It was another of my efforts to get out there and do stuff and put myself in the way of meeting like minded people. Most of the people there seemed to know each other and while friendly enough it is does take a bit of effort to break in.  Our stop turned out to be rather spirited with bad show tunes and all.  I think the runners appreciated it, we did get more than a few smiles.  It was at the top of a particularly  brutal hill on a particularly shitty weather day.  These people had to ride through torrential rain and the course is very hilly.  I’m sure there were some particularly nasty descents.

I did take note how hard everybody was working and reminded myself my effort will be twice as hard.  I did not see too many 50+ markers on people’s legs out there.  That’s another thing – I felt a bit old today.  What the fuck am I doing?  Maybe I should just retreat into working out on my own.  On the other hand my life is so fucking unbalanced right now that a little initiative on my part does not hurt.  You know?

Short, efficient strength workout

31 May

I have found I have an easy time incorporating this into my routine.

Weekend Rides

21 May

Saturday I engaged in my first organized group ride with the good people at GTC.  I decided to jump in the C ride to see how I would do.  It’s a good thing I did.  Jesus, what a slug I am.  The ride leader was quite nice but I really did hang back and held them up.  My problem continues to be the climbs.  I do 4 – 6 mph on the climbs when everybody else is in the 8 – 10 range.  Once they open up the gap I just can’t close it.  I have to build my strength!

On Sunday I did the Bloomin’ Metric 100k.  New distance, same shit on the climbs.  It was a very nice sunny day and the ride was well marked and supported.  I really enjoyed myself and used the ride to build my racing skills.  I attacked the descents (hit 42 MPH) and worked the flats strongly.  In fact since the route loops around the beach area I got in about 20 miles of consistent flats.  I was running 18 – 20 mph (plus some bursts) pretty consistently.  It reminds me I’ll have to find similar conditions to get in 80 – 100 miles as practice for the flats of IMFL.

I did fall at one point climbing a very short, steep incline when I made eye contact and started talking to a woman who was waiting to take a picture of her friends.  I slowed down to 2mph and just fell over.  She laughed, I laughed and turned red.  God how embarrassing.  I deserved it I suppose.  I should have at least asked for her number.  Shit!!

The ride started in Westport and ran through Fairfield, Weston, Easton, Redding etc.

Workout Interrupted

19 May

Friday I showed up at my pool at 5:00am to get in 3500 yards.  The pool guy, an older Guatelmalteco named Jose, was in a talkative mood. We always speak in Spanish.  We set up the lane markers and he showed me his swollen knee from a fall in the pool area a few days earlier.  He had to spend part of the day at the hospital and I guess it got him thinking of his life,  He started telling me how he is writing a book about his life as a memorial to his mother.

He grew up a poor boy in one of the poorest neighborhoods of Huehuetenango, a small village north of Guatemala City.  Raised by a single mother who supported the family by selling soda on the street.  He often stole eggs and such from the neighbors yards.  He always wondered who his father was but his mother never said. At some point someone told him it was one of the wealthiest men in town and he approached him eager for confirmation of his roots.  The man was harsh and turned him away by saying his father was really one of the more disreputable people in the village.

At this point Jose started tearing up as he dug into his past.  He angrily defended his mother to me.  I had not said a word but he clearly needed to get this out with a proud touch of indignation.   The story went on and he kept tearing up.  Player on the national soccer team, married the prettiest girl in town and so on.  Not clear when and how he got up here but it had to be many years ago.

I just listened for about an hour.  He clearly needed to talk more than I needed to work out.  After a time I got in the water and did an easy 1000.  I couldn’t put much into it.  I kept thinking of Jose.  I realized we all reach that point of needing to reminisce, really more of introspection of our own life, and we just need to talk.  Somebody needs to listen.  I did.

I’ll see him Monday and check to make sure he is ok.


Injury Recovery

17 May

Basic philosophy is to fix what you are doing rather then just rest.

Injury Recovery


16 May

Some training calculators: