All the reasons to love the Chilly WIlly

The Chilly Willy duathlon has become one of my favorite races. Here's why:

The 'Snowbird' thing
OK, the so-called 'Sunshine State' doesn't always live up to its name. We had one washout rainy day while we were in the Tampa area, a city that boasts 361 days of sunshine a year. Lucky us! And the hellacious wind patterns make for some interesting challenges, both on the race course and when you're trying to set your towel down on the beach. First world problems.

The Gulf Coast
Sea life, including dolphins, manatees, and sea turtles. Crazy cool bird watching. Fresh grouper. White, sandy beaches covered with cool shells, sand dollars, horseshoe crabs, coral - I even found a mermaid's purse. It may not have been any warmer here than it was in Ohio the weekend of the race, but I'll bet nobody back home was lulled to sleep by the crashing surf. Just saying'.

Outspokin Bicycles
We rent TT bikes from Val Tavenese's high end bike and multisport shop. Last year, I raced on a Cervelo. This year, it was a Quintana Roo. There's no reason to haul your own bike on a plane (or ship it) with a bike selection like this. The staff at Outspokin does a bike fit, too. We used the shop in Clearwater, which is en route from the Tampa airport to where we stayed in Treasure Island.

The Chilly Willy race course
The entire race takes place within the pristine Fort de Soto park. The run takes you along the beach. The cycling is on a fast, flat road closed to traffic. The entire length of the ride course yields a grand total of 3 feet of elevation gain.

The Competitors
The Chilly Willy is the largest duathlon in Florida, attracting some of the best duathletes in the southeastern US. The competition can be fierce, but this is also a race that attracts racers at all levels. Kind of like the Twinsburg Duathlon, for those of us who know and love that race here in Ohio. I like being able to race against a new field of competitors, and having to be in top form in early February adds a much-needed motivational component to indoor workouts.

The Race Organizers
Fred Rzymek, with support from his twin brother Mickey (RD Extraordinaire here in NEOhio). These guys are a class act, and this event is well-run:  huge volunteer support, great sponsorship, plenty of food and drink at the finish. Packet pick-up is at a fun outdoor adventure store called Bill Jackson's. This race is all about having a good time.

Me and Dave and a couple of killer rental bikes!

The beach is covered in shells

Oysters at Guppy's on the Beach!

Cool stuff on the beach

The running part of the Duathlon

Sunset 

Mickey and Fred

Gotta love the Gulf Coast!

Hibernation for Type A's

Re-thinking this hibernation thing.

I'm actually grateful that I live in a climate that supports a forced but temporary dormancy.  I'm sure that somewhere in my future, I'll likely pull up stakes and head to a more balmy environment. And once I get there,  I will likely burn myself out in a hurry for the lack of natural forces as potent as winter weather to stop me from doing so. Downtime is necessary.

But I have goals, you know, and early races looming on my immediate horizon. And, lately, those races haven't been very effective in motivating me to suffer on the indoor trainer. So how do I satisfy my desire to hibernate without turning into a huge, noncompetitive slug? That's a dilemma, but I think I figured out how to relax my standards a little so as to at least give the impression that I'm hibernating. A little.

Here's the plan:

1. Do something physically challenging, but not the usual workouts and, preferably, non-competitive
2. Watch football the rest of the afternoon (i.e. hibernate)

And so, today, I ran my first long-distance trail run, thus accomplishing the first part of the plan. And then I watched NFL Championship playoffs all afternoon. It was perfect. 

Dead of Winter

Every year at this time, I desperately want to hibernate. It's a deeply ingrained, instinctive carry-over from some primitive past.

I don't want to wake up in total darkness. I don't want to go out in the cold. I want to succumb to the bone-deep tiredness that sets in early in the evening, because there's not enough heat or sunlight to power my depleted energy stores.

Is it OK to back off a little? Do I need to try to force myself to plow through these days full bore, like I do in the summertime (because I want to be full bore in the summertime)?

Can't I just cut myself a little slack? It's cold, it's dark. The warm indoors beckons. A glass or two of a smoky cabernet in front of a roaring fire as the snow falls softly outside: is that too much to ask?

Increments and wild plunges

After so many years, this business of making resolutions has lost its luster. I understand the benefit of setting intentions, of course, and posting goals to the blogosphere adds an element of accountability. But resolutions are for list makers. Ambitious targets look great on paper, but reality creeps in after about a week, and the list goes missing.

Can this be me one day? We'll see...

A new year isn't any different from a new month or a new week, or a new day.  Each one has it's own 'blank canvas' appeal. Each evokes the promise of a fresh start.

Is that why we like the idea of New Year's Resolutions? Is it less about achievement of some goal (often a multi-year, or multi-decade, target of a perceived ideal) and more a sense that we can do things different this time around?

In a break from the same-old, I've settled on a couple of new things I want to do in 2016.

First, I want to swim in Lake Erie. Not some ridiculous Polar Plunge, nor do I plan on ever competing in this sport. I'm talking about maybe joining up with some of my triathlete friends for an open-water swim during the heat of summer.  And here's why I think this is a worthy endeavor: I love to swim, but I don't do it. I don't live near a pool, and I get out to the ocean rarely. But I do live along one of the Great Lakes, and I do know folks who swim there. Maybe I've grown nostalgic for those days when I was a kid and would spend entire summers at the local outdoor pool. Or when I was a bit older, and would hang out on weekends at Mentor Headlands with all my friends. In any case, I used to love swimming. Consider this going out looking for a lost love.

Second, I want to master Crow Pose. I'm a sporadic practitioner of yoga, and although I know the benefits and even occasionally enjoy it, I've never quite reached a level of proficiency (flexibility?) that has me convinced that I should keep doing this. Figuring out how to hold a Crow Pose might change that thinking. Previous attempts at Crow often resulted in my falling flat on my face, until I got smart and started stacking blankets up on the floor. But I can't say I'm any closer to figuring this out. Really, should it be so hard? It's just a handstand - a combination of mostly balance and core strength.  Unlike my desire to jump in the lake, Crow Pose proficiency is something that I'll have to work on in increments, maybe a few minutes at a time.

If these seemingly simple aspirations appear to be too unambitious, consider that each one requires some character development. In the case of the swim in the lake, I'll need to learn to make space in my life for something I've found ways of avoiding for many years.  And the yoga thing will require a level of self discipline, and patience, and maybe even frustration tolerance. None of which I'm currently all that good at.

With 360-some days ahead of me, I have plenty of time to attain both these goals before we turn the last page of the current calendar.

Training takes a holiday

This past week was a definite break from the training plan. And from any form of discipline, for that matter. My annual Christmas escape gave me ample reason to abandon the usual hardcore adherence to the pursuit of higher fitness, and to live life with reckless abandon for 5 whole days.

Days were spent immersed in exploration, a return to the ocean, and beautiful cocktails. Evenings were made for lingering in dimly lit, intriguing spaces with feasts of fresh oysters and more cocktails. There was very little time for working out.

I wasn't a complete slacker. Dave and I did manage to get out once or twice to run through the city streets and down to the Embarcadero, but those were slow runs with lots of photo stops. The hotel had a very nice gym, too, and a couple of times I went there to fill up my bottle at the FloWater station (because all those cocktails were quite dehydrating). We even made plans to hit the gym early, before we started our day's adventures:

D:    "It's 7 AM. Wanna get up and go to the gym?"
P:     "No. Do you?"
D:    "No. Let's get breakfast."

We got back into Cleveland last night, to a pelting rain and a prediction of colder weather to come (finally!), and a brand new resolve to get back to training. Maybe we felt the need to shake off all those celebration beverages and expensive crab platters. Or maybe that one week off left us refreshed and ready to focus. In any case,  it felt like we were off to a good start, like the new year came a week early.

We grabbed our rain gear and headed out for some intervals. And managed to not celebrate our newfound momentum with anything with gin in it.

Wearing running gear, for proof that I actually did

Cask is a high-end liquor store

Decorated for Christmas at the Park Central lounge

The Dorchester, at the Slanted Door

The Princess Leia, at Novela

The Clift Manhattan, at the Clift

Fisherman's Wharf

El camino a los Campeonatos del Mundo

There's lots to do to get ready to compete at the 2016 Duathlon World Championships this summer.

Alongside training my body to perform to its highest level, I also started training my brain to understand the local language. If I start now, I may be able to speak a few words of Spanish, too!

Wish me luck, and if you have any advice or recommended methods, please let me know.

Season of Pain

I'm not sure why it's called the 'off'' season, when it's really the season when all the hard work happens.

This year's races are over, but 2016 goals are not so far off. Future races (my first one of the year is the Chilly Willy Duathlon) are the little points of light at the end of this cold, dark tunnel.

Ambitious goals and important races mean that there are many tough workouts ahead. Suffering is mandatory. Gains are inevitable. Just keep moving toward the light.