Cyclophiliac 2023: Before Antarctica

Antarctica 2023 Expedition Team members Jackie, Matt, Pam, and Petey!

I don’t even remember when this idea was hatched, but I’m pretty sure it was Matt’s idea. Maybe a decade ago, maybe longer? I vaguely recall a conversation that, at the time, probably went something like this:

Matt: Hey, Pammy! Do you want to go to Antarctica?

Me: Sure, Matty!

And that was the end of it. Maybe not “The End”, but not much more than a wispy aspiration. One of those things that you set on the back burner on low simmer until the enthusiasm for the idea evaporates or tastes change or situations change or…or…or and pretty soon it’s at the bottom of the bucket list, never to see the light of day, never to be spoken of ever again.

Or maybe something - or someone - comes along to give the pot a stir.

For me, that “someone” was actually two someones: David Doubilet and Jennifer Hayes. 

Doublet and Hayes are 2 distinguished National Geographic award-winning photographers who gave a presentation here in Cleveland called “Coral Kingdoms and Empires of Ice” as part of the “Nat Geo Live! Explorer series.*

It’s hard to not be swept up by images of frozen landscapes, surreal ice formations, and colonies of penguins that seem to go on forever. But it was really the photographers’ stories of the areas they visited, and their infectious enthusiasm for the wild, cold places, and suddenly I remembered an offer to travel to Antartica and decided it was back on the table. 

As we were leaving the theater that cold night in late February, 2020, I told Dave that I was going to Antarctica. Before we got to the car, I had already sent Matt a text message that went something like this:

“You will NOT go to Antarctica without me.”

And, somehow, that was enough to get this plan in motion.

At this point I can simply say ‘and then some other stuff happened’, but the truth is that a LOT of stuff happened over the past 3 years. Hashing out the idea. Working with a travel agent. Bringing on a third Expedition Team member (Jackie!). Choosing the right tour and the right ship and the right time of the year. Countless teleconferences back and forth. Assembling camera equipment. Buying gear appropriate for the Antarctic ‘summer’. A Covid delay that set us back a full year. This has already been  quite a journey!

Somehow we got here, though. We are leaving today (Jackie and I are already in Atlanta, waiting for Matt to arrive from Phoenix). We’ll fly to Buenos Aires overnight, do a bit of sightseeing in BA tomorrow before boarding our evening flight to Ushuaia, in Tierra del Fuego and the southernmost tip of Argentina. By Friday, we’ll board our ship and that’s when things will get real.

*If you have the opportunity to attend one of these presentations, don’t hesitate. They are interesting and engaging and quite entertaining. 

Kelly and the strange allure of a Vertical Kilometer

As an endurance coach, I get to work with athletes who have some pretty cool and ambitious goals. Most of my athletes are cyclists, runners, and multisport athletes, and I enjoy working with all of them individually to optimize their training to meet their goals.

But every once in a while, an athlete will come to me with a unique and novel event that she wants to compete in, and that's where the fun really starts!

Kelly B. and I have been working together for at least a few years now, starting off with a combination of ultra-distance trail running and cycling time trial. Kelly is a gifted athlete who can excel at both of these disciplines, even though the goals - and training - for each are quite a bit different.

During COVID lockdown, Kelly competed in virtual challenges for mileage and elevation. She even signed up for a virtual challenge that included a daily surprise (explore a new trail, take a photo, etc.). In other words, she finds ways of keeping her goals fresh. 

So it wasn't really a surprise when Kelly came to me a few months ago with a new one (for both of us): she would compete in the Broken Arrow Skyrace Vertical Kilometer. Essentially, it's a super-steep climb of essentially a kilometer (or, in this case, ~7 km or 4.25 miles). This race has 3135' of quad-busting, oxygen-depleting vertical gain over that distance. Just looking at some of the prior race photos makes me dizzy!

How do you train for something like this? 

First, we gather info. Through a listing of past results, we found a local gal who competed in an earlier Broken Arrow VK, and we set up a call. Julie K gave us many details about the race: how to train, what to carry in your pack, what to expect, what was unexpected. Talking to Julie was an invaluable advantage, and helped us figure out how best to prepare.

Training for a VK is a bit tricky. We have long, gradual hills around here. And we have short, steep hills, too. But we don't have long, steep hills or anything that can simulate the conditions Kelly will encounter at the VK. 

So we improvise: lots of stair climbs, hill repeats, long endurance trail runs to supplement the power workouts. Crazy hard workouts called Mountain Legs that simulate the repetitive work a VK'ers legs will need to be familiar with. Kelly did a lot of strength work, not just for her legs but also for her arms, because she'll need to use hiking poles for this climb (luckily, she doesn't have to climb down the mountain - "only" up!). And, of course, there was a lot of recovery in between the hard workouts, to maximize adaptation. I'm sure a yoga break and a date with a foam roller never felt so good.

Is Kelly ready? You bet she is! She is heading to California later this week and will be racing on Friday, June 17. I can't wait to see how Kelly conquers this vertical goal! 

You can watch a Livestream of the Broken Arrow Skyrace events on Friday:  https://www.brokenarrowskyrace.com/livestream

Besides the VK, there are other races of various distances that day, and even a kid's race. Hopefully we will catch a few glimpses of Kelly as she powers her way up that mountain. 

Send Kelly some anti-gravitational thoughts as she races to the clouds on Friday!

Still Here: Death Valley 2021

 

There will come a day when this is no longer possible. 

Today is not that day.

Plotting a New Course

Last week at this time I was standing at the start line of 2018 Duathlon Nationals, in Greenville, South Carolina. I'm remembering this over a cup of coffee, surrounded by the sound of April showers outside (which, here in Ohio, will be mixed with snow later this week. Ah, springtime in Ohio!) It seems like two worlds removed from one another, and already so desperately far away.

The preparation and anticipation and hard work that goes into competing in an event like this builds the experience. We set up a plan, affix goals and milestones to our weekly training, attempt to simulate race conditions so we're not blindsided by the unexpected. We focus our energy on race day so that we can dig deep when it matters.

I've had a week to process the experience, and to sit down with results postings and performance data.    I am a data geek and I love to crunch numbers and pull meaning from them. Angie and I both did very well in this race: we each took 9th in our respective age groups. That means a lot to both of us, since we know that competing at National Championships means that we're toeing the line with the best athletes in the country. It's a privilege for us, and we know it - and we are both happy with our results.

But we also know that we weren't quite as ready as we could have been.

Every race teaches us something about ourselves as an athlete. Racing challenges our strengths and exposes our weaknesses. It gives us an unbiased, delusion-free picture of who we are at that moment.
And if we're committed to the challenge (and we are), it helps us figure out what we need to do better next time.

I've been training essentially the same way for the past 6 or 7 years. I've been fortunate to have some natural abilities that didn't require me to spend a lot of time developing. I relied on that past iteration of my athletic self to get me to where I wanted to be this time around, and it didn't work. It made me realize that there are different features in this current landscape that need to be navigated around, and that old road map is simply not going to get me where I want to be. And if I'm honest with myself, I have to face the fact that I can't drive a Mazda the same way that I was driving the Maserati.

So I'm re-routing. My destination is the same, but I'm going to get there via a different road. I'm charting a new course to Du Nats 2019.

I've got a year to figure this out.

Zwift: Game vs. Training

I hate this guy.

I was told that my last post regarding my experiences with Zwift were overly optimistic. It's true: I made it seem as though I'm a total Zwift convert. I'm really not.*

I have a fundamental issue with Zwift, aside from it's unpredictable behavior, un-intuitive controls, sporadic ability to integrate with my CompuTrainer and Stages systems (especially after one of the frequent so-called 'upgrades'), etc. My real problem with Zwift is that it doesn't ever inherently fit with my training plan.

Zwift is a game. It was created by game people, presumably game people that also ride bikes. As a game, it's pretty cool, as described in my previous post.

The frustration is when you have an already well-thought out training plan, specific to your race and workout goals, and you try to mesh that intelligent training design with the game elements of Zwift. You know how hard it is to get 'your' workout in when you're riding with a group of wanna-be racers oozing testosterone on your local club ride? Zwift is that, to the nth degree. And now you have more incentive to stray from your training plan: achievement of 'levels' to unlock 'gifts',  constant badgering to 'bridge the gap', sprint and KOM/QOM achievements. The most irritating thing (and I find a lot of things irritating) is that at the end of your ride, if Zwift determines you didn't work hard enough, you get the cartoon dude crying about your pathetic TSS score. Even if you set out to do an EZ ride, and you were able to blow off all of Zwift's distractions and perfectly execute your EZ ride, the dude-who-has-no-idea-who-you-are will weep cartoon tears for you anyway.

I'm guessing that the more you are into gaming or virtual reality, the stronger the pull will be to succumb to these Zwift temptations.

Years ago, when Strava became a 'thing' for everyday cyclists, I saw immediately how it had the power to turn every ride into a race. No longer could you just ride up Truxell; you now had to compare your times to everyone who rode up Truxell before you, and 'defend' your time against anyone who would contest you in the future. Fun stuff, for sure - but now you've given up control of your ride to some nondescript, faceless group mentality. Including people you don't know, and will never ride with in real life. No, thanks. I watched 'Black Mirror', and I'm not impressed by this vision of the future.

So be warned: treat Zwift like the game it is if you don't already have a coaching program or a training plan. It will make you stronger, and you might even turn into a good racer in Watopia (the Zwift universe).

But if you DO have a coaching program, particularly one that you're paying for, you might want to reconsider contesting that sprint when you should be recovering between intervals, or signing up for a virtual race on your 'Recovery Ride' day.  Do you want to do well in your 'real' races, or are you OK with scoring high in the virtual racing world? That choice is yours.

* Dave has figured out when I'm riding Zwift: he hears a long string of non-stop cursing emanating from the Pain Cave. This is his signal to leave the house for a couple of hours. 

The Zwift Game

Sometimes, you get to wear cool jerseys, like this one!

Let me first say this: I prefer to ride outside. But you probably won't hear too many tales of me on a fat bike in 10 degree weather, swaddled up like an Eskimo mummy, all red cheeks, watery eyes, and snotsickles. That ship has sailed, my friends, and I'm not too sad to see it go. Riding the trails on a CX bike in a fresh foot of snow in a nor'easter? Epic. Have at it. At some point, your frostbitten fingers and years of kidding yourself into thinking that this behavior is somehow 'fun' may catch up with you.

And when that happens, you can look to Zwift to ease the transition back to riding inside.

Zwift is an online 'game' that connects to your indoor cycling trainer. It converts you into an avatar,   sets you down in interesting virtual locations, and lets you ride with other people/avatars. It gives you a fairly realistic riding experience, especially if you have a 'smart' trainer (one that adjusts the resistance on your bike to match the terrain in the virtual program). It's the closest approximation of 'real' cycling that you can get on an indoor trainer. It has some faults and quirks, but it's worth trying out if you live in a climate that makes indoor training a practical necessity.

Lately, I've even found myself looking forward to indoor training sessions. Crazy, I know, but where else could I ride the Alps, or London, or inside a smoldering volcano, without ever having to leave the Pain Cave? And, just yesterday, I 'unlocked' a "Tour of Italy" virtual challenge, so now I get to spend the rest of winter riding through rolling vineyards destined to become second-rate* wines.

At least, that's where my mind will be as I pedal into spring in a few months. Ciao!

* Wine quality by region:

1. France
2. Napa/Sonoma
3. Willamette Valley
4. Argentina/Chile
5. Other obscure places like New York and Greenland
6. More of #5
7. That country that gave us asti spumante 

December's End

In spite of my rock solid motivations, and the rising tides of guilt, I am having a really hard time crawling out into this cold morning to get to the gym, as I was so determined to do.

Outside, a muffled, metallic scraping of plow blade on snowy street is my only indication that it is morning. (There are no alarm clocks this week).

I weigh my options: virtue vs. a few more minutes under these thick layers, against a warm body, in the middle of winter when  all I want is to satisfy some primeval craving for the enveloping darkness and a moment of stillness.

(Virtue loses, again!)

When I will finally crawl out into the blue light of morning, it will be toward a pot of steaming black coffee and a frosted-window view of a deep and silent season.

Enjoy these dark days. They won't last.