Ironman Training

Ironman Blog: The Nut Cracker

It’s almost Christmas, my favourite time of the year. Time to gorge on food, listen to carols and let go a bit. (But just a bit, because before you know it, the 2012 season hits you). It is also the time to reflect on the year behind and to plan the year ahead.

And what an excellent year it has been.

The 2011 season started with a solid performance in Abu Dhabi where I achieved my main goal: a strong bike split on a flat course. It continued with a pretty brutal race at St Croix 70.3, by far the toughest race I have ever completed. Then, following a PB at Pescara 70.3, the season peaked with the perfect ‘A-race’ and another PB at Ironman Lake Placid.

The season has also ended well. Following last year’s Ironman Blues experience, I was keen to get another race in the diary before year-end. Something to look forward to and train for as a month of post-Ironman recovery and withdrawal set in. So I signed up to the winter BallBuster. Set in the idyllic Surrey Hills, the BallBuster course consists of five 8-mile laps around the scenic Box Hill. It begins with a one lap run, followed by three on the bike, and a final run.

I had been warned by many in advance about how tough the race was: “that final run is brutal”, “it’s the UK’s toughest duathlon”. This was often followed with free advice: “take it easy on the first run, you’ll need the energy for the second”, “make sure you spin your legs out on the climb” and so on. It’s easy to give advice and less so to take it, especially when they are so instructive and have the ability to suppress your natural instinct. (For example, I am a confident runner and very likely to go out fast). The best piece of advice I had was from my coach, “try and run your two laps within 5 minutes of each other”. Clever. Fiona’s simple words provided the right amount of structure and pace judgment that is needed in a race environment. It allowed me to run my first lap at the speed I thought was natural to me, yet it gave me a goal for the finish, allowing me to look down at my watch and tweak my speed on the basis of her instructions.

Crossing the finish line in 3:08 was exhilarating. Given the training runs around the course, I was expecting 3:30. But taking into account Fiona’s advice and the extra rocket fuel injected during a race, I surpassed my assumed abilities. 

It’s with this positive note that I end the 2011 season. I’m not going to talk about 2012 yet, even though there are a few exciting races in the horizon, but I am hoping to further build on the strong foundation that my coach and team have instilled upon me. In the meantime, I’m looking forward to copious amounts of mulled wine, turkey and a present or two. Or three.

Ironman Blog: Blast From the Past

One of the great things about Facebook is reconnecting with people that you knew during the pre-internet/mobile phones era. Last week, I received a friend request from my former school sports teacher. I spent this weekend’s long run thinking about my involvement in sports whilst growing up, and the encouragement I had as a kid.

My school experience was less than perfect; I was a complete dork. I always finished my homework on time, I loved science (and art), I was never tardy or played truant, I got good grades and got along with my teachers. (You won’t be surprised to hear that I wasn’t the most popular person in class). Worst of all, I hated sports (which all the cool kids loved and were good at).

I remember having each Wednesday afternoon dedicated to PE. As the bell rang after lunch, we would all be forced to change and march along to our local fitness center. I hated taking my clothes off in front of the other guys, I was a skinny, shy and awkward kid. I was also envious of all the girls in my class for being able to throw the sentence “sorry Sir, I have my period” around to get the afternoon off. I would have given anything to not have to embarrass myself in the sports auditorium. 

It is not like I didn’t make an effort. My mom encouraged me to try everything: tennis, football, volleyball, golf, basketball, badminton and various forms of martial arts. The only thing I got close to enjoying was badminton, and that was only because I got to run back and forth across the court and eventually exhaust my opponent (albeit hours later). I even remember pleading with my classmate for not running too fast at a sprint race so that he would win by a smaller margin. He accepted, but only with a small bribe. So, as I accepted my friend request, I began to reflect on what has changed since then.

My first self-inflicted venture into sports came when I trained for a marathon. I wasn’t fast (I finished in over 4 hours), but I enjoyed the distance. I was able to maintain a steady speed for a long period of time. But my real eureka moment came much later, when I realised I was good at long distance-running. This was two-fold: other people’s perception of my ability but, most importantly, the self-realistion that my times were getting better and were even competitive.

This also applies to the other two legs of triathlon. After two years of swimming, my technique has improved substantially (thanks to my coach), and my race times have reduced significantly. It was at this point in time that I began to enjoy training and racing, when I knew I was good at it. I am yet to reach that point with cycling, but with specific strength training this season and focused efforts, I am excited about reaching that aha! moment.

It is a shame that endurance sports don’t really make it into schools (I guess it is logistically difficult). But I am a firm believer that there’s a sport out there for everyone. I am happy that I found mine, and as my new friend commented “I’m very proud of you” on my recent wall post, I’m glad that I persevered.

Ironman Blog: Season Three

My mom recently uploaded photos of me as a kid on Facebook and it got me thinking about my childhood in Ghana. As a kid, I wanted to run before I could walk. I said my first word at 7 months (it was “Al Pacino”), and I could read the alphabet at 8 months before I took my first steps.

I have always had encouraging parents; they provided just the right amount of guidance and never dissuaded me from doing what I loved. This trend followed all the way to university, I started my higher education at the age of 16 and by the age of 22, completed my PhD.

My athletic career hasn’t been too dissimilar; my first ever run was to train for the London Marathon. (As a friend questioned, “don’t you think it might be wise to start with a 10k run?”). Anything far from extreme was not an option, you aim to succeed (at whatever goal you set your sights on) or you just don’t bother at all. The same translated to triathlon. I learnt how to swim and bike in February of 2009 and completed my first triathlon in June 2009. I remember meeting my coach for the first time and being as excited as a kid, mentioning to her and knowing deep down inside, that all I wanted to do was be an Ironman. A year later, I competed in Nice and surprised myself with a decent performance. 

As this season comes to an end, it has been mixed. Looking back, my performance and progress has been excellent, setting a strong PB at Placid across all legs of the sport and PBs in all the other distances as well as the training races I repeated from last year. So why the mixed feelings? Well, I set my expectations too high.

Triathletes typically have type A personalities (I’m guilty of this). We are competitive, aggressive and a little bit unhinged. We also think we are better than we are. (Sorry folks, it’s now out there!). So what expectations did I have? Rationally, none other than bettering myself. Emotionally, to beast it.

And where did this stem from? Well, I was influenced by the athletes around me. From their comments by the pool, from cycling behind the best cyclists and hearing stories of friends of friends who had great performances with no training (most of which is urban legend). That’s a dangerous thing. Despite my strong performances, I felt like I had made no progress. I lost track of my goal, my A-race, Placid.

Focus is all that I needed; after all, I am a relative newbie to the sport. And as a fresher, I need to build a strong endurance base and improve on my technique, especially on the bike. I need to learn to walk before I can run.

A typical example of this was learning to deconstruct my marathon. I have always been a strong runner, anything slower than a 6-minute mile was a snails pace, but for an Ironman, the risk of blowing up is too high. I had to re-teach myself to run at an 8-minute mile pace, that’s endurance heart rate zone 2, where your body burns fat. This took numerous sessions where I was paced by my coach. It was tough, but my goal was to build a strong foundation.

So, with two full seasons of triathlon racing, two Ironman and five half Ironman races under my belt, I have seen many athletes that I have trained with come and go. Some get bored with the sport (been there, done that) and a few fall out of love with it (it’s a huge time commitment). But I am still standing. And I look forward to the year ahead and the new challenges it will bring. As long as I focus on my goals, benchmark my previous performances and manage my expectations. After all, in the words of Al Pacino, “all I am is what I’m going after”.

Lucky 13: Ironman Lake Placid Race Report.

Africa. The sting of sweat in my eyes. The searing heat on my neck and shoulders. Ofori. Disciplinarian, teaching me what was best, with structure. May she rest in peace. Ghenwa. Expecting her first child. Food. Frozen pina coladas covered in cotton candy, pillows filled with the scent of rosemary and strips of moss that stick to the top of your mouth. Imperial. Leaving home and discovering who I am. Dancing. Till the cows come home, drunk on endorphins; on stools and tables in Beirut. Brothers. Their everlasting support, making me laugh and giving me something to worry about. London. For all it has afforded me to do. To exciting new beginnings and happy endings. Cambridge. My first marathon, my closest friends. Fiona. Allowing me to achieve goals I thought were impossible. Diana. Making me realise that everything IS possible. Falling in love with New York and for the hundreds of people who can now wed after riots and tears over the last few decades. Parents. For never doubting me, always encouraging my ideas, no matter how insane they were. Training. Hours of dedication, sacrifices, highs and lows, all for that finish line.

I had the perfect race at Placid; everything came together as planned.

It has been an interesting lead into my A race. A tough and slow 70.3 in St Croix (illness), a 70.3 PB in Pescara (but only marginally). So the last thing I expected was shaving 30 minutes off my Ironman Nice time and coming in at 10:51. The swim was not comparable to Placid (lake versus sea) but the bike was just as hilly and the run was significantly tougher with grueling hills. The eastern heat wave that hit the US also ensure the weather was just as hot.

So what happened? Well, it’s my second season in the sport so experience is the first thing that springs to mind. But this doesn’t just come in the form of “miles under the belt” but also planning.

For the swim, I knew position was key (I had been battered at the start in Nice). For the two-loop course, I decided to stick myself at the front of the pack during the start; all the way to the right of the and away from the buoys. The first length out, I swam as close to fast as was sensible, passing the majority of the field and then settling into pace on the way back. The second lap was a lot more comfortable, sticking close to the bouys and keeping the right momentum, breathing every 3 strokes and sighting when necessary. I shaved 9 minutes off my time at Nice, completing in 1:04.

My first transition was smooth, I ensured I had markers so I knew where to pick my bag and bike. Packing only what was necessary. 3 minutes less than Nice.

The bike was where my goals were focused. It was a two lap course and I was planning for a sub-six hour split. I followed Fi’s instructions to use a positive split, riding the first loop a little faster to build in some buffer for the second. The first lap was around 2:45, giving me 30 minutes more for the second. I was making good progress until I lost my water bottles and nutrition at mile 60. It was tough, both mentally and physically but knowing I had a spare bar in my run bag and that I had carb loaded during the week kept me going. I came in at 5:56, 12 minutes faster than Nice.

T2 was marred with aching glutes and some panic over my nutrition. I could not imagine running a whole marathon. But that is what long distance is all about I guess, things do go wrong and you have to make the most of what you have and act quickly. So I made the decision to stop at the first three aid stations and eat, after I stretched for a bit, of course. 1 minute faster than Nice.

The run. It began completely opposite to plan as I was aiming for a 3:30 split. I walked and jogged for the first 3 miles, taking in pretzels, cola, Perform, bananas, gels and orange segments. Anything I could get my hands on. Then as my legs and my mind settled, so did my pace. I picked up my cadence, looked ahead and took it all in. For the first lap (13 miles), I enjoyed the novelty, my wonderful support team and the crowd. Then I was in countdown mode to the finish line. The toughest part of my Ironman race last year. But this time, I had a plan.

The day before I made a list. A list of the lucky 13 things I had and still have in my life. For the 13th Ironman in Lake Placid. For the 13th age group place I came in for St Croix, a race very comparable to what I was going to endure. I spent two hours in the hotel room, picturing this list, meditating, repeating these set of words that would carry me through the end. I visualized the route which I had trained on before and I made friends with the hills and the challenges I would face, welcoming them as I went along.

During the last 13 miles of the run, I thought of that list of 13 words, counting backwards. I dedicated a mile to each of these milestones, achievements and positive things I had in my life, switching to the next topic as the buzz of my Garmin indicated. And I smiled, to the other athletes, the spectators, my friends and the finish line that I could vividly picture crossing in my mind. And as if by magic, there it was. Sub-eleven hours, as I had secretly hoped and taking 3 minutes off my run time at Nice in a course that was significantly tougher.

I finished strong, sprinting to the end, with a smile on my face.

Most say your second Ironman is your toughest because it doesn’t have the novelty of the first. That’s wrong. I have loved every cold swim, long-haul flight with my bike and celebratory coffee on my long and wet rides. Bring on season three, four, eight and… thirteen.

Iron, when?

People often ask how I manage to fit all my training with my work and travel (as well as maintain some sort of a social life) and the honest truth is that it’s tough.

I’m currently writing this sitting in a deli close to where a live (after a failed attempt to go for a run that lasted only 5 minutes). I am exhausted. Not of the miles I’m banking through training but of juggling. I have only just come back from a one-week trip that involved visiting four countries in two continents and I am off again tomorrow (albeit for a holiday and a race).

So, how do I maintain it all? Well, firstly there are some sacrifices that need to be made: I have mastered the art of timing when it comes to how much my friends can tolerate me canceling on them for work reasons and leaving a party early because I have a 7am training session. Secondly, it’s about being organized (to the point of being anal about things) and finally but most importantly, it’s about how you do things.

My social life.

After months of unrest (many people getting mad at me for dropping off the face of the earth), this part of my life has finally settled. Most of my friends now realize how important training is to me. It’s not a fad guys – it’s here to stay!

I am also lucky that most of my friends and family don’t live local to me (in fact, the majority of them don’t even live in the same country) so the travel aspect of my work allows me to spend quality time with those I care about. Ironically, I spend more time with think those that don’t live in the UK. But I guess that’s to be expected, it’s sort of like never seeing the sights in the city you live in until you move away and revisit; you make the time.

Anyway, I’m rambling. Two more points I want to make re: social life – I get to see a number of people I am fond of through training (like-minded triathlete folk) and I have become quite close friends with people at work which is a major bonus given I have fun with them and we spend 16 hour days together.

Plan ahead.

A friend once said, “If you give someone busy something to do, you are more than likely to have it done”. I strongly believe in this.

My week typically begins with me scrolling through my Outlook calendar and planning. It’s like a game of Tetris, filling in my training sessions where I have gaps or finding some sort of synergy between work and play:

1. My brother arrives at 8am and I need to let him in = 6:30am swim session.
2. A friend of mine has invited me over after work = 10km run to her place.
3. Back-to-back meetings and a client dinner = lunchtime spin session.

The same goes with travel, I ensure the hotel I book into has a decent pool or access to a nearby gym. I make sure my flights are overnight and I’m back home for the weekends where the endurance sessions fall.

Be smart.

This drives everything. Now I don’t do the prescribed 3 bikes, 3 swims and 3 runs a week that most athletes adhere to but what I do is of quality as prescribed by Coach Fi. And I stick to it with no modifications. These sessions are designed to build endurance for Ironman distance races as strengthen my core and prevent injury. 

Sticking to this is crucial and motivation can be tough. However, a new music album can carry you through a one and a half hour treadmill session, discovering a route on the bike can get you out of bed on a cold winters day and swapping a long run/ride with a local race can add extra fuel to the training plan.

The last thing that cannot be underestimated is focus.

We are triathletes out of choice and for a reason: to get fit, for that high we get when we cross the finish line or to compete and win. Whatever that reason is (and it may change over time), focus. Focus on that goal and event, because where there’s a will, there’s a way.

That’s a pretty castle! That’s a pretty castle! That’s a pretty castle!

My friends have this ongoing joke that I’m easily distracted and as a result have a short attention span. They often scream out “look, shiny object!” as a way of averting my attention. However, as you will soon find out, sometimes in life this helps.

Earlier this month, I completed the Short Distance Abu Dhabi Triathlon. (Don’t be fooled by the name, “Short” equates to a 1.5km swim, 100km bike and a 10km run.) Despite the heat, the course played against my strengths and that was the intention. It was flat, very windy and essentially a biker’s race. My objective was simple: never mind the run, focus on the bike and persevere.

It went pretty well. There were no major glitches, the swim was smooth and the wave starts were a refreshing welcome to Ironman Nice where I got clobbered by the crowd. The bike was tough. Long stretches on the highway with 30kph headwinds, sand in your eyes and 40degC heat. The run was also brutal but mainly because of the impact on the knees being on hard ground and fully exposed to the sun. So, will I ever do it again despite it being tougher than my Ironman experience? Yes. Why? Because there is no better feeling than crossing the finish line and knowing you have achieved something. A result. A result to benchmark against previous tests or a result of completion that you can celebrate for the first time. This makes you forget everything.

So what is the feeling like during and after? This depends on the race but for a sprint, your muscles are on fire, burning from lactic acid and you struggle to take in enough oxygen (I find this the toughest of all disciplines). For an endurance race, this is more mental. Lap 1, Lap 2, Lap 3… the marathon for an Ironman never ends. Your mind inevitably goes to a dark place and you begin to think that you cannot finish, that you’ll have to crawl across the finish line if you don’t pull out. Then the end is in sight, you have a new found pool of energy, your legs work again, you recognise the crowd cheering you on despite the fact they have been there all along.

For Abu Dhabi, this feeling occurred twice. The way out of T1 involved cycling into an incredible headwind down a five-lane highway that stretched as far as the eyes can see. It seemed to never end and it was like cycling in treacle. But once we got to Yas Marina, the novelty of riding on a Formula 1 circuit made it all seem worthwhile and the grueling ride vanished from memory.

The second time happened at the usual spot, when crossing the finish line. You feel an imaginary rope appear from the centre of your body connecting you to the finish line. You lock onto it with your gaze, you fly, you across the line and the race is all over. Then you forget all the pain. You are immersed in a pool of endorphins, you understand what all the training and hard work was about.

And just like a goldfish, going round that bowl one more time in the future seems like a great idea. You’re hooked.

When it rains, it pours.

Last weekend, I completed my first half marathon. Knowing I had done very little speed work and the impact of running on tarmac would be less than forgiving on my body, I planned to meet a friend for a session of Bikram yoga in the evening.

During the part of my athletic life where I coached myself, I experienced bad knee problems. MRI scans and x-rays revealed nothing so my doctor suggested stretching, as it was most likely “just an ITB issue”. (Later to be confirmed by coach Fi). “Even better than stretching, why don’t you do Yoga?”. I hated the thought of yoga, sitting still for 5 minutes, let alone over an hour, made my heart race with anxiety. (I’m a very impatient person you see). So I began to roll my ITB and stretch sporadically at home when I had the time and the injury subsided to a level of tolerable pain. 

My first triathlon was the North Country Tri in June 2009 in upstate New York. Close friends who have a family home close by had suggested we do it as a group; it was a no brainer. To say that I am close to these folk is an understatement. They are a second family to me, and I owe my sporting achievements to a number of them. What I also discovered from this trip was hot yoga.

Bikram yoga is a 90 minute session involving 26 postures and 2 breathing exercises. It is also known as hot yoga because classes are conducted in a heated room (roughly 40 degC). The biggest advantage of performing these poses in a heated room is the extra amount of flexibility and stretch it allows. An introduction to marathon running, triathlons and Bikram. No wonder I am besotted. So, what is the session like? “You don’t sweat, you rain” said the matriarch of the family. And she’s right, it is an altogether different endurance test involving acclimatisation, aerobic exercise, balance and core strength. 

I went to Bikram in the evening of my half marathon. This was to reduce the impact of the day and curb the soreness I would experience the following week. I have no basis for comparison given it’s a tough control to setup, but since I began yoga, I have had very little problems with my knees.

Now sometimes I go to class because of a race (as this example illustrates), sometimes I go in the height of winter for a bit of a warm “holiday”, but most of the time, I go for the attractive half-naked athletes I have grown to know over the past year. So is yoga the miracle for cure for all triathlete ailments? Probably not, but being hot just helps…

A Lesson in Humility.

                                 First say to yourself what you would be;
                                    and then do what you have to do.
                                    Epictetus

A few weeks ago, the diva in me came out as I experienced my first real training rage. For most people this happens on the bike, for me, it was the swim.

I made my way to the local pool on a Saturday afternoon for a recovery session after a long ride. I got into the fast lane accompanying a long-haired man with a goatee and several piercings. My first reaction was that he was clearly not an athlete and certainly nowhere near my calibre. After several laps of him breast stroking and me trying to elbow him out of the way, I decided to put my on Ironman France swim cap. This was the triathlete equivalent of “do you know who I am?”. He moved across.

Towards the end of the set, after replaying the incident in my head, a guilty feeling sunk in. Two years ago, I did not know how to swim, not even a single length let alone 3.8km. The fast lane was where I aspired to be and looking across from the where I swam, I dreamt of being an Ironman. Could that have also been the person I was just rude to?

Over the past few months, I have encountered many incidents where athletes thought they had bragging rights at social outings or races. It was awful being on the receiving end and it hugely deflated my confidence. This had many repercussions; it put me off group rides, where training etiquette is learnt. It also spurred my competitiveness in running (the triathlon leg I am most comfortable with). Even worse, this caused me to train improperly and created even more friction with other athletes.

Getting changed at the end of the session, I kept thinking: triathlon is not a group sport. We must compete within ourselves and not each other. If any aspiring triathlete had a fraction of the support I had, we would flourish beyond belief and the possibility of fostering world-class athletes would be that little bit easier to achieve.

Time Two Tri Harder.

OK it’s a lame ass title but I need to make sure people anticipate what they are reading given my new food blogs! 

February 2011 celebrates my two-year anniversary in the land of multi-sport. It is when I took my first swim in (ever) and got on my first road bike back in 2009. So, what have I learnt so far?

Well, we often hear that there are many ways to dissect a triathlon:

1. Swim, bike, run.
2. Swim, bike, run, core exercises.
3. Swim, bike, run, core exercises, nutrition.
4. Swim, bike, run, core exercises, nutrition, transitions.
5. Swim, bike, run, core exercises, nutrition, transitions, stretching.

You get the drift…

As a semi-pro-amateur-temporary-permanent-triathlete-ish, here’s another way of looking at: strength, endurance and technique.

The first half of the season, coach Fi provides her athletes with a series of exercises aimed at building strength and ultimately improving speed. These sessions are the foundation of endurance. They come in many forms: gym work, tempo and interval training (bike and run), as well as hill reps (again, bike and run). The bulk of these sessions happen during the week (for me at least) and involve the majority of workouts that require the upper heart rate zones.

Next comes the endurance bit, “It’s about getting the miles under your belt”. This is built over time when bike rides start at 3 hours a pop and move to 7 hours (same applies to the run but on a smaller scale). My first interaction with such a schedule was challenging to say the least. It didn’t help that this time last year, with the glacial temperatures, I was spending my three-hour Saturday rides on the turbo indoors. A year on, everything seems much more possible. The rides seem shorter, the weather seems milder and the mood seems lighter. This may be psychological given that I know my body can cope with the stress, but a large part of me thinks that muscle memory has something to do with it. After all, it is about getting the miles under your belt.

Then there’s technique. Whereas strength needs to be rebuilt yearly and endurance comes with distance, technique comes with time. Last Sunday, I took my time trial out for the second time since I bought it (it lives on my turbo); it was a typical cold English day with 40mph winds and drizzle. Given my experience with riding in the wind, and how much more twitchy my new toy was, I was curious to see what would happen. Needless to say, it was a positive surprise. (After all, if it doesn’t involve fecal matter, being trampled by deer or throwing up, it has to be a positive and uplifting story to make my blog!)

The bike felt like a wild horse I had tamed over the last two years: it angled perfectly during cross winds, it was firm on bumpy descents and fast on the flats. I even had two emergencies involving a dodgy brake pad and a loose bottle cage. Technically savvy? I am now.

With a full race schedule ahead of me, my biggest curiosity is to see where I am in 2012 after my second full season as a long-distance triathlete.

Jack and Jill.

After 7 years of running, I thought I knew everything. “Let’s do a long run every Sunday, that way you can learn about optimal pacing and we can improve your marathon time”. “Run like a Kenyan,” coach Fi added. “Run your short runs fast and your long runs slow”.

For the first session, we went off-road. A lap around Richmond Park ensured we were all warmed up so we cut through the centre, to the peak of the hill, down the other end, onto muddy terrain then back on the usual trail. Fun; it was a combination of light conversation and hopscotch as we tried to dodge rabbit holes and hidden roots. Three weeks into this regime, I was left to recreate this pattern on my own last Sunday. Out of my house and into the park, clockwise (as the hills are steeper that way), down to the southwestern end of the park and up the entire length of Richmond Hill. I got lost halfway through, almost ran into a mob of deer and took a detour to visit woods in the park I did not even know existed. It was like rediscovering my own back garden, a whole new level of excitement. My feet doused deep in the cold mud on a wet winters day; an hour and forty five minutes later, my session was complete.

OK, so I’m not running the bike leg of the Nice Ironman but I am competing in a tough marathon course at Placid. (A little part of me thinks that I am also being punished).

The next morning, I woke up to a feeling I haven’t had since I started running in 2004. Sore legs. My calves were OK but it was the load on my thighs that were unfamiliar to my body. The feeling was great. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I had worked out during my run, and not because of speed. To anyone out there who thinks they have an automated running schedule that seems like a bad scene out of "Speed 2: Cruise Control", try a little bit of off-road action. I highly recommend it.