Futzing with toe clips

My, isn't that the most compelling headline you've read on a blog post? Had the blogosphere existed in July 1969, and you had the option of reading "Man On The Moon!" or "Futzing With Toe Clips," I'm sure the toe clip post would be pulling the traffic. (I don't even have to use my sarcastic typeface.)

Nonetheless, the toe-clip issue is a significant one for cyclists looking for a more efficient ride. There is a topless picture of an alt-rock star here. Click back there, or continue reading.

Since you've decided to follow the toe-clip stream, here's the thing. You want to be pedaling in circles, not up and down; as your leg comes up, it should be pulling the crankset, not just along for the ride. The best solution is cycling shoes with cleats and pedals designed to fit them.Two problems. A) It's a laughably expensive proposition. (I managed to pick up a pair of Adidas, sans cleats, for $30 at the bike show, but your mileage will definitely vary. Cleats are another $30. Pedals, well, that could get truly ugly.) And 2) Unless you're running an Olympic distance or longer triathlon, you're probably not going to want to change shoes.

(Gatorade has a great video of the swim-to-bike transition showing how to put on bike shoes on the fly.)

Your other option is toe clips. I bought a pair of toe clips when I took up cycling again a couple years ago, but before I read how the Cyclists In The Know dismissed them outright as potentially lethal in traffic. I hid them in my tool box so the cool kids wouldn't know I had them.

But as I was researching triathlon training, it came up again and again: If you're going to do one thing to tweak your bike for a triathlon, put toe clips on the pedals.So I dug out the toe clips and installed them on my pedals, a process that takes the most anal-retentive perfectionist about 30 seconds a side.

After several rides with them I can confirm that, yes, it makes for a much more efficient ride, and, yes, they're potentially lethal in traffic.

The problem is that, gravity being a harsh mistress, the clips rotate down and expose the unclipped side of the pedal when you take a foot out, which you have to do every time you stop in traffic. (I find myself slowing hilariously when I approach a red light, hoping it'll go green before I have to put a foot down. Works maybe half the time.)

So, a couple tips. My clips are, entirely by happenstance, flexible plastic, so they can take the occasional scrape across the pavement when I accidentally hit the first couple of strokes with the pedal upside down. More importantly, I've been working on a no-look pedal flip. My right foot is on the pavement at a stop, my left in the stirrup. The right pedal is upside down, clip facing the ground. With my right pedal at 12 o'clock, I step on the back of the pedal and paw it  backward, popping my foot into the clip when it spins around. DO NOT WATCH YOUR FOOT. You're in traffic.

I get it right about eight times out of 10 now. I'm still practicing. One thing I have noticed is that the more I focus on it, the more likely I am to screw it up.

See? Aren't you glad you read on instead of looking at what's 'er names breasts?

Apologies to my Facebook friends

I've been living a Facebook lie. I haven't actually been on Facebook in ages. I just post to the blog, which posts to my Twitter feed, which posts to Facebook. Or something like that.

It's not that I don't love you. I just hate Facebook, on so many levels. The arrogance about privacy, the endless data-mining apps, the huge amount of time it sucks out of my life.And I'm on Twitter and LinkedIn all day every day at work.

But so many of you have expressed so much support, I feel like an ass not acknowledging. A heel. So, I hope you'll accept this as a peace offering. I'm sorting through my Facebook notifications folder and replying as I can.

Gail, my BFF: Yes, I would love to rock the lycra Spiderman onesy. However, Spiderman didn't tell me where I could get one. Anyone who has an idea, please let me know.

Terry: Yes, Paolo is my official spokesperson. And also my financial advisor. No one's heard of me and I have no money. Draw your own conclusions.

Paolo: See above.

Lisa: I don't have the abs for Pilates. What kind of sadist came up with that? And chocolate is the best sponsorship. And the best defibrilator.

Jennefer: Pray harder. Please.

Cindy: They don't have to tear the jersey to use the defibrilator. I've had jumper plates installed on my nipples.

Michelle: You make breathing underwater sound so easy. I am not Aquaman. I can't even find a Spiderman onesy.

Quigs: You up for the 10k at the zoo in October? I'm still trying to decide whether to register. Early bird deadline is June 30.

And so it begins

I am now out of pre-training and into training. As of yesterday, it's 12 weeks to the triathlon.

It was an unusual May 24 long weekend. First of all, the holiday was actually on May 24, which almost never happens. In general, it didn't mesh with my 24 associations. I associate the May long weekend with miserable weather, the smell of two-stroke motors and live bait, and sleeping on, at best, a couch. Granted, I haven't done the May 24 fishing trip in years, but for a while it was a regular thing. Since then, like most long weekends, it's been about laundry. But it's the outboards and live bait I remember.

My daughter spent the weekend at a friend's trailer, building her own May 24 associations. So I was at loose ends. So I packed a fair bit of training into a weekend of glorious weather, though what might be most important is what I took a pass on.

It was my brother-in-law's birthday. Big surprise party out in Belleville. Martyn is the most decent guy who ever married a sister. But I knew it was going to be a weekend of music (great), drinking (not so great) and smoking (potentially fatal). I've quit too recently to take the chance I might fall off the wagon, so I had to decline. I'm hoping to one day be forgiven.

Took a ride along the waterfront trail out west to the Ex and a little past, where I found a great little spot to do hill repeats. It's the lead-up to a bridge across Lakeshore Blvd. at about Roncesvalles, a steep little hillet that's about 20 seconds up. Coast back down the other side, ride back 30-odd yards, repeat. After about 10, I was ready to go home. A spring shower gave me the excuse.

On the way back, I heard an air horn behind me, so I pulled off to the right. Somebody positively blew by me on roller blades. About 6'5", maybe, very cut, long-legged and wearing a lycra Spiderman onesy. I kept pace after he passed me, but didn't make up any ground until he got into traffic. (Hey, I'd been doing hill repeats.) Finally caught him at a light.

"Man, you fly on those things," I gasped.

"I'm Spiderman today," he said. Then he took off. Never got a chance ot find out where he got the onesy.

Sunday was the official first day of training. According to my iPod app, I was supposed to swim 200 metres. I had time on my hands, and I was enjoying the pool at the Grosvenor YMCA, so I did 800. But I'm still not doing front crawl, my best sprint time translated to 100 yards is still about 2:40, and ... well, I think I can finish. I just think I'm going to be spending too long in the water.

However, one of the books I picked up put it this way: the swim is the shortest part of the program, the bikes the longest. Take 10% off your swim time, you save x-minutes. Take 10% off your ride time ...

So today, I finally got out on a ride with Rob, who dragged me all over hell's half-acre -- 30k up through Mt. Pleasant Cemetery, over through Rosedale, out to Bathurst. Coming back east along Broadway were a couple of long downhills ... I don't know how I kept from howling. They were the kind where you pick up so much speed you don't realize it until a car brakes in front of you and your own brakes squeal when you have to stop. Hills that make you feel like a 12-year-old. When I was a kid and I took hills like that on my CCM five-speed,  I'd pretend I was flying a fighter plane. And it's the weirdest thing ... I could smell two-stroke engine and live bait.

Why bother?

What's the best reason for racing your first triathlon?

No matter what your result is, it's a personal best.

Is this a taper week?

For a first-timer, the accepted training time for a sprint triathlon appears to be 12 weeks. As I was in no shape, back at the Easter weekend when I decided to undertake this nonsense, to take on that kind of training program, I decided to devote eight weeks to getting fit enough to train -- pretraining, if you will.

Week 7 is over.

 In a week's time, I have to start adhering to a tri-oriented training program. So, I guess this coming week should be a taper week, just like before a race you're training for.

So, in the pool, no worrying about yardage (though I did more than 1,400m this week, 600m today). Strictly technique, like getting my face to stay in the water. I haven't had much luck with that; breathing has been my bane, both in the pool and on the track, the whole time. So I guess I'd better start yoga on Mondays next week, 24 or no 24. (I'm pretty sure Jack Bauer can save the world without me.) I can probably finish 400m swimming breast stroke, but right now I'm swimming 100m in about 3:35. That's just too slow, even if my only goal is to finish. It's almost 15 minutes in the water, and I don't want to do that.

On the track, no pushing it. Probably just 500m or 1k and then a trip to the weight room. As for biking, if I go out for a leisure ride, that'll be fine. If not, that'll be fine, too. Might be a good chance to take my bike in for some tweaks. I did a little work myself last weekend, putting on pedal clips and adjusting the front derailleur, so I'd like to take it for a stretch first.

It's difficult -- *really* difficult -- to ease up on your training, especially when you've come from pretty much nothing in terms of conditioning and are seeing improvements almost every session. But it is absolutely necessary. Or so I've read.

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I wend swibbing today. God lodsa wadder ub my node.

Fugged. I gib ub. Godda buy node plugs.

A sponsorship idea

I think I should approach The Mikey Network, providers of easy-to-use defibrillators, to sponsor me for this triathlon. I could wear the logo on my jersey. Or, at least, someone could follow me around with one during the race. Just in case.

I hit the weights and the weights hit back

Many things I'll have done by the time I stand or fall on Aug. 14 will be filed under you-probably-shouldn't-do-this. For example, it's generally recommended that when you get to a certain age -- let's call it "creaky" -- you should consult your physician before embarking on any exercise regimen. I did not do this. Not because I thought it a formality; in fact, just the opposite. I figured he'd say no.

Let's see, you smoke a pack of cigarettes a day, you have asthma, you haven't run unless you were chased in 30 years, and three months ago, you were walking with a cane because your quads are so weak. I see no problem with you swimming 400m, riding 10k and running 2.5k. That doesn't at all compromise my duty to help ensure your continued health. Also, I'm lending Lindsay Lohan my car.

I have not collapsed in a heap yet, and it's been six weeks, so I guess I got away with it.

Wednesday, in the interest of building up some upper body strength, I went to the basement of the Y, which is stocked with all manner of resistance training machines. I'd been doing some basic stuff on the machines up by the running track, but downstairs are weight machines I've not seen the like of before. So I jumped into some exercises that worked some places I hadn't been working.

Thursday, I woke up a little stiff in the upper body. It hadn't gone away by lunch, so I figured I'd better skip the swim and just do a short run and some lower body weights. Again, a few new machines.

This morning, when I woke up, my legs were fine. But my upper arms had gone from stiff to agonized. I could hardly lift them. When the pain had subsided enough that I could isolate which muscles were actually rising up against me, I found it was, for the most part, my deltoids, all of 'em on both sides. At least I now know exactly which machine wrought such havoc. Have to be careful with that one.

Why my upper body and not my lower body? I have a couple of theories. I warmed up Wednesday with five minutes on the elliptical machine; on Thursday, by running a kilometre. My upper body probably wasn't warmed up enough on Wednesday, whereas my lower body definitely was. Also, in general, my leg muscles are larger and stronger than my upper body muscles. And -- probably critically -- it's easier to get an effective stretch on the lower body after a workout.

Long and short of it: Used today as my rest day, a day earlier than planned. As long as I don't stiffen up again overnight, I can make up the swim tomorrow and take a ride and/or run Sunday. And, while I'm not going to dump the weight training from the schedule -- I really need to build the strength -- I'm going to approach new stuff much more warily next time.

Variety

One thing I quickly learned about triathlon training: It opens your eyes to a whole litany of athletic possibilities.

I'm an inveterate reader. Any time I take an interest in something, even at the pre-hobby stage, I bury myself in books, magazines, Web sites, etc. I picked up The Complete Idiot's Guide to Triathlon Training (click on the link to the left; you know you want to). Get Out There magazine I got at the bike show. I've since picked up Triathlete, Trail Running and Canadian Running's Trail Special.

Aside from a triathlon, I'd like to do some running, a 10k maybe. Canada Running Series has a 10 or 5k at the Metro Zoo in October; after the Island, that would make my two favourite Toronto landmarks. But the next weekend is the Run Ajax half-marathon and 5k, a Running Room trail run in the town where I grew up. Trail running has a particular appeal to me. Easier on the joints, a little more pastoral than street running.

Then, I don't know why, I became obsessed with cross-country skiing. This makes no sense. I hate winter about as much as I hate cold water (oops ... there's a problem). I've been waiting for summer for ages, and it's around the corner. Hell, it was 21 degrees today. Why the fixation with cross-country skiing?

I've never actually been nordic skiing. But a couple of maybe four years ago, when I lived up in North York, there was a yard sale. By Toronto standards, I was in the middle of nowhere, so I had to walk half an hour to Yonge and Sheppard when I needed something other than groceries. I think it was a screwdriver I was after; whatever. I passed this yard sale on the way out and promised myself I'd check it out on the way back.

It was abandoned by the time I got back, with a few leftover items propped up against a tree with a sign that said "Free." Among those items was a cross-country ski set -- skis, boot and poles. If the shoes fit, I told myself, I'll take 'em. They were a size 43 -- to this day, the best fitting footwear I have. So I took the kit.

Quality stuff, too. Salomon boots. Fischer skis. The poles I don't trust, but whatever. Is it old? The skis boast: "Fischer XC Skis: 6x Gold, Lake Placid". So at least I know it's no more than, what is that, 30 years old? However old, this is the year they get a workout. If, or course, it snows. But there's no point thinking about that now. It'll be upon us soon enough.

My First Brick

After the episode with the bike mechanic who called putting an aerobar on a hybrid "retarded," I thought I'd try elsewhere. So yesterday, after spending the morning cleaning -- serious cleaning -- I decided to wander up to Cycle Solutions on Parliament, with aerobar in hand, and ask if they thought I was retarded. (On the way up Parliament, I bumped into a protest march several hundred people strong. Jeez, I thought, they really don't want me to put on aerobar on this bike. Turned out it was the No One Is Illegal May Day March.) The bike fitter at Cycle Solutions did not call the idea retarded. Sure, he said, we'll put a straight bar in, and whatever compatibility issues there are, we'll work something out.


But I realized this morning that I shouldn't be getting my hardware tweaked if I'm not riding it in the first place. So after the rain stopped, I saddled up. The plan was out to Woodbine Park, lock the bike, run a kilometre, then ride back -- a brick workout of sorts.

For a change, things went pretty much to plan. I cut a pretty brisk pace out to Woodbine. It also gave me a chance to practice passing without drafting. In a triathlon, you can't draft off another rider, letting him cheat the wind for you; you have to maintain a three bike-length distance. Once you creep into that three-bike-length zone, you've got 15 seconds to execute your pass. The riders I passed weren't exactly traveling at race pace, but it was a useful exercise.

Off the bike, I'm pretty sure I didn't make it a kilometre. But I didn't feel uncomfortable switching from bike to run. It wasn't the classic T2 transition -- nobody stops to lock his bike and helmet to a stand at Kona, I'm pretty sure -- but it was ... well, fun. And good practice. And I'm marking the run down as a kilometre in my log anyway.

BTW ... Been checking my weight and body fat percentage per my log book. After remaining pretty much exactly the same for three weeks, I discovered this week I'd gained three pounds and my BF percentage had gone up a full point. In the absence of any other suspects, I'm blaming the Bacon-Infused Angus Burger at the Jersey Giant. Darryl actually grinds two pounds of bacon into the ground beef, and tops each patty with Cajun-battered onion rings. As I felt my left arm go numb ...

Dreaming is free ...

Had my first triathlon dream the other night. I didn't have my wetsuit. My transition wasn't set up. Pretty much a yawner for Jung.

Oh, and my daughter was trying to overthrow the government. Really not her style, but you never know with kids.