Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Everything you've done wrong, baby

From that four-in-the-morning moment when I decided I wasn't ready for the swim, I was determined to analyze what mistakes I'd made along the road. I was on vacation with my daughter last week, so I didn't much think about it. But I'd already got a handle on many of the sometimes contradictory mistakes I'd made.

I focused too much on the swim. I never took the cycling training seriously, figuring I was good enough on the bike. (My first spinning class this afternoon disabused me of that notion. Holy Hannah.) I eased off on the running when I encountered a some knee pain. These both hurt my swim; I wasn't getting the aerobic cross-training benefits.

I didn't focus properly on the swim. I was dealing with a distance target; once I found a flailing, dog paddle/breast stroke hybrid that got me across the pool, I beat that into the ground, hoping it could get me the distance. I should have focused on technique, learned a proper front crawl, and let the distance come. (It still might not have come in time, and I still might have had to pull the plug, but I'd be further along now. As it stands, it's back to Square 1, and I don't mean in Mississauga.

I peaked too early. I was in my best condition about five weeks before the race. Let's face it, when you haven't spent any consistent time at the gym in 30 years, going five times a week for more than 15 weeks is a little much. My training tailed off after that, too. I was just damned tired.

I started too late. Not too late in the sense of a training schedule; too late in the grand scheme of things. I was cumulatively too old and too out of shape. I don't mean to say I can't do it. It just took longer than I thought to get a base level of conditioning. Guess what Job 1 is?


I didn't take it seriously enough, especially nutrition-wise. Beer robs your body of the ability to store glycogen. Beer is also cold and fresh and tasty. Did I cut back? Um ... maybe a little. Certainly not enough. Hence, five months of five-a-week workouts and I still have a belly. I did, though, take eating regularly more seriously. I still spend half my day at work eating. More grain (I wasn't much of a bread-eater). More fish and vegetables. More peanut butter than is strictly necessary. Lotsa yogurt and chocolate milk. I'm about 163 now, up about 13 pounds. I should probably get back to about 155.

I didn't get strong enough. I didn't spend enough time on the weights. This, too, was brought to my attention by the spinning session. When the others stood to pedal, I couldn't. My legs didn't have it. (If you think you're in good shape, take a spinning class. It exposes all kinds of shortcomings.)


So ... now, I've got, say, eight or nine months till I'm likely to run a triathlon. No rushing to hit a distance target. Build base conditioning (boy, was that spinning class a wake-up call). Get technique right. Sort out the nutrition. And spend a couple days a week at spin class.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

A very difficult decision

SCENE: Press conference. REPORTERS are jockeying for position near the dais, mumbling "peas and carrots, peas and carrots" in order to sound like a louder crowd. PR FLACK comes to the dais, grasps the microphone on a gooseneck stand, which emits a howl of feedback


PR FLACK: Thank you. That was Dazed and Confused, by Led Zeppelin. If you'll come to order, at least as close to order as you ink-stained wretches can manage with the promise of two drink tickets, Fishbelly White will make a statement. If you'll shut the f--- up for 30 seconds. Mr. White?


FBW: Call me Fish. The irony will become apparent shortly. (Clears throat) As you all are aware, as you're figments of my imagination, 19-1/2 weeks ago I declared the goal of going from chain-smoking, beer-drinking couch potato to triathlete in 20 weeks. It is with much regret that I have determined that my swimming skills are not adequate to cover 400m in Lake Ontario, and rather than become involved in a scenario which involves dredging and questions as to what the hell I was thinking, I have withdrawn from the Toronto Island Give-It-A-Tri. Twenty weeks was long enough to get into shape. Wasn't long enough to learn how to swim.


REPORTER 1: How do you feel? Are you disappointed?


FBW: How do you think I feel, ya yutz? I'm disappointed on a scale you can't imagine in your pointy little head. On the bright side, I didn't drown. This gives me a warm feeling inside.


REPORTER 2: Is this the end of your triathlon career?


FBW: Buddy --  and by "Buddy," I mean, "Jackass" -- my triathlon career hasn't even started. If I've learned anything from being a Brett Favre fan, it's that it ain't over until it's over, unless it's over, in which case, it might not be over.


REPORTER 2: That answer made my head hurt.


FBW: Good. You should have an aneurysm. Putz.

REPORTER 3: Do you think you made errors in your training plan?


FBW: What, you all came off a short bus? Of course I made errors in my training plan. I'll start analyzing them as soon as I stop crying myself to sleep and post them on my blog, like anyone will read it now.


REPORTER 1: What would you say to Fargo, who's participating in a Give-It-A-Try in Cobourg two weeks from now?


FBW: Fargo ... this is my decision. It shouldn't affect yours. Go kick some ass, even if it's your own. And thank whatever's holy this week you don't have to put up with imaginary reporters.

Yeah ... been a bad week.Two nights I didn't sleep, vacillating between I absolutely can do this and I absolutely cannot. I haven't made 200m consistently in the pool for the last month; at best, I was betting there was a 50 per cent chance I could make it half way, which would have been irresponsible.I am going over for the race though. I'll volunteer if they let me.

I'm not done. I will try again. I'm going camping with my daughter this week, but eventually, I'll start analyzing what I did wrong. I'll learn to swim properly, instead of flailing for distance. I'll post more links here, too, instead of making it a diary of someone who can't swim 400m.

It ain't over ...

Friday, August 6, 2010

Last post ....

... till after the race.

Not sure I have anything to say at this point. I am not sure I can make it through the 400m swim. That's it, that's all. If I can, I finish. If not, it's a DNF. Which is still a personal best.

I had an encouraging chat with Hank Cunningham the other day. Hank's a financial genius, author, avid cyclist and repentant marathoner. He's possibly the most centred person I've ever met. When I have some time and I'm not so horribly self-possessed, there are many links I will post that speak to Hank's contribution to a world worth living in.

Hank is one of those people who draws your worries out of you without asking. And I was worried. I don't think I can do this, I told him.

He told me about his first marathon, years ago. It involved a lot of walking and lessons learned. And he told me: Try as best you can. That's the measure. If you can't do it, the worst thing that can happen is ... you try again. But it's about you, nobody else.

I set as one of my goals to shame myself into shape. I have accomplished that. Okay, good shape, not great shape, but a helluva lot better than I was. I've also made fitness a habit. That comforts me. And, in a way, sentences me to a forever of swimming, running, weights, etc.

It's made me recognize how important the YMCA is in our community. I want to contribute now.

And -- I feel like I'm bragging now, but I'm not (I hope) ... Several of my friends have told me I've inspired them. That wasn't what I set out to do, but, really, that's what I should have set out to do. I love my friends.

So ... Here I go. Thanks for reading, and I'll let you know how it comes out.

I don't want to end  this post.