First of all, those were not waves. I'll get back to that.
I was totally unprepared, or, rather, overprepared, for the Finntriathlon half distance race. I am in the middle of intense preparation for the main event this season, which would be the Ironman Copenhagen on 18th Augusti.
Thus, I was putting in some hard training right up until the eve of the race. Even on Friday, I did some really hard running intervals and some easier swimming. Perhaps not the recommended preparation for a half distance triathlon, out of the beginners' guide.
The background is that I, after much consideration, finally came to the conclusion that I am far too partial and, I admit, too convenient, to be my own coach. Somewhere along the road, I became tired of dwindling results and injuries. So from now on fellow triathlete and triathlon coach Yan Busset will do the thinking for me as far as training programs go.
After only a couple of days I realize that I have done way too much lopsided, single speed, volume training – and far too little running and swimming with good quality. And my results are a mirror image of my training
And my performance in Joroinen, a little fatigued I might have been, really is the problems with my training thus far in a nutshell. It was actually the slowest time I have done on a half distance in years, not counting the hilly Half-Challenge Barcelona in May earlier this year.
It was really unbelievable to see the 1 000 participants on the beach of the Valvatus Lake and their bikes in the transition area in Joroinen, almost like an international race. The organisers had, wisely, it would turn out, chosen to have the start done in waves by category.
During the swim, though, it didn't seem to be a wise decision, because you immediately swam into the slower swimmers from the waves ahead of you. There was also some turbulence in the water, but it was like swimming in a bath tub compared to some rough sea swims I have done in the past. It might have cost a few seconds, but I don't agree at all with those who claim the swim was somehow difficult due to the waves. I think my swim was in line with my performances earlier this summer – 35 minutes.
The transition was super slow, even by my standards. The weather forecast was rain and +15 and I was being a sissy, pulling on a jersey and long sleeves.
I felt comfortable on the bike, however, and thanks to the wave starts there was not as much traffic as usual on the roads. In fact, there was amazingly little drafting and riding in groups this year, compared to earlier years. I perform best when I get to ride at my own pace (not least because I am one of those who actually respect other competitors and drop back if I get overtaken). I was easily able to maintain an average speed of 37,5 kph, despite some heavy winds at times. Easily, as my heart rate hovered around 145, and I didn't have to put in any effort to speak of.
The transition to running went a bit faster, with the help of a lot of baby powder in my shoes. I knew that people always rush out at the start of the run, but I was determined to maintain my own pace and do my own race. After all, this was intended as a practice run.
The run went according to plan, although considerably slower than I was able to run a couple of years ago. I have enough aerobic capacity, but my neuromuscular capacity is restraining me – i just can't run fast enough at the moment. Still, a little faster than in Barcelona, and feeling a little better.
Finishing the race, I was already looking forward to Copenhagen and, as well, to next season. There is much room for improvement, with some smarter and more variated training than before.
lördag 20 juli 2013
fredag 12 juli 2013
A good practice run
I have always had a thing with cold water. So I wasn't exactly thrilled to learn the water temperature in the Swedish lake Vättern was around 15 degrees two weeks before the Swedish championships long distance race in Motala.
If you are not perfectly familiar with the terminology of triathlon, the international long distance is a bit shorter than the famous ironman distance – however, the swim is a bit longer, 4K instead of 3,8K.
In the days leading up to the race, I was actually kind of hoping the water would not get any warmer, thus forcing the organizers to shorten the swim. Fat chance.
Somehow, race organizers always seem to be able to find the right spot in the water to measure the temperature. A couple of days before the race, the water temperature amazingly rose from 15 degrees to 16 degrees to 17 degrees.
My anxiety wasn't relieved by the fact my travelling companion, Kim Harju is a swim freak who thrives in exceptionally cold water. For me, comfortable temperature for a wet suit swim is around 20 degrees.
I got so desperate I got me one of those really gay and unaesthetic neoprene hoods, which you are allowed to wear under your swim cap. It really helps keeping your body temperature high, because, contrary to popular belief, you lose most heat via your head, not for example your fingers and toes.
On the race morning, the water temperature was 16,5 degrees while the air temperature was 15 degrees. Thus, the real water temperature was 16 degrees – precisely at the limit.
The start happened in the water, but I waited until the very last minute to jump into the lake. Besides, the organisers warned that there is a lot of glass on the bottom of the lake, so I wasn't about to be standing around in the water anyway.
It felt cold. Awfully cold. Fingers and toes disappeared after a couple of minutes. Good thing was, it was easy to navigate, because you could use landmarks, like a bridge and buildings on the shore, for navigation. Bad thing was, after one 2000 m lap I could not straighten my fingers any more – I was just dragging my limp hands through the water.
After a swim that felt like it would never end, I came out of the water and entered the transition area, mostly lucky to have made it without suffering hypothermia symptoms (done that, too). This time, the transition went quite fast, because I had, for the first time during my fifteen years of doing triathlons, tried to apply vaseline to my ankles. Thus, the wet suit came off quite nicely.
I went out as hard as I could on the bike and I was really flying, but soon I had to settle into a more gentle pace. Even though the course was quite flat, it was somewhat windy, and there were some rather technical corners which slowed me down.
Most of the traffic was redirected, but there were a few segments where there was plenty of traffic and it could have gotten really ugly. There were a couple of roundabouts, where you had to cross your way around the slower cars. Needless to say, the drivers didn't seem to care about the race happening all around them.
It was noteworthy to see how little drafting there was, compared to most races in Finland and, also, most Ironman races around Europe. The draft zone was exceptionally 12 meters, and I didn't think I saw anyone breaking that rule. Of course, there were only around 250 athletes on the road, and it was a 4 times 30 km bike course. But I think it is a matter of respect – as soon as you overtook someone, they fell back and didn't hang on to your draft zone.
Except for the wind, the weather was really good for racing. I soon got warm and was able to raise my cadence and speed during the second and third lap. Of course, a thunder storm was rising and soon cold rain was pouring down. The temperature dropped to around 10 degrees, and I praised myself for having to foresight to don long sleeves.
The rain was intense, but short. As the bike leg was nearing the end, the wet asphalt was steaming in the sun. My heart rate was approaching 150 beats per minute, up from around 135 at the beginning of the bike leg. I finished the bike leg with an average speed of 35 kph, which was perhaps a little bit less than expected.
Still, 120K felt like quite a trip, and I couldn't escape the thought it was merely a third of an ironman bike leg. As I approached transition, though, I was more acutely worried about how I would manage my first 30K run in almost two years.
Returning to the transition are, I found my running shoes and gear soaking wet. As I set out for the run, I heard a splashing sound from the water in my K-Swiss shoes.
As expected, I felt stiff and uncomfortable. But as the rule of thumb goes, it is normal to feel awful during the first 1-2 kilometers, but after that, as your neurological system, your blood flow and your muscles adapt to running, it gets easier.
The false high usually hits you after 5 kilometers, when you start hitting your stride and do not feel any fatigue yet. That is when you manage to pace yourself – otherwise it will come back to haunt you later on in the race.
I didn't. And it came back to haunt me.
Problem is, at the moment I am a much faster cyclist than runner. Consequently, I overtook dozens of competitors during the bike leg, only to turn into a slalom pin at the beginning of the run. And, although you know you should race your own race, it is hard to fight your instincts to put up a fight when someone overtakes you.
First 15K went well, but then the backlash hit me. The only really positive thing at that stage was that the run course turned out to be a 3 times 10K affair. Somehow I had gotten the perception it would be a psychologically challenging 4 times 7,5K.
And then another thunder storm hit us, like the wrath of the viking gods. Suddenly, it was freezing cold again and my shoes and socks were all covered in mud as the run course swirled through a park and a forest area near the shore of Vättern.
If the last 5K of the second lap was a battle, the last 10K lap was mayhem. I was at the stage where people seem to be walking by you and every single step hurts a bit. And then, you may have guessed it, yet another thunder storm hit us. And this was bad. The wind was whipping rain into our faces as we ran along the shore towards the finish line.
But it is always fun to race in Sweden. The atmosphere is really good, spectators and competitors are supportive. Of course, you may feel a sting of hurt pride when someone overtakes you and quips "good job, keep going". But compare that to, say, last weeks Helsinki Triathlon Cup sprint, where somebody actually hit me during the swim after I had accidentally touched his toes.
Somehow I battled my way back to the finish area and crossed the goal line in a, somewhat disappointing, time of 7.46,34. However, as I stood in the goal area, champing strawberries, I comforted myself with having accomplished the most important goals for the day.
One was surviving the swim and proving to myself I can manage cold water. A second was to complete the 30K run, as a preparation for the Ironman Copenhagen in August. It hurt, but it was a good workout ahead of Copenhagen. Hopefully, the weather will be more pleasant in Denmark.
If you are not perfectly familiar with the terminology of triathlon, the international long distance is a bit shorter than the famous ironman distance – however, the swim is a bit longer, 4K instead of 3,8K.
In the days leading up to the race, I was actually kind of hoping the water would not get any warmer, thus forcing the organizers to shorten the swim. Fat chance.
Somehow, race organizers always seem to be able to find the right spot in the water to measure the temperature. A couple of days before the race, the water temperature amazingly rose from 15 degrees to 16 degrees to 17 degrees.
My anxiety wasn't relieved by the fact my travelling companion, Kim Harju is a swim freak who thrives in exceptionally cold water. For me, comfortable temperature for a wet suit swim is around 20 degrees.
I got so desperate I got me one of those really gay and unaesthetic neoprene hoods, which you are allowed to wear under your swim cap. It really helps keeping your body temperature high, because, contrary to popular belief, you lose most heat via your head, not for example your fingers and toes.
On the race morning, the water temperature was 16,5 degrees while the air temperature was 15 degrees. Thus, the real water temperature was 16 degrees – precisely at the limit.
The start happened in the water, but I waited until the very last minute to jump into the lake. Besides, the organisers warned that there is a lot of glass on the bottom of the lake, so I wasn't about to be standing around in the water anyway.
It felt cold. Awfully cold. Fingers and toes disappeared after a couple of minutes. Good thing was, it was easy to navigate, because you could use landmarks, like a bridge and buildings on the shore, for navigation. Bad thing was, after one 2000 m lap I could not straighten my fingers any more – I was just dragging my limp hands through the water.
After a swim that felt like it would never end, I came out of the water and entered the transition area, mostly lucky to have made it without suffering hypothermia symptoms (done that, too). This time, the transition went quite fast, because I had, for the first time during my fifteen years of doing triathlons, tried to apply vaseline to my ankles. Thus, the wet suit came off quite nicely.
I went out as hard as I could on the bike and I was really flying, but soon I had to settle into a more gentle pace. Even though the course was quite flat, it was somewhat windy, and there were some rather technical corners which slowed me down.
Most of the traffic was redirected, but there were a few segments where there was plenty of traffic and it could have gotten really ugly. There were a couple of roundabouts, where you had to cross your way around the slower cars. Needless to say, the drivers didn't seem to care about the race happening all around them.
It was noteworthy to see how little drafting there was, compared to most races in Finland and, also, most Ironman races around Europe. The draft zone was exceptionally 12 meters, and I didn't think I saw anyone breaking that rule. Of course, there were only around 250 athletes on the road, and it was a 4 times 30 km bike course. But I think it is a matter of respect – as soon as you overtook someone, they fell back and didn't hang on to your draft zone.
Except for the wind, the weather was really good for racing. I soon got warm and was able to raise my cadence and speed during the second and third lap. Of course, a thunder storm was rising and soon cold rain was pouring down. The temperature dropped to around 10 degrees, and I praised myself for having to foresight to don long sleeves.
The rain was intense, but short. As the bike leg was nearing the end, the wet asphalt was steaming in the sun. My heart rate was approaching 150 beats per minute, up from around 135 at the beginning of the bike leg. I finished the bike leg with an average speed of 35 kph, which was perhaps a little bit less than expected.
Returning to the transition are, I found my running shoes and gear soaking wet. As I set out for the run, I heard a splashing sound from the water in my K-Swiss shoes.
As expected, I felt stiff and uncomfortable. But as the rule of thumb goes, it is normal to feel awful during the first 1-2 kilometers, but after that, as your neurological system, your blood flow and your muscles adapt to running, it gets easier.
The false high usually hits you after 5 kilometers, when you start hitting your stride and do not feel any fatigue yet. That is when you manage to pace yourself – otherwise it will come back to haunt you later on in the race.
I didn't. And it came back to haunt me.
Problem is, at the moment I am a much faster cyclist than runner. Consequently, I overtook dozens of competitors during the bike leg, only to turn into a slalom pin at the beginning of the run. And, although you know you should race your own race, it is hard to fight your instincts to put up a fight when someone overtakes you.
First 15K went well, but then the backlash hit me. The only really positive thing at that stage was that the run course turned out to be a 3 times 10K affair. Somehow I had gotten the perception it would be a psychologically challenging 4 times 7,5K.
And then another thunder storm hit us, like the wrath of the viking gods. Suddenly, it was freezing cold again and my shoes and socks were all covered in mud as the run course swirled through a park and a forest area near the shore of Vättern.
If the last 5K of the second lap was a battle, the last 10K lap was mayhem. I was at the stage where people seem to be walking by you and every single step hurts a bit. And then, you may have guessed it, yet another thunder storm hit us. And this was bad. The wind was whipping rain into our faces as we ran along the shore towards the finish line.
But it is always fun to race in Sweden. The atmosphere is really good, spectators and competitors are supportive. Of course, you may feel a sting of hurt pride when someone overtakes you and quips "good job, keep going". But compare that to, say, last weeks Helsinki Triathlon Cup sprint, where somebody actually hit me during the swim after I had accidentally touched his toes.
Somehow I battled my way back to the finish area and crossed the goal line in a, somewhat disappointing, time of 7.46,34. However, as I stood in the goal area, champing strawberries, I comforted myself with having accomplished the most important goals for the day.
One was surviving the swim and proving to myself I can manage cold water. A second was to complete the 30K run, as a preparation for the Ironman Copenhagen in August. It hurt, but it was a good workout ahead of Copenhagen. Hopefully, the weather will be more pleasant in Denmark.
Return to action
Watching the two meters high waves crushing into the shore, I realized my first race in 1,5 years could be a difficult one. The bike course had been changed as well – instead of the familiar, flat route along the coast, the bike course consisted of one 90 km lap in a beautiful, but hilly natural park near Calella.
The season before had been spoiled by a stress fracture in my heel bone, and my winter training had been punctuated by difficulties and small setbacks. I was especially unsure of my running, not even having been able to run a single road race.
Of course, I chose to make my comeback in a half ironman race. Accept no less. I chose a familiar race, the Barcelona Half-Challenge in Calella, a bit north of Barcelona. There were more participants than ever before, since it was simultaneously the European Championship race. Consequently, the organizers had a really hard time keeping their time schedules – I had to stand in queue more than one hour in order to get my race kit.
Come race morning, the wind had calmed down, but the waves were still killer size. As is the practice in the Challenge Family events, the start happened in start waves of approximately 300 participants. As the start signal was fired, I run into the water – only to be thrown backwards a couple of meters by the first wave. It was a battle to get to the first buoy, but then, further out to the sea, swimming parallel to the shore, it was a bit easier.
Another surprise for me was how cold the water was. I was struck by the familiar ice cream headache immediately when I started swimming, and by the time I got within sighting distance of the transition area my fingers and toes were all numb. I would guess around +15 degrees – I never realized the Mediterranean could be that cold.
I finished the 1,9K swim in 37,21, which is horribly slow even for me. In order to further complicate issues, my fingers were so numb and weak it took me minutes to get my wet suit pulled over my ankles.
Shivering, I went out as hard as I could on the bike in order to get warm. I overtook dozens of competitors, which is not unusual.
The climbing started early, and there were three hard climbs. One of them reached 700 meters, the two other climbs were merely 500 meters. I had no option but to be humble and rely on the small chain ring.
Moreover, the descents were really nasty. Not dangerous or fast, just technical and slow. They weren't the usual type of serpentines you will find in the mountains, where you can accelerate, brake, and accelerate again. Rather, the road was circling it's way down, never allowing you to get your speed up. Also, because of the long, slow descents, I was never really able to get warm.
I didn't fancy the bike course very much. Maybe someone found satisfaction in the beautiful forests and the silent roads, but for me, I felt this particular type of terrain doesn't suit me. I wasn't able to get into a good rhytm, which is also proven by my heart rate – i finished the bike leg with an average heart rate of 133.
My bike split time was a ridiculous 2.53,01, which is not at all comparable to the 2.22 bike split I had back in 2011 on the old bike course in Calella. On the positive side of things, I had saved a lot of energy for the 21K run.
I felt fresh at the start of the run leg, and felt comfortable with a pace around 4.55 min/km. The first 10K lap went smoothly, but somehow I knew the shortcomings in my run training would catch up with me. During the last 10K, i managed to keep the pace, but I got a lot of pains and cramping in my legs.
I finished in a very mediocre time of 5.26,10, which would be the slowest half ironman I have ever done. But times are not comparable, since the circumstances were very different to any race I have done before.
All in all, it was a decent return to competition and a good drill for things to come. More than anything, a good workout.
The season before had been spoiled by a stress fracture in my heel bone, and my winter training had been punctuated by difficulties and small setbacks. I was especially unsure of my running, not even having been able to run a single road race.
Of course, I chose to make my comeback in a half ironman race. Accept no less. I chose a familiar race, the Barcelona Half-Challenge in Calella, a bit north of Barcelona. There were more participants than ever before, since it was simultaneously the European Championship race. Consequently, the organizers had a really hard time keeping their time schedules – I had to stand in queue more than one hour in order to get my race kit.
Come race morning, the wind had calmed down, but the waves were still killer size. As is the practice in the Challenge Family events, the start happened in start waves of approximately 300 participants. As the start signal was fired, I run into the water – only to be thrown backwards a couple of meters by the first wave. It was a battle to get to the first buoy, but then, further out to the sea, swimming parallel to the shore, it was a bit easier.
Another surprise for me was how cold the water was. I was struck by the familiar ice cream headache immediately when I started swimming, and by the time I got within sighting distance of the transition area my fingers and toes were all numb. I would guess around +15 degrees – I never realized the Mediterranean could be that cold.
I finished the 1,9K swim in 37,21, which is horribly slow even for me. In order to further complicate issues, my fingers were so numb and weak it took me minutes to get my wet suit pulled over my ankles.
Shivering, I went out as hard as I could on the bike in order to get warm. I overtook dozens of competitors, which is not unusual.
The climbing started early, and there were three hard climbs. One of them reached 700 meters, the two other climbs were merely 500 meters. I had no option but to be humble and rely on the small chain ring.
Moreover, the descents were really nasty. Not dangerous or fast, just technical and slow. They weren't the usual type of serpentines you will find in the mountains, where you can accelerate, brake, and accelerate again. Rather, the road was circling it's way down, never allowing you to get your speed up. Also, because of the long, slow descents, I was never really able to get warm.
I didn't fancy the bike course very much. Maybe someone found satisfaction in the beautiful forests and the silent roads, but for me, I felt this particular type of terrain doesn't suit me. I wasn't able to get into a good rhytm, which is also proven by my heart rate – i finished the bike leg with an average heart rate of 133.
My bike split time was a ridiculous 2.53,01, which is not at all comparable to the 2.22 bike split I had back in 2011 on the old bike course in Calella. On the positive side of things, I had saved a lot of energy for the 21K run.
I felt fresh at the start of the run leg, and felt comfortable with a pace around 4.55 min/km. The first 10K lap went smoothly, but somehow I knew the shortcomings in my run training would catch up with me. During the last 10K, i managed to keep the pace, but I got a lot of pains and cramping in my legs.
I finished in a very mediocre time of 5.26,10, which would be the slowest half ironman I have ever done. But times are not comparable, since the circumstances were very different to any race I have done before.
All in all, it was a decent return to competition and a good drill for things to come. More than anything, a good workout.
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