10 steps to a perfect race

I am a crossword puzzle and Scrabble fanatic; I love words. For that reason, the other day, for no other reason than mild curiosity, I entered “cool words” into Google to see what might pop up. To my utter surprise, there are actual websites dedicated to “cool words”. Some of the words are unusually long, while others just sound funny. Upon perusing one of the lists, I came across this word: syzygy. I was unfamiliar with this strangely spelled and hard to pronounce word and was interested in its definition. Syzygy, in astronomy, is a straight line configuration of three celestial bodies, the sun, the moon and the earth during a solar or lunar eclipse.  I thought more about this word and its relationship to triathlon and I realized that a perfect race requires syzygy.

Perfect races truly are as rare as an eclipse. In my career, part of what keeps me coming back for more, year after year, is the search for that perfect race. My count of perfect races is two. Two! Those are terrible odds when you consider the hundreds of races I have competed in over the years. However, when you consider all that can happen during a race –flat tire, GI distress, crappy weather, feeling tired, injury, illness, poor training, poor pacing – it is surprising that any race ever goes right. But, the notion of a perfect race is tantalizing and so I persist, yearning for a perfect day, a day where exogenous factors do not derail me and my body carries me through to the finish line in a personal best.

My first perfect race was the Chicago Triathlon in 1998. It was my rookie season as a professional and I had yet to attain a big result. On that humid August day, I had a breakthrough performance. I swam and biked with the leaders and started the run feeling like I was floating. As I reached the finish line area after the first lap of the four lap run, such was my anonymity, the announcer said “We have our first lady coming through. I’m not sure her name.  I’ll look that up and get back to you.”  Three laps later, I cruised across the line with my arms in air and a huge smile on my face. Yes, syzygy propelled to my first win as a professional. Nothing stood in my way that day, everything was in alignment.

That day seemed so easy. I had no idea, naïve as I was, how incredibly difficult it would be to match a day such as that one. My career was dotted with big achievements and other wins, but none were accompanied by syzygy.

It took ten years to find another race that would unfold with the flawlessness that leads to perfection.  That race was the 2008 Ironman 70.3 World Championships. An early season assault on qualifying for the Beijing Olympics ended prematurely when I didn’t make the team. I switched my focus to 70.3 races, arguably my best distance. With a few mid-season 70.3 wins under my belt, and a long stretch of confidence boosting workouts, I toed the line in Clearwater ready to race. Similar to my perfect day in Chicago, on this day, I swam and biked at the front of the race. Ten steps into the run I knew I was going to win. It never entered my mind otherwise, and I sailed through the race with that assurance. It was a record breaking day for me; there was no way of knowing that it was the harbinger of a career ending injury. Fortunately, though, no longer the naive rookie from a decade ago, I savored every single emotional moment of crossing the finish line first in a World Championship.

Here are 10 steps to achieve your perfect day:

1. Make sure you are well rested on race day
2. Get all of your equipment checked out
3. Decide on a nutritional plan and practice it in training
4. Don’t race sick or injured
5. Don’t get greedy in training and start overdoing it thereby leaving your race at home
6. Come up with a race plan and stick to it
7. Don't let nerves get in your way
8. Know the course
9. Mentally prepare for the perfect race through visualization
10. Have confidence

And, of course, it helps to have some race day syzygy on your side.

Rock 'n' Roll LA race report

My sister Laurie, me, Sari, Shana

The most popular costume at the Rock ‘n’ Roll Halloween LA half marathon, hands down, was a tutu. They came in all colors and sizes and I saw them on fast runners, slower runners, men, women, heavy set individuals and Skinny Minnie’s. Other people were more creative with their costumes, dressing as superheroes or Disney characters. I got into the Halloween spirit by dressing as a runner.

This dude had to be hot. It was 85 at the finish!

I used this race as a gauge of post-operative fitness leading into the California International Marathon. Studying the course profile prior to the race, I knew that the course would dictate my pace and that a steady effort and even splits would not be possible. My plan was to run fast on the down hills and maintain a solid effort on the up hills. A further potential difficulty was the small elite women’s field, of which I was the slowest runner, and finding a running partner. I knew there was a distinct possibility I would get caught in no man’s land and run the race alone.

Shortly after the gun went off, my fear of a solo effort were allayed when another runner engaged me in conversation.

Runner: Are you Joanna?

Me: Yes.

Runner: What are you planning on running?

Me: Hopefully 1:17.

Runner: I want to run 1:15, but let’s run together.

Me: Sounds great! What’s your name?

Runner: Taos. Like the city.

We reached the first mile in a very rapid 5:30ish and the second mile in about 5:45. Our conversation continued then.

Taos: Wow that was really fast.

Me: Don’t worry. We have to turn around and run back up this thing!

Taos: Oh, I didn’t think about that!

Needless to say, pace dramatically slowed. After reaching 5k in a swift 18:05, we retraced our path back up the road hitting the next 5k in 18:55, and the big hills hadn’t even started yet. Mile 6 to 7 was a terrible grind and I was elated to finally make the turn and start another downhill section. On the course profile, there is a tiny little bump around the turnaround at mile 9.5. In my mental preparation, I thought, “how bad can this little blip be?” When we rounded the corner and the bridge came into view, I realized that the tiny bump was not so tiny. I grunted my way over the bridge and was very happy to make the turn back down.

The only place I faltered was from mile 11 to 12. It was uphill, and my legs started to tire. Taos pulled away from me, but I decided I would use the downhill on last mile to try to catch back up, which eventually I did, until he dropped me with a few hundred meters left. Thanks for the pacing, Taos.

Rock ‘n’ Roll does a most impressive job with their races. The aid stations were well stocked, well placed, and well managed. The parking situation in the morning was seamless. I went for a post-race warm down jog on the front part of the course and witnessed the clean-up operation. Trucks were on hand to remove cones, clean up cups and wash the street. It was done methodically and quickly. All remnants of the race were gone in a flash.

The most important race feature though? Porta potties. They were everywhere. Thousands of them lined up like soldiers. No matter which way you turned, there were porta potties waiting for users, and not the usual lines of racers hopping impatiently from foot to foot looking at their watches, wondering why the person in the bathroom is taking so damn long (seriously, though, what does take so long? Reading the paper?).

And, thanks to race management, I procured some VIP bands for myself, my sister and the two other people that were with us. The VIP tent provided porta potties, a bag drop, plenty of drinks, and a fantastic post-race spread. The coffee was even tasty.

I ran a best time of 1:18.20. While this was a little off my goal pace, the course was hillier and hotter than I anticipated. The race did give me confidence for the marathon, though, and overall I am pleased with how the day unfolded.

7 steps to dealing with a chronic injury

Do you remember the book Flowers for Algernon? It is the story of a man with an IQ below 70 who undergoes an operation which triples his IQ. Over time, though, his IQ starts to drop and returns to its original level. I read the book way back in junior high, but I still vividly recall feeling compassion for this man who suffered so much. I cannot help but think about this story with regards to my injury. I had an operation which corrected a problem, but, a little part of me wonders if it is all too good to be true and my body will revert back to its pre-surgical state.

Long term injuries undoubtedly change a person; I know, at the very least, it changed me. While the injury itself was not psychological, there assuredly was a psychological component; injuries indeed wreak havoc on the mind as well as the body. Chronic pain, a failing body, and an inability to perform tasks that were once achievable all had a profound impact. Ten weeks have passed since surgery, and I am feeling like a new and improved model of myself, like a JZ 2.0. But. There is still dread and worry. Might the neuroma come back?

The fear is illogical, yet it still lingers. I am past the point of waking up in the morning and hoping it will be a good day. I have moved beyond hoping that I will be able to perform my run and swim workouts without pain getting in the way. I can lift heavy object, I can twist and turn, heck, I can even do pull ups, which is no small feat because I couldn’t even do them before the injury.

Despite reaching milestone after milestone, the little voice in my head still wonders if I will have the same fate as the man in Flowers for Algernon. I am not sure how much time has to pass before the thoughts dwindle into thin air.

Anyone who has faced an injury knows what I am talking about. The injury can be in your foot, but if you have a hangnail all of the sudden you are petrified the foot injury is back. The irrational thought process is this: at any moment, without warning, the injury will rear its ugly head. The problem is that athletes are controlling. We like to feel that we have control over our bodies, our workouts, and our destiny.  Injuries end up controlling us, a terrible turn of events that is hard to cope with. In fact, if the injury is serious enough or lasts long enough, an athlete can go through the five stages of grief: (1) denial, (2) anger, (3) grief, (4) depression, and (5) reintegration. I went through all five of those stages, sometimes all in one day.

I learned a lot during my tenure on the disabled list, that there is so much that can be done to make an injury less noxious and allow you to take back some control.

1.     It is imperative to get a proper diagnosis. This step cannot be ignored and can take a very long time. Until there is a diagnosis, it is difficult to treat the injury or know the long term prognosis. Don’t give up on this step, even if it means seeing or talking to multiple doctors. I interacted with over a dozen physicians before I found The One.
2.    Once you know what you are dealing with, make an action plan. Determine how long recovery should take. Read up on the injury until you are an expert.  You need to understand how it happened, how to make it better and how to prevent it in the future.
3.    Find good rehab therapists. Massages, acupuncture, PT all play an important role in recovery. I used all of those modalities with a lot of success.
4.    Be diligent with rehab exercises. I work on rehab every single day. I hate it. It works.
5.    Find other ways to get your exercise fix. One of the biggest problems with an injury is the inability to get the endorphins we love so much. Be creative and find other activities that you enjoy or somewhat enjoy and embrace it/them. Doing something is better than doing nothing. I despise walking, but I made it a huge part of my daily activities when I could not do anything else.
6.    Don’t ever give up. Long term injuries, by the very nature of their name, last for extended periods of time. It is easy to become disheartened and lose faith that there will be a conclusion.
7.    A positive attitude goes a long way in recovery. Believing in yourself, even when others do not believe in you, is probably the most pivotal step in the process. If you know you will get better, eventually you will.

Stand by your man? Not this time.

The Lance Armstrong saga had me riveted from the start. I watched agog as he swept the top step of the podium so many years in succession. I eagerly participated in the circular discussions of “did he or didn’t he dope.” On the one hand I wanted to believe his accolades came from the combination of God given talent and relentless hard work. But, on the other, as a professional athlete not only at the pinnacle of my sport but also privy to training regimens and heartache of countless Olympians and World Champions, I knew from the point of view of an insider, what he accomplished was not physiologically possible without pharmaceutical aid.

The speculation of decades of wins at the mercy of so many dopers finishing behind him has now been laid to rest. The verdict is in via USADA’s in depth analysis: Lance is guilty. This was not a revelation for me, but for many others this information was a slap in the face as a hero has fallen. There are still those doubters who insist he never failed a drug test so he must be innocent. Or those who want to give him a pass because he survived cancer and has become the disease’s most coveted spokesperson. Others paint a picture of a victim of a witch hunt, “leave him alone!” they say.

My opinions on the Armstrong case are strong and unwavering:  cheaters in sport deserve to pay their penance. In cycling, many great riders endured an exile from their sport for making the faulty decision to dope.  Why should Lance be above them? As a leader of the doping program on his cycling teams, his crimes were abundantly worse than the brave riders who came forward with their tales of drug use.

There are some that are still riding the coattails of the Lance Armstrong brand. This is what bothers me the most. With all of the cards on the table, the evidence is now irrefutable. By continuing to align with Lance, it sends the wrong kind of message to fledgling athletes; it is ok to cheat in sports as long as you have a compelling back story and then do something benevolent. Would Bernie Madoff’s crimes have been less heinous if he had been a charitable sporting hero? I think the hundreds of scammed people who lost millions of dollars would not give Madoff a pass under any conditions. Yet, Armstrong’s years of fraud are not any different. He scammed companies out of sponsorship dollars. He scammed riders out of prize money. He scammed riders that wanted to race clean. He scammed the hearts of the general public who viewed him with awe and wonder. It is incongruous to be anti-drug and laud Lance.

You may take my comments as unduly harsh. They aren't. Drugs and sports have been contentious partners for decades. Undoing this illicit partnership cannot occur without making changes, and changes have to occur at the very highest level. Exposing Lance and his systematic doping program sends a blatant message: eventually you will pay the price for dishonest activities. USADA has been called all sorts of unseemly names and their actions have been described as unconstitutional. I applaud USADA’s efforts. It was not in the best interest of American sports to bring down an international hero, yet they forged on to grab hold of the truth. Undoubtedly, there are flaws in the USADA system, but every organization has its faults. Ultimately, they did what they were mandated to do: catch drug cheats.

It is always a sad day when the skeleton’s in an icon’s closet are paraded around in the public eye. Tiger Woods, Marion Jones, Barry Bonds, Mark McGuire, Michael Vick. The ones that confessed have been able to pick up the pieces and resume their stature, albeit wounded. So, to Lance I say this: please, come forward and confess; it will make the end of the movie so much better.

Race report: Equinox half marathon

The inaugural Equinox half marathon was a blast. Every fledgling race has growing pains, and this one certainly had a few kinks, but overall the organization was flawless even with the logistical nightmare that comes with a point to point course. The buses that transported us from the parking area left on time. The drive was long, 45 minutes, as the pickup was 10 miles from the finish area due to lack of parking at the finish site. But, the bus was comfortably warm, even bordering on cozy. I cranked my iPod and watched from the window as we drove the course in reverse.

The impetus for choosing this particular race was the downhill course profile. As one friend suggested, I could tuck and roll my way from the start to the finish. I love downhill running and as we drove up Poudre Canyon (pronounced Pooter, not as it looks, as I was politely corrected) I came to fully appreciate how much downhill this course offered. Unfortunately, the first half of the course is markedly steeper and faster than the second half, lulling me into a false sense of my capabilities on the day.

I won’t lie, when the gun went off, I went out like a caged tiger. Perhaps it was the excitement of racing again after a long layoff. Perhaps it was consistently faster workouts. Perhaps it was renewed confidence from putting to rest a long term injury. Perhaps it was just plain stupidity. Anyway you look at it, I had no business running the first 10k in 36:34. I haven’t run an open 10k that fast in quite some time, so my legs were not prepared for that kind of beating. I reasoned that eventually I would like to run an entire 13.1 miles at that pace and I had to start somewhere.

I paid the price big time. Not only was the back half of the course less drastically downhill, but the wind shifted from a nice tail wind to a menacing headwind. My legs ached, my lungs burned, I tried my best to hold it together despite the protestations from my body.

I embraced every moan and groan. It was a delight compared to the things I endured before I had surgery. This time, the discomfort was in my control. I could ease off the throttle and make the hurt stop if I so decided, which, of course, I didn’t.  I crossed the line in second with a time of 1:19.22. Diesel the Dog was so excited to see me when I crossed the line you would’ve thought I was gone on a 6 month expedition, not a 13.1 mile jaunt.

In terms of improving the race? More aid stations that are better equipped. Over the 4 aid stations on the course, I ended up with 2.5 sips of water. Each was filled with thimble full of water and the mouth of the cup was so wide that when I tipped the cup back to sip the drops of water more of it ended up on my face rather than in my mouth. At one aid station I tried to grab two cups, but the volunteer seemed startled by my presence she just dropped it on the ground. I was so dehydrated after the race that I didn’t pee until 4 hours after I finished and that was after pounding water, Izze , V8 (an IV drip in a can) and my favorite post-race recovery drink, coffee.

The course itself was a delight. Poudre Canyon is interesting, with a flowing river and magnificent rock formations. The damage from the fires earlier this year was evident all along the course, with huge patches of charred ground interspersed into areas that were untouched.

The most important aspect of this race was validating what I already knew from training: my rib is better. Despite the continued positive feedback I received on a consistent basis from training and daily living, I was not going to know for certain that the surgery worked until I pushed myself in a race. For the first time in 3 years, I raced without fear, unburdened by an injury that tried to own me. What a relief.

Getting back in shape, sort of

A three year injury that culminates in a surgical procedure wreaks a lot of havoc on the body. In light of that, I have been on a rampage to get back in shape. To be fair, prior to surgery I was not out of shape per se. I was, I suppose, out of condition or not sharp or well below 100%. That is where the confusion begins. Being in shape has so many different meanings. I was fit enough to run 80+ miles per week and swim a decent workout of 4000 meters, and I spent 6 days a week doing strength and rehab work in the gym; but my body was ailing and I never felt good. I was paradoxically in shape but not in shape.

During the injury phase of the last few years, I did my best to maintain strength and flexibility through physical therapy and gym work. I was limited in my capacity to really progress forward with certain movements, so mostly I was just trying to prevent other injuries and reduce the potential for muscle imbalance. Fortunately, I was able to keep my hips and glutes fairly strong enabling me to run the distances I was despite the rib injury.

In terms of running and swimming workouts, I probably executed 50% of my run workouts and 25% of my swim workouts. These are terrible percentages for a person accustomed to nailing 95% of workouts. The failed workouts were due to pain and the inability to breath; the workload on the ribcage required by a hard swim or run was too much most of the time. Since I had an injury that seemingly had no fix, I decided that I needed to try rather than cry, so I approached each workout with an optimism not quite befitting my situation.

Before surgery, I was in shape, by virtue of the fact that I could run a lot of miles and swim quite a few meters, but I was out of shape when measured against peak performance ability.

Now that I am feeling much better and my body is healthier post-surgery, I have been able to run and swim at a level I could only dream about a few short weeks ago. I am working on getting back in shape. And, by that, I mean, running and swimming at a higher level on a more consistent basis.

Initially, my workouts showed an almost instantaneous improvement – no doubt, my times were faster. Unfortunately, I did not have the muscle endurance to support this new found speed. Somewhere toward the back end of each workout I would blow up spectacularly. One workout in particular, I had to pick up pieces of my legs and lungs off the pavement. On Sundays, I dragged myself through the last few miles of my long runs. My quads burned, my glutes ached, and my back throbbed. Muscles that had been dormant suddenly awakened. In the pool, during VO2 max swims, I would push off the wall and my arms would just lock up rendering me unable to complete a stroke.

Each workout, though, I noticed I could get further along before the inevitable rigor mortis set in until this week when I finally completed entire workouts without shuffling or floating to the finish. My ability to take this step up in training comes in parallel with my improvement in the gym where I have finally been able to accomplish movements and exercises that were off limits when I was injured.

Getting back in shape has been a challenge offset by the fact it has been enjoyable. It feels good to feel good again.

The importance of strength training

Most triathletes adamantly hate strength training. They willingly spend five or six hours on the bike, but 30 minutes in the gym lifting weights is heresy. The literature on this topic has been mixed, with some researchers promoting strength training as a means to improving performance while others report that it does not.

I believe, though, that there is enough evidence both scientifically and anecdotally to make me a firm advocate of strength training as a means to injury prevention and performance improvement, particularly in master’s athletes who have years of unaddressed muscle imbalances and muscle weaknesses.

The problem with strength training compared to a swim, bike or run workout is this: delayed gratification. You go out for a bike workout, for example, and you know immediately whether you had a good day -- you hit your power goals or you didn't. Integrating gym workouts into your routine requires patience because the improvements are not immediately obvious, the workouts are often monotonous, and who wouldn't rather be outside on a gorgeous day? But, the benefits of strength training are numerous, and even for a time crunched athlete, it is worth shifting the schedule a little to fit in some gym work. I outline just a few of the important reasons below.

On average, the non-exercising population loses about 10% of muscle mass per decade. A proper exercise program can reduce this to 1%. According to Robin Galaskewicz, a kinesiologist who has helped me recover from my rib injury, Masters athletes in particular need to increase motion and strength in the pelvis and thoracic spine because aging and the accumulation of repetitive forward motion causes weaknesses and loss of flexibility.

Robin has told me that there is a significant impact in sparing muscle and maintaining flexibility. The rate of injury can be markedly reduced by developing stronger muscles, tendons, fascia, ligaments and bones which in turn can prevent injuries common to triathletes: shin splits, stress fractures, lower back pain, knee problems and hip injuries. Now, who doesn't want to reduce the risk of injury?

Also, stronger muscles increase power, improve exercise economy (the ability to swim, bike or run faster over a given distance due to reduced oxygen consumption), and increase basal metabolic rate contributing to improved body composition. Sounds good, right?

The various studies examining the association between strength training and endurance performance have generally looked at two types of workouts: explosive training (i.e. plyometrics) and resistance training (i.e multiple sets of an exercise with higher repetitions).

In 1999, Paavolainen showed that explosive training improved the 5K time in well-trained endurance athletes and they concluded that the improvement was due to increased running economy. Spurs in 2003 replicated this finding when looking at the effect of explosive training on 3k running performance.

Paton showed similar results with cycling in 2005; his results showed that explosive training increased sprint and endurance power in well-training cyclists due to enhanced exercise efficiency and increased VO2max.

Resistance training has also shown benefits to endurance athletes, particularly in those who are less well trained. Studies have not shown measurable increases in VO2max or lactate threshold in athletes who integrated a resistance training program into their training. However, resistance training has been linked to improved running and cycling economy and increased time to exhaustion, both for cycling and running.

How does this apply to you? Integrate a strength program that consists of a combination of explosive and resistance training. During the off season you should try to do strength workouts 3-4 days per week and during the season focus on a maintenance program 2 days per week.