Bad food, bad calf muscle, and fat lezos

Bad overpriced food, served at g-l-a-c-i-a-l speed by butch lezos with an attitude of complete indifference. Started wondering yesterday why I keep returning to the same café in Australia Square whenever I have meetings in the City. Rationalised it to the fact that there is never a queue there………..

Calf muscle continues to stop me running, and I missed any activity at all for Monday and Tuesday this week. Massage from Brett on Tuesday has at least put the back problem to bed – feeling good on that front now. Brett suspects a minor calf muscle tear, so I’ll just give it a bit of time. Not as if any water and bike time would be a bad thing in any case.

Got back into it last night on the wind trainer, and then again this morning at the gym. Am actually a little behind where I wanted to be at this point, but we’ll see where it lands by the end of July. Mood is creeping into the quartile of mild concern, but still a long way from abstract panic – so keep chugging.

Saw Jamie last night. He is definitely looking fitter every time I see him lately. Maybe the embryonic stages of a good summer ahead for him.

Might attempt the world record 1:58 loop of Euroka and the Oaks Hut from home to see where my fitness is at.

Have booked in a training long-weekend with Mrs J in Canberra for the 22,23,24^th of July. That should help kick things along a little.

Monthly Board meeting done and dusted yesterday, so back in some decent head-space today. Time to smell a few roses.

W

The good, the bad and the ugly

1.       THE GOOD - Achieved first serious session on the turbo this week. To date I’ve been loafing about on it like an over-fed seal pup, trying to convincing myself that I am doing “technique work”. So banged Coach Troy onto the DVD, hard work, and I felt pretty good about making it to the end too. My disposition for telling Coach Troy to F@#$-off whenever he invited me to “go-harder” when he can’t even see my fatigued body rolling all around the bike like an inexperienced lover probably doesn’t detract from what I think is a good value training session none-the-less.

2.       THE BAD - I hit the pool. Yea-ha! Big session 8x100 – hilarious really, flappin’ about like a flathead in a net. Was planning to do a very modest 10x100, but had to pull up stumps early as I was running late to meet Mrs J at the Blue Elephant for a curry. There are probably a thousand words that describe the way I feel when I swim, but hypoxia certainly seems to sum up the general experience better than any others that I can think of.

3.       Saturday’s planned grind up the service roads to Wenty Falls happened. Always feel good when I get this one knocked out, as there are a number of pinches across the 40km of climbing, and the dead roads make the journey slower and significantly harder also.  I have probably had 10 attempts over the years and only made it 4 times (from recollection). Coffee and caramel slice at “Fed’ also delivered the goods, and it is a welcome addition to my training regime to sit on my fat freckle and drink coffee with mates of a sunny Saturday morning. Which also raises the side issue – how good is Morgan’s Coffee. Haven’t been to a shop yet that served a rubbish Morgans. Don’t know enough to be able to determine whether this is a function of co-incidence with good baristas, or whether it is in fact good coffee. Further investigation required.

4.       THE UGLY Mango down!. Rommel came off in some thick gravel between Lawson and Hazelbrook. Nasty, nasty outcome – plenty of claret, a bad knock to the side of his face near the eye. Required an ambo, and may well require subsequent surgery. Horrible reminder of how quickly things can go the crap on a bike.

5.       Spent 90min perched on Bubba on Sunday, and can report that we are gradually becoming friends. Just some laps of the road next to the lakes, but I started to become far more comfortable and confident. Speed will come……. Hopefully.

6.       Leg – calf muscle still knotted/spasmed/generally rooted, but I suspect it will come good soon. Can’t walk properly, but strangely it doesn’t feel like a serious injury.

Near enough 10 training hours for the week, though due to leg issues, too many of those were gym work. Still, a stronger core, and a few extra bike miles probably won’t hurt in the long run. 6:35 on bike, 800m swim, 663m of running (before collapsing into a screaming whining heap) and 2:35 of gym work.

This week will be all about having some crossed fingers for Mango, some more massage for my calf and trying to keep hitting the sessions.

314 days to go, an optimism still sitting on a healthy 8.26 out of 10.

W

Further More - What's with "Leg Opener Workouts"

To prove I didn't make this crap up, I have attached the link to Cyclingnews http://www.cyclingnews.com/features/cyclingnews-fitness-q-and-a-june-22-2011

but sometimes you see a heading and wornder, what the hell were they thinking! And how funny is a response that starts "There are a variety of exercises that could be described as leg openers....."

Take it away Doyley!

Leg opener workouts

Panel,

Please tell me how to perform the "leg opening" workout, which you say should be done a day before a race. Intensity, duration, etc.

Ziggy

Scott Saifer says:

There are a variety of exercises that could be called leg openers. The general concept is a long, gentle warm up followed by a short bout of hard work and then a long gentle cool down. For my clients, I usually make the total exercise about one hour and the hard work a 3-9 minute interval near LT, with the length depending on their strength and experience. Sometimes I'll have them do a few short but all-out jumps instead of the LT interval, depending on what sort of race is coming up and what has worked for them in the past.

Self Immolation

Tried to revisit running again this morning. Only got 662metres according to the treadmill. Damn calf flared again.

I’ve dowsed myself in Difflam Gel – gee there’s some smelly alcohol business going on in that stuff. A stray spark from the static build-up of my boss’s cheap moccasins on the even cheaper office carpet and Tubby will go up in a spectacular flambe of self-immolation. Carry a bit of body fat at the moment also, so the cracklin’ should be mighty tasty.

I’ve packed the swim gear into the boot of the car today. Running out of excuses to dive in, so I suspect today will see the official re-entry. Planning on doing intervals, so hopefully the kiddies pool is available.

Not very good numbers coming into the end of the week – mostly just gym rubbish - but only a very mild sense of stress/panic.

Still grinin’ at the world.

W

Strained Calves and Stray Consonants

A minor calf strain pulled me up at 5km on my planned Sunday long run, but apart from that a pretty good training weekend. 64 points from a possible 100 for the first week of structured training.

A good weekend all round though:

Ø  Richo adjusted Bubba, and while we are still learning to love each other in this arranged marriage, at least he is now being gentle with me.

Ø  Did the Winter Magic Festival in Katoomba with the Mezza and RJ. Super day, possibly my favorite annual event. The usual array of crazies, freaks and weirdos. Packed so solid though that for the entire main street of Katoomba it was impossible to take a full step while walking. Maybe 30,000 crazy-assed punters braving the freezing winds.

Ø  A solid Greendale tailed with a Mitchells climb on Saturday, with some chaps I hadn’t seen for a while. Good to see Eez and Joey.  Very pleasant riding even though I blew going up Mitchells towards the end. Great weather, good company. Hard to beat.

All rounded off with Sunday take-out from Ping Kun in front of Merlin with RJ. What were they thinking when they decided on “Ping Kun” as a business name. Just a stray consonant away from inferring an establishment quite different from that of restaurant.

W

Flashing it about

Approaching the end of my first structured training week. 38 points from a possible 56 to the end of Friday, with 44 available on the weekend. Only dropped three small sessions, one (the swim session) beyond my legal control.

I pulled out the swimmers for their reintroduction to the pool yesterday and they were simply in no condition for public display. Which made me wonder whether they had deteriorated since their last outing, or whether two years ago I was routinely attending public pools in thread bare trunks. God only knows the mental trauma that may have caused among the general recreational swimming populous.

Mind you, even my thread bare tri-shorts would have been no patch on the disturbance that Doyle would have caused the tennis playing kiddies and their mothers at Rose Bay when he flashed it about in the adjoining car park. Forget the kids, even Shano hasn’t been seen since.

Back injury continuing to improve slowly. The sun is out, temperatures are cool………….. all is good with the world.

W

Into it!

A nice ride out through The Lowlands on Saturday finishing with coffee at the new pool. Not the 100k Punt as planned, but in retrospect, a much more civilised option. Agreed with Dags, that if I end up racing the way I train, in 330ish days I’ll need to stop every couple of hours for a coffee, custard treat and bit a chat.

Took the day off on Sunday ahead of launching into a formal structured plan Monday. A very pleasant afternoon benefiting from Garner hospitality left me feeling way too satisfied to spoil it with a nasty dose of late afternoon huff n puff.

Historically my body has responded well to operating under a structured plan, but unfortunately my head has been far less amenable. I have generally ended up as something of a basket case after 15 weeks or so. More frightening is that in this instance I am such a long way from having a decent base, that I’m effectively being forced into a structured discipline W-A-Y earlier than my pea-brain has ever been capable of dealing with in the past.

“My psychiatrist told me I was crazy and I said I want a second opinion. He said okay, you’re ugly too” - Rodney Dangerfield

Tuesday morning, and I’ve hit the first three sessions, albeit minor ones in the plan. 18 points out of a possible 18 in the Tubby Scale of Training Program Achievement.

W

Giro de Italian Food Safari – with a side order of hooch

Back on the horse last night with a reasonably steady hour on the wind trainer. G-A-W-D I hate that thing. I didn’t want to go too hard with the dodgy back and all, so I substituted out Coach Troy’s Time Trial DVD and replaced him with Guy Grossi and Maeve O’Meara’s Italian Food Safari DVD. I suspect that this will be my ultimate advantage in IM training, because I’m pretty sure nobody else is doing the hard yards with Maeve and Guy, and I’m damn sure Guy Vernay can’t make a crostoli to save his skinny ass.

I am thinking of writing to the UCI to suggest they hold a 21 day indoor Comp-u-Trainer Tour where everyone has to ride an indoor trainer for 5 hours a day – then we’d see some drug use worth testing for. No need for a Biological Passport to detect a jolly good session on the hooch. Just look for Vinokourov to be chowing down on endless packets of Smith's Salt and Vinegar. Seriously, next time I have to climb on that damn thing I’m going to drop some crack-cocaine first to help pass the time.

Was going to start my structured training program last Monday, but have delayed for a week to let the back settle. All going  well on that front, and might even tippy-toe out for a run tonight.

Bring it on

W

Passion Matters

Hopefully today will be the last day on the sidelines. 4 days out of action now, but the back discomfort/pain is receding and I got a decent night’s sleep last night.

Brett isolated tight hips yesterday and drilled in with the Superman thumbs. Definitely feel freer this morning though, so all good on that front.

Which started me thinking about who provides medical a care within our society.

At Nepean High, Mathew Kidd was the school brainiac, and he subsequently did medicine at uni. Last I heard he wanted be a surgeon of some description. Now here’s the thing. Matty was so uncoordinated that when I was about 15 he tried to punch me in the head and missed by such a distance that I couldn’t have head-butted his fist if I had tried. Yet society deems that Matty should be paid a whopping sum to  hook into someone’s vital organs with a sharp implement. Go figure

While I’m the last person to suggest that my body is a temple (even a crumbling one), frankly it’s the only one I’ve got, and when it breaks I want the best help I can find. And here rests society’s dilemma:

Ø  To enter the formal medical profession (read doctor, physio) , people need to pretty much make the decision when they are 18 years old

Ø  When you are 18 years old, regardless of upbringing, people choose a profession according to:

o   The highest potential earning capacity AND/OR

o   The aspirations, expectations and need for reflected glory of their parents AND/OR

o   The profession that most elevates their social status

No 18 year old ever chooses a medical career because they

Ø  Are really interested in how the body works and how it impacts people’s lives

Ø  Care. Because they don’t care. No 18 year old cares about anything other than themselves.

I want someone to work at fixing my ailments because:

Ø  They’re genuinely interested in what is happening in there, how it happened, and what to do to help you fix it

Ø  They care.

On Monday I went to the doctor so I could get a referral to get some X-rays, and then back to the doctor to tell me all is OK from a skeletal perspective, and that the injuries are all soft tissue related. God knows what that gem cost the tax payer, but the face time was probably no more than 5 minutes in total – for NO improvement in my health outcome.

Tiger and Brett would both spend over an hour in treatment time, and make material and noticeable difference to my health. BUT society has a financial reward system that sends the money to the GP who’s total treatment was to say rest and take Nurofen.

I am thinking of asking Gaz or Brett to have a crack at repairing the screwed up surgery that was done by the opthomologist. Sure they might not know a lot about eyes, but at least I know they’d care.

Passion matters.

W

Good Head-Space (hyphen inserted to ensure no misinterpretations)

Seriously,  how good is rolling out along low traffic roads and only needing to unclip for voluntary stops. OR grinding up Mitchell’s with the sun on the cliff faces. OR trotting though the bush along the escarpment above Glenbrook. OR finishing up with the fam and friends for a nana-natter in the café afterwards.

Simple days to be treasured - and a spazzed-out back represents only a very minor fee to paid for the creation of some very nice head space.

But Saturday’s 75ish/5ish brick did my back no favours at all, and I have been a complete googly for the three days subsequent. 

I snuck off to see the work experience kiddie masquerading as a doctor to obtain some assurance that there was no serious skeletal stuff going on before letting Brett off the chain tonight. X-rays revealed a surprisingly healthy back, with no osteoporosis no calcification, and good spacing still between the vertebrae. A welcome surprise, and maybe some advertisement for this weight bearing exercise thing we do. All soft tissue damage – can manage that with drugs and massage.

The culprit appears to have been my time trial session of last week. Further proof, as if any was required, that I’ve been rooted by Bubba.

Things Vintage

What is it with discipline and injury. My [reasonably] disciplined approach to diet flew south as soon as I knew I had an injury, and this has been the case for me for as long as I can remember.  Something about motivation theory in there somewhere.

The culprits of the past few days have been pizza, apple pie, chorizo sausage and a 2002 of Coonawarra C/S.

It seems whenever I need comfort I run to things fat, sweet, spicy or vintage.

Not unlike my friend Luke, who equally seeks comfort in things fat, sweet, spicy or vintage.

I'm IN

I’m IN

IN-FECTED

This upper respiratory tract infection is hanging around like Lukey in the female ward of a mental assylum.

IN-PECUNIOUS

I’ve now amassed a spend $3,334 to date for this IM thingy – and accumulated a total of only 14 hours training – That’s $242 per hour. At this rate Ironman is going to end up costing around $189,094.30..... and many, many pairs of shoes

IN-SOMNIAC

Wednesday: Work prevented me from training in a normal time-slot so I resorted to a late-night-indoor-wind-trainer-bike session. Finished at 10:30, showered and hit the sack. Still wired at 3:00AM

Wind trainer sessions are awful - absolutely bored witless. Even Harry the dog’s initial inquisitiveness quickly receded to only a mildly curious look of “And you think I’m stupid for chasing the same stick in the backyard all afternoon”.

IN-FLEXIBLE

I’ve lasted a week – I’ve turned into a freakin’ PLANK. Lower back has stiffened from a hour hour riding Bubba the TT bike. As at today I’m struggling to walk without arousing suspicions that Bubba’s seat may now be internally concealed.

IN-INVETERATE

I haven;t been sucessful in habituating (is that a word?) my training slots. Descending the creaky stairs without waking Mrs J or Harry the dog to go to the gym or for a run is proving difficult, and I’ve used it as an excuse a few times this week to smack the snooze button.

Workouts still progressing though. No quality or volume, but retaining the frequency and consistency that is the goal of this Phase.

Wed: 60 minutes on the rollers with 6 HIIT intervals

Thu: Ran 7k

Fri: 45 min gym and 3.3k on the treadmill before my back packed it in t=for the day

Called Brett for a massage. Booked for Tuesday

Looking forward to a catch up with some buddies for a leisurely ride(70) /run (7) brick leaving from Glenbrook and heading out to Richmond tomorrow.

Happy days

W