The Lonely Triathlete - triathlon training and motivation for the masses

I used to race according to hard metrics - hear rate, power, you name it. Then I got rid of my watch and gained a super power.TRANSCRIPTApologies to everyone for a screw up I made last week. You see, I thought I had uploaded the audio to my podcast but I didn't. So what you would have seen was my written transcript only. I corrected that mistake yesterday so if you haven't heard last week's podcast, it's there now.And now, onto this weeks' thoughts.When to comes to your race performance during a race, how do you know if you are doing well? How do you know if you are hitting your splits or your power curve or your heart rate? In other words, what measurement are you using to track how things are going?You see, when I first started I needed to know a few metrics in each sport so I could determine if I was doing my training (and, or course, racing) as prescribed.In the swim, I tracked distance. Warm up xM, drills for xM, main set x lengths with x rest. The problem was, I didn't know how fast or slow I was supposed to go. So then I moved into tracking speed - xM "on" :45, which meant swim a certain distance and if I had time left from the initial :45, I would rest and then do another length, resting until the :45 was used up, etc. The problem with that was sometimes the ":45" was too long -Id arrive at the end of the length and just sit there for such a long time. In oher cases, the interval was to short because I'd just finish my length and have 3 seonds of rest before I'd have to take off again. Eventually, I stuck with RPE and would swim a certain distance at an effort of x/10, 4 being quite relaxed, 7 being confortable fast and 9 or 10 full out sprint. Problem was, how fast was "relaxed"? How fast was "hard"? I knew what all out was. For a time I even trained by heart rate, almost like I was running but in the water. I sorta worked? But not really. It was hard to figure out what do do so I ended up just focusing on the distace and effort was either EASY or HARD.On the bike, I trained exclusievly by heart rate. I made the assupmtion that my maximum heart rate was 15 beats/min less than my run max and treated my bike just like a run. It worked pretty well, until I got into situations where it seemed that I was biking harder or slower than I wanted to because of hills or wind. I then shifted to focussing on distace with effort alteranating between EASY and HARD.Running was the easiest. I trained by heart rate. Forget pace, I did a maximum heart test by running uo and down a hill 5 times inceasngly faster each time until the final all=out effort where I imagined a bear was chasing me, then I added 3 bpm to extra measure. My training was then set according to 5 ZONES. It was simple and measurable. Then I read a few books on running by heart rate and realized that I needed to be setting my zone by heart rate reserve. All of a sudden, things started to feel complicated again. But my and large, training by heart rate was the way I went.During races, I was lost as to my effort in the swim. On the bike, I focussed on heart rate and on the run, I watched heart rate and pace. I raced this way for years and grew comfortable with the measurements. In the bike and run, if I saw my heart rate too high, I'd pull back. Conversely, if I saw my HR too low, I'd convince myself to speed up.About 10 years ago, I realized something that revolutionized my racing. With my experience in traing and racing and tracking a number of metrics, I started getitng very good at perceiving, without looking at a watch, how fast or hard I was going. Even better, I was able to sense how hard I was able to push muself without bonking by just listeing to my body. At any given time in a race, I could tell you within 2 bpm what my HR was or within 1-2kmhr what my speed was. After I had trained for a while accoding to POWER on the bike, I could also estimate by current power output with incredible prescision. But again, the important point wasn;t that I knew my number it was that I knew how sustainable that effort was given my envoronment - wind, hills, heat, energy. And this changed everythign for me 5 years ago.I raced for the first time without my watch or power meter. I raced 100% by feel. I knew how fast I could swim at a 7/10 effort so that was my goal. I knew what an 8/10 felt like on the bike - I knew what it felt like on the flats, up a hill, into the wind, early or late in a race. So an 8/10 was by goal. But I also knew if I was havig a day where I could push an 8 earlier, or an 8.5 later. I was no longer help back by a number. And on the run, I knew how hard I could and SHOULD push myself according to how I felt, I didn't race according to what the numbers told me. I think in years past, I may have held myself back with an artificial ceiling, limiting myself to a specific HR number rather than trusting my feelings.My racing friends thought I was crazy! You are cycling and running without a watch? How will you know if you are on plan? How will you know when you can push harder or determine if you aren't pusing hard engouh. And I get it, I was very nervous to get into a race and "fly blind" so to speak. But the reality is, without a watch, without tracking my metrics in a race, I'm racing more free than ever before. I can decide to speed up, maintain, or slow down based entirely on my subjective feeling. It was and continues to be an incredibly FREEING feeling! It no longer feels like I am racing without a plan, it feels like I am always in the driver's seat, not a GPS watch or some pre-determined numbers but ME, deciding on a moment by moment basis how I am doing. I trust my feelings. After each race I think about how I executed my strategy. Did I have more gas in the tank after the run? How did I feel in the last 2 KM? Upon reflection, I may realize that I am able to suffer more in the final 2km and so I rest what I expect to feel for the next race. And I've made mistakes, I cycled at much too fast a speed for my 70.3 last year and I know how I FELT (I felt great) but the next time I do a 70.3, that sensation needs to feel even less strenuous than "great", it needs to feel "really good and I have a a bunch left over in the tank."All this to say, I encourage you, even challenge you, to do a race without your measuremnt devices. Go based on feel and perception of effort. Once you make the association between approprite effort and performance that day, you will have gained a new super power. You can race anywhere, unshakled by devices, to great effect. You just have to trust yourself. Until next time,Peace

The time seems right. It's now or never. This might be the end. We never know what tomorrow will bring, or next month or next year. Since that is the case, maybe I should start documenting my exploits sooner rather than later.TRANSCRIPTIt's funny...this week I sat down to think about what I was going to talk about, and I realized I don't actually have a lot of exciting training news.Which, I suppose, is exactly the point.I'm still in this maintenance phase. Three rides a week. Two VO₂ max sessions and one endurance ride. That's it.TrainerRoad is predicting I'll lose maybe two or three percent of my FTP over the next week or so. And I'm actually okay with that. If I lose five or six watts over a month, that's a small price to pay for getting some physical and mental recovery after a long season.Because the alternative is doing nothing.And if I stop riding altogether, I know what happens. I lose thirty, forty, maybe even fifty watts. Then it takes me three or four months to earn that fitness back again.So right now my goal isn't to get stronger.It's simply to stay close enough to where I finished this season that, when I start my next training block, I can hit the ground running.Which makes for a pretty boring podcast.There really isn't much to say.The workouts are getting done.Fitness is staying relatively stable.Everything is...fine.But then something happened this week that completely took over my attention.I bought a drone.Well...not just a drone.I bought the new DJI Neo 2.I bought a DJI Osmo Action camera.I picked up a chest harness so I can record rides from my perspective.I already had the DJI Mic Mini, so now I can actually narrate while I'm riding or running without sounding like I'm talking through a hurricane.And ever since these boxes showed up at my house, I've been like a kid with a new toy.I've been testing them.Learning how they work.Figuring out camera angles.Learning how the drone follows me.Seeing what kind of footage I can get while riding and running.And the interesting part is...I don't think this is actually about the cameras.It's about what the cameras allow me to do.For years this podcast has documented what's happening inside my head.You've listened to me talk about races.Training.Self-doubt.Confidence.Injuries.Motivation.Discipline.All of those things work incredibly well in an audio format.But this week I realized something.Audio only tells half the story.I've spent years saying things like..."I had an amazing ride today.""The climb was brutal.""The ocean was calm.""The sunrise was incredible."You hear those words......but you've never actually seen any of it.You've never seen the roads I ride every week.You've never seen the climbs.You've never seen the places where I run.You've never stood beside the ocean where I swim.You've only experienced them through my descriptions.And that's when it hit me.Maybe this journey deserves more than words.Maybe it deserves pictures.Maybe it deserves video.Not because I think video is somehow better than audio.It's just......different.There are things that video can communicate that words simply can't.Imagine watching a drone slowly pull away as I'm climbing one of my local hills.No narration.Just breathing.Wind.The sound of tires on pavement.Sometimes silence tells the story better than words ever could.Or imagine seeing the roads that I've talked about for years.Instead of picturing them in your imagination......you'd actually be there.You'd see where I train.You'd see what I see.You'd experience a little piece of the journey alongside me.And I find that incredibly exciting.Now...I don't know exactly what this becomes.I'm experimenting.I'm learning.I'm making mistakes.I'm trying different shots.Trying different editing styles.Trying to figure out what feels authentic.I don't even know where these videos will eventually live.I'm intentionally not overthinking that part.Right now the important thing is simply documenting.Capturing.Recording.Because I realized something else this week.One day...this version of me won't exist anymore.I'm fifty-eight years old.Hopefully my best race is still ahead of me.Hopefully Germany in 2027 is the peak.That's certainly what I'm training toward.But none of us really know.Maybe Germany will be the highest point of my athletic life.Maybe it won't.Maybe I'll surprise myself.Maybe life has other plans.I honestly don't know.But wouldn't it be incredible to have a visual record of this entire journey?Not just race day.Everybody records race day.I'm talking about the Tuesday morning interval session.The rainy ride when I didn't feel like training.The quiet endurance ride where nothing special happened.The run where I questioned everything.The swim where everything finally clicked.Those ordinary moments...Those are actually the story.The race is just the ending.The story is everything that happens beforehand.And maybe that's really why these cameras excite me so much.Because they're giving me a chance to preserve something that otherwise would disappear.Five years from now...I'll be able to look back and remember exactly where I was.Not because Strava says I rode 82 kilometres.Not because Garmin tells me my average heart rate.But because I'll actually be able to see it.I'll see the roads.The weather.My posture on the bike.The way I moved.The expression on my face.I'll remember things that numbers could never capture.And maybe that's something we all lose sight of as endurance athletes.We're surrounded by data.FTP.Power.Heart rate.Pace.Cadence.VO₂ max.Training Stress Score.Recovery scores.Sleep scores.We measure everything.But the numbers don't remember the experience.The numbers don't remember the sunrise.They don't remember the laughter with training partners.They don't remember the eagle flying overhead during an early morning ride.They don't remember the feeling of finally reaching the top of a climb.The numbers tell us what happened.They don't tell us what it felt like.And maybe...that's what I want these cameras to capture.Not better workouts.Better memories.Because this isn't just a training plan anymore.This is becoming a chapter of my life.It's my road to Germany.Or maybe...my Highway to Hamburg.I haven't decided what to call it yet.But whatever the title ends up being, I know one thing.I don't want to remember this journey only through graphs on Garmin Connect.I want to remember what it looked like.I want to remember what it sounded like.I want to remember how it felt.And maybe, someday, some of you will come along for that ride too.I don't know exactly what this is going to become. Maybe it's a video diary. Maybe it's a documentary. Maybe it's just a collection of moments that only I end up appreciating. But I do know this: if I'm going to spend the next year chasing one of the biggest goals of my athletic life, I don't want to remember it only through numbers on a Garmin screen. I want to remember what the roads looked like, what the water looked like, what the climbs looked like, and maybe even what I looked like. Because one day, this version of me won't exist anymore. And I think it's worth preserving while it does.Until then, I'm not replacing the podcast, not at all. I think audio works formany or you, most of you. It allows you join me on your commute, your own runs, or while doing dishes. Video is simply another window into the same journey.One where you might see a drone image of me cycling from behind up a steep hill, switching to a first person POV as I race down the other side, followed by me stading at a lookout and waxing poetic on the difficulties of rear derailluers or my favourite flavour of carb drink.That's it from me.Until next time, peace.

Let's face it, swimming 3.9km is no easy feat. Let's say you can easily swim 1.9km but find the IM swim cutoff challenging, what can be done. Well, it depends on your particular obstacles so let's get into it.TRANSCRIPTA few weeks ago, my awesome patron on Patreon reached out with a question. Hi Ron, hope you are doing well.Ron is turning 74 years old.He's completed four Ironman 70.3 races.Four.Let's just pause there for a moment. What a freaking inspiration!Most people his age aren't training for endurance events. Many aren't exercising at all. Yet here's a guy still swimming, biking, running, racing, and setting ambitious goals.His question to me was simple.Why can he complete a 70.3 swim, but can't seem to make to swim cutoff in an Ironman swim?It's a fascinating question because on the surface it sounds like a swimming problem.But I don't think it is.At least not entirely.And the more I thought about it, the more I realized this episode isn't really about swimming.It's about something all endurance athletes eventually face.The point where determination alone is no longer enough.The point where we have to get smarter.Not just tougher.Now before we go any further, let's acknowledge something.A 74-year-old athlete attempting an Ironman deserves respect.Period.It would be easy to focus on what isn't working.But I'd rather focus on what already is.This athlete has completed four 70.3 races. That tells me he has discipline, consistency, courage, and experience.The question isn't whether he's capable of hard things.Clearly he is.The question is whether the approach that got him through a half Ironman can get him through a full one.And those are not always the same thing.The first thing I'd want to know is whether he can comfortably swim 3.8 kilometres in a pool.Not race it.Not hammer it.Just swim it continuously.Because if the answer is no, then we're dealing primarily with swim fitness.The Ironman swim is nearly four kilometres long.That's a long way.And while it looks like exactly twice the distance of a 70.3 swim, anyone who's raced long enough knows it doesn't feel like twice the distance.Fatigue compounds.Small inefficiencies become major inefficiencies.Little mistakes become quite expensive.And if you've never developed the fitness to comfortably cover that distance, the water will expose you.But let's imagine he CAN swim the distance in the pool.NOW things get interesting.Because that means the problem may not be fitness at all.It may be EFFICIENCY.One of the most important lessons I've learned in endurance sports is that fitness and efficiency are not the same thing.And nowhere is that more obvious than in swimming.You can be incredibly fit and still struggle in the water.I've heard coaches say something that stuck with me. "The water doesn't care how fit you are."And it's true.You can bully your way through a run.You can overpower mistakes on the bike.Swimming doesn't negotiate.If your technique is inefficient, the water collects payment on every single stroke.And those payments add up over nearly four kilometres.This reminds me of something from my own swimming journey.I was new to distance swimming when I took up triathlon around 25 years ago. I had a swimming background although not comptetitive and I'd never ever swam 100M straight witout stopping because...why would I? So I self taught myself how to swim. I watched videos and read a few books. I went to the pool 3-4 ays a week and swamd swam and swam until I could cover the race distace of 1500M. My times were slow, around 3:00/100M, maybe a bit faster but not much. And I figured that as I contiued to swim over the years I would naturally get faster.I was so wrong. I could muscle myself to a 2:30 pace formaybe 1000M but then I was gassed, no way I could cycle after an effort like that. Something was holding me back and I didn't know what, so I enrolled in a Masters swim class at the local pool.During one of those workouts the coach walked alongside my lane, calling out technical issues with my stroke. He kept yelling "deeper, deeper" and at the end of the class told me that on my breathing side I tended to pull very shallow, my arm didn't go deep in the water so I was effectively swimming with one hand. Over the course of a few evenings I corrected that. Then end of one of the last sessions he pulled me aside an commended me for dropping both arms deeper in the water but he said "Todd, you tend to push down with your hands and only pull towards the back half of your stroke. Remember those high elbow drills (the ones that I did but didnt really make sense to me), we do those to encourgee you to catch the water much earlier in your stroke and to PULL yourself thorugh the water rather than push down so much." Huh. Suddenly, everything made sense and as I pulled raher than pushed, I got my swim time down to 2:00/100M. A massive improvement in minimal time.What struck me afterward was how obvious those flaws seemed once they were pointed out.Yet I never would have found them on my own.I had convinced myself that the solution was more swimming.More fitness.More effort.Instead, the solution was seeing something I couldn't see.And I think that's an important lesson.Sometimes we're too close to our own problems to diagnose them accurately.The very thing holding us back may be completely invisible to us.Especially in swimming.Now there's another possibility.And this one is surprisingly common.Anxiety.I've seen athletes who can easily swim the required distance in a pool.Then race day arrives.The water is colder.There are hundreds of athletes around them.They're getting bumped and kicked.Their breathing feels different.Their wetsuit feels restrictive.Suddenly they're swimming at an intensity they would never sustain in training.Their heart rate climbs.Their stroke shortens.Their efficiency disappears.And twenty minutes later they're paying the price.Many Ironman swim struggles aren't actually swimming struggles.They're pacing struggles.They're anxiety struggles.They're energy management struggles.The athlete is burning matches far too early.When people talk about Ironman, they often focus on speed.But for many athletes, especially older athletes, the goal isn't speed.It's economy.How LITTLE energy can you spend to move through the water?How relaxed can you stay?How efficiently can you convert effort into forward motion?Those questions become increasingly important as we age.At 25 years old, we can often compensate for technical flaws.At 74, every unnecessary movement has a cost.Every inefficient stroke carries a penalty.Which brings me to the part of this conversation I find most interesting.There comes a point in every endurance athlete's life when we must decide whether we are trying harder or trying smarter.And that's not always an easy distinction to make.Most of us love hard work.We trust hard work.Hard work feels noble.If something isn't working, our instinct is often to do more.More miles.More intervals.More volume.More suffering.But sometimes the breakthrough isn't on the other side of more effort.Sometimes it's on the other side of better information.A coach notices something.A training partner sees something.A video reveals something.An expert identifies a flaw we've been carrying for years.And suddenly progress happens.Not because we're working harder.Because we're finally working on the right thing.I don't know whether Ron's challenge is fitness, technique, pacing, anxiety, or some combination of all four.But I do know this.The goal is not to SURVIVE the Ironman swim.The goal is to become the kind of swimmer for whom the Ironman swim is MANAGEBLE.That's a different objective entirely.And I think that's true outside of triathlon too.The challenges we struggle with for years are not always asking for more determination.Sometimes they're asking for a new perspective.Sometimes they're asking for better guidance.Sometimes they're asking us to admit that we don't know what we don't know.And that might be one of the hardest lessons in endurance sports.Not that we need to work harder.But that we might need help.If you're listening today and you're chasing a goal that's been stubbornly out of reach, maybe ask yourself this question.Am I missing effort?Or am I missing insight?Because those are very different problems.And one of them is often easier to solve than we think.Thanks for listening.And remember, whether you're training for your first sprint triathlon, your fifth Ironman, or simply trying to stay active and healthy as the years go by, you're not training alone.You're just another lonely triathlete.Until next time,Peace