End-of-year gear: Running reviews

In the spirit of the season (insane shopping season, as far as I can tell), I thought I'd share some thoughts on gear I've discovered, or just loved using, in 2013. This update will be in two parts. This one is about gear for running, the next one will be about cool stuff for cycling.

So what have I been using this year?

My stable of shoes expanded this year to include the Altra Lone Peak and the Skora Base (more on this later), both of which I like. All of my road racing (and a fair bit of training) has still been in my Saucony Hattoris, which have sadly been discontinued. Shame on you Saucony!
Socks. I know people like socks for Christmas (or so my mum always said) and I know they're a very personal choice. That said, if I'm not out in my Injinji socks, then I'm probably running in Swiftwick. It's hard to say why they're awesome, they just are. I don't quite understand why I'm excited about a sock, but there you have it.
I've not really got a clear favourite in the running tights department, and the oh-my-god-these-are-awesome split shorts I recently found appear to have been, yes, discontinued (thanks Puma!) The best running singlet (vest, for those who speak the Queen's) I own is still my K-Swiss Ironman singlet.

So there are two things I want to go a little more in depth with, first the Skora Base and then the Altra Lone Peak. Let's face it - running is about shoes.

Skora Base

I'm going to have to come clean here: I didn't pay for these. A Skora ambassador (Kyle - thanks Kyle!) very kindly hooked me up with a pair, but I'm under no obligation to say nice things. Most of what I have to say about these is pretty good though.

Firstly, Skora shoes come in a pretty damn sexy box. I don't usually keep my shoes in the box after I first take them out, but the Skora box is nice (it has a magnetic closure). See how pretty it is?

Since first impressions count, here are the exact words I sent to Kyle on the day I got the shoes:

 I tried them on, and they felt good enough to just jump out of the door and go an easy 4.5 miles.

The shoe has a great shape and the length is exactly as hoped. With the one piece upper it feels super comfortable straight out of the box.

Cinching in the heel tab a little holds my heel in the shoe perfectly, and I have a fairly narrow heel. The forefoot has good space too. The middle of the shoe seems to be harder to secure completely. I feel like there's a bit of lateral movement allowed (which I only feel cornering quickly). It feels like the design of the velcro fastener is tightening the front of the shoe more than the mid, so if I tighten the strap to where the top/mid foot is 100% secure then it feels a bit too snug by the front of the strap system (and I feel like I'm running out of velcro to fasten the strap with!). I'll play with it... it's certainly not bad, just initially isn't feeling completely secure across the midfoot/around the arch.

First impressions from the run are fairly good too. The ride feels firmer than I was expecting. I think the firmer feel comes from the forefoot of the shoe being laterally stiff, which I wasn't expecting. It's plenty flexible in every other sense, and it certainly didn't stop me from getting some good strides done in my run. It'll be interesting to see how the flex changes as the shoe gets some miles on it.

I chose the Skora Base, despite being intrigued by the different outsole on the Phase, because of its similarity to the Saucony Hattori (13mm stack height, 0mm drop, velcro closure). The velcro closure is a big plus since I race duathlon and triathlon, but hate elastic laces. I'd like to stop right there though and say that it's not really a similar shoe. The Hattori is a ninja slipper that lets you count the grains of sand underfoot while running as fast as your legs can handle; the Base feels more sedate and solid, more of a stoic samurai. I can't stress enough just how cushy the upper is though.

My first impression largely stands after running in the Base for nearly 3 months. Unless you usually run in Hattoris, Vibram FiveFingers or the like, you probably won't notice the lateral stiffness in the forefoot. I've gotten used to it, but it's definitely there. It's got a good amount of foot protection though, easily enough for non-technical trail running. While I didn't initially feel that the shoe was right for racing or fast runs, I've changed my mind somewhat. I've run hard training sessions on road and trail in these shoes, including haring around corners like I stole something. When I'm pushing hard the shoes just perform and I don't really notice the stiffness that I feel at lower speeds. I'm still not sure that I'd race in these over my Hattoris, the design of the velcro closure isn't quite right, but I find myself reaching for the Skora most times I get ready for a run.

Altra Lone Peak 1.5

A lot of my running is on technical trails, mostly because that's what the trails here are like. They're often steep, usually rocky, and occasionally trying to kill me. I used to run them in Vibram Bikilas, but after dropping back from 6th to 25th in a trail half-marathon because of a badly bruised foot at mile 7 I decided I needed "a real shoe". Okay, I could've run the section with sharp, baby-head rocks a bit slower, but then that stops it being "racing".

So last year I got some hardcore trail shoes: the Pearl Izumi Peak II. They're a fine shoe, but at 9mm drop they're more ramp than I like. I also get some rub at the front of the shoe after 90 minutes or so. Which other shoes are available that are lower ramp, lower stack, but still offer good performance and protection on gnarly trails?

Enter the Altra Lone Peak 1.5

Be warned - the forefoot on these is super wide. I have oddly shaped feet - narrow at the heel and wide at the front. Sort of like flippers. These have a comfy heel cup that feels secure, and the lacing really allows me to get the shoe cinched down so it doesn't move around. Until the helpful sales guy at Santa Fe Running Hub showed me how I should lace these I was about to put them back and try a different shoe. This probably isn't a shoe for folks whose feet are narrow all the way along, but will most likely work for everyone else. The only problem I have with the construction on these shoes is that I get some rub at the top of the heel cup by the achilles, especially when running downhill. The simple solution is to wear longer socks, but if you're an aficionado of the uber-short socks (or no socks at all) then you have been warned.

Performance-wise, I have only good to say about these shoes. They give reasonable ground-feel while offering good protection from sharp rocks. The grip is awesome in pretty much all conditions, bar ice. Compared to other trail shoes I've had these still feel good on road, in case you have to run a couple miles to hit your favourite trailhead. Also, how sweet do they look?

TL;DR

There are some cool running shoes on the market, and if you're into natural running, minimalist running or just don't like bulky shoes (however you like to think of it) then I reckon it's worth taking a look at Skora and Altra. Also, everything I like seems to get discontinued pretty quickly, so if you like something I do it's probably worth buying six of them now.

Footnote (PSA)

As a final public service announcement I'd like to slate, without reservation, the Soffe running shorts. While they may be the same shorts that the US military use, I think that recent cost-cutting measures have sold the US military short. These are without a doubt the worst running shorts I have ever worn. Most of the negative reviews on Amazon relate to the lack of modesty required to wear these shorts. Trust me - I have little modesty and most of my running shorts are 1-2" inseam, either full or half split. I don't care that these shorts are short, or that the material is suggestively translucent. They aren't designed for humans, or running. I recommend paying the extra for a known entity that isn't a piece of crap. And with that... happy holidays and I'll get to writing about bike gear once I've been out for a ride.

How to (almost) win a half-marathon

Last weekend I ran a half-marathon in Albuquerque, NM. "Day of the Tread" is a day of the dead themed running and cycling festival. They have running races from 1 mile to a full marathon and cycling tours from 12 to 100 miles - in all, they put on 12(?) events, with a good fraction of participants coming in fancy dress. Having previously done the century tour (100 mile bike ride), and given that it fell on a good weekend for me and the girl, Day of the Tread was pencilled into the calendar as soon as we decided on a late-season half marathon. (Hopefully I'll get some photos into this post soon...)

After mostly failing to run through summer, and subsequently feeling pretty rough on the run at Ironman 70.3 Boulder, I started building my running back up with the intent of running this race and being ready to jump into marathon training if the girl decided that she did want to run a marathon in spring after all. That's been an on/off discussion for a year or so now.

I made it to race day with 7 weeks of consistent running behind me, on average 3-4 runs per week and an average of 21 miles per week so far in October. Prior to that I was doing 0-2 runs per week - despite having been in good running form back in May I lost motivation and just let cycling take over. In my books that's not a bad thing, but it's sub-optimal when you're aiming to run a half marathon. Just to be clear about the contribution from my cycling, I've been averaging about 7 hours a week of cycling, with a peak of about 12 hours.

Yes, I have a very good saddle. We are friends.

So there we were, race morning, getting onto the bus to the start line. Day of the Tread is a point-to-point course, flat for 5 miles and then some smallish hills and net downhill run into the finish. I was hoping for a fast time. In particular, I was looking to beat my personal best of 1:36:30 set at the "High Altitude Half" in 2011 - the day before I started this blog. Normally I wouldn't recommend looking for a PB on limited training, but I had a similar balance of training back in 2011 and not as much volume through the year. I had designs on going under 1:30, that's a 6:51/mile pace, and so my official target was 1:29:54.

It turns out that there's nothing like a bus ride from the finish of a run, to the start line, to hammer home that it's actually a long way. We also passed what I'm pretty sure was one of the locations where they filmed Breaking Bad, which seemed to fit with the fancy dress/Hallowe'en/Day of the Dead theme. We then pulled up in what looked like the middle of nowhere, on a pretty nice road. The only signs of civilization, if you can call it that, were the row of porta-potties and the DJ/race starter.

The girl and I warmed up with about 15 minutes to go. I did some jogging in warm clothes, with some accelerations to race pace. The girl danced to "Blurred Lines" and whatever else they played. Then the warm clothes went into our drop bags, and we lined up at the start. A young guy, about 20, walked up and said "Hey, you look fast..."
Looking around at the various Ninja Turtles, Luigi (from Mario Bros), assorted zombies and superheroes I replied "Well, it's all relative."

He was planning about a 1:20 half marathon. I said he was too fast for me, I was looking for under 1:30. A young woman next to us said he was too fast for her too. She was dressed as a runner - and it was a very convincing costume. She looked pretty serious, with a possibility of fast. And then came the gun...

The first half mile was a fast pace, but the three of us were chatting, until I looked at my watch. 5:40/mile pace. Oops! I told them it was a bit fast for me, so I eased up slightly, as did Ms. Runner. Our exceedingly fast friend held his pace and disappeared. From there Ms. Runner and I were running variously side-by-side and up to about a minute apart (she led until mile 7, then I moved ahead). And then came mile 11. I was feeling good, and there was no-one to be seen behind me. Finally I'd made a decent gap! I passed another aid station, politely declined the cups of water and keep running in the lane coned off at the side of the road.

One cross street.
Two.
Three.
No more cones.

I stopped and looked around. There was no sign of where I was supposed to go. I jogged to the next bus stop and asked the people there if they'd seen another runner come by. They said no. Annoyed, but not willing to lose more time I decided to head back to the last aid station, it wasn't that far. As I started back up the road Ms. Runner was running toward me, so I asked her "Any idea where we're supposed to go?" The answer: "No, I was following you."

Great. We both ran back to the aid station and turned down the side street. Back on course! I shouted to the marshals and police that they should have someone on the corner directing runners. The sarcastic response was "Yeah, we'll get right on that." I know it's my responsibility to know the course, but the course markings looked like it went straight and no-one said anything as I ran past. Or as Ms. Runner went past. The volunteers, marshals and police were great everywhere else on the course, but that corner really let the side down.

After another mile or so I had pulled slightly ahead again, and by asking as I approached each junction I managed to stay on course, and take the right turn to the finish line. Despite running an extra 0.4 miles, and wasting a good 45 seconds heading to the bus stop to ask for directions, I'd managed to hold on to second place!
Final (official) time: 1:30:30. (My run on Strava)
Exactly 6 minutes faster than my previous best.

At most races a 90 minute half-marathon won't even get you into the top 25. At some it won't get you into the top 100. Lucky for me the Duke City marathon is a big deal in New Mexico, and that was exactly 7 days prior. All the fast half-marathoners showed up there and not at Day of the Tread. So how do you almost win a half-marathon? It almost doesn't matter how slow you are - picking your race is paramount. You can only beat (or be beaten by) who shows up.

While that was my official time, I covered the half marathon distance in 1:28ish. I'm disappointed that I missed my 1:30 target, but know that the race time doesn't tell the whole story. I covered the distance slightly faster than my target pace, so it's an unofficial sub-1:30 in my books. And it's a new PR that I know I can beat, just as soon as my legs recover.

A spring and summer of success!

Last weekend was the Boulder 70.3 triathlon. This blog post was mostly going to be a race report, but I realised just how long it's been since I posted anything... a lot has happened since then, and much of it is useful back-story for the Boulder race.

So, back-story it is.
Last time I posted here was after the Atomic Man duathlon, a tough race (10km run, 40km bike, 5km run) held in White Rock, New Mexico. Well, only six days after Atomic Man I was treading water at the start line of Ironman 70.3 St. George, in a rather beautiful part of Utah. Largely due to laziness, but partly because of eye problems, I hadn't been to the pool much. My cycling and running had seemed to be on top form though.

How did that race pan out? Well, the girl and I had driven over to St. George and were staying at a gorgeous B&B. (She likes the town and B&B so much that she wants me to do the race again.) The race was on Saturday and we headed over to Sand Hollow to get the bike set up in T1. Sand Hollow is perhaps the nicest-looking spot for a swim. EVER (I'll try to find a picture). When I was there on race day I was less thrilled. The water was only as cold as at Ironman Wales, but seemed to be affecting me more. My swim was as glacial as the water felt, and I was glad when my hands finally thawed enough for me to get my socks and shoes on, and then out on the bike.

They laid on a fantastic bike course too. It was what you could call an "honest" course -- plenty of climbing, some flat, good opportunities to catch some wind. Thankfully the wind was fairly minimal, and the heat of the day didn't arrive until much later. The second state park on the course (after Sand Hollow) was Snow Canyon, which is a beautiful hill climb that just gets steeper as you go. Of course, what goes up must come down and the descent from the top of Snow Canyon is fast and on good roads.

Then to the run. The baking hot, totally exposed run. Did I mention the giant hill that covers the first few miles? No? Well, it's there. Actually, the way out wasn't too bad. For a little under half the run I even found myself matching another guy stride-for-stride and we chatted while we ran. The only real negative part of the run was running back down the big hill towards the finish. I had a little pain in my left ankle whenever I tried to open up with some speed on the downhill. Maybe I hadn't fully recovered from my sprint finish at Atomic Man, maybe it was new. Regardless, I slowed a little and then added some speed for the flat last half mile to the finish line.
Total time: 5:16:02, for 299th position overall and 54th in my age group.

I have to say that I was unhappy with my transitions, and I have only myself to blame for a slow, tough swim. Overall the experience was overwhelmingly positive though and I wasn't unhappy with my race time for such a tough course. The course was nice and the atmosphere was great.

Three (very lazy) weeks later I was at the Jemez Mountain Trail Run with the girl. She'd been looking forward to the 13.4 mile trail "half-marathon", so we signed up for that together. Of course, I was under strict orders not to run with her, and to go ahead and race. The race is on technical, rocky trails and has about 2400ft of elevation gain (half of it coming in one monster climb). Given that, I was hoping to come in under 2 hours, and figured that under 2:10 was likely. The speed at the start of the race was amazing - I wasn't sure whether all of those runners knew what they were doing, but it turns out that most of them are just FAST. Anyway, I was doing well until about mile 3, which is when I first got stabbing, cramping pain. It was at the bottom of, and off to the side of, my abs. I had to walk several times before I hit mile 4, and a couple more times towards the end of the race. It was a hot day, in the end. Despite the cramps I finished in 2:18:06 (29th overall), a respectable time but I hadn't had a lot of fun out there.

Happily I turned my attention back to cycling! Next on my radar was the 41st annual Tour de Los Alamos, what they call "the oldest bicycle race in the southwest". For the last three years I've raced this in the Citizens category; the category for folks who aren't USA Cycling licensed racers. I've won the 30-39 age group every year (twice in a sprint finish) and had improved my overall position from 7th, to 3rd, to 2nd. This year I'd upped the ante by racing as a licensed rider, debuting at the Adoption Exchange Classic. The citizens' race is one loop of about 27 miles, plus a couple of miles of "neutral parade" through town. Category 4 and 5 riders get to race for two laps of the course!

My winter had seen me put a lot of hours in on the stationary trainer, using TrainerRoad and training videos from The Sufferfest, and it really felt like it had paid off. My riding was stronger than it had ever been, and my plan for the race was to stay near the front of the pack, and go with any breaks I thought had a chance of surviving. My (perhaps optimistic) goal was to finish in the top 5 - mostly because, dammit, that's MY loop. I've ridden the course probably approaching 100 times. The race started at a relatively gentle pace. In opposition to last year, I felt no compulsion to drive the pace on the opening hill to shed people before the long straight downhill past Bandelier National Monument. The plan was simple: sit in, stay close to the front, go with the breaks. So I was sitting in.

As we got into the neutral zone marking the descent into Ancho Canyon I was chatting to a guy I'd met at the Adoption Exchange Classic back in April. I remember saying "The climb out of here is where the attacks usually come", but I was expecting it on lap 2. Except as the hill got steeper I found myself in second place and the guy in front was pulling away. Quickly. I figured that if I caught him, he'd slow up and wait for the pack - break nullified. Except that didn't quite work...

I hadn't realised that I was also dropping the pack on the way out of the canyon, and as I was fading slightly, trying desperately to get into the leader's slipstream, I heard a laboured voice call out "C'mon, you're nearly there!" Glancing back I only saw two people, then a gap before the peloton. My legs took that as a good sign and I charged up to the leader, closely followed by my fellow chasers. The leader sat up slightly as he heard us catch him, likely figuring we were the peloton, so I called out "We've got a gap."

The next 40 miles were a torturous, yet oddly awesome, ride in a four-man paceline. The referee on the motorcycle kept pulling up alongside us to give us splits back to the chasing riders. "20 seconds", "40 seconds", "1 minute 15 seconds". Apparently while trying to chase us down, three more riders had gotten away from the peloton. There were a few terrible minutes where the chase group was pulling back some time, but we got to the final climb of the race with a 1:40 lead. And that was where the teamwork and cameraderie of the break dissolved. Our little group fractured and I was left in a battle for 3rd or 4th. When I got to the line I stopped, got off my bike, and managed a controlled collapse to the ground. Third place; the hardest and best executed race of my life. And a podium in my home town race! Best day of the year, right there.
Final stats: 3rd place (Senior Men's Category 5), time 2:39:21.

So then all I had to do was use the rest of my summer to switch back to triathlon training and get ready to race in Boulder. Easy, right?
(To be continued...)

Atomic Man Duathlon 2013

The Atomic Man duathlon is a local fixture and a must-do early season race. It's a run-bike-run format, with two distances available: Fat Man (10km-40km-5km) and Little Boy (4km-15km-4km). In case you're wondering about the names... yes, they are named after atomic bombs. The race is held in White Rock, New Mexico, which is a satellite town for Los Alamos (home of the Manhattan Project).

Transition towels for all participants!

This year I got involved with the planning of Atomic Man, and while I didn't contribute as much as some (or even most) committee members, I did enjoy some of the behind-the-scenes decision making and getting a much better insight into the job race directors have to do. One thing that doing this highlighted was the fact that my time management skills are not what they used to be, so I found myself missing training sessions to go to Atomic Man meetings. I also had some last minute travel come up, and with a week of illness in there too, I was starting to feel like my training was getting to be intermittent. Not my training for Atomic Man... no, even though Atomic Man was the USAT Rocky Mountain Region duathlon championships this year my sights were firmly set on a race 6 days later: Ironman 70.3 St. George!

About a week before Atomic Man I started an additional immunosuppressant (Tacrolimus), to supplement the CellCept I already take for my uveitis. Starting a new medication is always a little stressful, especially learning if/how it will affect my ability to train and race. The list of potential side effects is awesome: "Side effects can be severe and include infection, cardiac damage, hypertension, blurred vision, liver and kidney problems, tacrolimus nephrotoxicity, hyperkalemia, hypomagnesemia, hyperglycemia, diabetes mellitus, itching, lung damage, and various neuropsychiatric problems such as loss of appetite, insomnia, Posterior reversible encephalopathy syndrome, confusion, weakness, depression, cramps, neuropathy, seizures, tremors, and catatonia."

Fortunately, there didn't seem to be any noticeable side effects. Catatonia isn't really compatible with racing of any kind.

The weather on race morning was just about perfect. Considering we had snow for this race 2 years ago, having a not-too-chilly, sunny, windless day was just fantastic. Of course, this is New Mexico, so if it's cool at 8am it's going to be pretty toasty by 11am. I was hoping to finish faster than last year (where I went 2hrs 25min) and avoid the midday heat. If I'm honest I was hunting for a spot on the podium too! My "race plan", if you can call it that, was to run the 10km hard, absolutely hammer the bike, and then hang on for the last 5km.

Pre-race setup went well (for me, my road helmet ended up racing on a friend's head)... and I got a good spot in transition, right near the bike in/out, next to @FeWmnLiz (you can/should read her race report here and you can find out how my helmet placed higher than I did).

As we lined up to start the first run I put myself next to some guys that looked fast. We got off to a speedy start, largely because the start is downhill, then I settled into a comfortable pace. I could see the leaders slowly pulling away from me, but I was fairly sure I couldn't keep up so I stuck with the plan and hoped to pull back some time on the bike. After the first lap of the Fat Man run course, I was in 5th place and could see 4th ahead of me. The top 3 had disappeared in a puff of burning rubber. It's not a flat course and I could feel a little cramping in my side as I ran up the hill in the middle of the second lap. Very unusual -- I never cramp while running. Gritting my teeth and telling myself that if I ignored it the pain would go away seemed to work. As I got to the final 100yds before transition I started to slow slightly and I was overtaken by a good local runner who actually accelerated into transition.
My time for the first run: 40:11 -- a new PR!

Coming into T1

After a tolerable 54 second transition, I was out on the bike course in 7th place. The Atomic Man course is on roads I ride a lot. I know every bump and twist in those roads and I was determined to leave everything on the road in this. Within a couple of minutes I was already up to 5th place and pushing hard. About 5 minutes later I was overtaken by a really strong rider from out of town, and he was moving. Still, he was a bigger guy than me and I thought I might get some time back on the 6ish mile, 1000ft hill that makes Fat Man a real cyclist's course. As I got to less than a mile from the turnaround I was overtaken again -- "I never thought I'd see my bike from this angle" -- Clay, a local hero on the multisport scene and former pro-cyclist sold me his old TT bike last year and he'd caught me, on his way to the top bike split of the day. So, back in 7th and I was just about to see the leaders coming back from the turnaround.

By the 20 mile mark I'd hammered the downhill, my neck and shoulders were aching from being tucked so aggressively on a rough road, and I could just see another rider in front of me. I caught them a quarter-mile from transition and entered T2 in 6th place.

Just hitting the dismount line

My split for the bike: 1:14:56.

Despite having a fairly speedy T2, 39 seconds according to the provisional results, I came out of transition in 7th place again.

Losing a place in transition... again!

I managed to hang with the guy in 6th place for about a mile, but the backs of my legs felt like they were welded solid and I was working so hard just to lose ground slowly. I hadn't seen anyone else behind me on the bike so decided that I had time and should just run to hold my place. Of course, that was when I started being able to see a new figure in front of me... for the last two miles I was slowly catching him, and that helped me keep pushing. With about a quarter-mile to go I moved to just behind my new nemesis and stayed on his shoulder. When we hit the uphill finishing stretch the pace slowly crept up, then he made his move: the sprint was on!

Sprint finish with Gage, a top bloke and strong competitor

It felt like forever, but was really only 200 yards. I crossed the line, hurting and not looking back, 2 seconds ahead.
My split for the second run: 23:53 (Officially 24:32, but the T2 times have been rolled into run 2 for some reason)

I needed a little lie down after all that

And that was it. Sixth overall and second in my age group (M35-39).
Final time: 2 hours, 20 minutes and 34 seconds.
All I had to do now was recover in time for the next race.

Big thanks to Frank, our race director, and all the other committee members for planning. Special thanks to the volunteers. It's a small race, but it still takes a lot of people and a lot of work to make it happen. Best of all, it's an awesome race and it's right on my doorstep.

Reflections on an Omnium

So it's been all quiet on the blogging front recently. Well, last weekend I rode in the Adoption Exchange Classic, a road omnium in Albuquerque. What's an omnium? It's a points-based, multi-event cycling competition. Typically omniums (omnia?) are competed at a velodrome, but a road omnium has all three "disciplines" of road cycling. The Adoption Exchange Classic is fairly typical and had the following events:

1. A 20km time trial (TT)
2. A criterium (aka crit)
3. A road race

I was competing in the Men's category 5 race. That's basically the lowest category of licensed racers, and to get upgraded to cat 4 you need to get 10 mass start races under your belt. So far, my bike racing career has included 3 road races only. So I'm stuck in cat 5 for several races more. The omnium gives me another 2 mass starts -- TTs don't count here as they're individual races.

In the cat 5 omnium, the crit was a 30 minute race around the NAPA speedway (a motor racing circuit). The road race was 31.5 miles (after a 1.5 mile neutral parade).

So how did it all go? I'm pretty happy to be honest.
The weekend was quite windy, but didn't get up past about 20mph, and that was only on Sunday. For the TT, which was an out-and-back course, there was a little headwind on the way out. There was also a sustained climb back from the turnaround point... about 2 miles at nearly 4%. Between that and the chipseal road, not a super-fast course. It was also 13 miles, not 12.42 (20km). However, my sub-standard time of 35-something put me 6th in my category. Next time I would ensure slightly more sleep and getting to the race start earlier, so I had more time for a proper warm-up.

6th is more important than the time, as in an omnium the winner is determined by who has the lowest number of points after all events. The number of points you get is equal to your position in each event.

A couple of hours after the TT we were at the speedway for the crit. That's basically a twisty-turny race where a bunch of people on bikes ride too close to each other, too fast, into corners, for a set time.  Anyone who gets lapped is out of the race. Our circuit was about 1 mile and our average speed during the race was about 24.5mph. My primary aim was to hang on to the front pack and not crash. My secondary aim was to finish (i.e. not get lapped).

I did not get lapped.
Actually, this is where the points I scored don't reflect my position. More than half of the field got lapped out and the officials were having a hard time keeping track. I finished well off the back of the main pack, but with a few people behind me. However, I initially was scored at 100 points, which is a nice way of saying DNF. I appealed and was given a place... 23 points, making me the official last finisher. I think it was really 16th or 17th, but thankfully it makes no difference to my final placing.
About 10 minutes after the race I noticed that my front tyre was soft. Not long after it was totally flat. There's a lot of debris on the corners of a racetrack, so I'm guessing I ran over something sharp. Thankfully my tyre stayed sufficiently inflated for me to finish, although it may explain why my last couple of laps felt so hard. No, wait, it really was about the hardest ride I've ever done. EVER. Regardless of the pressure in my tyres.

Still, at this point my Saturday was done, so it was back home so the gf could get to her roller-derby bout, then back to Albuquerque to sleep... Next morning: the road race!

I like road racing. I actually thought this would be my strongest event, despite being a triathlete and primarily training for time trials. We had a full field again (cat 5 is limited to 50 riders) and we set off at about 9:15am. The ride was uneventful, relaxing even, until about 8 miles in... where we hit Heartbreak Hill. It's short, but steep, and the field fell apart. The leaders had made a small gap before the hill and disappeared right there. I was with a couple of people at the top of the hill and we formed a 3-man paceline to try to chase down the leaders. At one point that went up to 4, then down to 3, 2 and finally just me pushing ahead. Near mile 19... right turn, straight into a 20mph headwind. 10 minutes later I was caught by a 7-man paceline, so I jumped on the back. After sitting out for two turns (to recover), I took my turn to pull every few minutes and we must've been going twice the speed I could do by myself into that wind.

The paceline lost 1 person a few miles from the finish, but otherwise that was where we all stayed, slowly closing on the leaders, but not fast enough.

At 1km out, people stopped taking their turn to pull...
At 500m out, everyone got really twitchy... the paceline was now more of a loose pack.
At 200m out the pack exploded into a sprint.
Apparently I can't sprint very well. I finished in the middle of my pack, putting me 11th in the road race and 7th in the Men's cat 5 omnium.

My best position was in the TT, but I think my best performance was in the road race. I definitely worked hardest in the crit, and learned the most there.
I highly recommend bike racing for anyone who loves to ride. It's super fun, social and a much better workout than any solo or group ride. Races also require thinking, which is a cool extra dimension you don't get in training, or even TTs.

(I'll update this with pics when I get the chance... watch out for sexy, sexy bicycles!)

Endurance training with autoimmune disease

A lofty title for today's post indeed. There seems to be precious little information on the web for endurance athletes (or those who want to compete in endurance sports) with autoimmune disease. I can't provide much general insight, but I can share my experience.

My own slice of autoimmune joy is uveitis. My eyes have an inflammation in the middle eye, which causes swelling on the retina. This leads to severely compromised central vision when the swelling is not controlled. Mine is controlled by slow-release implants of corticosteroids that get injected into my eyeballs every 4 months (ish). In an effort to beat the disease into remission I'm also on a regimen of immuno-suppressants (currently CellCept, usually used for transplant recipients).

Right now I'm training for my first big race of the season: Ironman 70.3 St. George. It's a race consisting of a 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, 13.1 mile run. As you might imagine, this sort of distance requires a fair bit of training. Just to give a little better idea of how much training someone might do for this type of event (and I am trying to get closer to the front of the field in this sport), here's how much training I've done so far in 2013 (and I'm currently starting to build my training volume).
Bike: Approximately 30 hours. Largely spent on my indoor trainer due to weather. A good fraction of this has been high intensity training.
Run: Assuming I run as planned later today, about 14 hours. This has been split about 9 hours trail running (mostly in snow), 4 hours road running and 1 hour on the treadmill. My running is lagging a little behind my plan.
Swim: Well, least said soonest mended. I just started swimming again after my Ironman triathlon last year.

How does autoimmune disease affect my training?
 - Most of the time my vision doesn't interfere substantially with training or racing.
 - When I have injections in the eye I can't swim for 3 days afterwards. Last year I also had 2 eye surgeries that kept me from training for longer.
 - Immunosuppressants have the biggest impact on my training. Methotrexate (which I no longer take) gave me nausea that made quality training impossible for 1-2 days per week. It feels like I'm tolerating the CellCept better, but it occasionally messes with my GI tract. This means that I have days where long training sessions are impossible, and I also find it hard to eat sufficient calories to sustain my workouts. Yesterday I had to stop a 1.75 hour ride on the trainer early, after taking two breaks.
 - Immune suppression, well, suppresses the immune system. So does intense exercise. This makes me susceptible to catching whatever is floating around out there. Thanks to a good diet and some healthy paranoia I've been able to stay healthy for the last couple of years with only one real dose of man-flu.
 - Alcohol. This isn't highly recommended for folks taking immunosuppressants. I got out of the drinking habit when I started on methotrexate and I'm typically having one drink a month these days. It's brilliant. No hangovers. More of my calories are nutrionally valuable. I just feel better. I can train better. My mind feels generally sharper. In this respect starting systemic medication has been awesome for my training.
 - Muscle growth and recovery from workouts... these are made more difficult by my medication. Sometimes I just don't have the strength that I know my muscles can provide. I don't feel weak, per se, I just can't hit my potential some days. Recovering, like healing from wounds, takes longer than it used to. It still happens, but I'm still getting used to just how slow it can be at times.
 - Blood monitoring. I actually have a doctor watching the state of my health closely, and I get blood tests done every month or two. I know what my body is doing, long term, and I have a doctor watching it all. This is surprisingly useful, if you take a little time to understand what all the tests mean.
 - Mental health. This is a biggie. When I see my vision slipping away in one eye as my condition flares up, it makes staying positive about everything harder. It makes work harder, since I need my vision to work, and that raises stress levels. When I'm coping with side-effects from medication, same story. Mental toughness and the ability to stay focused and positive under extreme conditions are vital for endurance athletes. I just get more opportunities to develop that toughness than average.

In short, dealing with autoimmune disease often includes "performance-reducing" measures. By accepting that changes will have to be made to get the best out of your body it's totally possible to participate in, and be competitive at, endurance sports. Listening to your body is key, and training has to be smart. At the moment my body doesn't respond as quickly as it used to to training, so I have to think more about how to manage the physical stress I place on my body to get the training I need. There are no shortcuts, and I'm still learning just what I can get away with.

There are some real inspirations out there too... folks dealing with autoimmune diseases that are competitive sportspeople with great attitudes.
Some well-known sportspeople with auto-immune diseases:
Sanya Richards-Ross, sprinter; Venus Williams, tennis player; Phil Mickelson, golfer; Novac Djokovic, tennis player
Triathlete Angela Durazo also keeps a great blog about racing with rheumatoid arthritis. Check it out.

2013 Race Calendar

So what does 2013 look like? Well, this isn't set in stone yet, but it is the plan...
As always, life can (and most likely will) get in the way of some of this and so the plan is open to change. 

April: 

 - Adoption Exchange Classic Omnium

 - Atomic Man duathlon

May:

 - St. George 70.3

 - Jemez Mountain Trail Run 1/2 marathon

June:

 - Billy the Kid Tombstone Olympic Tri

 - Run the Caldera trail 1/2 marathon

 - Tour de Los Alamos road race

 - Storrie Lake Olympic Tri (maybe... depends on travel schedule, could be replaced by Mona Vale Cold Water Classic 1.2km ocean swim)

July:

 - Taos Gran Fondo

 - Cochiti Lake Olympic Tri

August:

 - Boulder 70.3

 - Los Alamos Triathlon (Sprint)

 - The 505 Triathlon (1mi swim, 40mi bike, 9.5mi run)

September:

 - XTerra Dread Mon Tri

 - Trinada del Muerto (70.3)

And a fall marathon with the girlfriend...

Then I'm going to sleep until there's enough snow to take the board out. Or take the car out for a track day. Or something that doesn't involve swim, bike or run.

But for now, Happy New Year to all! All the best for 2013.