Tests as such don't suck unless they tell you that you suck. This of course didn't come completely unexpectedly. Yes, I'm still not completely over what happened on Sunday but I'm getting there. As hard as it was to write that post, I'm glad I did because your responses certainly put things in perspective. Thank you. I'll never be proud of my performance on Sunday but - hey - shit happens!
What happened since: I woke up with a sore throat on Monday. I woke up with a sore throat on Tuesday. I woke up with a sore throat today. I also have this cough since Sunday and a very high rest heart rate in the mornings, no other symptoms. Yes, I've got a reasonably good idea what this means.
I had a very overdue threshold test scheduled for Tuesday and wasn't going to bludge. The warm up went alright but I didn't go through with the 20 min test. Seven minutes into the test I stopped. My power output was below my previous functional threshold power and my heart rate wouldn't go up despite the perceived exertion being very high. That I even attempted the test might have something to do with Sunday's experience. I was pushing the point, trying to proof that I can ride hard. I couldn't!
Today I came home from work and again got on the windtrainer. Sometimes I just wish I wasn't as competitive, or stubborn ... some may call it stupid. Today I pushed through the entire 20 minute time trial. My functional threshold power was slightly below the previous test result.
Maybe I will just keep testing day after day until the result improves?
I'm kidding. I will schedule a test again when my sore throat is gone and my rest heart rate is back to normal.
I called the medical centre today to see if my latest blood test results had come in. They told me that they couldn't tell me the result over the phone and that I needed to come in. I didn't like the sound of that.
30 September 2009
27 September 2009
Gold
I'm so proud of our Hamilton Pine River Wheeler girls who rocked the team time trial and won the gold medal. They are amazing girls and riders.
This should be a happy post but I'm afraid it won't be.
On days like today, right now, I wish I wouldn't keep this blog because some posts are very hard to write. It's hard enough to deal with disappointment and self-doubt in private but how do you do it in public? What do you do with a gold medal that you feel you haven't earned and therefore don't deserve? Give it back? Burry it in the bottom drawer never to be seen again? Or hang it somewhere visible as a reminder of the bad days, using it as a motivator to train harder?
The worst thing is that I still don't know why it happened.
I was nervous all morning but kept myself occupied with washing the bike, oiling the chain, shaving the legs, packing the car and keeping the fluids up. I enjoyed the good hour's drive to Laidley and arrived two hours before race start. I ran into Mel in front of the toilets, where I headed first, as always after a long drive, during which I kept sipping on the water bottle. Suz and Adam arrived not long after us with the Hamilton tent and we started setting up. Donna and the other Mel with David were not far behind and my nerves settled.
We went for a little test run up the road and I felt good. The wind was very strong and threw me around with the deep-dish Corima wheels and felt very uncomfortable on the time trial bars so I decided to race the Powertap wheels. My legs felt good during the warm up.
I didn't do anything different from last week, had the same rice porridge the same two hours before the race, the same bottle of water in the car, about the same 20 minute warm up with the same half Clif bar while on the same windtrainer, and also a can of V drink 15 minutes before race start, just like last week.
I was very calm at the start but once we were off I just could not find a rhythm. My legs, within a matter of minutes, just went. I can't quite figure out what went wrong. I tried to push but had no power. Sometimes you need to push through the hurt and pain but I wasn't even in any hurt or pain. There was just simply nothing. I dropped off the back, couldn't push into the headwind and once I had lost that wheel I went backwards. For a while I thought I would still come good and I was praying for my legs to start firing but it only got worse and stabbing cramps set in.
Often I think afterwards: "If I had just pushed a little harder" or "I could have done better" but today I don't feel that there was actually anything I could have done. I just wished I could find the reason so I could prevent it from happening again in future. Too nervous without noticing it? Not warm enough? Pushing a too big gear into that gale-force wind? A combination of things?
Whatever it was, I feel I let the team down.
I'm just so proud of them that they still won the gold. How awesome is that? Mel threw up during the race and still kept racing.
True champions!
This should be a happy post but I'm afraid it won't be.
On days like today, right now, I wish I wouldn't keep this blog because some posts are very hard to write. It's hard enough to deal with disappointment and self-doubt in private but how do you do it in public? What do you do with a gold medal that you feel you haven't earned and therefore don't deserve? Give it back? Burry it in the bottom drawer never to be seen again? Or hang it somewhere visible as a reminder of the bad days, using it as a motivator to train harder?
The worst thing is that I still don't know why it happened.
I was nervous all morning but kept myself occupied with washing the bike, oiling the chain, shaving the legs, packing the car and keeping the fluids up. I enjoyed the good hour's drive to Laidley and arrived two hours before race start. I ran into Mel in front of the toilets, where I headed first, as always after a long drive, during which I kept sipping on the water bottle. Suz and Adam arrived not long after us with the Hamilton tent and we started setting up. Donna and the other Mel with David were not far behind and my nerves settled.
We went for a little test run up the road and I felt good. The wind was very strong and threw me around with the deep-dish Corima wheels and felt very uncomfortable on the time trial bars so I decided to race the Powertap wheels. My legs felt good during the warm up.
Mel (left), Donna (right) and I warming up
I didn't do anything different from last week, had the same rice porridge the same two hours before the race, the same bottle of water in the car, about the same 20 minute warm up with the same half Clif bar while on the same windtrainer, and also a can of V drink 15 minutes before race start, just like last week.
I was very calm at the start but once we were off I just could not find a rhythm. My legs, within a matter of minutes, just went. I can't quite figure out what went wrong. I tried to push but had no power. Sometimes you need to push through the hurt and pain but I wasn't even in any hurt or pain. There was just simply nothing. I dropped off the back, couldn't push into the headwind and once I had lost that wheel I went backwards. For a while I thought I would still come good and I was praying for my legs to start firing but it only got worse and stabbing cramps set in.
Often I think afterwards: "If I had just pushed a little harder" or "I could have done better" but today I don't feel that there was actually anything I could have done. I just wished I could find the reason so I could prevent it from happening again in future. Too nervous without noticing it? Not warm enough? Pushing a too big gear into that gale-force wind? A combination of things?
Whatever it was, I feel I let the team down.
I'm just so proud of them that they still won the gold. How awesome is that? Mel threw up during the race and still kept racing.
True champions!
26 September 2009
Limbo
There are signs of cycling everywhere in the house. There is Coggan's and Allen's book open on my desk and Orlick's In Pursuit of Excellence, there are (of course) Friel's Training Bible and Jeukendrop's 'High-Performance Cycling' sitting on Alberto's desk looking highly used, there are half-written training programs and scribbled notes of power and heart rate zones scattered around the house, excel spreadsheets on the computer screen and blog posts like this one spark animated discussions at the dinner table ... yes, Alberto and I are writing training programs and getting mentally prepared for the hard training that is going to be required for the Tour of Bright.
And still, the week felt like we were in limbo. Alberto had another transition week after his big Grafton to Inverell effort and I'm trying to maintain the fitness for tomorrow's State Team Time Trial Championship.
Unsure of what to do I didn't want to launch into a high intensity training week and then be all worn out come Sunday's competition. I've never raced a team time trial before and feel privileged to be able to race with such strong and experienced girls like Donna, Mel and Mel. Up until last week I was convinced that I was the weakest link in our quartet but the result last Sunday gave me a little confidence boost and I'm less nervous now. Wish us luck!
And still, the week felt like we were in limbo. Alberto had another transition week after his big Grafton to Inverell effort and I'm trying to maintain the fitness for tomorrow's State Team Time Trial Championship.
Unsure of what to do I didn't want to launch into a high intensity training week and then be all worn out come Sunday's competition. I've never raced a team time trial before and feel privileged to be able to race with such strong and experienced girls like Donna, Mel and Mel. Up until last week I was convinced that I was the weakest link in our quartet but the result last Sunday gave me a little confidence boost and I'm less nervous now. Wish us luck!
20 September 2009
Silver
Alberto sat me down in front of TV this morning. I was too unconcerned and blasé about the time trial championship. My attitude was "Whatever! I won't stand a chance anyway" because I had been sick all week and hadn't trained much in the past two weeks. My throat was still sore when I woke up this morning. Alberto is resourceful and played the time trial stage of our Giro d'Italia DVD and made me watch. It definitely worked and got me fired up.
I thought I would be driving out by myself but just a quarter to ten Alberto announced that they were joining me. Joy! We left at ten. In the car on the way to Rosewood I started getting very nervous, too nervous. It’s hard to get the right level of arousal.
During the warm-up on the wind trainer my legs felt surprisingly good, much better than my sore throat would have indicated. All of the sudden, from indifferent via tense, I finally arrived at a focused frame of mind and serious about this race. Words from a recent comment from bikesgonewild came to my mind that desire can overcome the lack of training. I believed it.
My start time one minute past noon! It was hot. I took water in my bottle so I would be able to spray it over my head. I arrived at the start with just two minutes to spare. Perfect. The commissaire called out 30 seconds. I looked down and realised that I was in the small chain ring. Wrong! Marcel Bengston from MB Coaching was holding my bike and offered to let me change it but with 30 seconds I preferred to stay focused.
"Pace, pace, pace!" became my mantra the first ten minutes, the course rolling, the road rough at times. My heart rate was 171 bpm when my threshold is 162 bpm. I paced myself, eased into the effort, didn’t panic, didn’t need to as my speed was up in the high 30ies and even touched on 40 km/h. I had images of time trialling Pros from the morning DVD in my head, like the camera catching snaking powerful movements of riders from behind and my core muscles tightened and my arms gripped the bars tighter. I sat right on the tip of my saddle. I hadn't moved the saddle forward by a couple of millimetres like a usually do.
Before the turnaround at kilometre ten I spotted my minute girl. It helped me focus until I overtook her on the return leg. The last five kilometres I started tiring. Alberto and Toby were cheering me on from the sideline and I heard Alberto yelling out: "Spin!" One gear down and up the false flat, I powered to the finish line.
Alberto and Toby caught up to me in the car, pulled up alongside me and excitedly, out of the car window, they assured me that I would be on the podium. I didn't believe them. I had felt good - yes - but podium? I didn't know my time nor speed; I had forgotten to press any buttons on my computer. While I was cooling down I was chatting with the other girls who all knew their times. For me it meant waiting for the official results. When it finally came out I was absolutely stoked.
Silver medal!
I thought I would be driving out by myself but just a quarter to ten Alberto announced that they were joining me. Joy! We left at ten. In the car on the way to Rosewood I started getting very nervous, too nervous. It’s hard to get the right level of arousal.
During the warm-up on the wind trainer my legs felt surprisingly good, much better than my sore throat would have indicated. All of the sudden, from indifferent via tense, I finally arrived at a focused frame of mind and serious about this race. Words from a recent comment from bikesgonewild came to my mind that desire can overcome the lack of training. I believed it.
My start time one minute past noon! It was hot. I took water in my bottle so I would be able to spray it over my head. I arrived at the start with just two minutes to spare. Perfect. The commissaire called out 30 seconds. I looked down and realised that I was in the small chain ring. Wrong! Marcel Bengston from MB Coaching was holding my bike and offered to let me change it but with 30 seconds I preferred to stay focused.
Before the turnaround at kilometre ten I spotted my minute girl. It helped me focus until I overtook her on the return leg. The last five kilometres I started tiring. Alberto and Toby were cheering me on from the sideline and I heard Alberto yelling out: "Spin!" One gear down and up the false flat, I powered to the finish line.
Alberto and Toby caught up to me in the car, pulled up alongside me and excitedly, out of the car window, they assured me that I would be on the podium. I didn't believe them. I had felt good - yes - but podium? I didn't know my time nor speed; I had forgotten to press any buttons on my computer. While I was cooling down I was chatting with the other girls who all knew their times. For me it meant waiting for the official results. When it finally came out I was absolutely stoked.
Silver medal!
19 September 2009
Mulberry hands
The buckwheat pancakes were delicious!
After breakfast I talked the 'boys' into a little ride. Toby, Alberto's son who is staying with us for a few days, is now big enough for my Trek 1500. He will be 15 in a couple of months.
Sunbaking on the trail is dangerous. You might get run over by a cyclist.
52 km along the bike path and through the Boondall Wetlands...
...and on the home stretch we discovered mulberries, black and ripe and sweet and juicy.
The little snack gave us the energy to get us home. I had never eaten mulberries before but picking them reminded me of childhood days when we would come home from a day out in the woods, all scratched and berry-juice-stained and the bellies full of berries: wild strawberries, blackberries and boysenberries.
It's not just training and racing all the time!
17 September 2009
Out of the blue
Shane called yesterday. Because of personal commitments he can no longer coach. I understand but I'd lie if I said I wasn't disappointed. I felt stranded. It came without warning. Now that I had a little bit of time to think about what I want to do, I decided, rather then trying to find another coach, I'll write my own power-based training program with the help of Friel's 'Training Bible' and Coggan's and Allen's 'Training and Racing with Power'.
Less unexpected than being dumped by my coach was the way I felt when I woke up Wednesday morning. The signs and symptoms had been noticeable for a few days already.
Friday morning, before our drive to Grafton, I did some strength repeats on Mt Coot-tha but I felt shit, to say the least. My power output was way down in comparison to previous workouts. It made me feel all insecure because I couldn't figure out why, all of the sudden, I sucked even more at climbing this stupid hill. On our long drive down the coast I discussed it with Alberto and, with the tiredness of late and slightly swollen glands, we assumed that the Glandular Fever was flaring up.
Saturday I supported Alberto in the Grafton to Inverell race, as you know, so no riding for me. Alberto and I joined the "Stretch the legs" ride that was organised for Sunday morning by the local Inverell Cycling Club for all riders, support crew, family and friends. Alberto got to show off his polka-dot jersey, which in actual fact is a red sapphire splattered jersey, and I got some urgently needed pedal action. It was an easy ride and I felt reasonably good but everybody feels good on an easy ride, right?
Determined to make up for last week's messed up training I was highly motivated, only to once again wake up with sore throat, swollen glands, deep black rings under my puffy eyes and no energy. Yesterday morning I felt so crap that I decided to see the doctor.
I was nervously sitting in the waiting room, mentally preparing myself to be told to forget about racing for another six months. The doctor, grey-haired and old, looked into my throat and muttered something that worried me, listened to my heart and lungs and conceded that I must be quite the athletic type with such a slow heart rate, tapped on my tummy and looked satisfied, made me breathe in and out, took my temperature - to my surprise it was over 38C - and finally said: "I'm pretty sure you are well and truly over your Glandular Fever and this is a new virus".
I gave him the biggest smile. From the expression on his face he must have thought I'm quite feverish.
He sent me to have another blood test done to confirm and told me to stay home for the rest of the week. When I protested he ordered me to stop trying to be a heroine. But I did go into work this morning for an important induction that nobody else could do - I swear! - and went home and straight back to bed afterwards.
The Individual Time Trial State Championship is in three days. I can't bring myself to call Cycling Queensland and withdraw. I'm still hoping to wake up tomorrow morning, miraculously cured. I'm so keen to race. As relieved as I felt initially that it wasn't a recurrence of Glandular Fever, I'm now really upset about being sick again. Some health issue constantly seems to prevent me from racing well. Damn! I'm frustrated.
I'm eating healthy, fruit and vegetables every day, even have breakfast most days now. I eased back into training, took it easy, rode and raced sensibly, got enough rest and listened to my body. I thought I'm doing everything right. Am I just very unlucky this year?
Less unexpected than being dumped by my coach was the way I felt when I woke up Wednesday morning. The signs and symptoms had been noticeable for a few days already.
Friday morning, before our drive to Grafton, I did some strength repeats on Mt Coot-tha but I felt shit, to say the least. My power output was way down in comparison to previous workouts. It made me feel all insecure because I couldn't figure out why, all of the sudden, I sucked even more at climbing this stupid hill. On our long drive down the coast I discussed it with Alberto and, with the tiredness of late and slightly swollen glands, we assumed that the Glandular Fever was flaring up.
Saturday I supported Alberto in the Grafton to Inverell race, as you know, so no riding for me. Alberto and I joined the "Stretch the legs" ride that was organised for Sunday morning by the local Inverell Cycling Club for all riders, support crew, family and friends. Alberto got to show off his polka-dot jersey, which in actual fact is a red sapphire splattered jersey, and I got some urgently needed pedal action. It was an easy ride and I felt reasonably good but everybody feels good on an easy ride, right?
I was nervously sitting in the waiting room, mentally preparing myself to be told to forget about racing for another six months. The doctor, grey-haired and old, looked into my throat and muttered something that worried me, listened to my heart and lungs and conceded that I must be quite the athletic type with such a slow heart rate, tapped on my tummy and looked satisfied, made me breathe in and out, took my temperature - to my surprise it was over 38C - and finally said: "I'm pretty sure you are well and truly over your Glandular Fever and this is a new virus".
I gave him the biggest smile. From the expression on his face he must have thought I'm quite feverish.
He sent me to have another blood test done to confirm and told me to stay home for the rest of the week. When I protested he ordered me to stop trying to be a heroine. But I did go into work this morning for an important induction that nobody else could do - I swear! - and went home and straight back to bed afterwards.
The Individual Time Trial State Championship is in three days. I can't bring myself to call Cycling Queensland and withdraw. I'm still hoping to wake up tomorrow morning, miraculously cured. I'm so keen to race. As relieved as I felt initially that it wasn't a recurrence of Glandular Fever, I'm now really upset about being sick again. Some health issue constantly seems to prevent me from racing well. Damn! I'm frustrated.
I'm eating healthy, fruit and vegetables every day, even have breakfast most days now. I eased back into training, took it easy, rode and raced sensibly, got enough rest and listened to my body. I thought I'm doing everything right. Am I just very unlucky this year?
15 September 2009
Tribute to the handlers - Grafton to Inverell 2009
Should you get asked to be support for a rider in one of Australia's longest and most gruelling one-day-races, the Grafton to Inverell, then consider wisely. This is no job for the faint-hearted. This post is a tribute to all those people who stood tirelessly on the side of the road, made up water bottle after water bottle, waited hours patiently in the hot sun with nothing but paddocks and cows around them.
You will have to be highly organised, work well under pressure and keep your cool in difficult situations. Oh, and you should be a good driver, too.
It was the first time for me but I would like to share my experience.
The highest priority should always be your rider. Make sure he is at the assembly area well ahead of the start time. Handlers are supposed to leave the start area 15 minutes before the start of the Elite race, which makes it 45 minutes before the start of your rider, should he race Cat 3. Now, you didn’t hear this from me and I’m not suggesting that you should break the rules even before the race is on the way, but if your rider wants a short black caffeine hit and it is ten minutes to the start of the Elite race, you have to think on your feet and make quick decisions. Bear in mind that the success and failure of your rider is in your hands. So organising an espresso was my decision.
It is tough to leave the start area without seeing your rider off. Prepare yourself for the heartbreak of not being able to communicate for the first 120 km until you will see your rider again at the first feed stop, and then only for split seconds.
Don’t stress if you get stuck behind Cat 2 and the Elite races initially, just out of Grafton. Even though you might be stuck in this big caravan for 40 or 50 kilometres at 30 km/h, 120 km is a long way and you will arrive at the first feed zone with time to spare. The race is so well organised and police controls every inch of the road so you will be able to pass the peloton eventually. Up the Gibraltar Range I found myself all alone and after all the hectic in the morning, it was all of the sudden peaceful and calm. Enjoy the moments and the scenery of lush rainforest, the bird sounds and a river along the road.
The atmosphere at the first feed is nervous. Lots of handlers are not cyclists. There are wives and mothers of cyclists, anxious to make sure that their loved one is ok.
Make sure your wear something obvious that is easy for your rider to spot. You should have discussed the contents of each musette with your rider the day before so you have a list of things he wishes to have at each feed. Check that the strings are firmly attached to the bag. I have seen musettes rip off the handles and the contents splatter all over the road, which is heartbreaking because it's not just dangerous for riders to crash but also for the rider who now has to continue on for another 40 km without food or water.
Leave the feed zone immediately after passing your musette safely to your rider. Don’t waste any time. Feed zone two is only about 40 km later and you will once again get stuck behind groups of riders, now split up in lots of little groups. The 17 km climb has done the damage. I found it helpful that I had prepared musette #2 already ahead of time at feed one. I knew I didn’t need to panic.
An esky comes in handy if you have room in the car.
For feed zone two it is advisable to have a 4WD as support vehicle. The allotted parking area is in a paddock. By now you start recognising the handlers of the riders who are just ahead of your rider or in the same group. Socialise! It’s very rewarding when later someone says to you: “Oh, I met you at Feed One. I didn’t realise your were the handler of the King of the Mountain!”
Feed three is very much the same, only it is even closer, about 30 km after feed two. You have worked out your routine and feel a lot more comfortable passing the musette. However, by now everybody spent more than six hours on the side of the road or in the hot car and is getting a bit wary so keep your wits and stay cool. Make sure that you don’t just look after your rider’s but also after your own hydration. You should prepare your own lunch in the morning because there is absolutely nothing out there and you won't have time to stop in Glen Innes for lunch. You are no help if you are starving or have a splitting headache in the afternoon heat.
The last leg is only 30 kilometres so make sure you are in Inverell to watch the finish. Everything is well organised and there is plenty of parking close to the finish. Excitement is in the air. Prepare a little wet cloth so you can wipe down your rider. This is especially important if he needs to attend to the podium afterwards. And listen to the race radio! It is embarrassing to be the last person in the race to find out that your are looking after the King of the Mountain.
Well done to all riders and handlers. It was a great day, tough but memorable, and I'd be a handler again anytime.
You will have to be highly organised, work well under pressure and keep your cool in difficult situations. Oh, and you should be a good driver, too.
It was the first time for me but I would like to share my experience.
The highest priority should always be your rider. Make sure he is at the assembly area well ahead of the start time. Handlers are supposed to leave the start area 15 minutes before the start of the Elite race, which makes it 45 minutes before the start of your rider, should he race Cat 3. Now, you didn’t hear this from me and I’m not suggesting that you should break the rules even before the race is on the way, but if your rider wants a short black caffeine hit and it is ten minutes to the start of the Elite race, you have to think on your feet and make quick decisions. Bear in mind that the success and failure of your rider is in your hands. So organising an espresso was my decision.
It is tough to leave the start area without seeing your rider off. Prepare yourself for the heartbreak of not being able to communicate for the first 120 km until you will see your rider again at the first feed stop, and then only for split seconds.
Don’t stress if you get stuck behind Cat 2 and the Elite races initially, just out of Grafton. Even though you might be stuck in this big caravan for 40 or 50 kilometres at 30 km/h, 120 km is a long way and you will arrive at the first feed zone with time to spare. The race is so well organised and police controls every inch of the road so you will be able to pass the peloton eventually. Up the Gibraltar Range I found myself all alone and after all the hectic in the morning, it was all of the sudden peaceful and calm. Enjoy the moments and the scenery of lush rainforest, the bird sounds and a river along the road.
The atmosphere at the first feed is nervous. Lots of handlers are not cyclists. There are wives and mothers of cyclists, anxious to make sure that their loved one is ok.
Make sure your wear something obvious that is easy for your rider to spot. You should have discussed the contents of each musette with your rider the day before so you have a list of things he wishes to have at each feed. Check that the strings are firmly attached to the bag. I have seen musettes rip off the handles and the contents splatter all over the road, which is heartbreaking because it's not just dangerous for riders to crash but also for the rider who now has to continue on for another 40 km without food or water.
Leave the feed zone immediately after passing your musette safely to your rider. Don’t waste any time. Feed zone two is only about 40 km later and you will once again get stuck behind groups of riders, now split up in lots of little groups. The 17 km climb has done the damage. I found it helpful that I had prepared musette #2 already ahead of time at feed one. I knew I didn’t need to panic.
An esky comes in handy if you have room in the car.
For feed zone two it is advisable to have a 4WD as support vehicle. The allotted parking area is in a paddock. By now you start recognising the handlers of the riders who are just ahead of your rider or in the same group. Socialise! It’s very rewarding when later someone says to you: “Oh, I met you at Feed One. I didn’t realise your were the handler of the King of the Mountain!”
Feed three is very much the same, only it is even closer, about 30 km after feed two. You have worked out your routine and feel a lot more comfortable passing the musette. However, by now everybody spent more than six hours on the side of the road or in the hot car and is getting a bit wary so keep your wits and stay cool. Make sure that you don’t just look after your rider’s but also after your own hydration. You should prepare your own lunch in the morning because there is absolutely nothing out there and you won't have time to stop in Glen Innes for lunch. You are no help if you are starving or have a splitting headache in the afternoon heat.
The last leg is only 30 kilometres so make sure you are in Inverell to watch the finish. Everything is well organised and there is plenty of parking close to the finish. Excitement is in the air. Prepare a little wet cloth so you can wipe down your rider. This is especially important if he needs to attend to the podium afterwards. And listen to the race radio! It is embarrassing to be the last person in the race to find out that your are looking after the King of the Mountain.
Well done to all riders and handlers. It was a great day, tough but memorable, and I'd be a handler again anytime.
10 September 2009
Undertrained is better than tired?
I ran late. That's the story of my life. Clocks hate me. Time is always against me or there is never enough of it. I've got enough money, I had plenty of luck in my life, I'm even so lucky that I have plenty of love but time is the one thing I always seem to run out of. Ironically, Time is the brand of my bike. One would think, being German, I had a genetic pre-disposition for punctuality. Well, I'm very un-German in that respect and that's almost as unforgivable as being un-Australian.
Anyway, I came home from work late last night, too late to be on time at Donna's for our weekly strength session. I could have driven but I really wanted to ride. And then I saw my bike. It looked like I had ridden Paris-Roubaix on a rainy European spring morning. There was no way I could have ridden my bike that dirty, not even in the dark, so I rushed my bike to the backyard, while texting Donna to give her the heads-up that I would be a few (!) minutes late, remembered that I had used the hose to water the yard - the front yard - last weekend and therefore had to dash for the hose. Then I couldn't find the bucket. Alberto must have put it in the garage when he cleaned up for the party last Sunday. I hadn't oiled the chain, yet, nor attached lights to my bike and thrown my runners in a musette ... while the minutes were ticking away. I arrived at Donna's 20 minutes late and this somehow continued through the evening. Twenty minutes late back home, twenty minutes late in the shower and by the time I prepared dinner it was close to 9 o’clock. I had to be in bed by 8:30 if I wanted to get at least my minimum requirement of sleep.
I'm feeling stressed. And guilty! There are ten hours on my training schedule this week. It's Thursday and I'm two hours and forty minutes behind schedule. You guessed right! I - again! - didn't make it out of bed this morning. Alberto's drowsy mumblings of "Undertrained is better than tired" and "You need to give your legs time to recover from the gym session" didn't help either and I spent the extra two hours in the semi-conscious stupor between guilt and sleepiness.
Needless to say that I woke up grumpy and puffy-eyed.
If you are following Alberto’s blog you will know that we are heading to New South Wales tomorrow for his big race, the 229 km Grafton to Inverell. We won’t be back until Sunday.
Even though I will be taking my bike and I'm looking forward to discovering new roads and parts of Australia I'm stressing about not catching up on my training. Alberto just sat me down and had a good talk to me about how 'catching up on missed training sessions' is not the wisest thing to do.
So I will just try and relax and enjoy the weekend away and concentrate on my soigneur duties and take plenty of pictures. Who knows, I might even make a little movie again?
Anyway, I came home from work late last night, too late to be on time at Donna's for our weekly strength session. I could have driven but I really wanted to ride. And then I saw my bike. It looked like I had ridden Paris-Roubaix on a rainy European spring morning. There was no way I could have ridden my bike that dirty, not even in the dark, so I rushed my bike to the backyard, while texting Donna to give her the heads-up that I would be a few (!) minutes late, remembered that I had used the hose to water the yard - the front yard - last weekend and therefore had to dash for the hose. Then I couldn't find the bucket. Alberto must have put it in the garage when he cleaned up for the party last Sunday. I hadn't oiled the chain, yet, nor attached lights to my bike and thrown my runners in a musette ... while the minutes were ticking away. I arrived at Donna's 20 minutes late and this somehow continued through the evening. Twenty minutes late back home, twenty minutes late in the shower and by the time I prepared dinner it was close to 9 o’clock. I had to be in bed by 8:30 if I wanted to get at least my minimum requirement of sleep.
I'm feeling stressed. And guilty! There are ten hours on my training schedule this week. It's Thursday and I'm two hours and forty minutes behind schedule. You guessed right! I - again! - didn't make it out of bed this morning. Alberto's drowsy mumblings of "Undertrained is better than tired" and "You need to give your legs time to recover from the gym session" didn't help either and I spent the extra two hours in the semi-conscious stupor between guilt and sleepiness.
Needless to say that I woke up grumpy and puffy-eyed.
If you are following Alberto’s blog you will know that we are heading to New South Wales tomorrow for his big race, the 229 km Grafton to Inverell. We won’t be back until Sunday.
Even though I will be taking my bike and I'm looking forward to discovering new roads and parts of Australia I'm stressing about not catching up on my training. Alberto just sat me down and had a good talk to me about how 'catching up on missed training sessions' is not the wisest thing to do.
So I will just try and relax and enjoy the weekend away and concentrate on my soigneur duties and take plenty of pictures. Who knows, I might even make a little movie again?
09 September 2009
Good coach - bad coach
This post is prompted by my decision to become a cycling coach. Yes, I have signed up for the Cycle Skills course that will run in October and the club is paying for my fees in return for me to coach and assist female club riders. I'm planning to take the Coach Level 1 course as soon as it comes up afterwards. I'm very excited but also nervous. Do I have what it takes to be a good coach? I guess there's only one way to find out.
This let me to ponder the question: What makes a good coach?
People will answer this question differently, depending on their expectations and what they want to get out of this relationship. Here is my little summary of core qualities I learnt to regard highly in a coach, besides, of course, having sound knowledge of most up-to-date training techniques and the ability to recognise signs of fatigue, overtraining etc. The illustrative examples are not all from my own experience.
Maturity
Not so long ago I sat on the sidelines of a Saturday morning club race, when I overheard a local coach bragging about his personal training to his mates . He had ridden many kilometres that week, without taking in any food or liquids. It was your typical “tough guy” talk. I was put off, thinking: “Shouldn’t he be an ambassador for healthy training and living instead of glorifying old-style and stupid, if not even outright dangerous training practises, which are questionable to bring the desired results?” Yes, he was with his mates and not in a coaching environment but still ... would I ever trust him to be a responsible coach?
Strictness and assertiveness
When I was training for the Tour de Tablelands last year and started the build phase leading up to the tour, I didn’t push myself nearly as hard as I should have. I couldn’t reach the target heart rate zones and satisfied by bad conscious with "I'm at least doing something!". When I spoke to my coach after the tour, he told me that I hadn’t put in the hard yards. He was right, I hadn't. But why didn't he tell me when it counted? Sometimes I need a tough “Come on, try harder! I know that you didn’t give it your all in that training session and that you can do better than this!” I think we all appreciate the proverbial 'kick in the butt' now and then.
Empathy and support
I know of a number of people who received coaching in the form of regular four-weekly training programs. The programs seem always fairly generic and after four weeks the new program arrives - without fail - and without much contact otherwise. I've never seen anybody sticking to this type of training for very long.
Recently, I've been told (not once but a number of times) by my coach that I've got talent, or that I did something really well, even though the overall race or training outcome might not have been what I had hoped. Right, who doesn't like to be told? It means that I respond particularly well to flattery; however, his confidence in me and positive reassurance is something that, even though I might still not believe that I've got any natural talent for cycling, somehow, makes me try harder.
This let me to ponder the question: What makes a good coach?
People will answer this question differently, depending on their expectations and what they want to get out of this relationship. Here is my little summary of core qualities I learnt to regard highly in a coach, besides, of course, having sound knowledge of most up-to-date training techniques and the ability to recognise signs of fatigue, overtraining etc. The illustrative examples are not all from my own experience.
Understanding
The relationship with my first coach started off well. He sat down with me, asked me about my goals and what I had done in the past. I was impressed and excited. Then the first training program arrived per email. It required me to ride at 30 km per hour with my heart rate no higher than 133 bpm. Mind you, it was base training. After giving it a go I emailed him that I either had to drop my average speed or raise my heart rate above the recovery zone but 30 kilometres per hour was just about race speed. Without further consultation I received a new training program, based on an average speed of 28 km/h this time (when my cruising speed was closer to 25 km) and still unachievable for me. I let him know, emailed my personal and riding statistics diligently every morning and received new weekly programs, one as unachievable as the next, and three months later I got an email asking whether I wanted to sign up for another three months of coaching …
The relationship with my first coach started off well. He sat down with me, asked me about my goals and what I had done in the past. I was impressed and excited. Then the first training program arrived per email. It required me to ride at 30 km per hour with my heart rate no higher than 133 bpm. Mind you, it was base training. After giving it a go I emailed him that I either had to drop my average speed or raise my heart rate above the recovery zone but 30 kilometres per hour was just about race speed. Without further consultation I received a new training program, based on an average speed of 28 km/h this time (when my cruising speed was closer to 25 km) and still unachievable for me. I let him know, emailed my personal and riding statistics diligently every morning and received new weekly programs, one as unachievable as the next, and three months later I got an email asking whether I wanted to sign up for another three months of coaching …
Maturity
Not so long ago I sat on the sidelines of a Saturday morning club race, when I overheard a local coach bragging about his personal training to his mates . He had ridden many kilometres that week, without taking in any food or liquids. It was your typical “tough guy” talk. I was put off, thinking: “Shouldn’t he be an ambassador for healthy training and living instead of glorifying old-style and stupid, if not even outright dangerous training practises, which are questionable to bring the desired results?” Yes, he was with his mates and not in a coaching environment but still ... would I ever trust him to be a responsible coach?
Strictness and assertiveness
When I was training for the Tour de Tablelands last year and started the build phase leading up to the tour, I didn’t push myself nearly as hard as I should have. I couldn’t reach the target heart rate zones and satisfied by bad conscious with "I'm at least doing something!". When I spoke to my coach after the tour, he told me that I hadn’t put in the hard yards. He was right, I hadn't. But why didn't he tell me when it counted? Sometimes I need a tough “Come on, try harder! I know that you didn’t give it your all in that training session and that you can do better than this!” I think we all appreciate the proverbial 'kick in the butt' now and then.
Empathy and support
I know of a number of people who received coaching in the form of regular four-weekly training programs. The programs seem always fairly generic and after four weeks the new program arrives - without fail - and without much contact otherwise. I've never seen anybody sticking to this type of training for very long.
Recently, I've been told (not once but a number of times) by my coach that I've got talent, or that I did something really well, even though the overall race or training outcome might not have been what I had hoped. Right, who doesn't like to be told? It means that I respond particularly well to flattery; however, his confidence in me and positive reassurance is something that, even though I might still not believe that I've got any natural talent for cycling, somehow, makes me try harder.
I could probably come up with many more stories. You get the idea.
We are all different and therefore respond differently to coaching styles. The best coaches in the world are able to modify their approach to suit the needs of the athlete.
What are your experiences and what do you consider a good coach?
08 September 2009
The hangover
Ouch! My head hurt all day yesterday. I knew it was self-inflicted and I felt bad for giving in at the end - and taking ibuprofen just before dinner, the left-over dinner. And it hadn't even been a big night, I mean none of those 'dancing all night and in bed after dawn' kinda nights. It was more a 'good friends, good chats, just a few glasses of wine and a Cachaca shot or two and in bed by eleven' kinda night. Yeah - the majority of our friends are cyclists and for them to last till ten is a good sign of a successful night. Worth the pain but gone are the days were I could party all night and still get through a hard day's work without complaints afterwards.
Alberto posted pictures of the party action on Cycling Pieces.
I met Donna and Mel at the Nundah track for a team time trial training session this morning and it hurt, too, but in a good way. I don't have proof. My heart rate chest strap is still hanging in the shower - unused. I didn't even notice that I had forgotten to put it on.
At least I've hydrated and slept enough now for the headache to be gone.
The team time trial state championships are less than three weeks away.
Alberto posted pictures of the party action on Cycling Pieces.
I met Donna and Mel at the Nundah track for a team time trial training session this morning and it hurt, too, but in a good way. I don't have proof. My heart rate chest strap is still hanging in the shower - unused. I didn't even notice that I had forgotten to put it on.
At least I've hydrated and slept enough now for the headache to be gone.
The team time trial state championships are less than three weeks away.
05 September 2009
crazy busy
Just a very brief update because I've got to go and prepare a big party: Alberto's Birthday Party. Thirty friends said they'd come. I love big parties!
My week in short: After last week's tea disaster I had an upset stomach for most of the week.
Monday/Tuesday saw me flying to Hobart for work. Shame it was such a short stay as I had never been to Tasmania. When we finally got out of work Monday night, it was dark and raining so I didn't really get to see anything at all. Tuesday at 4:30 am I was already heading to Hobart airport again because I had to be back in the office in Brisbane at lunch time for afternoon interviews. When I walked across the tarmac in the pre-dawn dark, the Antartic southerly wind ripped into me. It was 3C.
Wednesday morning I met with my friend P and some "Hot Shots" for a 'recovery Riverloop', where I got my ass handed to me. Wednesday night, straight after work, I raced over to Donna's for some strength work. Thursday morning the alarm once again went off at 4:25 am but my body decided that three 7h nights were too little sleep and I couldn't get up for my hill repeats. I felt sore and sorry all day and got really worried that I had Glandular Fever again.
Friday I joined the V Australia boys for a Riverloop and that was extremely enjoyable as it was a true recovery pace: steady and smooth.
If there just wouldn't have been those hill repeats from Thursday that still need to be done! So Alberto and I headed for Mt Coot-tha after the usual coffee and chats at Southbank. It was good catching up with my coach Shane as I felt less worried about having Glandular Fever after talking with him. We decided that it was just ordinary tiredness after the kind of week I had and that I would continue with my training program with no changes to it. Good. I would hate to take a week or two off and then start all over again.
After training was done, Alberto and I did some shopping: new cycling shoes for me (will show them off as soon as they arrive!), a birthday present for Alberto (2XU compression bibs) and I also got cute summer gym shorts and top from 2XU (I couldn't resist since it was on sale), a new pump (review will follow shortly) and other bits and pieces. I spotted this very retro cool Pinarello Singlespeed in the bike shop and Alberto had to drag me away.
Guess, what's in that sealed envelope in the top draw of my desk now? My credit cards, right! They won't see light again until further notice...
Right now I should be racing at Lakeside but it was pouring rain when I woke up and I couldn't get motivated to get out in the rain. Now I will have to fit two and a half hours into my afternoon - somehow. The sun is just peeking through the clouds and it stopped raining now, got to go...
My week in short: After last week's tea disaster I had an upset stomach for most of the week.
Monday/Tuesday saw me flying to Hobart for work. Shame it was such a short stay as I had never been to Tasmania. When we finally got out of work Monday night, it was dark and raining so I didn't really get to see anything at all. Tuesday at 4:30 am I was already heading to Hobart airport again because I had to be back in the office in Brisbane at lunch time for afternoon interviews. When I walked across the tarmac in the pre-dawn dark, the Antartic southerly wind ripped into me. It was 3C.
Wednesday morning I met with my friend P and some "Hot Shots" for a 'recovery Riverloop', where I got my ass handed to me. Wednesday night, straight after work, I raced over to Donna's for some strength work. Thursday morning the alarm once again went off at 4:25 am but my body decided that three 7h nights were too little sleep and I couldn't get up for my hill repeats. I felt sore and sorry all day and got really worried that I had Glandular Fever again.
Friday I joined the V Australia boys for a Riverloop and that was extremely enjoyable as it was a true recovery pace: steady and smooth.
After training was done, Alberto and I did some shopping: new cycling shoes for me (will show them off as soon as they arrive!), a birthday present for Alberto (2XU compression bibs) and I also got cute summer gym shorts and top from 2XU (I couldn't resist since it was on sale), a new pump (review will follow shortly) and other bits and pieces. I spotted this very retro cool Pinarello Singlespeed in the bike shop and Alberto had to drag me away.
Guess, what's in that sealed envelope in the top draw of my desk now? My credit cards, right! They won't see light again until further notice...
Right now I should be racing at Lakeside but it was pouring rain when I woke up and I couldn't get motivated to get out in the rain. Now I will have to fit two and a half hours into my afternoon - somehow. The sun is just peeking through the clouds and it stopped raining now, got to go...
01 September 2009
So what have I learnt from Allen and Coggan so far?
The red line is showing the level of fatigue as my training load increases. It clearly shows that I have been taking my training and resting seriously since the fatigue raised during my first training block in early July, then decreased in my first rest week at the end of July and then increased again with my second training block, which I just finished now with another rest week last week.
The green graph is showing form. It's decreasing with increased training load and fatigue and increasing during rest weeks as you would expect. Right now my form is the best since I started training again.
The black graph is the most exciting one as it shows how my fitness is slowly improving. You might remember that I started riding again in May after the worst of my Glandular Fever was over. In May and June I just rode my bike 2-3 times a week for a couple of hours at a time in the recovery zone. I was surprised to see now that alone improved my fitness already but it plateaued in June because the training stress was relatively constant. In July, when I started my training program, fitness jumped up again and plateaued during the rest week in late July. The same repeated in August but with some loss in fitness during this past week of rest.
Last but not least: You might remember the discussion about average and normalised power in May. I had done those two Riverloops on two consecutive Fridays but the first felt harder with my average power lower, relative to the following week when it felt much easier but the average power output had been higher. Maryka suggested back then that my Normalised Power would have probably been higher in my first ride, which was marked by frequent accelerations to keep up with the boys. Well, I uploaded both rides into the WKO+ software and guess what? Maryka was right! The first ride had indeed been the harder ride (TSS 160, NP 157 Watts, AP 112 Watts) despite the average power being lower! The second ride had a Total Stress Score of only 144 and a normalised power of 156 Watts while the average power was 118 Watts.
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