Video—Bend Spring Training Camp 2012

1k2go Spring Training Camp—Bend from Chris Bagg on Vimeo.

Amy worked tirelessly at our Bend Spring Training Camp to make our 12 athletes' experiences comforting, convenient, and beautiful. Now she takes on the role of head marketer/videographer and creates this great recap of the weekend. Have I mentioned how grateful I am to have her in my existence? Enjoy.

Oceanside 70.3 Race Report

OK, the first race of 2012 is in the books: Oceanside 70.3. Even though the result didn't end up being great, I'm happy with the effort on Saturday, and I also know that I'll be back to Oceanside for sure in the future: it's a great race and excellently run. I'd love to thank everyone who helped me get down there, exist while I was down there, race, and return home to Portland: my homestay, Devin, and his family, who were incredibly generous in letting me stay until the Tuesday after the race; my training partner Chris Boudreaux; and my title sponsors Athletes Lounge. I'd like to give a particular thanks to Compressport, whose amazing compression tights appear at left. My contacts at Compressport set me up with a bunch of stuff I needed when I got down to Oceanside: the aforementioned tights, which the day after the race bearable (and came in even more useful later, but more about that below), and two pairs of their competition socks, which, if you haven't seen, you should check out. They have these little dots on them that appear odd at first, but work to keep your feet dry and blister-free. I always have terrible feet after 70.3s, but not this time.

Here's a summary of my discussion with Cliff after the race.

The Swim: The swim at Oceanside is cold; anyone knows that. Expecting nice weather is like hoping for beautiful cycling in Belgium in March. You're going to be cold, so plan accordingly. Many other pros had arm warmers on, but I've got a good amount of native insulation to keep me warm, so I just went with toe covers, which was a great idea. Still, at 58 degrees in the water, prepare to be chilly. I prepared mentally for the cold by thinking of it as a dawn patrol surf session, and that eased the cold a bit. You should also prepare for no warmup. We walked down the ramp, swam 100 meters or so out to the starting line, floated for a minute or two (as the organizers, as always, shouted "Back, back!" and no one listened), and began. I was near the front for the first three hundred meters, I'd say, in a good position, but then got swamped and, honestly, let it get to me. I was battling with someone on either side of me, and that stress plus the cold began to exhaust me. As I used to do in races past, I checked out a bit mentally and, just like that, I was gapped from the main pack. This letdown is probably the most difficult for me to swallow. I've trained very well in the pool this spring, and just letting the stress get to me is so disheartening. Yes, I haven't swam in open water for months, with a pack, blah blah blah...the end result was about a two-and-a-half minute gap to the main pack by the time I came out of the water. Not great, I thought, but I'll make up time on the bike.

The Bike: Alas, this was not to be. I clocked myself as four minutes down on Matt Lieto and a big group who were all chasing Andy Potts (in vain, it turned out). Four minutes seemed very manageable, and I figured I'd ride back up through the group. When I went back to look at my times later, however, I was shocked to see that instead of gaining time on most of the field, I had been steadily losing time to most of the competitors. Cliff and I talked about the fact that I hadn't actually spent a ton of time on my own TT bike (issues with my fork and brakes), figuring that was the most likely culprit. I stuck to our prescribed program (290-295 watts for the first 45 miles, and then 310 for the last 11 miles, when the course flattens out but you usually experience a headwind; picking up the pace here, when others are tired, can mean several people picked off in the late stages of the bike), but only managed a 2:23 bike split. 2:23 wasn't far off from our original plan, as we'd talked about a high 2:teens, like 2:18 or 2:19. I was surprised, then, to see that most of the field had rode in the low 2:teens, like 2:13-2:15. I'd given up almost ten minutes to the leaders, after giving up three in the water. The day was done. Cliff and I spoke on Monday, the day after Galveston 70.3, and he said "The 70.3 game is changing. The way these guys are attacking the bike course (Lance Armstrong, Tim O'Donnell, Marino Vanhoenacker, Sebastian Kienle) is changing the way we'll have to think about racing." Seeing that Cliff coaches Tim, who rode hard but then had enough left to run down the whole field, is a comfort. The short answer is that I need to spend more time on my bike, and more time needs to spent at race intensities. Oh, and I still need to lose some weight.

The Run: The bright spot, which is funny, considering that I've come to think of myself as a swim/bike guy. Picking up the pace over the last eleven miles of the bike didn't fry my legs: in contrast, it seemed to get them ready for the higher intensity of the run. I came off the bike, experienced the usual stiffness in transition, and moved out onto the run course, feeling good. Jesse Kropelnicki, of QT2 systems, does my race nutrition, and I took my early-run gel (PowerGel) as soon as I left T2. Jesse says to take a gel right away, and then a second if my stomach felt OK. I got both down and started ticking off sub-six miles. The plan was to "virtual negative split," which means running even both halves, or very close to even. The Oceanside course is usually one of the tougher 70.3 (not as hard, though, as UK 70.3 or some of the crazier European courses), and you can count on runners to slow down a bit towards the end, as they did in 2010 when run and bike times were noticeably slower. Last weekend was, however, basically perfect for race conditions, and even though I ran a personal second-best run time of 1:19, I only worked my way up to 22nd place, although I passed a lot of guys on the final leg.

It's been almost a week, now, and the disappointment is fading. There's a lot of good to take out of this race: I know what I need to work on (mental skills on the swim, bike fitness, weight loss), and I ran quite well. It's also important to remember that Oceanside is very early on the calendar, and until this year I haven't been able to train full-time. Last year racing in March would be out of question. It's funny that I ran to my exact placing at this race and Wildflower last year, which was my first race of 2011 (22nd place). 22nd isn't anything to be proud of, but I can't change the race now, and I have a lot to take forward.

Post-Race: Carlsbad and Oceanside are cool towns, and I enjoyed the sun for a few days post-race, before getting on the train to go back to Portland. Yep, that's right, I said train. I boarded a 30-hour train from Oceanside to PDX on Tuesday morning at 7:01, scheduled arrival Portland, Oregon the following day at 3:05 PM. This is where those Compressport tights really, really came in helpful. Other than getting off the train with two fluid-filled garbage bags for legs, my lower body felt surprisingly snappy. My massage therapist, Kurt, confirmed the fact when I saw him on Thurday morning. "You don't feel like you just got off a 30-hour train ride," he remarked. I would really suggest the train to you all at some point; it really is a great adventure, probably one of the few left out there.

Rev3 Triathlon Portland Bike Course—Pre-ride

The weather forecast for the weekend just past was for a return to rain, so I shuffled my schedule around and went out for a long ride with Casey. Living on the west side, with most of Portland between me and the Mt Hood area, I don't get out to that part of the world very often, which is a shame, since the riding is sublime. I'd been meaning to ride the new Revolution3 Portland bike course for some time, and Friday presented itself as the day to do it. I'm glad I did, but not just for the standard reasons of scouting a course prior to racing it. This is going to be one one of the harder courses you've ever done, but it's also going to be the most beautiful and enjoyable. Up until Friday my high water mark for a triathlon course was, well, Rev3 South Carolina. I may sound sycophantic right now, but I think the Rev3 course designers go out of the way to find courses with almost perfect pavement. The SC course was glassy and rolling; Portland is smooth and punchy, with many short, sharp climbs. The opening and closing of the course is straightforward enough (and the punctilious should take note: the segment I've mapped above is about 8km short—I didn't adjust the out-and-back portion perfectly), rolling out along the smooth portion of Marine Drive. Once you pass through Troutdale, however, and cross the Sandy River, you begin to climb up the Historic Mt. Hood highway towards, you guessed it, Mt. Hood. Then the course takes a series of right hand turns while crossing the ridges (and subsequent ravines) that radiate out from our local volcano. The result is a bunch of steep (but non-technical) descents and sharp, switchback-y climbs. If you've got an 11-28 cassette somewhere in your quiver, this will be the race course for it. While out on course you'll pass through farmland, alpine meadow, and deep forest. It's going to be really interesting to see how people approach the course. I always err on the conservative side, but athletes who can climb and recover quickly will shine on this course. Spinners will also probably do well, although they'll have some time to make up on the run. Grinders should be careful, though. This is a course that will load up your legs, and if you muscle your way through it you'll pay later on. Descending skills will help, too, although I'll repeat that the descents are non-technical (and I'm sure the Rev3 people will have signage and marshalls out there to get you to slow down).

Casey and I rode happily through the course, loving the fast descents and graceful climbs. The weather was perfect, and we turned to each other several times to point out the obvious: we were lucky to be out riding this course in this weather.

Re-entry: Coming Back from Camp

We arrived in Portland last Tuesday night to driving rain, having covered the 1500 miles from Tucson in two days of driving. We'd been eating nothing but salt for two days (well, some fat, too; the last In-and-Out Burger on I-5 North is in Redding, CA, and I'd be a poseur if I didn't get my last chance an animal style double-up). Couple that with two days of sitting and 17 days of hard training, and we'd bloated up like those cells from the osmosis lab in AP Biology. I'd swelled to 186 lbs, a weight I haven't seen since college.

Enter PACE, a local Therapeutic Associates affiliate that specializes in athletic injury prevention and rehabilitation. I've written about Chris Ramsey before in these pages, one of the PTs that works there. Chris has rescued me from Achilles Tendonitis, rotator cuff imbalances, weak hips, fluky ankles, and my chronically hyperextended thumbs (twelve years of saving soccer balls off your thumbs will do that to one). The place is run by David McHenry, a tall former football player who looks like he could fold you in half if he wanted to, like one of those mustachioed weightlifters from the twenties, bending steel rods between their bare hands.

Since they are PTs, sometimes you do spend your time at PACE getting folded in half. Kurt, the massage therapist on-site, has worked on me for a little over a year now and he probably knows just a little less about me than Amy does. He's a former high-level cyclist (still cycles, that is, just not for teams on the other side of the Atlantic) who turned to massage and has done rubs for some pretty big-time guys. He saw me on Wednesday after we got home and started me on my way to recovery. He told me not to worry about the weight, that I'd probably come back to normal in couple of days, and then he went to work. Athletic massage, if you've never had the pleasure, is not really a soothing experience, but it's a proven vector for recovery. Endurance athletes of all stripes have known it works for years, but that pesky New York Times just got around to proving what everyone knows is right, and they published that recently here. It's a great little read for those of you interested in what's going on at the inter-celluar level of your bodies.

All of this is by way of saying "thank you" to the PTs and LMTs at PACE, who have kept me healthy for the past three seasons. David has graciously agreed to come on board as a sponsor this year, so you'll be seeing them in the side columns of this page. Many of you that have asked me about injury know that I always say "Go to PACE," so I hope you'll believe me now that I've entered into a sponsorship arrangement with them. They are magicians, and have saved many of my races over the past few years.

Other than that, I've been reminded of what coming home from summer camp was like a million years ago, back in middle and high school (or what coming home from college every May was like, since college was, essentially, camp for 18-22 year-olds). You've got to find a way to re-establish a rhythm to your life, since the old camp-y way of living just doesn't work. Taking a few days of light training, cleaning the house and kitchen, spending some solid hours at your desk, and connecting with the people who make your world work all are good strategies for getting back on track quickly.

Forks, Please: We're Done. Camp Stages 13-17

I've been remiss about getting updates published over the past five days, mostly because we've arrived at the stage of camp where functioning basically means just getting to all your workouts, eating, and then getting to bed on time. As you can see from the picture at left, we're starting to struggle a bit, here (you can see the sunlight streaming in from the window, at top-right, so this isn't a middle of the night picture). Since I've been missing reports, I'll just give you the digest version since we talked last Tuesday.

Wednesday, February 22nd, Stage 13:
If I were to describe this day, I'd just say it was another good, hard day. The swim was another variation on the 8x400 bread-and-butter workout. This time we alternated 4x100 on 1:20 and 400s on 5:20. The curveball was that the first and third time we did the 4x100s, we had to descend them. That doesn't sound bad, but it means you increase your speed while still getting little rest (even if you swim a 100 fast, you're getting at best 13 seconds rest or so), and then you have to pass straight into a threshold pace 400. The good thing about this workout is that it teaches you to look forward to the longer interval, since you get to relax a little bit, find your form again, and swim steady, just as you might have to in an Iron or half-Ironman swim. We followed the swim with lunch, naps, and then a track workout at Pima Community College that consisted of a whole bunch of efforts at the same pace. I was able to hold 5:40/mile pace for all the intervals, even though I felt like I was dying. We finished off with a fast 400 that I ran in around 73 seconds. Boudreaux broke the rules, as Cliff cautioned us "not to go sub-70," and Chris couldn't help himself and ran a 69. Justin Daerr, the human metronome, yelled out "You broke the rules!" as we finished the interval. Even though we were pretty wasted, we all rolled out for an easy 60 minutes and bumped into teammate TJ Tollakson out on the road. He took us up a long, dead end road towards Gates Pass as the sun set, and we were rewarded with a bright red Tucson to our east as we descended back towards the cars.

Thursday, February 23rd, Stage 14: Mt. Lemmon.
Mt. Lemmon is the elephant in any Tucsonian cyclist's living room. It just kinda hovers there, promising an Hors-Categorie climb any day you're willing to tackle it. We all started together and the other boys quickly moved up the road. I thought "They'll blow up," and I didn't see them again until the top. Apparently they're fitter than I thought they were. I played it conservatively, riding tempo for the first hour of climbing and then threshold for the second. It sounded like Damon Barnett and Boudreaux were coming back to me, but they ended up going away in the end. TJ beat us all (obviously) in 1:44 for the 25 mile climb. Damian and Justin were not far behind, in 1:47. I rode a pretty pedestrian 1:56 to the top. After descending for an hour (which was a blast) we were almost done for the day: a 2000m swim loomed in the afternoon and we paddled through it before going home and collapsing into bed.

Friday, February 24th, Stage 15: 4k swim, 45' run, 15' strength
Riding to the pool in almost total silence, I checked our workout and was pleased to see it only comprised fast 50s and 100s with a lot of rest. Imagine my surprise, then, to hear we were doing a 1000 yard time trial after a long warmup. One camper actually said "Oh, so you're joking, right?" thinking Cliff was actually joking. Like any TT, it was difficult, and we were all surprised by how slow we went. I got back in 12:00, which only works out to 1:12/100. Two weeks earlier I'd been swimming that pace with ease. Fatigue had clearly set in. But then it was just two easy laps of Reid Park with some short fartlek intervals. We spent the rest of the day recovering.

Saturday, February 25th, Stage 16: 4:30 ride, 30' run.
After struggling to warm up, my legs came around on this ride that we did over Gates Pass and out towards Kitt Peak (we didn't make it to the observatory, but some border guards did ask us "You guys American citizens?"). I hauled Kelly and Jackie around for the first 30' interval, and then rode hard for the second, slight shorter interval. We repeated the two intervals and then rode home before hitting a standard 30' transition run, where my legs, again, responded. It's funny how your fitness can come around after only a day of light stuff. Here's a short video, shot by Damian, of me pulling the two girls along:

Untitled from Chris Bagg on Vimeo.

Sunday, February 26th, Stage 17: 13.1 mile run, 35 mile ride.
Boudreaux and I headed out to our favorite long run spot for the last day of camp, and we got through the run. We weren't pretty or fast, and we certainly didn't speak much during the 2x20' @ marathon tempo. We were also looking for rattlesnakes, as a woman had warned us about them. We finished the run and settled back into the car, not really feeling any sense of accomplishment. If anything, we felt relief: one more easy workout and we were done. We went home, slept for a few hours, watched Hunter Mahan dispatch Rory McIlroy at the Match Play Championships (it was going on just up the road, so watching on TV had the weird flush of semi-celebrity: if we looked closely on the tv, we could see our neighboorhood in the vista's distances—it felt like looking at yourself through the wrong end of a telescope), and then got out for our last two hour ride.

17 days: around 600 miles on the bike, 70 running, and 25 swimming. Right now I'm sitting at a hotel in Fresno on Tuesday morning, trying to get this published. Thanks, everybody, for reading!