...I am slowly getting faster. (Is that an oxymoron?)
We had time trials at Roseville yesterday morning. In deference to my upcoming weekend of racing on Jan. 5 and 6, as well as to my cold-cough-sinus-thing, I chose to do the 500 and 1500 rather than anything longer (which means that I have done exactly one 3K this year for my distance events, which does not bode well for the 5K next weekend; but I digress).
It was another beautiful day for outdoor skating--light west wind, light snowfall, and not super cold; about 15 degrees. Even with the relatively good conditions, though, and despite my fun-and-kinda-fast workout on Thursday, I wasn't feeling optimistic about my chances for turning in good times. My cold had crept into my lungs and whenever I wasn't occupied with blowing my nose I was busy trying to hack up a lung.
The 500 lived up to my lackluster expectations; at 52.7, it was one of my slower 500's of the year. I wasn't too concerned, though; I suck at the 500 anyway, and since I was sick I hadn't been expecting stellar performance. I had the last inner (meaning, for those of you who don't skate, that I was skating in the inner lane for the last, and therefore fastest, corner; I have a history of freaking out on the last inner and coasting or crashing) and actually managed to enter it in some sort of reasonable fashion, which was good. So I considered the 500, if not a success, at least a draw.
Still, I was not terribly excited about the upcoming 1500. 1500's are hard at the best of times--too short to be a somewhat-relaxed long distance pace; too long to sustain an all-out sprint. 1500's are in that unhappy no-man's land of "how long can you make it hurt this bad?" 1500's are also notorious for being hard on the lungs; there's a phenomenon known to skaters as "1500 meter cough." Since I already had a "sitting on my butt doing nothing" cough, this was not sounding good.
Before the race, though, Sprinter Boy reminded me of a truth which I often forget: just because it's a race doesn't mean I have to skate my hardest. It's possible to just go out and just skate 90% or so and focus on executing a good race, pacing-wise and technique-wise.
So that's what I decided to do.
A "good race," for the 1500, was to look something like this: open hard for the first 300 meters; relax the first lap, working the corners a bit; work the corners hard on the second lap, but relax the straights a bit; throw whatever you have left (or, in this case, 90% of whatever you have left) at the last lap in hopes of not dying too much. And that's pretty much how it went, with the exception of the "relax" part--after standing around in my skinsuit in 15 degree temps for just a bit too long before the race, my legs were in the "tense and cold" zone and were unable to produce anything close to "relax." And the "90%" thing kind of went out the window, too; my pair was very close to my speed and I did everything I could in the last lap to make sure I crossed the finish line first. Which I did. Barely.
The race had felt OK, but I had also felt slow and clumsy. I had absolutely no idea how fast I had gone and, being a data geek, I was unwilling to decide whether the race had gone "well" or "sucky" without knowing the numbers. So, once I managed to stop coughing long enough to actually speak, I went up to the timing room and inquired about my 1500 time.
2:40.9, or my fastest of this season by a bit more than a second. My previous 1500's this year have been 2:49, 2:45, 2:42. A nice downward progression, and especially nice that my fastest one was on a day when I was definitely not feeling 100%. So second by second, I seem to be getting a bit faster.
Of course, my fastest time this season in the 1500 is still more than 10 seconds slower than my fastest from last year...but progress is progress, and I'll take it.
photo by Steve Penland
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Friday, December 28, 2012
Home Again
We're back from the cabin. No more beautiful beach walks...
...or hikes up frozen rivers...
...or adventuring through the woods at the cabin.
No "skating" on frozen ponds while the dog looks on in bemused horror...
...and no more walks with my parents and their sweater-clad little yippers sweet little dogs...
...and returned to the land of furnaces and TV and Target. It was a fun vacation, and great to spend Christmas with my whole family. Unfortunately, now that we're home and I have a lot of stuff to do (including continuing to train for the upcoming Masters Single Distance meet on January 5-6), I'm sick as a dog--that is, if the dog has some horrid sinus-type-thingy that's trying to move south to become a horrid bronchial-type-thingy. By the way, who decided that dogs are the yardstick of illness? My dog is almost never sick (except for the occasional grazing-induced barf). So I don't understand the "sick as a dog" thing. Now, "dog tired" makes sense. This is what Keira has been doing pretty much non-stop since we got home from the cabin two days ago:
...or hikes up frozen rivers...
No "skating" on frozen ponds while the dog looks on in bemused horror...
...and no more walks with my parents and their
My Dad has a pocketful of treats
We've packed up our mountain of crap...
Yes, she's alive..we check occasionally for breathing.
Despite illness, last night's workout was great. Wednesday night I quit my workout early (like, after 6 laps) because I felt so lousy, so last night I didn't have anything planned; I figured I'd just play it by ear. I ended up doing fast 200's ("candycanes") behind a variety of faster skaters. It was a beautiful night--snowing, calm, and you could still see the full moon through the clouds--and my legs felt great. The cabin is wonderful, but it's nice to be home!
Monday, December 24, 2012
The 12 Days of Christmas
We're at the cabin for Christmas again this year, as we were last year. This year will be even more fun because, in addition to my sister Energizer Bunny and her husband Sherpa Boy, (and their two cats), my parents and their four dogs are also up here. So we'll have the whole Fam Damily together for Christmas, which hasn't happened in a while. After frantically packing a mountain of crap into the Avalanche Friday night after work, I dragged the Hubster and Keira the Wonderdog to the oval Saturday morning so I could race before we set out on the 5 hour drive. Races went OK, and Keira got to meet my skating buddies (the Hubster has met them before) and Cross Boy awarded her Dog of the Day, so that was fun. Now we're at the cabin, stoking the woodfire in our cabin every hour-and-a half (slight exaggeration, but not much) and enjoying hanging out with my parents at their cabin. Unfortunately, I appear to have forgotten the camera cord so I can't post any photos--at least not until I get home--but there's nothing stopping me from posting a song! Well, nothing but good taste, but that's never stopped me before. So, without further ado, and with apologies to "The 12 Days of Christmas," here's my song..._
Our Trip to the Cabin
For our trip to the cabin,
This is what we need:
12 Diet Dews,
11 Hats and Mittens,
10 pounds of turkey,
9 kinds of chocolate,
8 pairs of boots (yes, really--for 2 people. And there's no snow)
7 different jackets,
6 pairs of wool socks ,
5 flannel sheets (OK, 2 pillow cases, 2 sheets, and a fuzzy blanket. Plus 2 blankets from the cabin).
4 pounds of ham,
3 rolly things (You know, the foam roller and rolly stick and tennis ball for rehabbing myself),
2 jugs of water,
And a hairy dog in the backseat.
Merry Christmas!
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
I Get By...
...with a little help from my friends.
Actually, to be technically correct, that would be "I keep up, for a while anyway, with a good draft and a little push from my friends."
Last night was a fun workout. Sprinter Boy, Hawkeye Boy, and Mel were doing a...I'm not sure what it was...long intervals? Fast endurance? Anyway, it sounded like fun--two sets of four times four laps. It sounded like fun, that is, all except the pace they were planning.
40's.
Now, I can do 40 second laps. I can even do 40 second laps without a draft. I cannot, however, do more than one--or maybe two on a really good day--40 second laps in a row, and I cannot do more than about, oh, 10 total in a workout. So 32 40-second laps, in sets of four, sounded, well, daunting--even with a draft.
But what the heck, I'm not getting any younger (or, apparently, any faster or thinner), so there's no time like the present to push that comfort zone and start improving, right?
So off we went. The Big Three--Mel, Sprinter, and Hawkeye--led, providing a nice draft for the three of us who were just hoping to hang on as long as possible--me, Cross Boy, and Skater Dad. And, ironically enough, I would, at the request of Sprinter Boy and Hawkeye Boy--yes, those same skaters who had talked me into leaving my stopwatch in my bag for the month of December--be recording our lap times with my trusty-but-recently-neglected stopwatch.
Lap one--feeling good, nicely in the draft (my, those three skate low!), and a "we're just getting going" 41. Lap two was faster...but lap two also brought the familiar "why is there a dying carp flopping around in my chest?" sensation that means I'm getting PVC's--and also that I will, very very soon, be getting very tired and very short of breath. Which I did. So I had to drop out after lap three.
So for set two, there was a new plan...put me third in the pace line, with someone behind me to push me (ever so slightly, of course) if I should falter. And it worked. Despite more dying carp, I managed (with a bit of help) to hang in for all four laps, two 40's and two 39's.
Set three, though, the dying carp prevailed and, push or no push, I was done after one lap. Very frustrating. After the Fast and the Fit finished the fourth set, we headed into the warming house, where I read everyone the lap times and indulged in a bit of overanalyzing. I was starting to question whether I'd actually been feeling my heart arrhythmia or whether I've gotten so out of shape that I'm now confusing the sensation of "100% effort heartrate and fatigue" with "dying carp PVC's." It's hard to tell what you're feeling when you're at 100% effort, and I guess I just don't trust myself anymore--am I really experiencing PVC fatigue...or unfit old lady wimpiness?
Still, there were four sets left so I had to try again. And I'm glad I did. The first two sets featured laps from 39-41 seconds, no PVC's, a nice natural descent into fatigue instead of the immediate breathlessness I get from PVC's, a helpful push or two when I started to falter--and me able to hang on for the whole two sets. Cool!
And then I was truly and totally done. I coasted around for a few laps, resting my aching legs, and watched the Fast and the Fit finish the final two sets--with laps as low as 37's. And I marveled, every time they whooshed by, that I had actually been able to keep up with them for a bit.
With a good draft and a push or two, anyway.
Actually, to be technically correct, that would be "I keep up, for a while anyway, with a good draft and a little push from my friends."
Last night was a fun workout. Sprinter Boy, Hawkeye Boy, and Mel were doing a...I'm not sure what it was...long intervals? Fast endurance? Anyway, it sounded like fun--two sets of four times four laps. It sounded like fun, that is, all except the pace they were planning.
40's.
Now, I can do 40 second laps. I can even do 40 second laps without a draft. I cannot, however, do more than one--or maybe two on a really good day--40 second laps in a row, and I cannot do more than about, oh, 10 total in a workout. So 32 40-second laps, in sets of four, sounded, well, daunting--even with a draft.
But what the heck, I'm not getting any younger (or, apparently, any faster or thinner), so there's no time like the present to push that comfort zone and start improving, right?
So off we went. The Big Three--Mel, Sprinter, and Hawkeye--led, providing a nice draft for the three of us who were just hoping to hang on as long as possible--me, Cross Boy, and Skater Dad. And, ironically enough, I would, at the request of Sprinter Boy and Hawkeye Boy--yes, those same skaters who had talked me into leaving my stopwatch in my bag for the month of December--be recording our lap times with my trusty-but-recently-neglected stopwatch.
Lap one--feeling good, nicely in the draft (my, those three skate low!), and a "we're just getting going" 41. Lap two was faster...but lap two also brought the familiar "why is there a dying carp flopping around in my chest?" sensation that means I'm getting PVC's--and also that I will, very very soon, be getting very tired and very short of breath. Which I did. So I had to drop out after lap three.
So for set two, there was a new plan...put me third in the pace line, with someone behind me to push me (ever so slightly, of course) if I should falter. And it worked. Despite more dying carp, I managed (with a bit of help) to hang in for all four laps, two 40's and two 39's.
Set three, though, the dying carp prevailed and, push or no push, I was done after one lap. Very frustrating. After the Fast and the Fit finished the fourth set, we headed into the warming house, where I read everyone the lap times and indulged in a bit of overanalyzing. I was starting to question whether I'd actually been feeling my heart arrhythmia or whether I've gotten so out of shape that I'm now confusing the sensation of "100% effort heartrate and fatigue" with "dying carp PVC's." It's hard to tell what you're feeling when you're at 100% effort, and I guess I just don't trust myself anymore--am I really experiencing PVC fatigue...or unfit old lady wimpiness?
Still, there were four sets left so I had to try again. And I'm glad I did. The first two sets featured laps from 39-41 seconds, no PVC's, a nice natural descent into fatigue instead of the immediate breathlessness I get from PVC's, a helpful push or two when I started to falter--and me able to hang on for the whole two sets. Cool!
And then I was truly and totally done. I coasted around for a few laps, resting my aching legs, and watched the Fast and the Fit finish the final two sets--with laps as low as 37's. And I marveled, every time they whooshed by, that I had actually been able to keep up with them for a bit.
With a good draft and a push or two, anyway.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Let It Rain, Let It Rain, Let It Rain
Yesterday we had the usual Saturday morning time trials at the oval. I had signed up for the 500 and the 3K but by the time I got to the oval at 7:45 Saturday morning I was thinking the 3K might not be such a great plan, for a couple of reasons. First, there was the previously-reported Short Week. Some might look on only one workout in the week leading up to an event as a "taper," but when you're out of shape it's best to call it what it is...another step down the descending slope to "slow." Second, there was this...
Yes, it was raining. In Minnesota in December. Our lovely Winter Wonderland was slowly turning into Winter SlopFest--and I was afraid the oval was about to follow. Seven and a half laps in the rain on potentially soft ice with a bad hamstring didn't sound like a good idea, so I went upstairs to the officials' room and snivelled my way out of the 3K and into the 1000, leaving the option open to scratch altogether if the hammy misbehaved on warmup.
I've skated many times in the rain before; I've even, as evidenced by this, raced in the rain before.
Skating in the rain is not necessarily a disaster; the oval refrigeration equipment does a pretty good job of keeping the ice hard, so unless there's a huge amount of water and excessively warm temperatures it's not too bad. Still, I thought it best to err on the side of caution--but at least my "caution" only involved downgrading my race from 3K to 1000; as it turned out, every one of the other masters skaters who had signed up to race decided that "caution" involved "turning off the alarm, rolling over, and going back to sleep." Wusses.
So I went out for my warmup solo. It was indeed raining, see?
But the ice was decent and the hamstring fairly uncomplaining, so I decided racing was a go. Then one of the officials approached me and said I was the only 1000 meter skater and they had a solo skater in the 1500, so would I mind... I said no problem, switch me to the 1500. I have two other 1500's from Roseville this year, so it would be good to see how I'm doing as the season progresses.
The 500 was first. I felt fairly good and it went OK, but my time was, once again, a 52. This is slow for me but still in the "reasonable" range, so I was fine with it. The 1500 also felt fine; I kept my technique together (Mel, who was watching from the warm dry observation deck, confirmed this); there were no PVC's; and the lap times, generously shouted to me by Russian Coach on the backstretch, showed only a nice, reasonable one-second die per lap. And my final time of 2:42 was three seconds faster than my last 1500 at Roseville a few weeks ago--but still six seconds slower than my slowest Roseville 1500 from last year. Sigh.
Still, it was fun. And my hat (yes, I actually was wearing one between races; it was an Epically Bad Hair Day) is off to the volunteers, who stood in the rain for hours so that we could race. Thanks guys!
I've skated many times in the rain before; I've even, as evidenced by this, raced in the rain before.
So I went out for my warmup solo. It was indeed raining, see?
(It was kind of funny; when I came in planning to take the "water on jacket" shot, everyone I walked past kept brushing the water off of me--I kept thinking "stop, you're ruining my shot!")
But the ice was decent and the hamstring fairly uncomplaining, so I decided racing was a go. Then one of the officials approached me and said I was the only 1000 meter skater and they had a solo skater in the 1500, so would I mind... I said no problem, switch me to the 1500. I have two other 1500's from Roseville this year, so it would be good to see how I'm doing as the season progresses.
The 500 was first. I felt fairly good and it went OK, but my time was, once again, a 52. This is slow for me but still in the "reasonable" range, so I was fine with it. The 1500 also felt fine; I kept my technique together (Mel, who was watching from the warm dry observation deck, confirmed this); there were no PVC's; and the lap times, generously shouted to me by Russian Coach on the backstretch, showed only a nice, reasonable one-second die per lap. And my final time of 2:42 was three seconds faster than my last 1500 at Roseville a few weeks ago--but still six seconds slower than my slowest Roseville 1500 from last year. Sigh.
Still, it was fun. And my hat (yes, I actually was wearing one between races; it was an Epically Bad Hair Day) is off to the volunteers, who stood in the rain for hours so that we could race. Thanks guys!
So today, it's off to the Roller Dome for a recovery skate with Energizer Bunny, and then I'll see how the hamstring feels next week. I need to get in some endurance work before the 5K in the Masters Single Distance meet in early January, or it's not going to be pretty!
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Short Week
It's been a short week of skating, and it looks like the odds are about 50/50 that it will get even shorter.
Usually I skate Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday nights, and then race one or sometimes two days on the weekend. This week started out well with a surprisingly fun skate on Tuesday. Surprising because 1) I didn't expect much after my sluggishly slow races in Milwaukee on Saturday and 2) because I had, just as I did last year, forgotten my jacket on the coldest night of the year (also my neck gaiter and warm gloves). So I was expecting cold and slow. What I got was 6 OK laps by myself, then 8 super-fun laps with Cop Guy and Aussie Boy and 60's Boy, then another 6 laps that started with the guys and ended well behind the guys...and then I got cold and slow. So I quit a bit early, but it was a good skate.
Wednesday, though...Wednesday barely got started. My hamstring, which has been bugging me off and on for a couple weeks, decided to go with "on" for Wednesday, and after three warm-up (i.e., "slow") laps, in which my left hamstring cussed me extensively every time I fully straightened my leg and pushed off the ice, I decided that discretion was the better part of valor and I headed for home. In keeping with the "if you don't use your mind your whole body suffers" theme, I decided to completely skip tonight's workout. I'm signed up for a 500 and a 3K (got to get right back on the horse again, right?) for Saturday morning, and I don't think my hamstring will be happy with me if I don't give it a rest. It might not be happy even if I do rest it, but it seems like my best shot. I almost changed my mind about taking tonight off, though, when I saw a weather report...4 to 8 inches of snow possible by the end of Saturday?! We just got 15 inches last Sunday (why, yes, yes I am sick of the phrase "Winter Wonderland," why do you ask? Although, to be honest, it is a winter wonderland and I'm thrilled that we'll be having a white Christmas. And that the leaves that have been blowing onto the oval ice for the past month are now safely secured under more than a foot of snow. But I digress). I figured that if I might be missing Saturday's races due to another Snowmageddon, I should probably get out there and skate tonight. But then I saw another weather report and this one said maybe one inch of snow for Saturday, so I figure I'll likely be racing and thus tonight I should be resting. So here I sit.
Oh, and I got my thyroid labs back. Levels are within range, which is good, but not nearly as high as they were in September, which I find a bit ominous. Hopefully they're stabilized and won't continue dropping. And, the levels are consistent with the range in which I have to time my fast-acting med relative to my workouts--so my recent issues with timing have made sense. On the down side, if my thyroid levels are roughly appropriate, then I need to find another reason for my current state of slow, fat, and cranky. Any ideas? Any cures? I mean, other than "skate more, eat less, think positive." That one clearly is not working out so well for me...
Usually I skate Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday nights, and then race one or sometimes two days on the weekend. This week started out well with a surprisingly fun skate on Tuesday. Surprising because 1) I didn't expect much after my sluggishly slow races in Milwaukee on Saturday and 2) because I had, just as I did last year, forgotten my jacket on the coldest night of the year (also my neck gaiter and warm gloves). So I was expecting cold and slow. What I got was 6 OK laps by myself, then 8 super-fun laps with Cop Guy and Aussie Boy and 60's Boy, then another 6 laps that started with the guys and ended well behind the guys...and then I got cold and slow. So I quit a bit early, but it was a good skate.
Wednesday, though...Wednesday barely got started. My hamstring, which has been bugging me off and on for a couple weeks, decided to go with "on" for Wednesday, and after three warm-up (i.e., "slow") laps, in which my left hamstring cussed me extensively every time I fully straightened my leg and pushed off the ice, I decided that discretion was the better part of valor and I headed for home. In keeping with the "if you don't use your mind your whole body suffers" theme, I decided to completely skip tonight's workout. I'm signed up for a 500 and a 3K (got to get right back on the horse again, right?) for Saturday morning, and I don't think my hamstring will be happy with me if I don't give it a rest. It might not be happy even if I do rest it, but it seems like my best shot. I almost changed my mind about taking tonight off, though, when I saw a weather report...4 to 8 inches of snow possible by the end of Saturday?! We just got 15 inches last Sunday (why, yes, yes I am sick of the phrase "Winter Wonderland," why do you ask? Although, to be honest, it is a winter wonderland and I'm thrilled that we'll be having a white Christmas. And that the leaves that have been blowing onto the oval ice for the past month are now safely secured under more than a foot of snow. But I digress). I figured that if I might be missing Saturday's races due to another Snowmageddon, I should probably get out there and skate tonight. But then I saw another weather report and this one said maybe one inch of snow for Saturday, so I figure I'll likely be racing and thus tonight I should be resting. So here I sit.
Oh, and I got my thyroid labs back. Levels are within range, which is good, but not nearly as high as they were in September, which I find a bit ominous. Hopefully they're stabilized and won't continue dropping. And, the levels are consistent with the range in which I have to time my fast-acting med relative to my workouts--so my recent issues with timing have made sense. On the down side, if my thyroid levels are roughly appropriate, then I need to find another reason for my current state of slow, fat, and cranky. Any ideas? Any cures? I mean, other than "skate more, eat less, think positive." That one clearly is not working out so well for me...
Sunday, December 9, 2012
It's Official. I'm Slow.
I raced in Milwaukee yesterday, for the first time this season.
Itwas horrifically sucky did not go well.
Up until yesterday, this season's time trials had consisted of two 500's and two 1500's on the outdoor ice at Roseville. The 500's were both 52 seconds, which is slower than any 500 I skated outdoors last year. The 1500's were even worse; the 2:49 was my slowest outdoor 1500 since 2002, and the 2:45 wasn't far behind. Workouts have been inconsistent; some have felt OK, but others have been slow and sluggish. I'm back to having to time my thyroid meds pre-skate and have been having what I think are hypo symptoms again; I went in and got my levels checked on Wednesday (no results yet). I've also had PVC's in a lot of workout laps. Then, since I figured that battling thyroid-PVC's-overweight-underfit wasn't quite enough, I added one more factor. I aggravated my left hamstring, which was already unhappy, by engaging in a full-out-sprint across the school playground in pursuit of a student who thought it was fun to head for the hills when it was time to come in from recess. By the time I caught him I was so out of breath that all I could do was wag my finger and glare meaningfully at him while I gasped for air. I'm not sure whether he was amused or horrified.
And then there was the Thursday Night Skinsuit Parade.
I have three "fast" skinsuits. One I bought (for roughly the price of the Crown Jewels) in 2007 before I skated in the US Championships. It's got a bit less rubber than the Nike Swift Skins, and is thus more forgiving of dietary indiscretions. So, although it was custom made from measurements that, thanks to age and hypothyroidism and an unbridled love of PopTarts, I will likely never see again, it nevertheless fit comfortably. Unfortunately, it was not the skinsuit I wanted to wear.
My other two "fast" skinsuits are Nike Swift Skins that I earned from US Speedskating by skating the qualifying time for MAT 1. Because I earned them, I really wanted to wear one of them--but I knew that my extra ten pounds of, um, muscle? might preclude that. The older one is the gray one I've skated in for the past year; it was always snug before (and by "snug" I mean "as soon as the race is done I'm heading off the ice and ripping this thing off as fast as I possibly can") but it fit. In the Thursday night try-on, though, it had progressed from "snug" to "OMG I can't breathe." Since breathing is helpful, especially in the 3K, I sadly decided that the gray skin was out. On to my newest MAT 1 suit, which, because I haven't skated a "real" race yet this year, I haven't ever tried to wear (I don't like to wear my best skinsuits for outdoor time trials because the risk of falling and damaging them is higher).
The new suit is a lovely red and black combo, and it is the first MAT 1 suit to have a "Masters" patch on it. It is also, due to an unfortunate combination of circumstances, a size smaller than my gray suit. So things weren't looking good before I tried it on--and they were looking even worse after I finally wedged myself into it. My previously-injured shoulder ached from the contortions required to get the suit onto my arms; my thighs were packed into the rubberized suit legs tighter than New Yorkers on a subway car; and various (as the Hubster calls random bits of fat) "chunks of volupt" continued to defy my efforts to stuff them into the still-open zipper--a zipper which, barring divine intervention or fabric ripping, was going to remain open for all eternity. It was not a pretty picture.
So all things told, I was not predicting fast times.
Still, I had signed up to race and so I was going to race. So after work on Friday I picked up Sprinter Boy, who was also racing, and we headed for Milwaukee. The trip went well, except for the "aha" moment when I put together the facts a) car upside down in ditch; b) light snow falling; and c) shiny road and arrived at the conclusion that the "shine" was not water but ice--not a good conclusion to reach at 70 mph. Ice is good on the oval but not on the freeway.
I was signed up for the 500 and the 3K; the 500 is typically my "warmup" race and the 3K is the one I'm really interested in. It's fortunate that I'm not seriously trying for a good time in both races because, in an event like this one where the 500 and the 3K might be 3 hours apart, it is extremely difficult to time my thyroid meds to have them optimal for both races. My solution to this dilemma is to just time the meds for the 3K and treat the 500 as a warmup. So I wasn't worried about the 500, which turned out to be just as well since my pair, skating in the inner lane, fell on the first corner and slid into my lane, necessitating my stopping skating and coasting to avoid running into her. Other than that my 500 felt solid, technically--I tried counting strokes on the backstretch to help me time my corner entry, and it seemed to help--and even though the final 50.65 time was slow for me, I wasn't too upset about it.
The 3K, though...the 3K was making me nervous. The seven-and-a-half laps were looking like a mighty long way to try to skate hard, and for the first time in about 8 years the 3K was sounding like a long race. Plus, I was in a quad with two men (my pair had scratched) starting behind me; men who would certainly pass me and might even go on to lap me. So my confidence was not high, and when Sprinter Boy, who would be giving me my lap times, asked what lap times I was aiming for, I replied that I'd probably be happy with anything under 42's. To put that in perspective, my Milwaukee 3K's last year featured laps from 36 to 40 seconds, with a couple of very low 41's in my slowest race of the season (5:05).
So, the race. Slow start, settle into a skating rhythm, try not to look at the "7" on the lap card as I pass the finish line for the first time. Around the corner to the backstretch, to see the "5.0" on Sprinter Boy's borrowed lap board. This indicates that my "opener"--the first partial lap, from start line to finish line-- was 25.0 seconds...a good .75 seconds slower than usual. Not off to a good start.
The first full lap brought a "9.3" on the lap board--39.3 seconds. I had felt good in that first lap; strong, energetic, smooth. Unfortunately "strong, energetic, smooth" usually translates to a 36 or 37 second lap rather than a 39.
On to lap two. Relax, use the glide, don't rush it. Oh, and breathe. This last was becoming increasingly difficult, and soon I was actually feeling short of breath and found myself gasping for air. Now, those of you who don't routinely skate 3K's might think that "out of breath and gasping for air" is the norm when racing, but it's not. Yes, you need to breathe hard, but it's a rhythmic, controlled kind of "breathing hard." The out of breath feeling was not normal for me; usually I associate it with PVC's, but I didn't feel any. And the fatigue I quickly felt in lap two I also associate with PVC's. So I wasn't too surprised to see a "1.5" (41.5 seconds) on the lap board after laps two. Or a 2.6 on lap 3, or a 2.7 on lap 4. What I was surprised by was the 2.3 on lap 5, and moreso by the 1.6 on lap 6 and the 0.6 on lap 7. Yes, I had a negative split of 2 seconds from lap 4 to lap 7. This just does not happen to me--unless I have PVC's mid-race.
Still, I hadn't felt any PVC's. I know it's certainly possible to have them and not feel them; many people do. So maybe that was it. Or maybe it was a mental thing; I always get a bit re-motivated at the end of the race, and this time I had the added advantage of seeing that I was gaining a bit on the fellow who had passed me mid-race, so I had someone to chase. Whatever the reason, though--fat, out of shape, hypothyroid, PVC's, mentally unable to push myself--my final time of 5:15. 94 was the worst I've skated in Milwaukee since an epic-fail-unmedicated-hypothyroidism 3K in March of 2009; prior to that I have to go back to 2005 to find a slower 3K (last year's Milwaukee 3K's were between 4:51 and 5:05). Not good. Interestingly, my description of my 2009 5:21 sounds very similar to yesterday's race--short of breath, tired early, felt better the last 3 laps than the first 4--and a negative split from lap 4 to 7, although only 1.08 seconds instead of 2. Weird.
So not a good time in Milwaukee. Sprinter Boy didn't have the races he wanted, either (although his 500 and 1000 were top-5 for him for Milwaukee, so at least not in the "epic fail" zone). And, before the races, I spent a few minutes talking to fellow masters skater NewFastGirl. She's in her first full-on season of long track, and is setting PB's left and right and loving it. We talked a bit about inlining in the summer and about the upcoming Masters Single Distance race in Milwaukee, and I found myself envying her; her youth, her enthusiasm, her steadily decreasing times, her being in the beginning stages of the skating obsession rather than the midlife crisis phase. I don't like envying people--there's always someone who has it better than you do and you always have it better than someone else, so it's best to appreciate what you have rather than longing for what you don't...but still, I couldn't help envying her.
All in all, not a great Saturday in Milwaukee.
So what's next? Get the thyroid lab results. Rehab the complaining hamstring. A week's worth of endurance workouts before the taper starts for Master's Single Distance in early January. Try to avoid the PopTarts. Try to think positively.
And try not to obsess over how slow I've become.
It
Up until yesterday, this season's time trials had consisted of two 500's and two 1500's on the outdoor ice at Roseville. The 500's were both 52 seconds, which is slower than any 500 I skated outdoors last year. The 1500's were even worse; the 2:49 was my slowest outdoor 1500 since 2002, and the 2:45 wasn't far behind. Workouts have been inconsistent; some have felt OK, but others have been slow and sluggish. I'm back to having to time my thyroid meds pre-skate and have been having what I think are hypo symptoms again; I went in and got my levels checked on Wednesday (no results yet). I've also had PVC's in a lot of workout laps. Then, since I figured that battling thyroid-PVC's-overweight-underfit wasn't quite enough, I added one more factor. I aggravated my left hamstring, which was already unhappy, by engaging in a full-out-sprint across the school playground in pursuit of a student who thought it was fun to head for the hills when it was time to come in from recess. By the time I caught him I was so out of breath that all I could do was wag my finger and glare meaningfully at him while I gasped for air. I'm not sure whether he was amused or horrified.
And then there was the Thursday Night Skinsuit Parade.
I have three "fast" skinsuits. One I bought (for roughly the price of the Crown Jewels) in 2007 before I skated in the US Championships. It's got a bit less rubber than the Nike Swift Skins, and is thus more forgiving of dietary indiscretions. So, although it was custom made from measurements that, thanks to age and hypothyroidism and an unbridled love of PopTarts, I will likely never see again, it nevertheless fit comfortably. Unfortunately, it was not the skinsuit I wanted to wear.
My other two "fast" skinsuits are Nike Swift Skins that I earned from US Speedskating by skating the qualifying time for MAT 1. Because I earned them, I really wanted to wear one of them--but I knew that my extra ten pounds of, um, muscle? might preclude that. The older one is the gray one I've skated in for the past year; it was always snug before (and by "snug" I mean "as soon as the race is done I'm heading off the ice and ripping this thing off as fast as I possibly can") but it fit. In the Thursday night try-on, though, it had progressed from "snug" to "OMG I can't breathe." Since breathing is helpful, especially in the 3K, I sadly decided that the gray skin was out. On to my newest MAT 1 suit, which, because I haven't skated a "real" race yet this year, I haven't ever tried to wear (I don't like to wear my best skinsuits for outdoor time trials because the risk of falling and damaging them is higher).
The new suit is a lovely red and black combo, and it is the first MAT 1 suit to have a "Masters" patch on it. It is also, due to an unfortunate combination of circumstances, a size smaller than my gray suit. So things weren't looking good before I tried it on--and they were looking even worse after I finally wedged myself into it. My previously-injured shoulder ached from the contortions required to get the suit onto my arms; my thighs were packed into the rubberized suit legs tighter than New Yorkers on a subway car; and various (as the Hubster calls random bits of fat) "chunks of volupt" continued to defy my efforts to stuff them into the still-open zipper--a zipper which, barring divine intervention or fabric ripping, was going to remain open for all eternity. It was not a pretty picture.
So all things told, I was not predicting fast times.
Still, I had signed up to race and so I was going to race. So after work on Friday I picked up Sprinter Boy, who was also racing, and we headed for Milwaukee. The trip went well, except for the "aha" moment when I put together the facts a) car upside down in ditch; b) light snow falling; and c) shiny road and arrived at the conclusion that the "shine" was not water but ice--not a good conclusion to reach at 70 mph. Ice is good on the oval but not on the freeway.
I was signed up for the 500 and the 3K; the 500 is typically my "warmup" race and the 3K is the one I'm really interested in. It's fortunate that I'm not seriously trying for a good time in both races because, in an event like this one where the 500 and the 3K might be 3 hours apart, it is extremely difficult to time my thyroid meds to have them optimal for both races. My solution to this dilemma is to just time the meds for the 3K and treat the 500 as a warmup. So I wasn't worried about the 500, which turned out to be just as well since my pair, skating in the inner lane, fell on the first corner and slid into my lane, necessitating my stopping skating and coasting to avoid running into her. Other than that my 500 felt solid, technically--I tried counting strokes on the backstretch to help me time my corner entry, and it seemed to help--and even though the final 50.65 time was slow for me, I wasn't too upset about it.
The 3K, though...the 3K was making me nervous. The seven-and-a-half laps were looking like a mighty long way to try to skate hard, and for the first time in about 8 years the 3K was sounding like a long race. Plus, I was in a quad with two men (my pair had scratched) starting behind me; men who would certainly pass me and might even go on to lap me. So my confidence was not high, and when Sprinter Boy, who would be giving me my lap times, asked what lap times I was aiming for, I replied that I'd probably be happy with anything under 42's. To put that in perspective, my Milwaukee 3K's last year featured laps from 36 to 40 seconds, with a couple of very low 41's in my slowest race of the season (5:05).
So, the race. Slow start, settle into a skating rhythm, try not to look at the "7" on the lap card as I pass the finish line for the first time. Around the corner to the backstretch, to see the "5.0" on Sprinter Boy's borrowed lap board. This indicates that my "opener"--the first partial lap, from start line to finish line-- was 25.0 seconds...a good .75 seconds slower than usual. Not off to a good start.
The first full lap brought a "9.3" on the lap board--39.3 seconds. I had felt good in that first lap; strong, energetic, smooth. Unfortunately "strong, energetic, smooth" usually translates to a 36 or 37 second lap rather than a 39.
On to lap two. Relax, use the glide, don't rush it. Oh, and breathe. This last was becoming increasingly difficult, and soon I was actually feeling short of breath and found myself gasping for air. Now, those of you who don't routinely skate 3K's might think that "out of breath and gasping for air" is the norm when racing, but it's not. Yes, you need to breathe hard, but it's a rhythmic, controlled kind of "breathing hard." The out of breath feeling was not normal for me; usually I associate it with PVC's, but I didn't feel any. And the fatigue I quickly felt in lap two I also associate with PVC's. So I wasn't too surprised to see a "1.5" (41.5 seconds) on the lap board after laps two. Or a 2.6 on lap 3, or a 2.7 on lap 4. What I was surprised by was the 2.3 on lap 5, and moreso by the 1.6 on lap 6 and the 0.6 on lap 7. Yes, I had a negative split of 2 seconds from lap 4 to lap 7. This just does not happen to me--unless I have PVC's mid-race.
Still, I hadn't felt any PVC's. I know it's certainly possible to have them and not feel them; many people do. So maybe that was it. Or maybe it was a mental thing; I always get a bit re-motivated at the end of the race, and this time I had the added advantage of seeing that I was gaining a bit on the fellow who had passed me mid-race, so I had someone to chase. Whatever the reason, though--fat, out of shape, hypothyroid, PVC's, mentally unable to push myself--my final time of 5:15. 94 was the worst I've skated in Milwaukee since an epic-fail-unmedicated-hypothyroidism 3K in March of 2009; prior to that I have to go back to 2005 to find a slower 3K (last year's Milwaukee 3K's were between 4:51 and 5:05). Not good. Interestingly, my description of my 2009 5:21 sounds very similar to yesterday's race--short of breath, tired early, felt better the last 3 laps than the first 4--and a negative split from lap 4 to 7, although only 1.08 seconds instead of 2. Weird.
So not a good time in Milwaukee. Sprinter Boy didn't have the races he wanted, either (although his 500 and 1000 were top-5 for him for Milwaukee, so at least not in the "epic fail" zone). And, before the races, I spent a few minutes talking to fellow masters skater NewFastGirl. She's in her first full-on season of long track, and is setting PB's left and right and loving it. We talked a bit about inlining in the summer and about the upcoming Masters Single Distance race in Milwaukee, and I found myself envying her; her youth, her enthusiasm, her steadily decreasing times, her being in the beginning stages of the skating obsession rather than the midlife crisis phase. I don't like envying people--there's always someone who has it better than you do and you always have it better than someone else, so it's best to appreciate what you have rather than longing for what you don't...but still, I couldn't help envying her.
All in all, not a great Saturday in Milwaukee.
So what's next? Get the thyroid lab results. Rehab the complaining hamstring. A week's worth of endurance workouts before the taper starts for Master's Single Distance in early January. Try to avoid the PopTarts. Try to think positively.
And try not to obsess over how slow I've become.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Half-Fast Tuesday
In my quest to De-Data December (see two posts ago), I got talked into doing Fast Tuesday tonight. Usually Tuesdays are endurance days for me, and what better time to record every lap time--to the tenth--than when you're doing 50 or so of them? Endurance just isn't endurance if I'm not not clicking the stopwatch every lap. So when Sprinter Boy mentioned Fast Tuesday, then, (at first I thought he said "Fat Tuesday" and I figured, hey, finally something I'll excel at), I figured it would be better to ease into my stopwatchless December by doing 200's tonight instead of an endurance workout; I never time my 200's anyway, so it wouldn't be much of a stretch to leave the watch in the skate bag for this workout.
So this was the plan: four 200's, then some easy laps, then a warm-the-toes break inside and then four more 200's. I can't keep up with Sprinter Boy and Mel and Hawkeye Boy on anything remotely high-effort and these 200's were supposed to be close to 100% so I knew I'd be skating "behind" rather than "with" anybody. And I hadn't felt the greatest today, so I wasn't expecting great things on the ice. Still, I wasn't prepared for just how bad tonight's workout would be.
The wamup laps started out well, because they started out slow. As the pace picked up and the laps ticked by, though, my back got more and more sore and I finally had to quit while the others went on to do two more laps. Then we started the fast stuff, and the nagging headache that had begun as soon as I started skating got worse with every 200. Just as bad as the headache was the fact that I just could not produce anything resembling a hard effort. Just like my races last weekend, the fast 200's were flat, sluggish, slow. I really need to get my thyroid re-checked...
After the 200's--it took me half of the 600 meters of rest to catch the others after every one, that's how far behind I was--we did 6 slow laps. I did manage to stick with the others for the whole 6 laps; it was fun trying to match everyone else's strokes and I do think it's good for me to skate behind and try to mimic these very good skaters, and to forget about lap times for a bit (although my right forefinger did twitch a little every time we completed a lap).
Then we went inside for our warmup break, and I gave in to the headache and the sluggishness and the general fatigue and decided to go home instead of going back out to complete the workout.
And that's how Fast Tuesday became Half-Fast Tuesday.
So this was the plan: four 200's, then some easy laps, then a warm-the-toes break inside and then four more 200's. I can't keep up with Sprinter Boy and Mel and Hawkeye Boy on anything remotely high-effort and these 200's were supposed to be close to 100% so I knew I'd be skating "behind" rather than "with" anybody. And I hadn't felt the greatest today, so I wasn't expecting great things on the ice. Still, I wasn't prepared for just how bad tonight's workout would be.
The wamup laps started out well, because they started out slow. As the pace picked up and the laps ticked by, though, my back got more and more sore and I finally had to quit while the others went on to do two more laps. Then we started the fast stuff, and the nagging headache that had begun as soon as I started skating got worse with every 200. Just as bad as the headache was the fact that I just could not produce anything resembling a hard effort. Just like my races last weekend, the fast 200's were flat, sluggish, slow. I really need to get my thyroid re-checked...
After the 200's--it took me half of the 600 meters of rest to catch the others after every one, that's how far behind I was--we did 6 slow laps. I did manage to stick with the others for the whole 6 laps; it was fun trying to match everyone else's strokes and I do think it's good for me to skate behind and try to mimic these very good skaters, and to forget about lap times for a bit (although my right forefinger did twitch a little every time we completed a lap).
Then we went inside for our warmup break, and I gave in to the headache and the sluggishness and the general fatigue and decided to go home instead of going back out to complete the workout.
And that's how Fast Tuesday became Half-Fast Tuesday.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Hockey!
Last night, just for something different, I agreed to play in a hockey game. Well, I might be using the term "hockey game" a bit loosely. The Hubster had set up some ice time for people he plays broomball with--mostly the women from the women's team he coaches--to give hockey a try. After he assured me that most of them had never skated before, and after I realized that, with races now on Saturday instead of Sunday, I could play a Saturday night game without messing up my time trials, I agreed to join the game. After all, I skate 4-6 times a week and I played broomball for over 20 years (for the uninitiated, broomball is like hockey but played in squishy shoes instead of skates, and with a plastic broom and a ball instead of a hockey stick and a puck); how hard could it be to put skating and broomball together and call it hockey?
Pretty difficult, as it turns out. There were, of course, the expected differences between speedskates and hockey skates (What?! These things don't glide at all! And where's the 3 inches of steel sticking out from in front of and behind my skates? Someone has cut the blades off!). Then there's the fact that my skating skills are pretty much limited to going straight and turning left. While these are certainly skills that are relevant in hockey, there are apparently a few other things that are nice to be able to do, as well, including turning right, skating backwards, and crossing over in both directions. Oh, yeah...and stopping. Turns out that in hockey, you can't just plan ahead and start slowing for your stop 50 yards before you need to cease forward motion. Who knew?
Then, too, there's the fact that a hockey stick is not a broomball broom and a puck is not a ball. Between the narrow stick and the tiny puck, there's a lot less surface area for contact than there is with broomball equipment. Couple this with not being able to get to where I wanted to go very effectively, and there were a lot of missed passes.
On the other hand, it was nice to see that all of my old bad habits from broomball transferred seamlessly to the hockey rink. I picked right up where I had left off with diving for pucks I had no hope of reaching, slashing peoples' shins as I flailed blindly for the puck, whiffing on passes and shots alike, and deftly flipping my hockey stick to switch from right-handed to left-handed in a skillful attempt to avoid having to use my non-existent backhand.
But it was fun, and everyone did a great job despite a lack of skating experience. We actually managed to play a semblance of a game, and I don't think there were any major injuries. Still, I'm a bit sore today, and it didn't help that the game ended at 11 pm and the post-game festivities didn't end until 1:30 am. A bit past my bedtime. Today is a good day to put into practice some other advice that I got yesterday at the races, this time from Sprinter Boy. Despite his young age (35), he's a big proponent of recovery exercises and he's convinced me to dig out my foam roller and rolly stick and try to whip some muscles back into shape. And after time trials and hockey yesterday, there are a lot of muscles to choose from. Good thing I don't have to skate again until Tuesday.
Here's me in my old broomball days...
And in last nights's hockey game...
Pretty difficult, as it turns out. There were, of course, the expected differences between speedskates and hockey skates (What?! These things don't glide at all! And where's the 3 inches of steel sticking out from in front of and behind my skates? Someone has cut the blades off!). Then there's the fact that my skating skills are pretty much limited to going straight and turning left. While these are certainly skills that are relevant in hockey, there are apparently a few other things that are nice to be able to do, as well, including turning right, skating backwards, and crossing over in both directions. Oh, yeah...and stopping. Turns out that in hockey, you can't just plan ahead and start slowing for your stop 50 yards before you need to cease forward motion. Who knew?
Then, too, there's the fact that a hockey stick is not a broomball broom and a puck is not a ball. Between the narrow stick and the tiny puck, there's a lot less surface area for contact than there is with broomball equipment. Couple this with not being able to get to where I wanted to go very effectively, and there were a lot of missed passes.
On the other hand, it was nice to see that all of my old bad habits from broomball transferred seamlessly to the hockey rink. I picked right up where I had left off with diving for pucks I had no hope of reaching, slashing peoples' shins as I flailed blindly for the puck, whiffing on passes and shots alike, and deftly flipping my hockey stick to switch from right-handed to left-handed in a skillful attempt to avoid having to use my non-existent backhand.
But it was fun, and everyone did a great job despite a lack of skating experience. We actually managed to play a semblance of a game, and I don't think there were any major injuries. Still, I'm a bit sore today, and it didn't help that the game ended at 11 pm and the post-game festivities didn't end until 1:30 am. A bit past my bedtime. Today is a good day to put into practice some other advice that I got yesterday at the races, this time from Sprinter Boy. Despite his young age (35), he's a big proponent of recovery exercises and he's convinced me to dig out my foam roller and rolly stick and try to whip some muscles back into shape. And after time trials and hockey yesterday, there are a lot of muscles to choose from. Good thing I don't have to skate again until Tuesday.
Here's me in my old broomball days...
And in last nights's hockey game...
The Hubster pointed out that I somehow managed
to "ankle skate" in stiff plastic hockey skates.
So it was fun, but I don't think I'll be giving up speedskating to switch to hockey any time soon...
Saturday, December 1, 2012
De-Data De-Cember
I think I'm going to De-Data December.
In other words, I'm going to stop focusing on workout lap times. Go by feel, not by time. Leave the stopwatch in the skate bag.
Skate naked. (well, sort of).
I had an interesting conversation/advice session with Hawkeye Boy today between the time trials. Hawkeye Boy is an extremely talented skater, and about my age. I've skated a few workouts with (actually, behind) him, and he's one of the two skaters who were kind enough to allow me to tag along with them for the team pursuit at the end of Pack Nationals last winter. Hawkeye Boy has been skating forever, is very nice, and I think he finally decided, after my whine-fest after my lackluster 500 this morning, that perhaps a bit of advice was in order. Also, he and I were (inexplicably) paired for the upcoming 1500, and he probably knew I'd be even more depressed after that since it was distinctly possible he'd lap me in the race.
Anyway, Hawkeye Boy suggested that I was perhaps over-focused on data, and that I might try abandoning the stopwatch for a while and just focusing on how I felt during workouts--and on having fun. He himself, he said, almost never timed his workout laps--and he is, as I said, an extremely successful skater.
Of course, I immediately had a lot of "yeah, buts" cruise through my head. Yeah, but I need to know if I'm getting slower or not. I need to know my lap times to help me figure out if my thyroid medication is properly tuned. I'm an obsessive compulsive anal retentive control freak and I love my lap time data.
But after a few moments of pondering my "yeah buts," I realized that Hawkeye Boy had a point. Lap time data has not been good to me lately. Rather than using it as information to be evaluated and used to help adjust upcoming workouts, as I used to, I've become more focused on "are my times good or bad?" and then letting that information dictate how I felt about the workout. Lap time data has also been coaxing me away from doing my workouts as they should be done; in fact, Thursday night I ended up doing my "80%" intervals at 100% just because I wanted to see the faster lap times. Not good.
So I think I might try Hawkeye Boy's advice, at least for a month. I'm also going to try to skate with my friends more. I've been having a frequent dilemma of whether to skate my planned workout or ditch my plans and skate with friends. My workouts tend to be opposite of theirs--I do fast stuff when they're doing endurance, and vice versa--so it's been hard to skate with people. So maybe I'll skate with others when they're there, and do my regular workouts if I'm solo. It should be fun, and good for my technique, and I'll be able to evaluate the effectiveness of the strategy by seeing how my races turn out by the end of the month.
After I De-Data December.
In other words, I'm going to stop focusing on workout lap times. Go by feel, not by time. Leave the stopwatch in the skate bag.
Skate naked. (well, sort of).
I had an interesting conversation/advice session with Hawkeye Boy today between the time trials. Hawkeye Boy is an extremely talented skater, and about my age. I've skated a few workouts with (actually, behind) him, and he's one of the two skaters who were kind enough to allow me to tag along with them for the team pursuit at the end of Pack Nationals last winter. Hawkeye Boy has been skating forever, is very nice, and I think he finally decided, after my whine-fest after my lackluster 500 this morning, that perhaps a bit of advice was in order. Also, he and I were (inexplicably) paired for the upcoming 1500, and he probably knew I'd be even more depressed after that since it was distinctly possible he'd lap me in the race.
Anyway, Hawkeye Boy suggested that I was perhaps over-focused on data, and that I might try abandoning the stopwatch for a while and just focusing on how I felt during workouts--and on having fun. He himself, he said, almost never timed his workout laps--and he is, as I said, an extremely successful skater.
Of course, I immediately had a lot of "yeah, buts" cruise through my head. Yeah, but I need to know if I'm getting slower or not. I need to know my lap times to help me figure out if my thyroid medication is properly tuned. I'm an obsessive compulsive anal retentive control freak and I love my lap time data.
But after a few moments of pondering my "yeah buts," I realized that Hawkeye Boy had a point. Lap time data has not been good to me lately. Rather than using it as information to be evaluated and used to help adjust upcoming workouts, as I used to, I've become more focused on "are my times good or bad?" and then letting that information dictate how I felt about the workout. Lap time data has also been coaxing me away from doing my workouts as they should be done; in fact, Thursday night I ended up doing my "80%" intervals at 100% just because I wanted to see the faster lap times. Not good.
So I think I might try Hawkeye Boy's advice, at least for a month. I'm also going to try to skate with my friends more. I've been having a frequent dilemma of whether to skate my planned workout or ditch my plans and skate with friends. My workouts tend to be opposite of theirs--I do fast stuff when they're doing endurance, and vice versa--so it's been hard to skate with people. So maybe I'll skate with others when they're there, and do my regular workouts if I'm solo. It should be fun, and good for my technique, and I'll be able to evaluate the effectiveness of the strategy by seeing how my races turn out by the end of the month.
After I De-Data December.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Update Time
What with teaching and skating and traveling and Thanksgiving-ing, I haven't been blogging. So here's a brief update from the past week:
- Skating Tuesday and Wednesday (after Saturday's PW--Personal Worst--time trials) was OK. Tuesday's endurance went better than Wednesday's intervals, but both were semi-OK. Sort of. Conditions Wednesday were bad--63 degrees, which led to slow, frosty, hacked-up ice. I don't do well mentally in such conditions because I don't know how much "slow" to ascribe to the conditions and how much to me--so I end up feeling like I was slow even if maybe I wasn't. So we'll see how this week goes. I've just adjusted the thyroid meds again, so the roller coaster continues.
- We went to the cabin for Thanksgiving, which was a blast. Dinner was at my cousins' cabin--16 people. Fortunately not all of the 11 dogs made an appearance. Speaking of dogs, I decided, before the five-and-a-half hour car trip to the cabin, that it was time that Greasy Dog had a bath (she hasn't had one in, oh, four years.). Since it was a bit chilly to do a full hose-and-shampoo job outside, and the Hubster wasn't thrilled with the idea of 75 pounds of hairy dog clogging up the shower drain, I decided to try a waterless dog shampoo--just spritz, towel dry, and voila! No more dog stink. Nice in theory, and it actually worked pretty well, but I'd like to know who decided that it would be a good idea if this ...
...smelled like this...
Yes, the waterless dog shampoo is Blueberry Muffin scented. I'm not sure I can describe the damp-blueberry-dog smell that continually wafted from the back seat on the drive up to the cabin, and I'm not sure I should try.
- Saturday night it snowed at the cabin, and I got the idea that the Hubster and the dog and I should go for a midnight stroll in the snow. After a few mild complaints from hubby and hound, we all went out and had a wonderful time wandering through the snow in the dark. We paused to take several pictures; the snow and some filtered moonlight made flashlights unnecessary, and the snow made flash pictures quite interesting. Also, apparently Keira is actually laser-eye-devil-dog in disguise, as this photo reveals.
And that's pretty much all the excitement at the Long Track Life lately. Next up: four weeks of work and skating before the Christmas break. Should be interesting!
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Hard Day
It was a hard day at the Oval yesterday. Not because of the slow ice or the wind or the tired legs or the bad times, but because of what we found out after we finished skating.
The Minnesota inline skating, broomball, and long track ice communities had lost a great guy Friday night.
I have referred to him here as Broomball Guy, because that's where I met him years ago. His real name was Andy. Andy was a talented inliner and new but fast long tracker, a broomball player, a husband, a dad, and a genuinely nice guy. He's the one who led the ice and dryland workout last weekend that I wrote about here; he was always happy to help other skaters, and he was excited about working toward MAT I again this year.
Andy was signed up to race Saturday morning. He and Sprinter Boy had been texting back and forth about it Friday night, so we were all surprised and a bit worried when he didn't show up yesterday morning and didn't return Sprinter Boy's texts. Finally, a couple hours later, Andy's wife texted back; she said call me, it's important, and she left her number. Unfortunately it was a wrong number. By now we were very worried, and Sprinter Boy and Inliner Boy began texting and calling anyone they could think of who might know Andy's wife's phone number. Sprinter Boy finally reached the girlfriend of another inliner/ice skater, and we could tell that the new wasn't good. When he hung up, in shock, he told us that Andy had passed away Friday night.
We are all still in shock. Andy was a young guy--early thirties--and incredibly fit. He raced inline marathons all summer and was hitting the ice workouts hard already this fall. We don't know what happened yet; all we know is that we lost a great guy. I can't imagine what his wife and young daughter are going through, so if you can, send some good thoughts or prayers or whatever kind of positive energy you personally believe in their way.
The Minnesota inline skating, broomball, and long track ice communities had lost a great guy Friday night.
I have referred to him here as Broomball Guy, because that's where I met him years ago. His real name was Andy. Andy was a talented inliner and new but fast long tracker, a broomball player, a husband, a dad, and a genuinely nice guy. He's the one who led the ice and dryland workout last weekend that I wrote about here; he was always happy to help other skaters, and he was excited about working toward MAT I again this year.
Andy was signed up to race Saturday morning. He and Sprinter Boy had been texting back and forth about it Friday night, so we were all surprised and a bit worried when he didn't show up yesterday morning and didn't return Sprinter Boy's texts. Finally, a couple hours later, Andy's wife texted back; she said call me, it's important, and she left her number. Unfortunately it was a wrong number. By now we were very worried, and Sprinter Boy and Inliner Boy began texting and calling anyone they could think of who might know Andy's wife's phone number. Sprinter Boy finally reached the girlfriend of another inliner/ice skater, and we could tell that the new wasn't good. When he hung up, in shock, he told us that Andy had passed away Friday night.
We are all still in shock. Andy was a young guy--early thirties--and incredibly fit. He raced inline marathons all summer and was hitting the ice workouts hard already this fall. We don't know what happened yet; all we know is that we lost a great guy. I can't imagine what his wife and young daughter are going through, so if you can, send some good thoughts or prayers or whatever kind of positive energy you personally believe in their way.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Advice
It was a good week of skating, and I got some great advice from two skaters that I deeply respect.
Unfortunately, the two pieces of advice directly contradict each other.
On Tuesday night, I got to skate with Mr. Smooth. (I call him that for his skating style, not his pickup lines. I have no idea what his pickup lines are like.) Because I had to work late, I ended up getting to the oval for just the tail end of the usual practice time, and had to skate the entire late-night (9-10:00) adult open speedskating session as well in order to complete my workout.
The open speedskating session has the advantage of being lightly populated; instead of dodging Midgets (yes, that's an actual age group) all night, I got to share 400 meters of freshly Zamboni'd ice with just three other adult skaters--one of whom was Mr. Smooth. Despite the fact that he'd already skated the entire afternoon adult open speedskating session, Mr. Smooth joined me for my remaining four sets of five laps. Knowing I like to lead so that I can keep track of my un-draft-aided lap times, he was kind enough to follow me for the 20 laps. Midway through the first 400 meters, though, I heard an exclamation of surprise from behind me.
"Wow, your knee drive has improved incredibly. It looks really great."
Or words to that effect. At any rate, it was a sincere compliment and it made my day. I've been working on my knee drive...
The advice came when we got back into the warming house. My armswing, Mr. Smooth said, needs some work.
"Try to swing your arms straight front-to-back," he said, " and not so high on the backswing."
This didn't come as a surprise, because Coach TieGuy has chanted "front to back, to the hip" into my earbud more times than I can count. Apparently with not as much effect as he or I would like.
So anyway, Tuesday was fun. Then on Thursday, I talked to Mel (who was on the ice for her new long track coaching gig) a bit about technique. Like Mr. Smooth, she said that my general technique--including knee drive--was looking good, but that my armswing needed work.
"What you need to do," she said, "is swing your arms more side-to-side."
This actually didn't come as a surprise either, because it pretty much mirrored what Derek Parra had said at camp last month. So two bits of armswing advice, totally opposite, each supported by a skater and a coach who know what they are talking about. Great--now what do I do?
I think it probably comes down to doing what feels most comfortable for each individual; probably one technique works best for some people and one for others. Unfortunately the only armswing that feels natural to me is...well, come to think of it, no armswing really feels comfortable to me, even my current stiff-and-ineffective one. So clearly I have some figuring out to do.
I also need to figure out one critical component of my new, this-is-how-the-real-skaters-do-it technique--I really don't know what to do to go faster. I can do the approximately correct technique at 70-80% pace, but don't know how to get to 95-100%. With my old "Bunny on Crack" technique it was simple--I just moved my legs faster and more forcefully, like you do when running. That's not going to cut it with the standard use-the-glide speedskating stride, though. And "faster and more forceful" is really the only strategy I know.
I asked Mel about it, and she had some advice.
"It's all about pressure to the ice," she said. "Get lower, and imagine that you weigh more..."
Well, that's some advice I should be able to take. In fact, I don't even have to imagine that I weigh more...
(For the record, I'm predicting slow for tomorrow's 500 and 1500 meters, my first official time trials of the season. I'm really sore from yesterday, and with the not-being-able-to-figure-out-how-to-go-faster thing, I'm thinking times will be slow. All just part of the learning process, though--not to mention the getting-back-in-shape process)
Unfortunately, the two pieces of advice directly contradict each other.
On Tuesday night, I got to skate with Mr. Smooth. (I call him that for his skating style, not his pickup lines. I have no idea what his pickup lines are like.) Because I had to work late, I ended up getting to the oval for just the tail end of the usual practice time, and had to skate the entire late-night (9-10:00) adult open speedskating session as well in order to complete my workout.
The open speedskating session has the advantage of being lightly populated; instead of dodging Midgets (yes, that's an actual age group) all night, I got to share 400 meters of freshly Zamboni'd ice with just three other adult skaters--one of whom was Mr. Smooth. Despite the fact that he'd already skated the entire afternoon adult open speedskating session, Mr. Smooth joined me for my remaining four sets of five laps. Knowing I like to lead so that I can keep track of my un-draft-aided lap times, he was kind enough to follow me for the 20 laps. Midway through the first 400 meters, though, I heard an exclamation of surprise from behind me.
"Wow, your knee drive has improved incredibly. It looks really great."
Or words to that effect. At any rate, it was a sincere compliment and it made my day. I've been working on my knee drive...
The advice came when we got back into the warming house. My armswing, Mr. Smooth said, needs some work.
"Try to swing your arms straight front-to-back," he said, " and not so high on the backswing."
This didn't come as a surprise, because Coach TieGuy has chanted "front to back, to the hip" into my earbud more times than I can count. Apparently with not as much effect as he or I would like.
So anyway, Tuesday was fun. Then on Thursday, I talked to Mel (who was on the ice for her new long track coaching gig) a bit about technique. Like Mr. Smooth, she said that my general technique--including knee drive--was looking good, but that my armswing needed work.
"What you need to do," she said, "is swing your arms more side-to-side."
This actually didn't come as a surprise either, because it pretty much mirrored what Derek Parra had said at camp last month. So two bits of armswing advice, totally opposite, each supported by a skater and a coach who know what they are talking about. Great--now what do I do?
I think it probably comes down to doing what feels most comfortable for each individual; probably one technique works best for some people and one for others. Unfortunately the only armswing that feels natural to me is...well, come to think of it, no armswing really feels comfortable to me, even my current stiff-and-ineffective one. So clearly I have some figuring out to do.
I also need to figure out one critical component of my new, this-is-how-the-real-skaters-do-it technique--I really don't know what to do to go faster. I can do the approximately correct technique at 70-80% pace, but don't know how to get to 95-100%. With my old "Bunny on Crack" technique it was simple--I just moved my legs faster and more forcefully, like you do when running. That's not going to cut it with the standard use-the-glide speedskating stride, though. And "faster and more forceful" is really the only strategy I know.
I asked Mel about it, and she had some advice.
"It's all about pressure to the ice," she said. "Get lower, and imagine that you weigh more..."
Well, that's some advice I should be able to take. In fact, I don't even have to imagine that I weigh more...
(For the record, I'm predicting slow for tomorrow's 500 and 1500 meters, my first official time trials of the season. I'm really sore from yesterday, and with the not-being-able-to-figure-out-how-to-go-faster thing, I'm thinking times will be slow. All just part of the learning process, though--not to mention the getting-back-in-shape process)
Monday, November 12, 2012
The Curse of the Stretchy Pants
So the skating season seems to be off to a good start.
The diet season, unfortunately, is not.
I'm blaming my stretchy pants.
Not really, of course, but they're certainly not helping. See, I'm not typically a "girly stretchy pant" wearer; I tend more towards jeans, and not fashion jeans either--Carhartt and Cabela's jeans, with buttons and zippers and waistbands that hold their own against expanding muffin tops. My "kicking back around the house" jeans are just older, grubbier versions of my "Fridays and any other days I can get away with it at work" jeans; in other words, they still exert the same "no, you can't cram any more PopTart fall-out into us" influence as my "nice" jeans.
These stretchy pants, though. They're something else. I never expected to like them, and in fact, never intended to buy them. But every time I went into this particular outdoorsy-gear store (in search of winter jackets or warm gloves or whatever), the happy salesgirls would accost me and enthusiastically extol the virtues of these particular stretchy pants. Most comfortable thing they'd ever worn, they'd say. Incredible fabric, they'd say, you've got to try it.
But stretchy pants are not, as I've said, my thing. Especially not $40 stretchy pants. Until one day I went into the store and some of them (the less popular brown ones) had become $10 stretchy pants.
So I bought a pair. The ol' Cabela's jeans were becoming a bit snug for comfortable wearing around the house, so $10 for some comfy "temporary fat pants" didn't seem like a bad deal.
But it's quickly becoming apparent that it was a bad deal. A very bad deal. Because these pants are way too comfortable. Soft, warm, with a nice friendly waistband that stays up just perfectly but doesn't ever feel tight.
And therein lies the problem. When I wear the stretchy pants, I don't think I need to lose weight. All other evidence--the fact that I can only fit into two pairs of my jeans; the fact that my new Mat I skinsuit will not see the light of day with me in it unless something drastic happens; the visual I subjected myself to on Saturday when I positioned myself in front of the full-wall mirror in the oval weight room for our dryland session --points to a distinct need to shed some home-grown insulation. But when I wear my forgiving stretchy pants, all is right with the world and I reach for another PopTart.
So something's gotta change. Unfortunately, I've never been good at dieting bybrute force willpower. As with my skating, I can't just decide that I want to do it and then do it; I have to be somehow motivated by an internal change of heart. Or, since I'm a behavior analyst, I'll put it in behavioral terms--the reinforcement contingencies need to change. Somehow, losing weight and fitting into my skinsuit again needs to become more reinforcing than a Brown Sugar Cinnamon PopTart. I had the change of heart with skating--suddenly, skating hard again became more reinforcing than sitting on the couch. Now I just need it to happen with eating. It's happened before, I know it will happen again; sooner or later, my lame attempts at dieting/changing my eating habits/whatever you want to call it will last longer than a day, and I'll start to head back toward "skating weight."
And the stretchy pants will head back to the closet.
For now, though, it's fat and frustrating in the ol' long track life kitchen.
The diet season, unfortunately, is not.
I'm blaming my stretchy pants.
Not really, of course, but they're certainly not helping. See, I'm not typically a "girly stretchy pant" wearer; I tend more towards jeans, and not fashion jeans either--Carhartt and Cabela's jeans, with buttons and zippers and waistbands that hold their own against expanding muffin tops. My "kicking back around the house" jeans are just older, grubbier versions of my "Fridays and any other days I can get away with it at work" jeans; in other words, they still exert the same "no, you can't cram any more PopTart fall-out into us" influence as my "nice" jeans.
These stretchy pants, though. They're something else. I never expected to like them, and in fact, never intended to buy them. But every time I went into this particular outdoorsy-gear store (in search of winter jackets or warm gloves or whatever), the happy salesgirls would accost me and enthusiastically extol the virtues of these particular stretchy pants. Most comfortable thing they'd ever worn, they'd say. Incredible fabric, they'd say, you've got to try it.
But stretchy pants are not, as I've said, my thing. Especially not $40 stretchy pants. Until one day I went into the store and some of them (the less popular brown ones) had become $10 stretchy pants.
So I bought a pair. The ol' Cabela's jeans were becoming a bit snug for comfortable wearing around the house, so $10 for some comfy "temporary fat pants" didn't seem like a bad deal.
But it's quickly becoming apparent that it was a bad deal. A very bad deal. Because these pants are way too comfortable. Soft, warm, with a nice friendly waistband that stays up just perfectly but doesn't ever feel tight.
And therein lies the problem. When I wear the stretchy pants, I don't think I need to lose weight. All other evidence--the fact that I can only fit into two pairs of my jeans; the fact that my new Mat I skinsuit will not see the light of day with me in it unless something drastic happens; the visual I subjected myself to on Saturday when I positioned myself in front of the full-wall mirror in the oval weight room for our dryland session --points to a distinct need to shed some home-grown insulation. But when I wear my forgiving stretchy pants, all is right with the world and I reach for another PopTart.
So something's gotta change. Unfortunately, I've never been good at dieting by
And the stretchy pants will head back to the closet.
For now, though, it's fat and frustrating in the ol' long track life kitchen.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
That Was Fun!
First day of ice for the 2012-13 season today. Last year I was out of town (at the SLC Masters Camp) on the first day of ice, which is typically a Saturday, so my first day was the following Tuesday. I had this to say about that--and I'm guessing, when the first nighttime skate of the season rolls around next week, that that's exactly how I'll be feeling. Nighttime skate practice at the John Rose Oval is the quintessential skating event for me, and I start looking forward again to that first glimpse of the rink lights through the trees pretty much as soon as the oval closes for the season in the spring.
Today we had morning ice time, though, which always seems a little weird to me. Usually, if I'm on oval ice in the daylight I'm racing. Today was just a "get reacquainted with the ice" day, which turned out to be a good thing. The weather was less than ideal--50 degrees and drizzling. Even with the refrigerated ice, it looked like we were in for a damp, slow-ice skate.
Here's the oval, all drizzly and frosted, waiting for a fresh Zamboni-ing and some skaters:
I ended up having a blast, though, even with the questionable weather. I started by doing one set of my own workout, a slow interval thing, then got to talking with Sprinter Boy (whose name may have to change to AllAround Boy if he continues the distance skating precedent he set in the 5K in Milwaukee last weekend), Broomball Guy, and Cop Guy during my break between sets. They were doing more of an endurance workout--10, 8, 6, 4, and 2 laps--and invited me to join them. That sounded like more fun than battling the slow, frosty ice and the wind by myself, so I jumped on the back of their paceline for the 8 lap set.
Unfortunately, the 8 laps were cut short at 5 when Sprinter Boy, who was leading, crashed. Although I was last of the four skaters in the paceline, I immediately reacted with the catlike reflexes that are my trademark, and promptly crashed as well--although I hadn't actually run into anyone or been interfered with in any way by Sprinter Boy's crash. I simply saw someone fall and reacted by falling myself.
We both emerged unscathed, though, and restarted the 8 laps for the final three. However, it seemed that my ability to hang onto their pace had been exhausted by the first five laps, and I was dropped pretty quickly. I tried a bit more of my interval workout, then a couple more laps trying desperately to get back into the guys' draft for their four lap set, and then decided I'd better call it a day. I was tired and getting a bit sore already.
Except...I had also told the guys that I'd join them in their post-skate dryland workout. And then Melissa and Inliner Boy came in off the ice and said they'd do the dryland, too, and, well, suddenly I ended up doing 12 minutes of downtime. (I decided, midway through a set of compression jumps, that I had definitely found a great group to work out with when Inliner Boy suddenly said "man, I'm regretting that PopTart right now.")
So the season is off to a great start. Due to some unfortunate inappropriate button-pushing, I cleared my stopwatch before I could see my lap times (and how slow they undoubtedly were) and thus am feeling optimistic about how the workout went. It was a blast skating with the guys, and I hope to do more of that this year--if they don't get sick of me tagging along and don't kill me with their workouts (Sprinter Boy and Broomball Guy are both in their early 30's, so their energy level and speed does not exactly match that of a 49-year-old hypothyroid woman). So...so far so good!
(By the time the ice time was over, there was so much frost on the ice that the last few skaters--who were short-tracking in the infield--shoveled the track and then had a snowball fight with the resulting pile of snow. If you look closely, you can see Aussie Boy about to fire a snowball at the little kid who is busily gathering his own ammo. Weird weather!)
Today we had morning ice time, though, which always seems a little weird to me. Usually, if I'm on oval ice in the daylight I'm racing. Today was just a "get reacquainted with the ice" day, which turned out to be a good thing. The weather was less than ideal--50 degrees and drizzling. Even with the refrigerated ice, it looked like we were in for a damp, slow-ice skate.
Here's the oval, all drizzly and frosted, waiting for a fresh Zamboni-ing and some skaters:
I ended up having a blast, though, even with the questionable weather. I started by doing one set of my own workout, a slow interval thing, then got to talking with Sprinter Boy (whose name may have to change to AllAround Boy if he continues the distance skating precedent he set in the 5K in Milwaukee last weekend), Broomball Guy, and Cop Guy during my break between sets. They were doing more of an endurance workout--10, 8, 6, 4, and 2 laps--and invited me to join them. That sounded like more fun than battling the slow, frosty ice and the wind by myself, so I jumped on the back of their paceline for the 8 lap set.
Unfortunately, the 8 laps were cut short at 5 when Sprinter Boy, who was leading, crashed. Although I was last of the four skaters in the paceline, I immediately reacted with the catlike reflexes that are my trademark, and promptly crashed as well--although I hadn't actually run into anyone or been interfered with in any way by Sprinter Boy's crash. I simply saw someone fall and reacted by falling myself.
We both emerged unscathed, though, and restarted the 8 laps for the final three. However, it seemed that my ability to hang onto their pace had been exhausted by the first five laps, and I was dropped pretty quickly. I tried a bit more of my interval workout, then a couple more laps trying desperately to get back into the guys' draft for their four lap set, and then decided I'd better call it a day. I was tired and getting a bit sore already.
Post-skate, complete with bad hair, misted glasses, and a big smile
So the season is off to a great start. Due to some unfortunate inappropriate button-pushing, I cleared my stopwatch before I could see my lap times (and how slow they undoubtedly were) and thus am feeling optimistic about how the workout went. It was a blast skating with the guys, and I hope to do more of that this year--if they don't get sick of me tagging along and don't kill me with their workouts (Sprinter Boy and Broomball Guy are both in their early 30's, so their energy level and speed does not exactly match that of a 49-year-old hypothyroid woman). So...so far so good!
(By the time the ice time was over, there was so much frost on the ice that the last few skaters--who were short-tracking in the infield--shoveled the track and then had a snowball fight with the resulting pile of snow. If you look closely, you can see Aussie Boy about to fire a snowball at the little kid who is busily gathering his own ammo. Weird weather!)
Monday, November 5, 2012
Workout Number One
Today was workout number one of the "I want to get serious about skating again" plan.
I was more than a little nervous. It's pretty easy to be excited about working out hard and getting serious again when you haven't actually worked out in a couple weeks; it's easy to forget how bad things were. But if I exert a little effort, I can remember that almost all of my September workouts--except, for some reason, the North Shore Inline Marathon--were horrible. If today's workout was as bad as September's, the whole "get serious again" thing might be out the window in a big fat hurry.
So as I drove to the Dome after work today for an inline workout, I was fervently hoping for a good skate. I wasn't expecting fast lap times; I'm more realistic than that. What I wanted--and what I had far too little of this summer--was a workout that felt "normal hard" instead of "weird flat undermedicated hard" or "weird shaky overmedicated out of breath hard." I don't mind workouts being hard and painful; I just want them to be normal hard and painful. In fact, in a sick-somewhat-masochistic-athlete way, I miss hard painful workouts. So I really just wanted a good, hard, normal skate.
And...I got one .
My laps weren't fast, and my heart rate was pretty high, but I felt normal. I had that happy "wow I'm having so much fun skating, gee this is easy, I want to go faster" delusion that I used to get early in the season. Unfitness always rears up and bites me in the butt after a few sets of laps, but feeling good and overconfident the first part of the first dome or oval workout of the season is kind of a tradition--a tradition I haven't been able to experience in a while. And it felt great.
I ended up doing three sets of two laps hard (ish), one lap easy, two laps hard (each lap is about 600 yards, so the equivalent of 3 laps/1.5 laps/3 laps on the oval). A relatively short workout--I had originally planned five sets but realized quickly that I was a bit optimistic in that--but enough for someone who hasn't worked out much this past month (except for camp, of course.) I felt like I managed to do my "new technique" fairly well, which is interesting because last year at this time--when I had only been doing the improved long track technique for a couple months--I wrote in my workout log that I couldn't do the technique in the Dome because of the slippery floor. I didn't have a problem this time, so either a) I'm better at it; or b) the floor is cleaner this year or c) I'm not doing it right anymore. It felt like I was doing it right, but we all know I'm notoriously bad at sensing what I'm doing (Derek Parra bent my long track blades for me when I was in Salt Lake--apparently long track blades need to be bent as well as rockered now--and was quite surprised when I reported that I couldn't detect any change).
So. It was good. My heart rate was, as I said, pretty high, but I think that was due to lack of fitness. My usual rubric goes like this: slow with a low heartrate means I'm either overtrained or undermedicated (unless I'm just taking it easy; I can do that with the best of them. Today, in my warmup laps, I was passed by a woman wearing a dress, jeans, and quad skates. Yes, all three "kiss of death to speed" factors at once. So if I'm taking it easy I expect slow/low heartrate. I just don't want it when I'm trying to skate hard.) Slow with a high heartrate means I'm either underfit or overmedicated, and since I didn't have the horrible "shaky legs out of breath" feeling that means overmedicated, I think I'm out of shape. ( At least for now I'm not overmedicated; I'm still in the process of adjusting.)
Anyway, out of shape I can deal with. Needing to lose weight I can deal with--BTDT many times. Thyroid adjustment is more of a wild card; I haven't nailed it yet this med-adjustment-go-round, but I always have before so I'm optimistic. I guess the big wild card is the PVC's; if I get them regularly in races I'm likely to get pretty discouraged pretty quickly. For now, though, today's workout was great. And the best part is, after one more Dome workout on Wednesday, the oval opens for the ice season on Saturday. And I'm happy to report that I'm excited about it and ready to work hard.
I was more than a little nervous. It's pretty easy to be excited about working out hard and getting serious again when you haven't actually worked out in a couple weeks; it's easy to forget how bad things were. But if I exert a little effort, I can remember that almost all of my September workouts--except, for some reason, the North Shore Inline Marathon--were horrible. If today's workout was as bad as September's, the whole "get serious again" thing might be out the window in a big fat hurry.
So as I drove to the Dome after work today for an inline workout, I was fervently hoping for a good skate. I wasn't expecting fast lap times; I'm more realistic than that. What I wanted--and what I had far too little of this summer--was a workout that felt "normal hard" instead of "weird flat undermedicated hard" or "weird shaky overmedicated out of breath hard." I don't mind workouts being hard and painful; I just want them to be normal hard and painful. In fact, in a sick-somewhat-masochistic-athlete way, I miss hard painful workouts. So I really just wanted a good, hard, normal skate.
And...I got one .
My laps weren't fast, and my heart rate was pretty high, but I felt normal. I had that happy "wow I'm having so much fun skating, gee this is easy, I want to go faster" delusion that I used to get early in the season. Unfitness always rears up and bites me in the butt after a few sets of laps, but feeling good and overconfident the first part of the first dome or oval workout of the season is kind of a tradition--a tradition I haven't been able to experience in a while. And it felt great.
I ended up doing three sets of two laps hard (ish), one lap easy, two laps hard (each lap is about 600 yards, so the equivalent of 3 laps/1.5 laps/3 laps on the oval). A relatively short workout--I had originally planned five sets but realized quickly that I was a bit optimistic in that--but enough for someone who hasn't worked out much this past month (except for camp, of course.) I felt like I managed to do my "new technique" fairly well, which is interesting because last year at this time--when I had only been doing the improved long track technique for a couple months--I wrote in my workout log that I couldn't do the technique in the Dome because of the slippery floor. I didn't have a problem this time, so either a) I'm better at it; or b) the floor is cleaner this year or c) I'm not doing it right anymore. It felt like I was doing it right, but we all know I'm notoriously bad at sensing what I'm doing (Derek Parra bent my long track blades for me when I was in Salt Lake--apparently long track blades need to be bent as well as rockered now--and was quite surprised when I reported that I couldn't detect any change).
So. It was good. My heart rate was, as I said, pretty high, but I think that was due to lack of fitness. My usual rubric goes like this: slow with a low heartrate means I'm either overtrained or undermedicated (unless I'm just taking it easy; I can do that with the best of them. Today, in my warmup laps, I was passed by a woman wearing a dress, jeans, and quad skates. Yes, all three "kiss of death to speed" factors at once. So if I'm taking it easy I expect slow/low heartrate. I just don't want it when I'm trying to skate hard.) Slow with a high heartrate means I'm either underfit or overmedicated, and since I didn't have the horrible "shaky legs out of breath" feeling that means overmedicated, I think I'm out of shape. ( At least for now I'm not overmedicated; I'm still in the process of adjusting.)
Anyway, out of shape I can deal with. Needing to lose weight I can deal with--BTDT many times. Thyroid adjustment is more of a wild card; I haven't nailed it yet this med-adjustment-go-round, but I always have before so I'm optimistic. I guess the big wild card is the PVC's; if I get them regularly in races I'm likely to get pretty discouraged pretty quickly. For now, though, today's workout was great. And the best part is, after one more Dome workout on Wednesday, the oval opens for the ice season on Saturday. And I'm happy to report that I'm excited about it and ready to work hard.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
A Direction
I think I finally have A Direction. (No, not One Direction. That would be creepy).
As you'll be all too aware if you've spent any time at all in the Long Track Life during the past, oh, six months, I've lately been floundering aimlessly as far as my skating is concerned. If you haven't been around lately, check out this post; it will explain things nicely. Physically I'm fat and slow and on a thyroid rollercoaster; mentally I'm flat and unmotivated and discouraged.
As fellow skate-blogger Sharon says, I've lost my skating mojo.
So for the past couple weeks, I've been thinking hard about what direction I want my skating to go this season. At the beginning of October I had decided to take it easy until the oval opens Nov. 9. Now it's almost Nov. 9,and I need to decide what to do with the ice season. Back off, focus on technique, and basically just goof around; or get back into the groove, focus, work hard, and see if I can make my improved technique pay off with some faster times before I get any older.
I think I'm going with the latter.
Yesterday, I had a kind of epiphany, maybe the epiphany I was hoping for when I wrote the "Blah" post in early October. I think there were lots of reasons for it: Coach TieGuy called out of the blue to see how things were going (I think he feared that, since ice season is less than a week away and he hadn't heard from me, I was perhaps dead), which got me thinking seriously about the upcoming season again. The American Cup race in Milwaukee is happening this weekend, and many masters friends are just killing it (a new and very talented skater just earned Master's Category I; Sprinter Boy, who prefers distances of three laps or less, absolutely crushed his 5k; Marty Haire, a very fast skater in the 50+ class, just qualified for the US Championships in the 5k; and Mel, in her first time on ice since breaking her jaw, qualified for the US Championships in the 3k. Congrats, guys!). I usually do the Milwaukee Am Cup, but skipped it this year due to a combination of logistical issues (I would have had to bring Keira with me, and she is not a fan of that) and general skating suckiness. And I found, when I started seeing my friends' pictures and results and Facebook posts, that I really missed it. I don't like being aimless and lazy and unmotivated. And I want to skate hard and fast again.
So I have a direction. Screw backing off and goofing around--I am going to try, one last time, to make the qualifying time for the Olympic Trials next year.
For a full report of how that happens, check this post from last year. Yes, qualifying for the Trials has been a goal before; in fact, it's been a goal for five years. I've never come close to the required times since they were lowered in 2008, so the big question is, do I actually have a chance?
I think I do, although it is a HUGE long shot. Here are the stats (it's going to get a bit technical here, so feel free to let your eyes glaze over, wander to the fridge for a snack, check your email...): my only hope of qualifying is in the 5k,where the time is 8:02.03. My PB in that distance is from 2007; in only my second 5k ever I skated an 8:16.0. Fourteen seconds is a lot; it's over one second per lap. And I have never actually come close to that time again, although I've gotten significant personal bests in all other distances. The 5k is what I need to improve, and it also seems to be the race that I've had the worst luck in.
My 3k time has improved 10 seconds (Milwaukee PB) since 2007. A corresponding improvement in my 5k would put me just under the qualifying time. But, my "fast ice" 3k PB has only improved 5 seconds since 2007--a corresponding improvement in my 5k would put me several seconds over the qualifying time. Now, since I didn't get to fast ice for a 3k last year, my "fast ice" 3k PB is from my "pre-New-and-Improved-Technique" days, so it was skated with Bunny On Crack technique. So maybe the Milwaukee PB is more relevant as a benchmark, since that one featured my new technique. But, again, I haven't skated a good 5k on "fast ice" since 2007. Calgary and Salt Lake are the "fast ice" ovals; the altitude makes the times faster, and I would definitely need to go to one of these ovals to have any shot at making the time. Problem is, I have a four-year history of having epic fail races at Salt Lake, and I don't know why. I've done better at Calgary, but it's a much more expensive place to get to so I don't go there as often. So maybe I wouldn't even be able to skate a good 5k on fast ice--and with out agood perfect race, an 8:02.03 ain't happening.
And then, of course, of there's the issue of my body perhaps not cooperating. There's the whole "optimizing the thyroid meds" thing, not to mention the fact that many of last year's competitions featured a heart arrhythmia that seemed to be brought on by maximal exertion and adrenaline--the exact factors that one finds in an important race. And then there's the not-insignificant fact that I'm 49; I'll be 50 by the time the Trials roll around.
But still, I want to try. If I try and fail, oh well--I'm getting pretty experienced at that, so no big deal. If I don't try, well, I'll always wonder if I could have done it.
So I think I need to try. Maybe I'll change my mind after I start skating again, if I find I'm still really struggling like I've been for the past six months. But right now I want to try. And so I've spent the weekend figuring out my November skating plan, as well as thinking about non-skating peripherals such as stretching, core exercises, and reducing the size of my ass. Now all I need is ice.
I don't know where it will lead, or how long it will last, but it's nice to, at least for now, have a direction.
As you'll be all too aware if you've spent any time at all in the Long Track Life during the past, oh, six months, I've lately been floundering aimlessly as far as my skating is concerned. If you haven't been around lately, check out this post; it will explain things nicely. Physically I'm fat and slow and on a thyroid rollercoaster; mentally I'm flat and unmotivated and discouraged.
As fellow skate-blogger Sharon says, I've lost my skating mojo.
So for the past couple weeks, I've been thinking hard about what direction I want my skating to go this season. At the beginning of October I had decided to take it easy until the oval opens Nov. 9. Now it's almost Nov. 9,and I need to decide what to do with the ice season. Back off, focus on technique, and basically just goof around; or get back into the groove, focus, work hard, and see if I can make my improved technique pay off with some faster times before I get any older.
I think I'm going with the latter.
Yesterday, I had a kind of epiphany, maybe the epiphany I was hoping for when I wrote the "Blah" post in early October. I think there were lots of reasons for it: Coach TieGuy called out of the blue to see how things were going (I think he feared that, since ice season is less than a week away and he hadn't heard from me, I was perhaps dead), which got me thinking seriously about the upcoming season again. The American Cup race in Milwaukee is happening this weekend, and many masters friends are just killing it (a new and very talented skater just earned Master's Category I; Sprinter Boy, who prefers distances of three laps or less, absolutely crushed his 5k; Marty Haire, a very fast skater in the 50+ class, just qualified for the US Championships in the 5k; and Mel, in her first time on ice since breaking her jaw, qualified for the US Championships in the 3k. Congrats, guys!). I usually do the Milwaukee Am Cup, but skipped it this year due to a combination of logistical issues (I would have had to bring Keira with me, and she is not a fan of that) and general skating suckiness. And I found, when I started seeing my friends' pictures and results and Facebook posts, that I really missed it. I don't like being aimless and lazy and unmotivated. And I want to skate hard and fast again.
So I have a direction. Screw backing off and goofing around--I am going to try, one last time, to make the qualifying time for the Olympic Trials next year.
For a full report of how that happens, check this post from last year. Yes, qualifying for the Trials has been a goal before; in fact, it's been a goal for five years. I've never come close to the required times since they were lowered in 2008, so the big question is, do I actually have a chance?
I think I do, although it is a HUGE long shot. Here are the stats (it's going to get a bit technical here, so feel free to let your eyes glaze over, wander to the fridge for a snack, check your email...): my only hope of qualifying is in the 5k,where the time is 8:02.03. My PB in that distance is from 2007; in only my second 5k ever I skated an 8:16.0. Fourteen seconds is a lot; it's over one second per lap. And I have never actually come close to that time again, although I've gotten significant personal bests in all other distances. The 5k is what I need to improve, and it also seems to be the race that I've had the worst luck in.
My 3k time has improved 10 seconds (Milwaukee PB) since 2007. A corresponding improvement in my 5k would put me just under the qualifying time. But, my "fast ice" 3k PB has only improved 5 seconds since 2007--a corresponding improvement in my 5k would put me several seconds over the qualifying time. Now, since I didn't get to fast ice for a 3k last year, my "fast ice" 3k PB is from my "pre-New-and-Improved-Technique" days, so it was skated with Bunny On Crack technique. So maybe the Milwaukee PB is more relevant as a benchmark, since that one featured my new technique. But, again, I haven't skated a good 5k on "fast ice" since 2007. Calgary and Salt Lake are the "fast ice" ovals; the altitude makes the times faster, and I would definitely need to go to one of these ovals to have any shot at making the time. Problem is, I have a four-year history of having epic fail races at Salt Lake, and I don't know why. I've done better at Calgary, but it's a much more expensive place to get to so I don't go there as often. So maybe I wouldn't even be able to skate a good 5k on fast ice--and with out a
And then, of course, of there's the issue of my body perhaps not cooperating. There's the whole "optimizing the thyroid meds" thing, not to mention the fact that many of last year's competitions featured a heart arrhythmia that seemed to be brought on by maximal exertion and adrenaline--the exact factors that one finds in an important race. And then there's the not-insignificant fact that I'm 49; I'll be 50 by the time the Trials roll around.
But still, I want to try. If I try and fail, oh well--I'm getting pretty experienced at that, so no big deal. If I don't try, well, I'll always wonder if I could have done it.
So I think I need to try. Maybe I'll change my mind after I start skating again, if I find I'm still really struggling like I've been for the past six months. But right now I want to try. And so I've spent the weekend figuring out my November skating plan, as well as thinking about non-skating peripherals such as stretching, core exercises, and reducing the size of my ass. Now all I need is ice.
I don't know where it will lead, or how long it will last, but it's nice to, at least for now, have a direction.
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Go Get 'em, Sharon!
I had intended to do a post about the stuff I learned in the Salt Lake Masters Camp (which was a lot), and about my plans for the upcoming ice season (which at present don't exist). But I just can't quite figure out what I want to say, and so I won't say anything. At least about that. Fortunately there are more fun things to write about.
My blog friend Sharon, of Speed Skating Mom, is doing her first-ever meet tomorrow. It's short track, but I'll forgive her for that since there is no long track where she lives. She's a little freaked about it, so I thought I'd send her some good vibes.
What I'd really like to post for her is a picture of my first race. Unfortunately, our scanner is a bit cranky and since the race happened in '94 there is no digital version of the photos; thus, you'll have to settle for a description of the event. However, I can tell you that the pictures feature me in two-sizes-too-big (very) used long track skates (which insured that I was skating completely on my inner ankles instead of just partially); wind pants and a windbreaker (which insured that I blew up like an inflatable car-dealership ornament the instant I started moving); and a complete lack of any discernible long-track technique (which insured that my opponents and the spectators at the small-community-winter-festival-fun-race observed my progress down the track with bemused horror).
A picture or two from that event would have made her feel pretty good.
Lacking that, though, I'll supply a couple photos from the local short track meet that I helped time today. (Turns out that timing a short track meet is much like timing a long track meet, only without the wind and the sunglare. Or the snow. But it's still cold). Our short track meet included everything from the barely-older-than-a-toddler fellow who followed the rink official through his one lap race like an imprinted baby duck...
...to a "bucket race."
Really, how can you be nervous about participating in an event that might involve orange 5-gallon buckets?
Seriously, though...Good Luck Sharon! After watching the short track races today (the ones with full-sized people and without buckets), I once again have to salute your courage. I never have and (if I have anything to say about it) never will participate in a short track race; they scare the crap out of me. So I salute you with a Diet Dew, and I hope you have as much fun tomorrow as I did in my first race, and I hope your speedskating obsession is strengthened by the experience.
Go get 'em!
My blog friend Sharon, of Speed Skating Mom, is doing her first-ever meet tomorrow. It's short track, but I'll forgive her for that since there is no long track where she lives. She's a little freaked about it, so I thought I'd send her some good vibes.
What I'd really like to post for her is a picture of my first race. Unfortunately, our scanner is a bit cranky and since the race happened in '94 there is no digital version of the photos; thus, you'll have to settle for a description of the event. However, I can tell you that the pictures feature me in two-sizes-too-big (very) used long track skates (which insured that I was skating completely on my inner ankles instead of just partially); wind pants and a windbreaker (which insured that I blew up like an inflatable car-dealership ornament the instant I started moving); and a complete lack of any discernible long-track technique (which insured that my opponents and the spectators at the small-community-winter-festival-fun-race observed my progress down the track with bemused horror).
A picture or two from that event would have made her feel pretty good.
Lacking that, though, I'll supply a couple photos from the local short track meet that I helped time today. (Turns out that timing a short track meet is much like timing a long track meet, only without the wind and the sunglare. Or the snow. But it's still cold). Our short track meet included everything from the barely-older-than-a-toddler fellow who followed the rink official through his one lap race like an imprinted baby duck...
Really, how can you be nervous about participating in an event that might involve orange 5-gallon buckets?
Seriously, though...Good Luck Sharon! After watching the short track races today (the ones with full-sized people and without buckets), I once again have to salute your courage. I never have and (if I have anything to say about it) never will participate in a short track race; they scare the crap out of me. So I salute you with a Diet Dew, and I hope you have as much fun tomorrow as I did in my first race, and I hope your speedskating obsession is strengthened by the experience.
Go get 'em!
Monday, October 22, 2012
Masters Camp Race Report
When we left off, I was contemplating cracking open a can of pre-camp-finale-time-trials Whoopass. Usually it's not a good plan to try a new food, beverage, sleeping position, song on the iPod, or method of blowing one's nose right before a race. But what the Hell, I was feeling adventurous. So I added the Whoopass to my traditional pre-race McD's bacon-egg-and-cheese biscuit (I think that breakfast combination may have been a dietary low, even for me). I've only had two energy drinks before, both Red Bulls, both bought in desperation on long post-race drives home from Milwaukee, and both times I was pretty sure that the gag-inducing taste was more responsible for keeping me awake than was the caffeine content. By energy drink standards, the Whoopass actually didn't taste too bad-although I did only manage to choke down half of it. Which was probably just as well; although the can extols the virtues of Whoopass (I just love typing that!) as a recovery drink, I can't imagine how much "recovery" one could gain by a beverage that contains 200 milligrams of caffeine.
And half a can seemed to be quite enough. By the time I finished my spinning bike warmup at the oval, I was obnoxiously perky and chatty--in fact, I reminded myself of my sister Energizer Bunny (she of the multiple pre-workout "energy enhancing" substances) when she's bouncing around before we head out on a trail skate. On the 1-10 "mood elevation" scale, I give Whoopass an 11. Good to know.
I was scheduled to do a 500 and a 1000, which seemed like quite enough. My legs actually felt better than they had the previous morning, but that wasn't saying much. Still, I approached the start line for the 500 with, if not confidence, at least not nervousness. After all, thanks to Derek Parra's excellent instruction I had finally managed, just the day before, to understand a critical aspect of start-positioning--maybe this would be my first "no goofy "ready" position, no frilled lizard sprint off the line" start. OK, so I hadn't really had a chance to practice the new start technique much, but any bit I had managed to retain would be bound to be an improvement on this...
And half a can seemed to be quite enough. By the time I finished my spinning bike warmup at the oval, I was obnoxiously perky and chatty--in fact, I reminded myself of my sister Energizer Bunny (she of the multiple pre-workout "energy enhancing" substances) when she's bouncing around before we head out on a trail skate. On the 1-10 "mood elevation" scale, I give Whoopass an 11. Good to know.
I was scheduled to do a 500 and a 1000, which seemed like quite enough. My legs actually felt better than they had the previous morning, but that wasn't saying much. Still, I approached the start line for the 500 with, if not confidence, at least not nervousness. After all, thanks to Derek Parra's excellent instruction I had finally managed, just the day before, to understand a critical aspect of start-positioning--maybe this would be my first "no goofy "ready" position, no frilled lizard sprint off the line" start. OK, so I hadn't really had a chance to practice the new start technique much, but any bit I had managed to retain would be bound to be an improvement on this...
It's actually physically painful to look at this picture.
So, as Derek announced "go to the start," I glided forward to the line and prepared to assume the new-and-improved start position
"Ready."
I sank gracefully into the new, hips-forward-no-butt-in-the-air stance and waited for...
...the whistle announcing I had false started.
I looked questioningly at Derek--surely I hadn't moved?
"Your blade is over the line," he said, and I looked down and sure enough, it was. (That's about the only thing right in the photo above--at least my skate is behind the line!) Turns out I was so focused on putting my body in the right place that I forgot about where my feet were.
So we tried it again, and this time I heard the gun instead of a whistle. So I lumbered off down the track, trying to remember all the things I had learned in camp. Unfortunately, a couple of these things apparently displaced some previously-ingrained aspects of skating that used to have residence in my brain, and I realized, halfway down the first straightaway, that I had forgotten to breathe.
Once I rectified that minor matter, I rounded the first corner and headed down the backstretch. Now, the backstretch was inhabited by Josh and Levi, two outstanding (and very patient) young skaters who had helped Derek with the camp throughout the weekend, and who were now loudly and enthusiastically screaming excellent advice as we skated by.
"Swing your arms! Swing your arms!"
So, even though I'm usually a one-arm-only kind of gal (I find it best not to confuse myself by sometimes swinging one arm, sometimes, two, sometimes none...it's just so much to keep track of), I dropped both arms and started swinging aggressively.
Nice...I've got a rhythm going, I think I'm moving pretty good, I'm...
CRAP! I'm entering the corner and I've completely forgotten how to do a crossover!
So I coasted into the corner on both feet. And I continued coasting around the corner...past the apex...toward the exit. My brain was simply frozen; I couldn't figure out which foot to pick up first, and what I would do with it after I picked it up. I did, however, retain enough brain function to begin cussing extensively as I approached the corner exit.
I finally got a few synapses firing and managed to pick up my right foot, fling it over my left, and crossover my way out of the corner--still cussing--past a laughing Derek. Not one of my finer moments.
Or, as it turned out, my finer times. 52.12 Might have been a decent time for a nice gale-force sub-zero day on the Roseville oval; mighty pathetic for the fast ice of Salt Lake. Add another to the "Epic Salt Lake Race Fail" list...I think I'm up to four now. At least this time I knew why I was so slow...it's hard to skate fast when you don't move your feet!
Still, I must have been on a residual Whoopass high, because I left the ice laughing about my "oops." And, on the plus side, at least the race drove the "I Like Girls That Drink Beer" earworm out of my head (note to self: be careful what song you listen to last before you take the iPod off) and replaced it with the slightly-more-appropriate (if more profane) "Hate My Life." I don't (hate my life), and if I did it certainly wouldn't be because of a silly race--but it made me laugh at how quickly the song took up residence in my brain after the race.
So then it was time for the 1000. By comparison with the 500, the 1000 was tame. I didn't false start, I crossovered wherever I was supposed to crossover, and I even managed to remember a few bits of technical information, for a second or two.
I also got tired, really tired, at 600 meters. But not that "I'm going as hard as I can, I can barely see, not sure I can hang on" tired that foretells a good 1000 time. No, this was the "hmm, I think my heart arrhythmia just started and my legs just stopped" tired.
Oh, well.
My 1000 time was slow, but not abysmal like my 500 time. Actually, the saddest thing about the races was that they meant that camp was almost over. When you've spent 90% of your waking hours for the last three-and-a-half days doing something you love, it's hard to see that coming to an end.
But it was coming to an end, and so is this post. I had intended to go into some serious philosophical musings about camp and technique and the upcoming season, but I think I'll have to wait until tomorrow.
The Whoopass has worn off.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
This One Time at Skate Camp...
(Ok, I must admit that I was a little concerned about using that title. I'm old, and I haven't seen the movie from which the original quote came; I was afraid I may be missing some of its implications and sending an unintended message. So, like any good middle-aged nerd in the information age who fears that there may be an unintended overtone to the phrase he/she intends to speak/write/text...I looked it up in Urban Dictionary. While it appears that there were originally sexual connotations to the phrase, it has apparently fallen into common and innocuous usage. So, if I misconstrued the Urban Dictionary and anyone came here intending to find something more exciting than tales of over-40 long track skaters doing dryland drills...sorry! :-)
Day three of masters camp is now done, and since I haven't even written about day two, I'm a little behind (well, based on what happened when I tried to wedge myself into my new skinsuit before coming out to Utah, I'm a big behind, but I digress...). This morning as we warmed up for the first workout of the day a couple of fellow skaters joked that they wanted to see a 10-page post about everything that happened this weekend. I don't think I can quite achieve 10 pages, but I do think it's time to hit on a couple of random highlights from the past three days. So here, in no particular order, are some things that happened at skate camp:
Day three of masters camp is now done, and since I haven't even written about day two, I'm a little behind (well, based on what happened when I tried to wedge myself into my new skinsuit before coming out to Utah, I'm a big behind, but I digress...). This morning as we warmed up for the first workout of the day a couple of fellow skaters joked that they wanted to see a 10-page post about everything that happened this weekend. I don't think I can quite achieve 10 pages, but I do think it's time to hit on a couple of random highlights from the past three days. So here, in no particular order, are some things that happened at skate camp:
- First of all, I have to confess that, one day into age 49, it's happened. I've fought against it for years; I've seen other people succumb to it as they've aged; I've sworn it would never happen to me. And for the past couple years, though I may have faltered in my resolve once or twice, in general I have remained steadfast in my refusal to lower myself to one of the classic hallmarks of old age . But now I think it's time to admit that I do, indeed, use the wheels on my rolly-wheel skate backpack.
I am officially old.
See, here it is, looking like a normal (if slightly oversized; I have a penchant for large gear bags) skate backpack.
And here it is, showing its true colors as a glaringly obvious indicator of my inability to hoist great weights onto my aging back.
- Another indicator of my age: I have, in my little notebook in which I record things I might want to remember to blog about as well as bits of technical information from camp that I want to remember, this little reminder sentence: "most frequently asked question from day 2." Trouble is, I have no memory of what the most frequently asked question from day 2 that I intended to blog about was. "Am I doing this drill right?" "How many laps did you say?" "Outer edges? What outer edges?" "When is lunch?" "Does my butt make this skinsuit look fat?" I have no idea...it could have been anything.
- My motel experience has apparently been much tamer than that of some of the other skaters. My biggest excitement has been needing to purchase a pillow from WalMart (best $2.50 I ever spent, but WalMart at 9:00 on a Friday night is an interesting place...) to prevent the neck-stiffening effects of the ultra-firm-and-lofty hotel pillows. Other skaters' motel nights have included midnight pajama-clad forays for toilet-unclogging plungers, which sounds much more exciting than my pillow experience, if somewhat challenging for those with middle-aged bladders.
- Likewise, my rental car experience was quite uneventful compared to that of the two male skaters who claimed domestic partnership to avoid the extra fee for a second driver. I'm sure the savings was substantial, and they'll have a fun story to tell their wives when they return home. (On the plus side, it's nice to find out that Utah is open-minded.)
- Derek Parra is an excellent coach. He is also continually monitoring everything that is going on in the oval, even while he's coaching. At one point, as he delivered dryland instruction, his ears caught the tell-tale sound of rental skates marching across concrete. So he yelled across the oval at the two oblivious teenage girls, reminding them to keep the skates on the rubber padding. Wonder if the little twits realized they'd just had the honor of being hollered at by an Olympic Gold Medalist?
- Skating has, for the most part, been going well for me. (Well, my legs pretty much refused to participate in any semblance of proper skating this morning, but that was a temporary thing). In fact, my biggest athletic fail this weekend was not on ice...it was my complete inability to catch (in my mouth) the shrimp tossed at my by the chef at the Japanese Hibachi grill. In my defense, it's not something I've practiced (I don't get out much). Thankfully, there are no photos of this.
- As usual, food has played an important role in my weekend. I have my in-room stash...
The poptart box is now empty (apparently skate camp requires 2 poptarts per day), while the Endurox recovery drink has been banished from my post-skate routine. I have discovered that it causes unfortunate, um, gas issues, which is not good when you'll be spending the next two hours doing dryland with 28 other people.
...and my bag-o-goodies for between workout snacks.
At least three people commented on my quantity of provisions...and this is after eating out of it for three days of camp!
- Good thing I didn't bring the Garmin on this trip; I like keeping my brain sharp by getting lost multiple times (per day, sometimes) and having to figure out how to get to where I'm going. Fortunately, getting back on track is made easier by Salt Lake being laid out in a grid. Tonight, Kim and Eric Kraan, who own the SkateNow shop in Salt Lake, hosted a dinner for the skaters (thanks again, Kim and Eric--it was great!). I managed to get myself lost on the way to their shop, on the way home from the restaurant..and even on the way out of the restaurant parking lot (I'm blaming an unfortunate proliferation of large orange construction barrels). I have also gotten lost on the way to the oval, back from the oval, and home from another restaurant. On the plus side, I now have a pretty thorough understanding of the layout of the southwest Salt Lake City area. You don't get that from following a Garmin!
- Tomorrow, camp ends with informal time trials--as did last years' camp, which resulted in my epic-fail, first-time-for-the-weird-new-heart-arrhythmia-pattern 3k. This year I'm sticking with the short distances--500 and 1000 meters--which I think will be quite enough. In fact, I'm thinking I may need to open my can of Whoopass pre-race tomorrow. Even if the ass I end up whooping will be my own.
See? An actual can of Whoopass. Who knew?
So, I think that ends the non-skating camp reminiscences. Tomorrow (with any luck), I'll have a race report as well as a more serious look at what I've learned...because I've learned a lot, and I want to record that as well. For now, it't time for a nice restful night of sleep with my soft new WalMart pillow.
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