Testing a New Sufferfest Standard.

In December, 2015, I completed a Sufferfest Knighthood. It was a big deal for me. You probably heard about it, it was in all the news. No? Well I wrote about it here, if you missed it.

One of the privileges, some say duties, of being a Knight is the rare opportunity to test pre-release versions of new videos. I was one of five knights who had this honour this week.

The yet to be released cycling video is called Power Station. It runs at just over 50 minutes duration and it will be released in time for the upcoming Tour of Sufferlandria. 

Here is part of the review I wrote and shared with other Sufferlandrians about the video. I wanted to capture it somewhere other than on Facebook.

Today I had the privilege of testing a pre-release copy of The Sufferfest Power Station. Throughout the day I posted many of my observations and comments of the video, as observed by going through it, second-by-second on the computer. I also shared with David McQuillen, Founder and Chief Suffering Officer of The Sufferfest, some of my critical observations of the video, as was my responsibility and assigned task. 

This evening, I had the honour of riding the video. I rode it pure RPE, (Rated Perceived Exertion) with no indication of virtual power or real power. It was just me VS. the riders on the screen.
 
These are some of my observations:

1. This is a video of honesty. It will be as easy or as hard as you make it. You can go into it thinking that you don't have to commit too much effort, but it entices you to try harder, to show your true Sufferlandrian, to pick a harder gear and to grind out power that you didn't know you had. By the end of the video, I was doing efforts that I never expected to be doing indoors. 
2. This is a beautiful video. It is a feast on the eyes, the ears and the spirit. The music may not be to the liking of heavy metal or thrash lovers, but it has a driving, fresh rhythm, punctuated by a chill sound that keeps you accelerating. Keeps you climbing; and lets you recover, just enough to do it all over again. 
3. Footage in this video is new. You will recognize the riders, from recent races and seasons. You will feel that you are part of those races. You will be one of those racers. You will also spend far too much time (in my opinion) looking at Contador's backside.This is not a bad thing. You will find yourself trying to dance in the pedals like he does.  
   
4. This is the only Sufferfest video, that successfully incorporates The Elements of Style, or correct riding practices into every instruction. While I was struggling to climb, I was constantly reminded of posture, of core and effort. It is like having, beside you, a friendly coach, gently reminding you to ride well, while, having, behind you, a nasty minion, poking and prodding you onward with a pointy stick. 
5. Unlike most Sufferfest videos, this one will work more on your low cadence strength, than your explosive attacks. When you finish this, you will not feel like you want to crawl into your bucket. Rather, you will have, as I did, a radiating glow of exhaustion, highlighted with endorphin rushes of inexplicable joy that will make you, for no reason, wish to do kind things to others and to small woodland creatures.
   
   Final analysis. This is probably going to be one of your go-to videos once you try it. It will grow on you. It will entertain you. It will challenge you. It will make you want to be a better Sufferlandrian.
   I also posted some screen shots of Power Station.  
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
    
   
   
   
   
   These screen shots and other musings generated lots of conversation on social media, and I found my Facebook inbox overwhelmed with notifications. 
   
   Was this a good experience? Absolutely. Would I do it again? At the drop of a chamois! 
   How was the actual ride, after I did it? This picture is worth a thousand words. See you at the Tour of Sufferlandria 2016. 
   
   
      
   
   See you at the Tour of Sufferlandria 2016.
   
   
   
   
   
   
    
   
   

Not that Knight's Tale

You know when you go to the movies, you sit down with your popcorn and candy that you would normally never spend that much for. And then you eat most of the damned popcorn during the commercials that you actually paid to watch and you look into the popcorn bag and try to desperately start to ration, but it is useless; you've set a cadence and there is no stopping of that backhoe of an arm and insatiable gob of a mouth.

Then the previews start and some are, like, "okay, that could be worth seeing on Netflix," or "what the hell were they thinking? That's a remake of a remake...they've just changed the gender of the characters and made them chipmunks..."

Finally the movie starts and it starts with the ending. And you see what has happened and who is dead and you are already out of popcorn and have some solid gold-valued candy stuck to your dental work and you are wondering if you should just leave before it is too late when some title comes up: "Two weeks earlier".

This blog is a bit like that.

Two weeks ago, after very much preparation and lots of mishaps that would have normally caused me to throw up my hands, gnash my teeth and sound a lot like Job, I attempted The Sufferfest Knighthood starting at 6 am, Sunday, December 20th. You can read all about the work that went into it here. 

You can also read how my chosen charity, World Bicycle Relief was so generously supported by Mike, James, Rodney, Brandy, Leslie, Ivan, Buzz, John, Pat, Rick, Anne, Kevin, Cheryl, Kelly, and a generous anonymous friend. Together, we surpassed my goal of US$500 and you contributed $1,294. That's enough for eight bikes for those that really need them. This work even caught the attention of World Bicycle Relief and they sent me a personalized note of thanks. Thanks to all you contributed and to those who supported in spirit. I felt your energy!

UPDATE: World Bicycle Relief posted this blog about my efforts.
Apparently, this link has gone offline. I will see if I can find it elsewhere. 

So, two weeks ago, how did it go after I walked into the pain cave at 6 a.m. with almost 11 hours of riding ahead of me?

Well, I started with a lot of preparation. If you read the earlier blog (same link as above) , you will know that I had not only broken a molar, but also had a bacterial infection in my lungs that forced me to seriously think whether or not I could do this. I never really talked about it, but I also broke another molar the night before I did the attempt. They were both old filings and a coincidence, but I did feel my body was letting me down. But I didn't let that stop me, I'd be biking, not chewing. I did decide to make the attempt one day after schedule. My lungs were working again and for that I was glad.

I'm not one for lists, but I made one. I had set up the entire duration of the ride on Trainer Road so I could track all my virtual power and make sure that I did not cook myself too early in the process. I watched the videos on a separate laptop.

I also made a set list that I could cross off as I went along and photos of the videos that I could use as "inspiration". You'll note, if you can see in the picture, that the pictures of the videos also included the "elevation" or interval power requirements on the bottom.

New Star Wars movie was about to be released, thus the references.

Before I made the attempt I did several trial rides of two, three, four and five hours. During those tests, I realized that my two biggest problems would be ass pain and boredom. More about the ass pain in a moment.

With respect to the boredom (ass pain deserves respect too, by the way), I realized that after a few hours, no matter how hard one is spinning, it gets dull, it gets boring. The Sufferfest videos are entertaining and compelling and all that, but I know them like the back Kevin's ass, that I once drafted behind from Lake Huron all the way to Kitchener, Ontario - thanks Kev!

No, I needed something to distract me. These lists, the crossing them out, the taking pictures, the looking at Facebook and Twitter during the breaks all helped to keep my mind from snapping. It should be noted that, as I had contact lenses in, lenses that don't let me read my mobile phone all that well, I could not really decipher what people were posting on my Facebook wall, or what I was typing. That too was distracting.

Clothes make the man.

I had planned out seven changes of kit. Two pairs of socks, five different sweat absorbers for my head, 15 towels and various other sundry bits of textile.

I ended up only using six changes of kit. I stopped sweating in the back half of the ride and I just didn't need to change. I did, however, apply and reapply chamois cream liberally after every 10 minute break.

And yes, some did notice that I did indeed do my two first videos in my underwear. Why? Well, my commuting underwear has a chamois in it and it is super cozy and I was in my basement and, that's just how I roll!

This was one of my strategies of dealing with the ass pain. The chamois on these shorts is very simple and not too spongy. It allowed me to gradually get used to the thicker chamois of the bike and bib shorts that I eventually moved my junk into. It worked well. I really did not feel significant discomfort until maybe six or seven hours.

Another thing that really helped was the stretching. I stretched, not only legs but hips, groin and back after every video. I am sure that that helped take a lot of the tightness away. And as many indoor trainer warriors probably know, standing often is a good strategy. I did just that. In fact, I used standing as one strategy. I would stand for one or two or even three minutes. I also went into an aero tuck (without bars) to rest some of my leg muscles and challenge me - and to beat the boredom.

Nutrition and hydration

I've competed in many triathlons, including six Ironmans. I know that nutrition and hydration is the fourth discipline. I also know that, after a while, no matter how well you have planned and how much you like your food and drink choices, you will begin to hate them. After that point, nothing with slake your thirst or sate your hunger.

With that in mind, I started with a good breakfast of hard boiled eggs, whole wheat toast, coffee, avocado and cheese and a banana. 

The night before I had prepped seven bottles with Hammer Heed. I  put these in the bar fridge in the pain cave annex. Sadly I do not have a bar in the pain cave. I also prepped tiny cans of coke, a large can of coconut water and had First Wife on Standby with pickle juice, which I needed twice in the tail end of the ride, where first my calf and then my quad started to cramp. It worked!  Here's the transcript of the request of the STAT request.

A word about Hammer. I trust Hammer products, I have used them for many of my races. I like Skratch, but I have never used it for such a long ride. Some of you asked why did I not use Perpetuem. I love the product, have used it in Ironman very successfully and it is great. But I was also in my basement. I had access to real food. Why would I use liquid food, when I could more easily have the real thing? I also had two cups of mocha coffee - lots of sugar, caffeine, protein and fats. Yum.

As for nutrition I had a combination of stuff I have used successfully indoors and out. Last year I won a contest that included my getting a six month supply of Clif bars. I love Clif Bars, so that was an obvious choice. I had about Six of them lined up, but only had three. I also had two sesame snaps, a croissant - with mocha coffee - duh, no one said suffering couldn't be dignified!

I had also prepped one peanut butter and jelly sandwich from the night before and First Wife made me one during the ride.

By far, however,  the best thing I had to eat, and that was completely unplanned was chicken noodle soup. I had a craving for salts. We had some packaged stuff, but First Wife made some from scratch and brought it down to the pain cave. Remember, that soup broth is a staple at Ironman.

This, however, was the best cup of soup I've had. It was like magic and got me going again during a dark time. You can see the joy in my face.

For the most part, as per my "To Do 10 minutes" list pictured above, I ate after I got everything else done and got back on the bike and started next video.

You may not realize this, but 10 minutes is an incredibly long time if you are organized. But I had lots to do, including change, prep next video, take pictures, post on Facebook, pace like a crazy man, go to the bathroom - twice, stretch, feel sorry for myself, etc.

Eating on the bike was advice a trusted Knight, Sir Buzz, once shared with me, that served me well. Chicken soup, however could not be enjoyed while pedaling. I took some valuable minutes of my 10 minute break to enjoy it.

Documenting the journey.

One of the requirements of knighthood is documenting the attempt and then sharing it with the Sufferlandrian authorities to validate the attempt. This is like calling the folks at Guinness to come see you juggling the flaming hula hoops and chainsaws.

Documenting could be a Garmin or other electronic file of the ride, or pictures posted on social media or other proof. Me being the paranoid sort, I decided to build in a number of redundancies to ensure I didn't mess this up. Once I did it, I really had no desire to do it again, unless, one day, I decide to go for a double knighhood...

For those interested in data. I have a Garmin File. I recorded it on my Garmin 910 XT. That generated a Strava File. I also, as I noted, had set up a Trainer Road ride, so there is a file for that.

You can check them all out by clicking on the links. If you are into numbers and that sort of thing.

I also created a paper trail both with crossing out on the set list, but also on the pictures of the video graphics and then sharing on social media, both Twitter and Facebook. How's that for redundancy?
I am including some of my favourite pictures from those postings. They show some of what I went through, as I'm sure other knights have. Oh, and I took all of these.

 Starting with The Wretched

Fight Club at #3

                                                                                                               A Revolver to the head for #8

Almost done with #9 and A Very Dark (and scary) Place

Starting #10, I was hoping for Angels, but I got devils!

I got through the Devils, AKA "Angels".
This ride was not hard. Not in the sense that I was constantly on the edge of bonking or hurting. I did come close to bonking once, that is when I pulled out the coke and guzzled that. I did cramp, I did get sore, but not in the same way as I would in a race. This knighthood was more about enduring, putting up and knowing that there was more than 10.5 hours of it.

This ride was about reaching in to the depths of my resolve, my mental toughness and all the training I have done for Sufferfest, for Ironman, and for everything before that.

My Garmin data automatically saves to the fitness app, My Fitness Pal. According to that app, I "burned 4,129 calories doing 625 minutes of bicycling - light cycling".

This was not "light" bicycling. But it cannot be compared to an Ironman, where, if I remember correctly, I burned over 7,500 calories. This was a pain and suffering exercise of a whole other breed.

Many times I thought about quitting. Many times I thought about how much of a loser I am spending my first day of health after a long illness in the pain cave.

This is mental toughness; getting through the demons and the roadblocks that your psyche sets up to try to make your road easier and more "Couchlandrian".

At the start of Angels, the last video. I knew I would finish. I was sore, I knew I had an hour of riding ahead of me. But I proudly put on the Sufferfest kit. I was doing this for something bigger than me. I thought about when I was the fat little kid in elementary school who was picked on for having a funny last name and for being different and for being hefty, stout, husky and fat.

I pedaled through that. I thought about my family, friends and acquaintances questioning all the time I spend exercising. I thought about my mother dissuading me and stressing that I would hurt myself.

I thought about the other Sufferlandrians, Knights, Dames and others who have gone before me who have inspired me.

I thought about my children and First Wife, who never faltered in their support.

I thought about the bikes going to World Bicycle Relief and those that donated.

I did a lot of thinking. And when I was done thinking, the ride was over. I was all done. I finished before Six p.m.

First Wife stopped screaming "go go go" and smiled that smile that lets me know I'm home.

I had some pizza. I had some chocolate milk, I had some Guinness.

And like the movie I referenced at the beginning of this blog, the credits started to roll on this knighthood attempt. It was never a surprise to me that I would finish it, just like it probably wasn't a surprise to any of my friends.

Two weeks earlier, you knew that I would do it. All the sickness and the broken teeth and the issues that I ran into were the dramatic tension that is written into any story.

And this was my story.

Now I have to write the sequel.

 Here is the last video from the knighthood. It is a Facebook video link.  Thanks for reading and thanks to all who helped me get here.

More suffer, less fest. But have my towel.

It was the perfect plan. 

Last year, after the completion of the Tour of Sufferlandria, 2015, I made the commitment to attempt (and successfully) complete a Knighthood. I even made a video about it. Read the blog here to find out all about it and more about The Sufferfest. 

Then I got busy. And I got lazy. And I got fat. And I got really good at making excuses. In fact I made a science out of it. Not real science, mind you, more like the kind of science that climate deniers, conspiracy theory proponents and American Republican congressmen and presidential candidates use.

 But I digress.

I did lots of riding over the summer and really enjoyed it. I even started running again in the fall.

Then, a couple of virtual friends, Knights and Dames of Sufferlandria, and in fact, even the owner of The Sufferfest, reminded me, that it was time to get off my ass and live up to that promise I made at the beginning of the year. So, I thought to myself, "I could do this, and I have a totally artificial deadline to meet."

Artificial deadline? Yes. When I made the decision to do my first Ironman, I decided that I wanted to get it done before I reached the age of 42. Why? Because 42, why else?

That was eight years ago, and I needed another totally arbitrary deadline. So I thought to myself again (we know thinking to myself always gets me into some kind of mayhem), I thought: "I'm middle aged, I don't think I'll be having a midlife crisis - nor do I think I'll have to live to 100, so why don't I get this thing done before I hit the age of 50?"

So there you have it. I decided that I wanted to attempt the Knighthood before I reached the golden age of 50, which would be some time in February. I further refined this random timeline by scheduling the attempt before the end of the year and the Christmas holidays; Saturday December 19th, to be exact.

So I made this date public and then got work planning the video list and all the details.

That's 10 videos, one after another, with only 10 minutes break between each one. That is what a Knighthood is. Mine will work out to just over 11 hours on the bike, in the basement. For a more precise description have a read here. 

Part of an authentic Knighthood is a pledge to raise money for charity. Some Knights I truly respect did just that. This one is in Dutch. And this one in American. I am nowhere nearly as organized as Robert or Buzz, or Anne or Donald or Greg or Brandy or Ashley or countless other Dames and Knights. But, true to the pledge of Knighthood, I picked the exceptional charity, World Bicycle Relief, and set a modest goal of $500. Have a look, contribute if you would like. Thanks to those, like Kevin and Anne and Cheryl and Kelly who have already been very generous.

I should, at this point, back up a bit

The Sufferfest is hard work. Every single video, if done correctly, will leave you a in a quivering puddle of exhaustion. Doing 10 in a row is no lounge on the couch. And prepping for it takes some serious training. And train I did. A little over 10 weeks ago, I started the training indoors using the Sufferfest Intermediate Plan; 10 weeks of indoor and outdoor riding hell.   And boy did I commit to it! I had been running at this time, too, but that fell away as I focused on four to five days of riding. I cycled outdoors in December and I was also doing Knighthood test rides, the longest one being five hours in duration.

I was getting ready. I was getting confident, I was getting sweaty...I crushed the training.

Then came Week Nine 

Maybe it was I was getting too confident and fit. Maybe it was because I haven't been sick for over a year, maybe it was because First Wife caught something vile and wouldn't let it go, for weeks. So, at the start of Week Nine of Training. With a little more than a week to go to the Knighthood attempt. I got sick. But not the boring sick, you know, the kind with fever that's in and out in a day or two.

No. Something moved into my lungs and sinuses; something so gross and vile that it sapped me of all energy and made my lung capacity shrivel up and my breathing crackle every time I inhaled. And then there was the coughing and sneezing all night long. At one point, I coughed something out that I'm sure had teeth, hair and a spine!

But wait, it gets better. When I finally got the strength to go back to work, I thought that things were looking up. I went home for lunch, ostensibly to check in on still ailing First Wife. I decided to have a cookie after lunch. And on the first bite, of the cookie, not First Wife...

Yup. Broke my molar. And since it is so close to the festive season, I couldn't get in to see the dentist. And won't be able to until two day from the writing of this - five days before the Knighthood attempt on the 19th.

So, still congested, still not sleeping well and now not able to eat anything more solid than blended soup, but
always the optimist, I thought to myself (again): "What a great way to drop some weight before the Knighthood attempt!"

So that is where I am now. It is the Sunday before the Saturday attempt. I'm still drugged up. I'm still congested and I'm still coughing up oddly familiar mucozoid vertebrates. And I'm still not really eating. I keep using my finger to push my broken molar back together, always anticipating the lightning bolt of pain to shoot up to the eye that it is right below.

Where to now? 

The thing about sufferfest is that it is more about suffering and less about festing. So. Over the next few days; I hope to cough and blow this nonsense out of my system; wean myself of the cold medication, get my molar fixed, at least temporarily, as I fear I will need a crown; and get my sorry ass back into my basement.

I have a couple more rides to do. My racing friends will know how terrible tapering can make you feel. I feel that way times ten and hungry too.

So, and there really "is no try", as Yoda opined. I will spend the week sorting  my change of clothing; setting up my paincave; oiling my chain and prepping my backup bike; changing sensor batteries and checking technology, getting my nutrition and hydration organized and prepping the towels...so many towels to have. And, as any true hitchhiker knows, never, ever go anywhere without your towel.

Forty-Two may have been the answer to the Universe and all that, but 50 will be my gateway to more great adventures. I won't panic, I will see you on the other side!

Hail Sufferlandria!

After the spinning stops

The whirring of my fluid trainer has come to a stop as I pause and reflect on the successful completion of The Sufferfest Tour of Sufferlandria. Nine days of indoor trainer cycling that is more intense than most outdoor rides. In my previous blog I wrote about many of the individuals and organizations that helped me appreciate and be my best.

Initially, I was thinking about writing about Stages 7, 8 and 9. But to do so would not do them justice. Where would I begin?

• Stage 7. The Rookie One hour:  a race simulation so intense, so real, that I actually leaned into turns.

• Stage 8: Revolver + Violator + Half Is Easy: Two hours and 25 minutes of intervals that were so intense, so quick and so demanding that I was worried I would snap my chain or break my derailleur. This was the Dame Alissa Memorial Stage.  Dame Alissa Schubert, was killed earlier this year when she was hit by a truck while out cycling. Revolver was her favourite video. This stage, the hardest and longest ever in the ToS was dedicated to her and her parents who also became Knights of Sufferlandria with Alissa. This stage was an emotional, draining effort, not just because of the difficulty of the riding, but because of who it was dedicated for and because of the understanding of how vulnerable all cyclists are the moment they get on their pedals. 

• Stage 9: ISLAGIATT: Two hours (ish).  It sounds like a viking saga, doesn't it? "It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time." This stage was my triumph. It was hard. It was long. It demanded unceasing efforts and concentration. Still, I finished it stronger than when I started the whole ToS and I even got three personal best power records, one for 30 seconds, one for 60 minutes and another for 90 minutes. Here is the file, if you like numbers and pretty graphs. 

I got a fancy new badge on my Trainer Road page and a nice email from them. If you want to see all my results and the fancy graphs, please visit this page.

Trainer Road did a remarkable job  keeping the 2,823 riders that started on the app. A total of 1,742 completed on Trainer Road. That is pretty remarkable considering that this was the most difficult Tour of the three I've done. There were also riders who didn't use Trainer Road, but participated. Many, many riders donated to the Davis Phinney Foundation for Parkinson's. As of February 2, 2015, more than $US101,000 was raised by riders. $5,001 was donated by The Sufferfest directly. What an amazing group of fundraisers! 

The most remarkable part of this Journey through indoor training hell, were the people. Ironic as it is, I never felt alone - even though I was alone in my basement. And while Facebook has become very much a source of negativity and ridicule, the Sufferlandrians created a special place on Facebook, on Strava and on Trainer Road where they talked, shared challenges and triumphs, and laughed at each other and the absurdity of a nine-day indoor stage rage.

I was never alone. I was always one click away from Knights and Dames of Sufferlandria. This included Sir David Mcquillan and his minions at The Sufferfest. The amazing Connie Carpenter, and the Davis Phynney foundation peeps were there too. So was Kathryn Bertine, professional racer and creator of Half the Road who entertained everyone with "pop-up stages" and her participation in the most obscure of message threads.

I was never alone because, while spinning, while drenching the floor, my kit and my bike, I  knew that there were thousands of strangers and new friends all over the world doing exactly the same thing. Some I got to know, although briefly, online. Others, I have forged strong bonds of friendship with, both from previous Tours and from this one.

During the tour, like many others, I posted pictures of my suffering and my triumphs.

These selfies, were the virtual personification of the creation of a community. They showed everyone earning the badge of honour - the suffering and the dripping of "holy water" - that was the hallmark of participation in the ToS.

Ultimately I triumphed too,

After nine grueling sweat-filled days. Like many others, as well, I could not contain my pleasure, my relief and my joy for having, not only finished, but having absolutely trounced the last stage!

One of the most fascinating observations of this whole experience, speaking of Facebook, was what happened on Facebook itself.  My regular, somewhat active timeline was absolutely taken over by ToS posts. Out of every 20 posts, only one was non-ToS related. even during the Superbowl!  It will be difficult to return to regularly scheduled trolling now.
This was truly a Tour of Sufferlandria to remember. It was an experience that I will never forget. The last words, I think are literally my last words, as I completed ISLAGIATT. Here I am, out of breath and slightly hypoxic. Confusing Stage 8 for Stage 9. But this really captures the spirit of IWBMATTKYT!

Till we race again!

Six down, now the suffering starts.

It has been six straight days of racing the Tour of Sufferlandria. While the individual stages of the Tour have been tough, as are all Sufferfest videos, the day after day riding without a break has started to create fatigue. Much like a multi-day stage race, which is exactly what it is.

My race numbers have not been exceptional, but they have not been any worse than previous years. In other words, I'm more or less at, or just below the fitness level that I was at last year at this time. Here are some of the numbers on the Trainer Road page.

There is quite an active Facebook page for the Tour and I have spent a lot of time there this week, learning, commiserating and listening. I posted an observation about the perceived difference in my power levels after Stage 5, Angels.

I wrote: I'm not really a numbers guy (actually a word guy). But, as an occasional Ironman, I like to know how I deal with exercise/exertion stress. Today's stage gave me a great opportunity to compare. I did angels a few weeks ago and I thought I did it pretty strongly. Today I did it almost identically. So I'm either staying strong, or sandbagging.

What I find most interesting is looking at the differences. Today's ride I pushed 5 fewer watts compared to January 15th's. From the graph, I see that I'm a little sloppier (lazier) on the attacks - although I kept the power high -when I finally got there. Similarly, today, my average cadence was down - as I opted for a bigger gear to try to find power. 

My average heart rate too was down today, which I think is more of a sign of pushing the over-training envelope. Finally, I didn't have the burst of speed this morning at the end, that I did in the earlier attempt. 

Personally, After 5 stages, I still feel powerful...but my endurance is starting to wane. The next two days leading up to Stage 8 will truly be a journey; I have a different choice word for Stage 8. 

I also posted the picture below to illustrate.

As in previous years, I've also started to feel stronger as the days passed, but my "high end" power has been harder and harder to tap. Similarly the "easy coasting" at low power at the beginning over every stage has also been hard to initiate and sustain.

One thing this third attempt at the Tour has reminded me of is how I can adapt very quickly when I have to do something. When I commit to do an event (or a chore), there is no backing out. Was there ever any question of doing a stage? No. Just get on the bike and do it. The one advantage is that so far, I have been able to choose when I rode - either morning or night - and thus was able to maximize the rest in between stages.

Stage 6, Local Hero, however challenged me to my very core. I chose to do the 1:25 hour stage after work. Work turned out to be quite busy and I didn't get home until much later than I expected. I also chose to make supper and give something back to my very patient family. Then I got on the bike. Almost immediately, I had "power" issues. My Garmin Sensor - the device that tells both me and the Trainer Road app how hard and fast I'm going and what my heart rate is doing, was cutting out.

This has happened before. I tried to ride through it. But it got worse. I got off the bike and changed the battery on the sensor. That didn't help. I then changed bikes. That didn't help either. I changed bikes one more time to no avail. Now imagine that I was dripping with sweat, tired, hungry (I didn't eat yet) and on the verge of giving up.

The reason why I didn't give up was because I am still infused with the spirit of #DFQ (Don't Fucking Quit) that got me through Ironman Boulder  . Also, if I had quit, I would have to start over, and there was no guarantee that the bike electronics would work. I had to figure this out, finish it, and get ready for the next three stages.

It wasn't pretty. This is what the graph looked like after I had finished and was cooling down. Every vertical yellow line is a drop in power.

It took me 2.5 hours or so to do this 1:25 hr workout! My Garmin 910XT watch did even worse. It would lose signal and then take several minutes to regain it. So my Garmin workout is even shorter.
It is 23kms, when it should be 39(ish)kms as it was several weeks earlier when I did this same video without power issues.

The big deal with Trainer Road workouts is that they need to save. Occasionally, something goes wrong, and they don't save. Although the folks at Trainer Road are excellent at finding lost data, sometimes you are just screwed. So. I finished. And then I waited for it to save. This was my face; a mixture of relief, WTF and what next! I just could not believe that I manged to finish. But I was quite worried; how the hell will I do the next three stages, including the three video penultimate Stage 8 with sensor problems.

But, demonstrating both Ironman and Sufferlandrian calm that I have developed after dealing with race (and life) crisis in the past,  I got off the bike, had a shower and ate dinner.

My frustration with the ride, found a crescendo as I pedaled like a madman in the final sprint. After checking my data, I was pleased to find, that this effort had earned me a power award, or "bling". Basically I managed to hold 405 Watts for 1 minute, a new record for me. Look at the spike at the very end of this graph...that's it!

You can also see clearly on the third pyramid where everything started to go really wrong - look at the yellow line that is power. The "bling" that I referred to is just above the graph on the left hand side. It looks like a little red and yellow medal.
To get one or more of these during the ToS is great. Many who have honestly done the videos, however, will not, because they have earned them during individual video use, when they have been stronger. Still, to get one now, six stages in, demonstrates and proves my assertion that I am getting stronger as the Tour progresses. 

So what caused my tech issues? After finishing dinner, I got onto Facebook and started talking with some Knights of Sufferlandria. ; the inspirational Sir Donald Sorah, who was featured, with his equally amazing partner in Racing Weight,  and Bicycling magazine, amongst other places  and my goto resource, constant conscience and swimming kickset instigator, Sir Buzz Vickery, interviewed here on the Packfiller podcast; talking about Stage 5, Angels, the stage I referred to at the onset.  He's also seen here talking about his Knighthood attempt and raising money for GMNW - NICU.

After some discussion, it became apparent that this was a wifi issue. It wasn't batteries, it wasn't sensors, it was Netflix! There were two people watching Netflix on two different devices. That created so much interference that it stopped the signal on my bike.

What ironic about that is that Sufferlandrian's most reviled enemies are Couchlandrians! Everything a Sufferlandrian does is to avoid and repel the siren song of Couchlandrian sloth...such as donuts, Netflix, pumpkin spice lattes. Here's a video of some Couchlandrian training.  So...my Tour was almost thwarted by the forces of Couchlandria.

Within a few hours, I will attempt Stage 7, The Rookie. This is a new video that I have only attempted once. It should challenge me and hopefully get me ready for the three video, memorial Stage 8.

If you don't hear from me again, things either went horribly wrong, or really really well and I got called up to race for Team Giant-Shimano!

Suffer well, IWBMATTKYT!

Tour of Sufferlandria 2015

And so it begins. The "World's Toughest Indoor Cycling Tour" race countdown clock has started. There are 50 hours in this strange, time-travelling,  race in which to complete every stage. I will be starting Elements of Style and The Long Scream this evening.

I would be lying if I said I was not apprehensive and a little scared. I've been training steadily for the past five weeks, as part of a 10-week training plan. The Tour of Sufferlandria falls right in the middle of the plan.

Why apprehensive? It's just riding a bike! Well. Sufferlandrians are a strange breed. There are no half measures. The point of doing the work on the bike is doing the work on the bike. To just feather the pedals is never an option. The previous two Tours were done at 100 per cent FTP, which means, essentially, full power, as measured by the virtual power meter.

This Tour hurts, but it is also a clarion call to a lazy, sleeping body that has been lounging for far too long. I am itching to ride. To see what these old legs and heart have left in them. The Tour of Sufferlandria is a personal journey through one's own personal hell where demons, angels and volcanos make up the scenery.

As in previous years, I hope to make it through the other side, tired but not defeated. Holding my head aloft and smiling at all that I have accomplished, albeit virtually. This year, I have made many friends on the way to the Tour. I will be eagerly watching for them as they complete stages in more time zones than I have fingers. Here is a video from the end of  last year's tour 
And here are the Trainer Road results from last year.

Also, as in previous years, this tour is about raising money for a great cause, the Davis Phinney Foundation for Parkinson's. I saw how Parkinson's Disease took my active, vital father, and turned him into a trembling, dependent man. This is charity does important work. And this work gives me pause to not pause, but to pedal harder.

In a few hours, I'll be getting on my bike and speeding into the tour. If you don't see a next installment to this blog, things have gone horribly wrong. Chances are though, my excitement and my fervour will only increase in direct contrast to the throbbing pain in my quads and calves.

Allez Allez! Let's get this started! 

Benefiting the Davis Phinney Foundation for Parkinson's - See more at: http://dpf.kintera.org/faf/home/default.asp?ievent=1123701#sthash.HrGZG0S7.dpuf

Benefiting the Davis Phinney Foundation for Parkinson's - See more at: http://dpf.kintera.org/faf/home/default.asp?ievent=1123701#sthash.HrGZG0S7.dpuf

#DFQ..Back to the Future Ironman

In my previous installment, I noted that I was to soon to attempt Ironman Boulder and would not quit, until I was done. Well stick a fork in me, I'm done.

Having raced the full iron distance before, I knew what to expect, how to train and about how long it would take. This time, however, a couple of elements stood against my usual 14-hour(ish) finish:

• I trained for hills on the bike, but not adequately for distance beyond 120km
• I did not have enough miles in my legs, and struggled through 21km training runs
• I was about 15 pounds heavier than I should be
• The IMB course was at altitude 5,430 feet (1,655 m) compared to home
  1,893 ft (577 m)
• I was a little burned out from five straight years of Ironman races. Three successful, and two DNFs.

This is starting already to sound like an apology or an excuse. But believe me, it is not. My experiences at Ironman Boulder during the race, as well as pre and post, are now etched in my mind as some of the most memorable and triumphant experiences I have ever had in my triathlon career. 

While this blog entry will cover the race portion, I hope to write quite a lot about my experiences in later blogs. These will include the wonderful experiences with friend and family in Boulder, and the not-so-wonderful travel experiences. 

Normally I put together race results as with this 2010 Ironman Canada race report; I would write how I prepared, what went right, what went wrong, how I did and what I blame or thank.

Here's the thing. As I noted,  I'm a little burnt out. That means that not only was I sick and tired of training long, but I am equally bored of writing about the fine points of race prep and completion. I mean, seriously, how many more times do you want to hear what I ate, and how I pooped?


And don't for a minute think that I am anyway ashamed of being one of the last finishers. Long before the race started, I decided that I would take all the time I needed and challenge my resolve, more than my body. After all, I had challenged my body many times before this time it was time to test my mind.

So. I should note how I did, just for reference. 16:44:23. That's 15 minutes or so before Mike Reilly turns off the lights and goes home. Mike was there, by the way, and he did remind me that I AM AN IRONMAN, the second time he has personally done so.

The swim took place at the Boulder Resevoir. This is an  unremarkable body of water, that I water-skied on when I was 14 years old. Well, to say water-skied is a bit of a stretch. A boat pulled me and I was introduced to enemas. This is, ironically, when I first gained an appreciation for wetsuits.

The Reservoir, also was where T1 and the bike drop off was on the Saturday before the Sunday, August 3rd Race. There was a lot of commotion on Social Media about either the Boulder Reservoir administration or Ironman Management asking for $20 for entry into the area to do a practice swim. Both parties denied it was them, but it was still charged.

Similarly, a $20 fee for every person without an Ironman wrist band was expected on Saturday, bike drop day. So, in theory, a family driving their athlete would each have to pay $20. I had my First Wife drive me and, at the gate, in bumper to bumper traffic, I explained that I don't drive manual transmission. The money-collecting clerk shrugged and let us through. This wasn't so much of a lie, as First Wife often argues that I do not drive standard as well as her.

All this stress was for naught,  though.

Race morning at The Rez. was a picturesque delight, without a spec of wind, beautiful sunrise and the best swim I've ever had. I should note that the morning started out at 3 a.m. with a short walk from the-best-race-hotel-location-that-was-only-two-blocks--from-the-athlete's-village to Boulder High School and waiting school buses that took First Wife and me to the Rez. This was very well organized, although, special needs bag drop off was inexplicably an additional two blocks from where the buses were, but I digress.

The swim was a rolling start, which means athletes placed themselves in a line according to their assumed speed. The professionals, of course, went first then the under one hour swimmers and so on. I placed myself in the conservative 1 hour 30 to 40 minutes slot. Although I absolutely loved starting simultaneously with 3,000 other swimmers, as I have at Ironman Canada (Penticton), there are some merits to the rolling start. There is also one huge disadvantage if you are going to be out all day and night: you have 17 hours to race. Everything shuts down at midnight. Rolling starts begin before 7 a.m. That means that you could theoretically cross the finish line before midnight, but still have been racing for more than 17 hours and thus get a DNF. This was my fear as I pushed the 17 hour window, and my resolve.

The swim itself was fantastic. Although I did not get a chance to have a warm-up (inexplicably again, the warm-up was a long walk from the start area - at the finish area). This didn't leave me with enough time. I also really needed to pee, and could not/did not before or during the swim. Many however did, and as we walked down towards the swim start, the boat launch ramp was wet with liquid filtered through kidneys and neoprene.

Despite having to pee, I swam well. I was comfortable, although at one point a vague pain in my chest gave me lots to think about, such as life insurance and eternity, both of which I have plenty. I slowed down a little, for this unexpected episode and then sped up again. I did hear some stories of panic and anxiety attacks where racers took off their goggles and wetsuits while in the water. Of note, as well, for two weeks prior to the swim, it was communicated that the water would be too hot for a wetsuit-legal swim.

A few rain storms during race week cooled it down so all wore their suits. It was still warm, however, and I found myself on several occasions swimming deep so that water would rush into the space between my neck and back to cool me off a little.

All Finisherpix to be updated

My swim went so well, that I found myself pulling ahead of the group I seeded myself with and catching a group ahead of me. I realized, after checking my swim finish time, that this wasn't the faster group, but the slower swimmers of the faster group. Still. I caught up to them, drafted, got faster and enjoyed the swim. I got out of the water in pretty good shape and ready for the challenge of the bike.

I took my time in transition. Dried my toes, lubed my nether regions with the incredible Hammer Seat Saver and put on arm coolers. I had cooling calf sleeves on under the wet suit. I was acutely aware of the coming heat and extant elevation. I was not going to let the elements beat me. Besides, I had raced in 33 C temps at Penticton, and I knew the importance of cooling was equal to that of hydration and nutrition. As a dedicated Sufferlandrian, I wanted to wear my national bike jersey, but the temperature was just too hot! So I stayed with the Regina Multisport Club tri top.

So on my bike I went and started off. The ride, I hate to say was uneventful. It was beautiful. The roads were pristine. The traffic control, thanks to the law enforcement personnel and volunteers was great. I dropped my chain once and, to my surprise, had to get off the bike to fix it, I can usually get it re-engaged while pedaling. But I could not coast. And this is where the issue begins.

The course did not have the monster hills of Penticton, or CdA or St. George. In fact, other than the "three bitches" at mile 100 (who were actually quite lovely) I don't remember any steep hills at all.

Still there was considerable elevation change. The whole course seemed to be full of false flats! I was aware that this may be the case, so I didn't waste time checking my brakes, as I have in the past. It just meant that the ride was a constant uphill. Unlike wind, which you can perceive, false flats are insidious. They sap your strength, rob your speed and make coasting impossible. I found my average speed plummeting as the course progressed, and the effects of the 90 F + temps (102 F on the black tarmac) and the elevation took hold on my tired, overweight body.

I did not bonk. I did not have heat stroke, although many did. There were bodies strewn under trees and in shady corners throughout the course. I kept to my hydration/cooling and nutrition plan. This included  my secret stash of Hammer Nutrition gels, a 3-hour bottle of Perpetuem and Endurolytes. Equally important, I poured  a bottle of water over my head, on arms and legs every time I replenished, and sometimes in between.  I got tired, and slow and a little dejected, but that was a result of lack of long-distance training, not on-course action. And, unlike many I saw and read about later, I did not have any GI problems - other than losing the desire to eat during the run.

I must put a plug in for coconut water (500mg Potassium) and dill pickle and juice. These were in my special needs bag (both for the bike and run) and I have proof they made a difference. The quadricep cramp that ended my race at IMCdA last year. showed up at about KM 80. Every time I stood up, or attempted a steeper section, I could feel that familiar pull just above my left knee.

So I took it easy until I got to special needs. Out of my bag I pulled the magic pickle and poured the coconut water into my bottle. The volunteer at special needs said he had seen everything. He had never seen a lycra clad, sweaty, fatman on a bike sucking back brine and chewing on an 8-inch polskie ogorki!

This stuff was magic. The knee pull and the cramp were gone! Sadly, so was much of my strength, tapped by the sun, elevation and the constant climbing. It didn't help that the second half of the ride was all uphill, with very little chance to recuperate. All the way to Boulder, and even the last road to T2, on Arapahoe Ave., the route was all uphill, or at least seemed like it was!

I finished in what was my slowest ever bike time. Blame? Naw...I didn't train long rides enough. Even my rides through the Rockies with harder climbs maxed out at 110 kms. 

As I dismounted, and faced what seemed like a 1km run to transition, I knew I was in trouble. I didn't run. Most people didn't. I did, however, keep my bike shoes on. Some didn't and blistered from the hot, black track that the transition bags were on. I blistered too, both feet.

But I suspect this was from the heat coming up through the pedal on the bike. These blisters and both my middle toes (now with black toenails) caused me no end of grief during the last part of the race. But I never stopped for them, other than stopping to put some Glide lubricant on the side of my foot that seemed to be developing a "hotspot" early in the run.

Now to call this a run, would be like calling a tortoise a rabbit. Getting off the bike, I was tired. My feet hurt. My hips were seizing, my back was sore and, well, I was a little bored. I ran a little, and very quickly noticed my heart rate raced to 165 bpm. (it should have been about 150 for that pace). So I settled in for a long walk. I had walked 21.1k at IMCdA, so how much more difficult would double that be?

The run course was dubbed the "Flux Capacitor. In reality, the end effect was that I felt like I had to time travel back to the future in order to finish. The course was on Boulder Creek, which, thankfully was shady and made the afternoon hot temperatures bearable.

What I did have trouble with was the path was made of concrete. Like my marathon in Fargo ND, some years ago, the hard surface pounded on my legs, my hips and my ankles and just beat me up. Keep in mind that I was walking. I can't imagine what this was doing to the runners. It is interesting to note that post-race commentary described this as the slowest IM run to date, even amongst the professionals.

I was also challenged with the shape of the course. While trying to figure out mileage and convert it to kms, that my Garmin was showing, I had no idea how close or far the 3 turnarounds were. And there were two laps. Several times I got confused that I was going the wrong way. Even if I could run, I would have had trouble pacing myself, as the circuitous and convoluted route gave very little opportunity to gauge how far to go before the turnaround.

But again. This is my problem,. I personally, did not like the run course, but personally, I was also undertrained for a 42.2km run. But I walked. And I walked. And I walked. When I saw First Wife, at about the half way mark, I was ready to quit. That was enough. I didn't want to go on. I could not eat anything, not because I could not stomach it, my guts were fine; my nutrition plan went very well. I just could not deal with chips or pretzels or gels or Bonk Bars...I had some chicken broth and some flat cola.

But I was done. #Don't Fucking Quit, notwithstanding, the course had beaten me. I looked at my pace and how much time I had left: a little more that three and a half hours. I didn't think I could make it. Besides, because of the morning, rolling swim start, I didn't have till midnight, I had until 11:45? 11: 30? I didn't know!

I told this to First Wife and she reassured me that I could do what I want. Then told me, she'll meet me at the finish line, which, after two decades plus of marriage means, "you'd better finish!" She had successfully done this to me at IMC ending her finish line volunteer race catcher duties at 14:15 (I finished just past 14 hours) and a Stony Plain half, where she threatened to leave after six hours. I finished just under six hours.

So now, it was the finish line...how the hell would I get to the finish line, without finishing;. I remember my embarrassment at IMCdA, where I abandoned at 21.1km and had to skulk past the finish line to surrender my timing chip.

#DFQ. Then it sunk in. Don't Fucking Quit. Just keep going! Who cares how long it takes. I've come this far, and I know friends and family are watching. I'm tired of quitting. Something strange happened at this point. I went from trying to figure out how to quit, how to cut the course short, how to fake an injury, to getting a thirst for the race!

My pace hastened, so much so, that I started passing walkers and some staggering runners. I walked through every nutrition stop, but only took coke (and a few of my stashed Hammer gels). I was a man possessed. No way was I going to quit. No way did I travel this far not just in the race, but from home, to call it a day.

I took my inspiration from some of the athletes I had seen, those running with prosthetics, others who were so cramped up that they looked like withered trees, but still,  they continued. I took my inspiration from my friends back home, many of whom had overcome far greater challenges. I thought of my Imaginary Friends, many of whom had beaten great challenges themselves, and were probably tracking me online.

So I walked. Then I ran. Then I shuffled. I just did not stop. And then. Unexpectedly (as I didn't know where the bloody turnarounds would be) I saw the exit for the finish. And then I saw First Wife. She lied. she was not yet at the finish line. She and a volunteer told me that I'd better run through the finish chute. So I started my kick.

I've got a pretty good kick, if I say so myself. I sped up to a 4 minute/km pace. Then my quad cramp returned. Who cares! I kept going. Then I heard my name and I saw Mike Reilly. I'm already an Ironman, I thought. But it was good to be reminded.

Everything went into slow motion! I was having fun. More fun than I've had the three times I've successfully done this before. I slapped some hands, I smiled.

I raised my arms.

And then. Almost 21 hours since I had woken up that day, I was done. I had a medal. I had finished. I was a finisher. All the grief and pain and doubt was washed away.

Then I found First Wife. At the finish line, as she had said. Her smile was better than any medal.

I posed for the finisher's shot, had some of the worst pizza I've ever tasted and some of the most delicious chocolate milk!

I was done with 15 minutes to spare. We cheered on the last finishers, First Wife looking for a few that she had seen hobbling past after me, including two sisters. They all finished. Then midnight came, and surprisingly, it was all done. Lights went off and the race went dark. Ironman used to allow for 15 minutes after midnight, I thought for DNF finishers. They had come so far! But no. It was done.

Then the aching started. Feet and hips. First Wife had already collected my bike and bags and dropped them off at the hotel. I thanked some cops and some volunteers and we hobbled home. More surprised than happy. But ecstatic that I had seen some very dark places in my head and I shut out the angry, lazy conspiring voices.

I did not quit. And I was still standing.

I remember a sign I saw on the course. "What do you call the last person to finish an Ironman? -- An Ironman!"