Lightning and Piss

Moveitfred was heading out to ye ol' Friday night circuit race late this afternoon when Thor himself drew forth black clouds from hell and began heaving loving bolts of thunder across the land.

Moveitfred was still miles from the start and so gave it the ol' Fahk It, turned around, and headed back to the relative safety of La Casa de Fred.

Perhaps the race happened, but likely not. Instead of another pack fill result Moveitfred dropped in Disc 1 of the Tour de Cali and knocked out a killer interval workout on the basement trainer while War of the Worlds blasted and boomed above his head in the form of a wicked summer storm.

But on to more important matters. Moveitfred always has to piss like a mutha at races. We all know our hero Al has that "other problem" (ie, restless bowel syndrome), but for Moveitfred it's an inability to curtail the golden streams.

Perhaps it's a combination of nerves and a bladder the size of a peanut, but the #1 concern for Moveitfred heading to, at, and after any race--and the thought that dominates upwards of 90% of his pre-race strategy--is the need for both frequent and immediate access to urine depository space. Moveitfred prefers private space, but semi-private or primarily public will do in a pinch.

In fact, Moveitfred believes that a rule change is in order at USA Cycling. Moveitfred believes that after all those hoo-haa announcements by race officials about pits and free laps and primes that there be a regular call of "OK, racers piss" thereby giving everyone a fair and equal opportunity to straddle, squat, or sling a bladder's worth of urine onto the earth before the business of the race begins.

Rather than poorly-timed dashes to the port-a-growlers or asking girlfriends to hold up blankets, wouldn't we all appreciate this opportunity to purge before rolling off the start and sitting in like frightened deer for the rest of the race?

Moveitfred feels that after a "break-in period" both racers and spectators alike will come to accept this group extrusion and treat it as simply ordinary or as a chance to partake in a kind of community water sport.

Moveitfred Explains

As Al has so graciously pointed out, both Heywood and Moveitfred have been conspicuously absent from the world of blog for quite some time. Herein Moveitfred shall partially explain the absence.

Coupla weeks ago Moveitfred and Heywood met up in the Midwest for a little down-home fun. Sort of East meets West in the Heartland. The bicoastals gathered together with others of their kind at a good ol' fashioned reunion, replete with BBQ, jello salads, matching t-shirts, pails of beer, and, of course, picnic games.

First up, horseshoes.

With a low seed (fucking hometown crowd screwed the "outsiders") the two bicoastals found themselves pitted against the two defending champs in the first round. Things got ugly quickly in this game to 21 as the two boys went down 13-2 in a matter of minutes.

But the bicoastal boys were not about to lay down and take it in the ass (so to speak).

Led by Heywood Jablome, the bicoastals came roaring back to tie the score at 13. Heywood was, as they say, In The Zone. In fact, he was Bicoastal Possessed. As his eyes glazed over he began yelling things like, "Here comes Daddy!," and "I'm gonna ring that stiff rod, Freddy!" All Moveitfred had to do was sit back and watch as Heywood began tossing ringers like he was Michael Jordan of the clay pits.

But, as they say in sports, they don't call 'em The Champs for nothin'. Those Midwestern boys on the opposing side eventually took down the bicoastals in an emotional, gut wrenching match, 21-18. After drowning their sorrows in a pail of Bud, the bicoastals looked for another challenge. Next up for the bicoastals: Egg Toss.

Seemed as if everyone in the Midwest was competing in this fabled event. Just how many people live in the Midwest, anyway? Well, whatever, the boys were once again matched up against some stiff competition. Up and down the line of competitors were opponents of high caliber: there were the drunken farm boys, mayonnaise-thighed housewives, the stogie-smokin' leather necks, and the half-breed children. Cue banjos.

But the bicoastals went in with game faces blazing. As round after round played out, hundreds of egg-coated competitors were relegated to the sidelines as Heywood and Freddy played on. Soon it was down to final round, and the boys were left standing against a pair of highly qualified tossers with a distinct advantage: they were both kitchen help. These two boys spent their days boiling, scrambling, flipping, and fricasseeing eggs.

Yep, these two wiry boys had stripped off the aprons, brushed aside all the egg-tossing posers, and were now staring down the business end of a couple of pissed off bicoastals. It was down to the final toss.

By now the tossers had quite a distance to negotiate. This was, after all, the championship round. All of the "this isn't so hard" dross had been sent back to the pavilion to eat runny, warm potato salad long ago. Heywood--a strapping specimen--looked like a tiny speck on the horizon far across an expanse of grass from Moveitfred. For the final round, appropriately enough, Moveitfred was the "giver" and Heywood the "receiver."

The bicoastals had been working a pre-approved game plan to perfection up until this point. The "giver" would send the egg in a gentle arc to the "receiver's" right side, wheretothough the "receiver" would gently initiate contact with said egg high and to the right before sweeping the fragile package downward and backward before coming to rest just beyond the hips. The bicoastals were working this system to perfection and putting their egg to sleep each round like a distant, infant, half-breed cousin.

With Heywood at the ready Moveitfred thought for a moment he would need to call an audible and employ a Peyton Manning Hail Mary toss to span the great distance needed in this round, but instead freddy took an extra large step and delivered a beautiful, underhand, soft, dying quail to Woodrow's right side. However, Heywood (aka Stone Hands) somehow managed to fuck up fred's delivery and blasted virgin egg yolk all over the deep green Midwestern landscape. Kitchen Help handled the exchange to perfection, and once again the bicoastals were relegated to leaving an event without the glittering hardware of victory.

Now, fans, if you're still with Moveitfred this is where the story gets interesting. See, as the bicoastals were heading back to the civilization of Chicago from the backwoods of Indiana they got lost down a deserted country road. Soon the gravel turned to sand, and next thing you know the boys were spinnin' tires and stuck dead in their tracks.

As the boys were inspecting the mess and deciding how to extract the rental mobile, two scraggly specimens ambled out from a shack in the woods and asked the boys if, while we waited for Denny's Tow and Bail Bonds to arrive, we wanted to play a little "cornhole" out back.

Well, just so happens that the bicoastals found out all about this great game just two days prior while visiting some kin. For the uneducated, please visit the site below before reading on:

All About Cornhole

So, being the polite boys we are and feeling the need to represent our respective coasts, Heywood said, "Why yes sir, my bro and I here would love to cornhole with you boys!" So the four of us ambled on back yonder behind the shack for a little cornholeing. (For the unaware, it is indeed polite to "amble" along with others when on foreign ground).

What happened next is still not altogether clear in Moveitfred's mind. The scraggly boys did indeed have a fine cornhole set with official bags and distances out back beyond the port-o-growlers. But at that point there was a sharp CRACK and the lights went out in Moveitfred's melon, and when he came to he was covered in Indiana mud and pricklevines and heard very clearly through the brush two voices rising to an agitated fever pitch:

"What's your name, boy?"

"Heywood Jablome, sir!"

"No, I said WHAT'S YOUR NAME, BOY?"

"HEYWOOD JABLOME, SIR!"

Moveitfred blacked out again, and when he came to this time he was sitting in the driver's seat of the rental car parked on the shoulder of the highway under a "To Chicago" sign with Heywood sitting shotgun. Inexplicably, Heywood's fireman underpants were knotted and wrapped disturbingly around his ankles.

So, friends, although Moveitfred will not speak for Heywood, this is why Moveitfred has not posted anything on the blog. Moveitfred is still trying to make sense of this event. It may take him awhile.

In fact, it may take him forever.

irrefutab-AL

In which AL discusses how the other two jackasses who should be carrying their weight have decided to go on Summer Break



Well folks, I have no words to explain the complete "fuck you" Fred and Woodrow have given you and me both. I suggest scathing commentary, but you do what you will.

For my part, I'm going to rest on my laurels for a while. (Well, I'll probably sit near my laurels. Those things tend to be rather prickly.)

coast-AL

WHEREIN AL DISCUSSES WORKOUTS AND HANGIN' WITH THE HOOKERS ON THE JERSEY SHORE THIS SUNDAY



Today was a great workout. Al K and I swam an open water mile in the Great South Bay to start our work. The bay was like glass with little or no boat traffic. We focused solely on good stroke work and on tri technique in the open water: holding a good line with limited visuals, staying in good body position, being as efficient as possible. The swim was great with mission accomplished on technique work. The only issue we had was that we discovered some damage to Al K's wetsuit. Al K pulled an "8th mile" move last time he used the suit. (8th mile move: Al K seems to go soft in the skull after 8 miles. He'll run just fine but he seems to lose mental capacity rather than physical. He'll get lost, speak incoherently, run into things when he crosses the 8 mile mark.) Seems Al K stuffed his wetsuit in his tri bag with his bike shoes after the last tri. Bad move. The neoprene now has 5 or 6 nicks in it from the cleats. None have gone through yet, but Al has a bunch of patch work to do. FUCK!

After the water, we headed out for a 6 mile run on the flat and fast Bayport/Bluepoint streets. Al K's mile markers were a bit off, but we had a good run. Nice and easy at 8:30s. The humidity was annoying but, in all, it was good day.

Sunday, I'm going to do a sprint tri in the ocean and along the Jersey shore--1 K SWIM, 19 MILE BIKE, 5 MILE RUN--with the Sandy Hookers Tri Club. The course is not very challenging EXCEPT FOR THE SWIM. Ocean swims are very unpredictable. Wave action, weather, visibility, and tide can make a short swim seem epic. Lake, bay, pool swims are, quite frankly, nothing compared to an ocean swim. I won't call this a race as it is really a buinch of clubbers getting together to pound out some tough brick work. everyone keeps his/her own splits etc. COOL! Great workout and practive for my upcoming Olympic at the end of July.

The only other news to report is that the Cervelo is back in tip top shape. After my first couple of hundred miles on it, I've noticed an increasing creak in the bottom bracket. Thanks to the advice of Solo, I didn't ignore it. After an adjustment and some lube, she's good as new. Got my new tri shoes too. Sunday will be fun!!!

condition-AL

AL Discusses His Poor Monday Morning Condition and the Week That Got Him There





Hello, sports fans. I am road kill today. I've got that "run down," lactic acid, monday morning blah feeling again. It seems counter-intuitive but I'm always beat up and looking for the license plate of the vehicle that got me on Monday mornings (counter-intuitive because Mondays are either an OFF day or a very light day in my schedule). But I know it makes sense. Mondays always follow 6 hard days of work. Mondays are the day that all the ache and acid can settle in. A light walk or a little spin usually sets me right. But right now--8 AM--I'm just working through a few cups of coffee and holding the head aloft with my other hand.




Last week was a good week for training. I swam about 4 miles, logged about 40 run miles, biked about 60, and got in 3 good weight circuits. I felt pretty good through all. Highlights were a brutal hill set on wednesday. This run was a two mile warm then a few miles worth of hill repeats. The hill I use is a 1/4 mile climb. I repeated this about 8 times: sprint uphill, jog down in between. It's a steep climb and is a serious beating. I had one nice open water swim on Tuesday, I think. I swam about a mile in the Great South Bay. It was late afternoon, no one on the beach really. I had the bay to myself 'cept for some distant boats. Yesterday, I did a 20m bike/ 6 m run brick. It was a good day. The bike leg was an out and back along the paved trail down to Jones Beach from Wantagh (with a few loops at the park to make up the extra distance). It was very windy on the way down to the beach. I could only hold about 13-15 mph though I was working hard. The way back was a real cruise though. I had the wind at the back and was cranking at 25 mph the whole way without much effort it seemed. Once back, I worked a tri transition. (As an aside: I recently purchased some tri-specific shoes. I've been beating the shit out of my SIDI's in my tri transitions. These bad boys cost me $250 and they are not right for tri anyway. So I got some cheap--$70--tri shoes with one velcro strap.) I had the shoes clipped into the bike, and I did 3 or 4 transitions getting on/off the bike to get used to this. The run was just 6 loops on the 1 mile course at Cedar Creek, Wantagh. This course is relatively flat with one rise. In all, a good brick.

Well, maybe I'll take that little walk now. The kids are scampering about my feet and the dog looks like he could use a break too. Maybe we'll all take a stroll. Sayonara.

perceptu-AL

Wherein AL Makes It Right By Correcting the "Insensitive" Perception

After receiving correspondances from Fred and Heywood about my last two posts, I realize that, perhaps, they may feel disenfrachised, marginalized, ostracized, maybe even de-humanized. I want to make this right!

Boys, worry not. I accept you as you are. I love you, each and every gay fiber of you. If my posts seemed insensitive, it was just for humor's sake. I'm sorry. Here's something for you both:

disgrunt-AL

A Slight Return:

Wherein AL Realizes That Stallone Made Lots of Man on Man Movies

Ok, now I'm getting a bit worried. I mean, growing up, Stallone was the shit. I started pumping iron to look like him in (I think) 1979 or 80. I started running early mornings when I was 12, just hoping a crowd of kids and well wishers would follow me through the streets. I have this picture of me and a friend with our hair blown back "Stallone style" in '82 or so. All this was so I could pick up chicks. Stallone = chick magnet in the early 80s. No? Now, I'm doing a bit of revisit/research and I'm thinking he mighta been half-a-fag. What the fuck. I feel so used, so dirty.

tri-ALS and tribulations

WHEREIN OUR HERO, AL, PICKS UP THE SLACK FOR THE OTHER TWO DOUCHEBAGS AND ACTUALLY UPLOADS CONTENT


Here I am, one week after my first tri of the season. I spent the last week in active recovery mode. I ran and swam and biked, but everything was at a lowered intensity level. Right now, I feel good and ready to go again. (Earlier in the week, I REALLY felt my almost 40 years. Everything hurt...even things I didn't know I used in the tri--my jaw muscles hurt, and I'm conscious of not tensing my face up.)

I'm doing another Olympic tri on 7/29: Patanella's Lumpy Pancake

So this week, real training begins. I'm training 6 days a week, really. One day--typically Monday--is mostly an off day with just a weight lifting session in the eve. The 6 "on" days feature a variety of doubles: AM and PM workouts. The week is a mix of different types runs, swims, bikes and lifts.

On the weight lifting...I do a full body circuit 3 times a week. I don't use a weight room, just old school moves that build/maintain strength and balance. This circuit involves, push ups, chins, planks, crunches, leg lifts, squats, reverse lunges, and some other dumbbell work. This weight component has really boosted my performance. I never realized (before tri) how much triathlon is a strength sport. I always knew that it was an endurance sport, but strength is a key component too. (This explains why triathletes don't "look" like marathoners though their competitions are often similar in length and, in part, make up.)

On another, somewhat related, note. Raise your hand if you ever watch "sports movies" to get you pumped up, in the mood, in the mindset. We all do, right? Without Limits, American Flyers, Hoosiers, Bull Durham etc etc We've all seen these, maybe gotten a charge out of them as we watch others put themselves through the paces (as we all do). Anyway, there I was last night. It was late-ish (10 PM) and I was having a post workout snack. I was surfing through the tube offerings when I came across Rocky III. "Wow...here's a great sports movie," I thought. I knew it was no cinematic masterpiece ("Rocky" was, though). But I was looking for a hokey, inspirational sport film (you know, little guy does impossible against impossible odds). Now, let me start this by saying that I have not seen Rocky III since the 80s (of that I'm certain). It came out in 1982. I saw it in the theater, and I don't think I've seen it since.

My thoughts on R III: if you're looking for a "pump" this movie can do it.

BUT you'll need to be gay.

Now listen, I've got nothing against a guy taking it in the back door. Look, I'm friends with Fred and Heywood. And I've heard all sort of talk about you bicycle boys and I still ride with some of you. HOWEVER, I think I completely missed all the thinly veiled homoerotica and the completely unveiled man on man action in this film the first time around. (I was 13 or 14 when I saw it, so cut me some slack.)

I may be stating the obvious, something you all knew already, but: THIS FILM IS A FAG FESTIVAL.

So anyway

the mail just came and nothing.



Moveitfred turns 63 years old today and not one of you cocksuckers got him anything from his wish list?



Hang your heads in shame.



Ok, fine, screw you.



Moveitfred is simply going to leave and go party with the babes waiting in the limo outside. All of you just have yourselves a fine fucking day.

avow-AL

Al Gives An Oath To His Friends and Compatriots

Fellow competitors, athletes, countrymen, blog-fags, I make to you this solemn vow:

1 When you are sad -- I will help you get drunk and plot revenge against the sorry bastard who made you that way.

2. When you are blue -- I will try to dislodge whatever the fuck is choking you.

3. When you smile -- I will know you finally got laid.

4. When you are scared -- I will rag on you about it every chance I get.

5. When you are worried -- I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be until you quit whining.

6. When you are confused -- I will use little words.

7. When you are sick -- Stay the hell away from me until you are well again. I don't want to catch whatever you have.

8. When you fall -- I will point and laugh at your clumsy ass.

9. This is my oath..... I pledge it to the end. "Why?" you may ask?, "Because you are my friend".

And remember my friends...when life deals you lemons, get a bottle of tequila and call me. I'll bring the salt.

Yours,
AL

Regrettab-AL

Our Hero, ABH, Gets Negged in the NYC Marathon Lottery and Must Now Find Another Late Fall Marathon


So Long NYC:

Inform-AL

Results are in

Al's official time= 2:52.52
Al's Overall place: 83rd out of about 300 individual entries and 50-60 relays
Al's age group place: 15th (Kind of psyched about this one)

Of note: 1) Swim splits were all slow. Fastest swim was about 24 minutes...the course change made the swim longer. 2) I will not forget the Body Glide next time.

Away they go

While those boys on east coast were on the road to recovery from a laborious “work trip”, Heywood was hitching a ride with Big Cat in his new Toyota 4runner up to Downieville. This sierra town sits along the banks of the Yuba River with an elevation of just below 3000 feet. For mountain bikers like Heywood Jablome and Big Cat, who do not enjoy climbing 5000 feet on the bike just to start an adventurous 17 mile downhill trip, a shuttle service comes in handy. For a small fee of $15, one can hitch a ride to the trailhead at over 7000 feet, just a few short miles from the Sierra Buttes. The last shuttle of the day was getting ready to head out just as they were pulling into town. Heywood was able to talk the driver into waiting around for five minutes while they got there shit together.

When the two arrived at the summit, they cracked open a silver bullet and slammed it like a couple of freshman college students from Chico. Big Cat says this helps calm his nerves. He tends to get scared easily. Time for a quick picture, don the safety equipment and it was off to the races. The conditions were better than Heywood could dream of for his first time up there. Due to the previous days dusting of snow, the ground was tacky and free of dust. There was no worry of the tires breaking loose on a high speed turn so the boys pushed the envelope. Heywood was lucky that Mrs. Jablome allowed him to bring his balls along for the day so he planned on using them.

Some stretches of the trail are tight and technical; others are wide open and very fast. One rock garden is thrown into the mix for good measure. Loud screams of ecstasy could be heard for miles as these two men raced down the mountain like kids with no fear. Flat tires were a problem on this day. Big Cat had one and Heywood got two. The difficult part is not changing the tire. It is fighting back the swarms of mosquitoes that appear that minute you stop. After the ride, Big Cat started to teach Heywood about the secret fishing holes he discovered in Downieville on previous trips.

Apparently, this area is some gathering site for the gay population. At one point, Heywood turned the corner to find a man lying down singing some old J.R. Cash tunes aloud. One can only assume this man visits the Hershey highway by looking at this picture.

This truck was kind enough to put down a trail of shit along the highway so Wood could find his way back when he comes alone.

TRI-umph!-AL

Al's Update on the healthnet Tri at Milford Beach, CT

Despite foul weather to start, we got the race in! We arrived at about 6 Am for a 7 Am start and it was VERY foggy and raining on and off. The official word when we arrived was a "we'll see" about the swim because you couldn't see (at all) any of the course buoys (PEA SOUP). After about an hour, the officials called an audible. They changed the swim course to make it a 2x loop course around the first two buoys. (The course was originally a diamond that went much further out into the LI sound.) When asked on the new distance for the course, one official was quoted as saying: "I haven't the foggiest. Pun intended."

The swim: there was a good deal of chop and current and fog as I went out on the first portion of the loop. This made the first leg a fight against current and a real "heads up" swim to see the buoy. We then turned right and followed the shore. The chop made this a bit tough too as I had to adjust quite alot to current and wave action to stay on course. The leg back to shore prior to the second loop was nice--current and wave at your back. The second loop was much the same. One thing we all agreed on: the 1.5 k swim course was now a good deal longer. I expected a 26-29 minute swim depending on conditions. I came in at about 35 minutes. I heard estimates that placed the course at 1.25 miles (about a 1/4 mile longer than expected) to 1.5 miles (1/2 mile beyond course description). I think it was probably between the two estimates. Whatever it was, it was a challenging swim with a lot of readjustment due to poor visibility and tide. I should say, that I am jazzed about the swim too. It was great to be banging it out again in such a dynamic environment. Pool swimming is a boring business. Even though the LI Sound course was tough, it was fun.

Transition areas were unremarkable. Standard paved stuff.

Bike: The course was wet and we got a number of rain showers during the ride. The first portion of the ride features some hills and a good deal of turning. This section was treacherous. I came into a turn at the bottom of a hill and wound up sideways, dabbing/sliding to stay vertical. after that I played it a bit more conservative. Others weren't so lucky. I saw several downed riders. One was being ambulanced away as I passed. I feel I biked well given the course. I averaged about 19-20 mph for a mostly flat, WET course. I don't know exact times as my watch/glasses were fogged and a pain in the ass. I know I reined myself in though. A side note: I like these tubulars a lot. But they are pumped up high and they were very slippery on the wet course (I should have mentioned a few other "slick" moments; none as bad as the one described though.)

The run was a nice two lap course and I put down 7:20s and 7:30s. I can't be exact here as mile marking was poor--only miles 1,2,3 were marked for a 6.2 mile run. The second loop my splits were all screwed up.

My overall was 2:52 and change. This is for a 1.3-1.5 m swim, 26+ m bike, 6.2 m run. I'm happy with this for the first tri of the season and for my first olympic tri.


One thing that is worth remarking on: wah, I'm chafed. Leaving at 4AM proved problematic as I spaced on my body glide. (And no, I didn't prevail upon any of my fellow triathletes: "hi, mind if I rub your body glide into my ass and armpits?") So I am chafed. Fucking rookie mistake.

I'm looking forward to the rest of the season. I plan on at least 2 more Olympics and 2-3 sprints before the end. I'm also waiting to see if I get into the NYC marathon. We shall see.

--AL

rebutt-AL

A Little Something for Moveitfag

Arizona Redux: Sports

The antibiotics seemingly have kicked in and Moveitfred's head has calmed from a boil to a slow simmer. Still have the major ear pluggage keeping the world pretty quiet coupled with occasional brown plugs of gack spewing forth from fred's tubes, but the overall pain and heartache of the infections have subsided.

With a clearer head fred now reflects back on the wide world of sports, particularly on a brand of sport freddy got hooked on in AZ. See, after burning through the desert landscape with Al all day, fred would collapse onto the spacious room couch and flip on the telly to some sort of mindless sporting event.

Admittedly one of the disturbing choices fred made was to get all into ESPN2 arm wrestling. Let Moveitfred tell you, that is some serious man-on-man shit. Very intimate, very sweaty, and sometimes straps are used if the contestants get too hot and bothered.

Moveitfred deserves all of the mockery and ridicule he received from Al Bangorhard on that front.

But Moveitfred would like to revisit another sport that consumed some of his time in that lonely ol' hotel room and that Moveitfred found himself watching with rapt intensity last night: the Women's College Softball World Series.

Al was giving freddy shit about this in AZ as well. In fact, Moveitfred thinks Al's exact words were, "Why you watchin' that lesbo shit on TV?"

But freddy got hooked nonetheless. Perhaps it was the impressive athleticism of these young women. Perhaps it was the interesting "small ball" strategies that played out on the base paths. Perhaps it was skill involved in punching base hits around the field off the heat these pitchers were throwing.

Or, perhaps is was the hot babes on the U of Arizona team.

Al's right in some regards. A few of the players on other teams were a little tough around the edges. Yeah, ok, some were downright rip-off-your-testes-and-slam-a-jackboot-into-your-bleeding-crotch tough.

But U of A was top to bottom lineup prime hottie material. Even Moveitfred's wife noticed. Last night, during the final game against Tennessee, Mrs. Moveitfred said after much study of the game, "Hey, those Arizona girls aren't lesbians."

Yes, no kidding.



Moveitfred would just like to say congrats to the Lady Wildcats for their something like 50th national championship by whuppin' those tough Lady Vols 5 - zip last night. And a special shout to that feisty little blond whip on the mound, Taryne Mowatt, who apparently threw over a thousand pitches in the tournament.


Blond, tanned Taryne is from the 909 in So Cal, but we won't be too hard on her for that. Moveitfred would stand naked at home plate and let Taryne throw screwballs off his nads if it meant he could take one of those umpire brushes and tidy her uniform after 7 innings.

Heywood Gets Caught "Growing Up"

Preparation-AL

Al, back from Feenix, prepares for his olympic tri.





Hello All. I'm back. I know Fred ("Man Who Stands With Boy-sized Feather")is down and out with a double ear infucktion. Feel better Freddy!! I'm feeling a bit shitty too after the trip. But I think I'll be fine.

I have the Health Net Olympic Tri saturday. I feel I am well trained for this event (as well trained as one can be this early in the season). I could tell that I am peaking during a spin workout Fred and I did last week. It was an interval workout that laddered up with longer and longer intervals. I felt myself getting stronger and raring to go as we progressed--a sure sign that I am chomping at the bit in this pre race taper. One point of concern, though, was the limited amount of open water swimming I have been able to do for this race. Most swim work has been pool work (even with the wetsuit, it is tough to do much open water this early on). I got in one swim in the open last week. Today I went and just practiced water to bike transitions in the suit:
I went down to the ocean (colder than a witch's tit in a brass bra doing pushups in the snow in Antarctica, I'll have you know). I would swim a 100 yd triangle than dash from the water to my "transition area" de-suiting as I ran. I did about 10 repeats of this until I felt like the kinks were worked out.

I've ridden a good deal and feel bike ready. I'm a bit nervous about equipment. Mostly it is the tires that freak me a bit. I've not changed a tubular.



I probably should have practiced that but... Well, I've got a spare tubular, I've got an air gun and some CO2s. We shall see... And, worst case scenario, I'll enlist the help of my good friend, DNF.

I'm not going to make any time predictions nor set any specific time goals. All goals are effort/pace based. Here's why...I do not know the course. Also the distances--even though it is an "Olympic"--vary from race to race a bit and the transition areas are not all standard distances from course and on standard terrains (I've gone through sand, gravel, dirt, grass etc to get to a transition, and I've gone anywhere from 50 to 250 or more yards too.) Here's my plan: I'm going to try to go off mid pack with the swim. This should prevent the beating, biting, shoving, flogging that happens near the front with the REAL DOUCHEBAGS and it should keep me from swimming over the people who position themselves at the rear due to weakness on the swim. In the middle I'll take some bumping and shoving and swim over a few but it shouldn't be too extreme. I plan to "feel out" the swim course (chop/current/temp/crowd etc.) and just try to remain in good form at a good effort level--my mantra: stay long, press my T, turn on the long axis from the hips, extend extend extend.




I then want a quick exit and easy out of the suit into the shoes and onto the bike. I am not one of those guys who leaves the shoes on the pedals. I just don't dig running in socks and trying to get my feet into pedaled shoes. So my transition will be a bit longer here. I was quick last time though. And I just whip on shirt and socks/shoes--I swim/bike/run in the same tri bottom. (That's right, Bad Ass AL is doing 40k on the bike with no chamois...can anyone say "saddle sores"?) On the bike I, again, want to feel out the course. I've got pace/cadence and effort goals in my mind. And I've got some form things for me to focus on with my posture/back position/foot position in the downstroke and upstroke/ upper body position on the bars etc. Once off the bike, it is an easy transition into the run. {I should also mention that I got and really like the x wing on the back of the bike...makes racking the bike really easy.} Off with the bike shoes, on with the sneaks and hat and off we go.



I am MUCH more comfy predicting run times/pace. I'm setting in my mind some predicitions or goals in the course is indeed flat and fast, if transition is easy, if winds are low etc. I've got variables figured for eventualities. I'm going to carry 4 or 5 gels. One of which has caffeine. This one I'll jack right near the end (3 miles left on the run). If I do it any earlier, I fear the mad crash that I get from caffeine. (I was looking for those energy jelly beans to try. Anyone ever use them? Good?) Anyway, that's the story. If you've got anything inspiration-AL or education-AL, share it now. More to report after the race.

Peace, Love, Harmony with the Moon, the Sun, Trees, and Piss-Clams,
--AL ("One Who Stands With Elephant Trunk")