Category Archives: Biking

The Red Headed, Step Brick

By tjfry | March 19, 2012

If you’re new to this sport, you will soon hear the term “brick” if you haven’t already. If you’ve been doing this sport for a while you probably hear it on a regular basis. The term “brick” refers to the training of two sports sports back to back without any rest. The term was created back in the late 80′s or early 90′s, when a pro triathlete and his training buddy (who would become the executive director of USA Triathlon) would do this type of training, and at the end, make a habit of quoting a Pink Floyd song. “Well, knocked that workout out. Another brick in the wall”. Over time that phrase stuck to that particular workout and became known as simply, “the brick”.  Most often people train on the bike and then immediately follow it with a run, in hopes of some race day simulation for the body. For some, bricks are a regular part of the workout diet.  For others, they skip them all together. Most of us fall somewhere in between.

For those who are regulars to the workout, they will argue that it helps your body adjust to the next sport quicker and teaches you to (in the case of the bike-run brick) run strong on tired legs. While we could discuss the virtues of the bike run brick, I’m going to save those, if any, for another day. What I did want to hit on was what I think of as the more important of the two bricks. The swim to bike brick.

On the bike to run brick, your cycling muscles are fully engorged in blood. Get off the bike to run and your legs will feel like lead. Partly because fatigue is setting in, but partly because the blood is sitting in some of the wrong muscles. For most it takes just a few minutes for the blood to shift an inch or two to the correct muscles before you feel like you have your running legs back. The fitter you are, the more blood vessels you have, the faster you get the blood moved over to those neighboring areas.

The swim to bike, however, is an entirely different equation. First of all, instead of using the same or neighboring muscles, the muscles you use for the swim are at the opposite end of your body. Back, shoulders and arms are all quite a distance from your calves and quads. So the travel time is considerably longer. Next problem is that you go from horizontal (swimming) to vertical (running to your bike and then biking). You also move from a zero gravity environment in the water, to gravity in all its glory. This creates adjustments that your body will need to make, not just with the muscles, but the organs as well.

These differences present some much different problems. First off is just standing up. With all the blood either in your shoulders/arms and balanced evenly in your organs for a weightless environment, you are going to feel horrible in about 10 seconds. Headrushes, dead feeling legs, and a heart rate that is going through the roof are all part of the fun. You will often see a very large number of people walking from the water to the transition area on race day for this very reason. Unfortunately it doesn’t end there. When you climb on your bike there is a high probability that your body is still working hard to reallocate it’s resources. I’ve found that it takes me as long as 20 minutes to get fully adjusted in an Ironman. Others mileage will vary based on how hard you pushed the swim, race distance, swim ability, etc., but you get the idea. Where a bike/run run lasts about 3 minutes to fully adjust to, the swim to bike acclimation takes a much longer time.

So why don’t many people practice this transition? Two big reasons. First is logistics. It can be hard to find a body of water that allows easy and quick access to the roads you ride. Short of a lake or outdoor pool that meets the critera, an easy fix could be your fitness center. Go get a really hard swim in. Hustle through the locker room and climb on a trainer just as fast as you can and then gun it. It’s not perfect, but it can help. Second is that water is involved, and triathletes as a population just don’t like to swim. So anything that includes water will more often than not be put to towards the bottom on the list of priorities.

Do yourself a favor and try and work one of these types of workouts in just once this summer. See if it helps, ’cause the last thing you want in your next race is to be still sucking wind 30 minutes into the bike ride. Happy Training.

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My 1997 Kona Race Report

By tjfry | September 13, 2011

With less than 30 days until I head back to Kona for the Ironman World Championships, it’s safe to say that I have this great event on my mind. So I thought I would put up my race report from my first trip there in 1997 when I was a pro. Now, “race reports” didn’t really exist back then, but I kept a pretty detailed training log so I’m just going to convert my shorthand of details into a readable form. Race reports can be hit or miss, so proceed at your own risk….

I should probably back up a few weeks and provide a little lead up to race day first. This was a year that I was able to hit a lot of big races and truly get to race like a pro. Big races, big destinations and huge training days. Great fun. About 5 weeks before Ironman, I had a race in Nansei, Japan. Went out there with a few other Americans (Garrett McCarthy and Becky (Gibbs) Lavelle to name a couple), along with some others from around the world. They put us up in pairs and my roomate was New Zealander Cameron Brown. Lots of great stories came from that week, but that’s another day. I had a rough day on a rough course and finished 7th overall. I was in the middle of my Ironman build and was trying to get my iron levels back to normal after a summer at altitude, so I wasn’t happy, but satisfied considering.

Back in Texas, training was pretty intense for me. I was basically doing a 1/2 Ironman every day of the week, and then hit a long run and ride on the weekend on top of that.  350 miles a week riding and 60 running was getting logged, along with swimming under Eddie Reese and the University of Texas men’s team a few days a week (nothing humbles you quicker than swimming repeat 500′s, holding 5min or under and worrying about getting lapped). I didn’t fully know what to expect with Kona, but knew that if I had any hope of playing along, I needed to hit some big volume. It was about as much as my 23 year old body could handle, and as it turned out, maybe a little too much. On too Kona…

Got up at 4:40am. Had 2 Ensure type drinks, a banana and a powerbar for breakfast. Emmanuel Millet, of one of my sponsors,  Aquaman Wetsuits, picked me up and took me to the start. Waited my turn to get marked and pump up the tires, then waited again to hit the port-a-potty. Ran out of time to get a run warmup, so I ran in place for a few minutes to get the blood pumping. Then it was time. So I got in and warmed up in the water.

Then the strangest thing happened. Everyone is trained in this sport to the air horn. Typical start for any race around. Ironman uses a cannon, but for some reason decided to use the air horn as the 5 minute warning. I think you know where this is going. For the first and only time in Ironman history, there was a false start. The horn went off and I nailed that start, broke free of all the pros and began gapping immediately. 150 yards later a wall of lifeguards stopped us. Bummer. So they backed up 1500 athletes and got them positioned again. The cannon sounds and I jump to the lead again, but this time some of the steam was gone and got a group right on my feet. I lead out to the turn with Wolfgang Ditrich right on my heels. On the way back I figured someone else should take a turn and Wolfgang moved up. As we approached the finish I could sense the excitement in our group of 4 and felt the pace quicken bit by bit. I knew that first out usually got big camera time and I wasn’t really interested. I wanted an even race. So I let them sprint to the dock and came out 4th in 49:39

Ran through transition and passed 2 in the tent. Only Wolfgang was in front of my now.  Rolled up Palani Hill, the enormous crowds and out on the Queen K (Slightly different course back then). Settled into my pace in 2nd place on the road. Sitting out there I had the company of 2 helicopters, and various press vehicles zooming by. Around 50 minutes into the ride, the first pack of contenders rolled by that contained Tim and Tony Deboom. Shortly after came all the big names. Jurgen Zack, Lothar Leder, (eventual winner) Thomas Hellriegel, Peter Reid, Christian Bustos, Cameron Widoff, Ken Glah and a couple of others. (note: looking back, this was one of those moments in your life that you look back on and smile.) I rode with the clan for a while and remembering thinking how the pace was not that bad. Out of my range for 112 at the time, but definitely attainable. Then the day started to turn it’s twisted turn for me. I began getting cramps in my left hamstring. Not that intense, but something that I needed to pay attention to. So I eased off a bit and kept stretching it out. Playing this stretch then pedal game spit me off the back of the group and there was now only 1 other rider with me. Lothar Leder. We rode in proximity of each other up the climb and headwind out to Hawi. At the turn in Hawi I somehow missed my special needs bag, which meant I had to improvise the rest of the ride and live off the aid stations. It pissed me off at the time, but it was a great lesson to learn.

We had a nice tailwind coming down from Hawi, but when we got back to the Queen K, it became a stiff headwind of 30 mph all the way home. This is where my next problems showed up. The bottom of my right foot began cramping pretty intensely and there was noway for me to stretch it (no, getting off my bike and taking off my shoe was not an option). Additionally, the course drink by MetRx was not sitting well with me. Felt completely bloated, so I switched to Coke. As the ride wore on, the foot was getting worse. The cramp had now spread and climbed midway up my calf. The pain was getting beyond intense and the horrible wind didn’t help. I clocked 12mph on a downhill in one of the nastier stretches. Just outside Kona I was about at my breaking point and actually began to cry briefly. Thankfully I arrived in town shortly after and was protected from the wind. T2 was about 8 miles south of the swim back then, so I still had a ways to go, but was happy to see faces. A good friend and fellow pro at the time, Tim Watson rolled up next to me about this point. We exchanged a few words and rode to T2 together.

I got off my bike and had trouble putting weight on my foot. One of the volunteers rubbed my foot while I changed and headed out with Tim (No idea of transition times as back then they were both added to your bike time). Steep climb out of T2 and then in and out of the “pit”. As I ran I felt better but never great. Pace dropped into the 7:20′s and then slowly crept upwards. 1:41 at the half, and began catching some of those who dropped me on the bike. Shortly after 13, I started running into problems again and the pace jumped about 1 min per mile. Held onto this pace until around mile 20 when the bottom just fell out. Pace jumped to well over 12 minute miles. Started stopping at every aid station and legs began stiffening. Started asking for potato chips at aid stations and people were digging through their personal belongings to get me some. Then I began peeing every other mile or so. Final miles were in a blurr. Very little memory of the run back into town to the finish. I crossed the line and walked over to my parents. We went over to the food and I began to try to eat. While talking to them I began to lose my vision. Everything was going blurry and I went from feeling bad to feeling like death. Some doctors came over and carried me into the med tent. Began to feel very cold and temperature began to drop. I overheard the doctors say that I was going into shock and then heard one yell at me to stop letting my eyes roll back in my head. Then every movement caused cramping. Even my jaw cramped. 3 I.V.’s and a shot of magnesium (for the cramping) and I came out of it. Bottom line: my sodium levels dropped too low and hyponatremia kicked in. I crept to the car and headed to the hotel, with my tail firmly between my legs.

It was one of the worst experiences and best experiences I’ve ever been through. I decided that night that I would never attempt another Ironman again. It just wasn’t my bag. Olympic and 1/2 Ironman were more my thing.

Then I got on the plane to head home and noticed that if I had just changed my nutrition like this and adjusted my training like that, then maybe I could…..

And that my friends, is how addictions begin.

 

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The Problem with Power

By tjfry | July 14, 2011

Power is hot. It’s the new it. And I’m the first to agree that it’s a great tool. One of the best. For those scratching their heads, I’m referring to bike training with power (or a power meter). It’s a great tool, as it measures the energy output that you’re putting out during your ride. I will be the first to tell you that using a powermeter in conjunction with a heart rate monitor is probably the most ideal training setup on the market today when you’re on your bike. But with all it’s pluses, it still has it’s issues.

Power is an output. Just like speed or pace, it’s a result of the effort, or stress, that you put your body through. And similar to all outputs, it’s absolute. In fact that’s one of the talking points that the uber powermeter crowd touts. A watt is a watt. I would agree. Most outputs are. A pace is a pace, a mph is a mph. BUT, and this is a big but, your body’s ability to produce that watt is variable. And therin lies rub #1.

A lot of the discussion out there is that a power meter is more accurate than a heart rate monitor, so just training via power  alone is a better way to go. I gotta say, that statement doesn’t really make a lot of sense to me. That’s like saying the fuel gage in your car is more accurate than the temperature gage. They measure 2 entirely different things. Powermeters measure the power that your body has generated. Heartrate measures the stress your body is under while you produce that power. So if you leave the heart rate monitor at home for your next ride or race and simply go by the goal wattage that you have calculated for the event, you may be setting yourself up for a tough day. This is because 250 watts in hour 1 in comfortable weather is much different that 250 watts in hour 5 in the heat. It’s these slow changes over time that make it so critical to have an eye on your body while you have the other on the power.

Another problem you run into is the need for constant testing if you want to do it right. Since a watt has no connection with effort of the body, your improvement will be tougher to recognize without constant testing. For instance, lets take our fictional athete Joe. He does a threshold test for power and comes up with a wattage of 100. So he builds a training plan around that wattage and follows it to the T.  After a couple weeks of training though, his body has adapted and improved. So now his effort level has dropped well below what it was intended to maintain the test goal power. Because of lower effort levels his improvement stagnates some. The next test shows that his power has increased to 150.  So somewhere along the way he should have increased the ride wattage to keep up with his improvement. Without testing though, it’d only be a guess. 

Now take Larry who trains wattage and heart rate, but does his threshold tests based on heart rate. So Larry finds that at his threshold heart rate of of 150 he is crankin out 100 watts as well. Larry follows his plan just as religiously, except Larry’s wattage increases througout the training cycle as he maintains the goal heart rates. The next time Larry tests he finds that his his threshold heart rate has increased to 152, but his wattage at that effort level is now 165. Larry’s rate of improvement is faster because he’s monitoring both the stress of the work and the output of that stress.

The other big problem with training exclusively with watts has less to do with the technology and more with the approach. If you look through the training practices, you’ll see that there are goal and average wattages that tested for. So Joe buys a powermeter, tests for his functional threshold power (ftp) and finds an average or goal power for any given distance. So far so good, but the next part is the problem. Once given the average power, Joe tries to stay at that average regardless of terrain. So he ends up riding  easier than normal up the hill and then harder than normal on the descent.  On the surface, not a big deal, but add in aerodynamics and wind resistance and the worm starts to turn. The air resistance on the climb is much different than the descent not to mention the gravitational resistance.  So while power is much more important on the climb, Joe eases up, and when aerodynamics are much more important on the descent, Joe pushes harder. Need an example? Where is the Tour de France won and lost? The mountains. An not just the mountains, but the climbs. If you have 2 riders exactly the same size, and both average 250 watts for a ride, they should have the same time, right? Wrong.

Take rider A, who does just as I mentioned earlier. His goal for average watts is 250, so he keeps that wattage across the entire ride. Up hill, downhill, flats, whatever. His effort is balanced and his ride seems strong. Well done.

Now take rider B, who rides the exact same course and averages the exact same wattage, but takes into account all aspects of the ride. On the climbs when he can get the most power bang for his buck, he pushes 350 watts instead of 250. While this is a bit more tiring, he also makes huge ground on rider A. With little air resistance climbing, all that added power translates directly into speed. Then, rider B only puts up 150 watts on the descent, and at times, even coasts. Why? because the air resistence is exponentially stiffer as speed increases, so with a focus on aerodynamics and rest, rider B only loses a small amount of time to rider A and is able to fully recover.

"The Look"

Now the real world example (although admittedly a bit extreme). Watch a mountain stage of the Tour de France. All the moves are made on the uphill because the power output most directly influences the pace. Once you’re dropped, it’s pretty much over. Sure, riders can make up some time on the downhill, but it’s incredibly small by comparision, even if the wattage is considerably greater than your compeition. You could even call it return on investment.  So while you kill it on the downhill and get a small return, your competition is banking that effort for the uphill, where they will get a huge return by comparison.

So if you get more bang for your buck generating more power on the uphill, how can you tell when more power is too much power for you to handle? That great big red thing between your boobies. Strap on a heart rate monitor my friend, and find out how much stress your putting on yourself.

Power on Wayne. Power on Garth.

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How Safe is Cycling?

By tjfry | July 10, 2011

Recently, with the help of some friends, I was able to find a route that I could use to ride my bike to work. Obviously, safety was my main concern. It’s something that cyclists and their families think about a great deal. I know that in our house, my wife always worries as I leave the house in the mornings for my rides. Honestly though, at times I worry a bit myself. I don’t want a recreational activity to end up as a life altering, or ending, event. So I thought I would do a little digging to see how safe our sport is. What I found was quite comforting.

In 2009, there were 630 cycling fatalities nationwide. Initially the number seems a bit large, but that breaks down to about 13 fatalities per state. Of course fate doesn’t yeild it’s sword evenly, so I would assume states like Texas and California are going to have a much greater percentage of those deaths than North Dakota or Wyoming. Still, given all the cycling in this country, 630 didn’t seem alarming. But here’s where it got interesting for me.

Bicycle fatality statistics are not reported for just those who ride competitively or as a form of exercise. It records all deaths on a bike. Of that 630 deaths, 28% of those people were drunk. Even more surpising to me was that 91% of fatalities happened when the rider wasn’t wearing a helmet. That means 53 people died last year on a bike while wearing a helmet, or roughly 1 per state per year. There were some other interesting statistics such as percentage that were riding against the flow of traffic and those within 25 feet of an intersection.

I watch enough politics to know that numbers can be resuffled to fit your agenda. (Ever heard the old saying, ” Theres 3 types of lies. Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics”) Perfect example was an article that I read in looking up this stuff that stated that cycling was one of the most dangerous sports around. Why? The writer took similar statistics that I’ve used and calculated deaths per mile ridden. Since most people (including those who choose to ride drunk at 3 am) ride a very short distance, it skewed the numbers to fit his purpose. Maybe I’m doing the same thing. I don’t know.

Anyway, this is what I learned from my little exercise. If you ride with a helmet, with traffic, sober, during normal people hours (7% were killed between 3am and 6am) and obey the traffic laws (i.e. stopping running red lights). Then you have considerably lowered your chances of getting hit.

Now I’m quite aware that sometimes bad stuff just happens. I’ve seen friends get hit and been hit myself. There will always be jackasses who are allowed to get behind the wheel of a car, not to mention the true accidents that happen. But taking a few precautions will keep your risks quite low.

Oh, and I tried out the route and rode to work the other day. It went much better than expected, and was a great way to add 50 miles to my training.

Keep the rubber side down.

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