Trains, Travels

While winter singularly failed to provide any excuses for inadequate training, Bristol is delivering just the weather to drive me to Lanzarote for a training camp. In a couple of days I’ll escape dull grey skies for a warmer climate, stronger winds and unlimited training, if only I had the fitness to make the most of it! Despite best efforts to prepare myself – you cannot cram fitness – I feel a long way from ready; with three of my athletes joining me for an informal Coach Cox training camp the pressure may be on. Regardless, this may be what’s needed to drag me back into shape, there’s a busy year ahead, the season needs a kickstart.

Under prepared might be the way to go, I have a history of thoroughly preparing for training camps, arriving in great shape only to burn myself out within the week; my quiet, competitive streak demanding I hold on until there’s nothing left. So having a camp early in the season, when winter has stripped fitness to the bone, might just prevent me from reaching my destructive limits, and without the ability to demonstrate my strengths, I’ll be left proving I’ve the work ethic to regain them. I can simply train, without ego, gathering mileage and instigating the start of a program that will see me back on form when it matters – for a summer of racing. No more abusing camps, the term may come loaded with preconceptions, but Lanzarote in January is about base mileage.

Base, build, peak, whatever period or categorisation a training camp falls under, they are about athletic development not athletic prowess; they are an exercise in over reaching, removing distractions, progressing an athlete beyond the confines of their regular routine and approaching their limits. In the early season the limits sit nearer than we’d like – power is lacking, endurance falls short – it doesn’t take significant increase in volume or intensity to achieve an overload. A camp necessarily takes on a different form to those later in the season, less focussed perhaps, just consistent days of suitably testing miles. Which isn’t to say easy, there’s plenty of room for hard sessions, it’s the daily race to be alpha athlete that’s avoided.

So what can my athletes expect from their informal training camp at La Santa? Consistency across the board – the rough plan is to swim, bike and run every day. The tried and tested Lanzarote routine starts with a swim, pivots around a long bike and finishes with a run, I don’t feel any need to deviate from this. A little variation in distances and priorities, but at this point in time I’m reticent to throw in double days, not least because I suspect I’m not up to it! Despite what I’ve written they’ll be competition, it’s inevitable, but we will keep that limited to friendly motivation and perhaps the odd time trial. And in case we can’t control ourselves, day one will be big, in Epic Camp tradition I want to tire everyone out before we get started. The overall aim is to walk the line between fitness and fatigue so we return to the UK ready and able to take things further; nobody is going to lose February to recovery.

A positive lesson from reviewing 2011 is the importance of a week long bike camp in late February, it took me from relatively poor fitness to competent training on a platform of steady and tempo riding. This is the role I want Lanzarote to fill, bringing about the mental and physical readiness to train, its success will be measured by my return and not my speed up the mountains.

• Tweet
• 3 Comments

The pleasure of a rare opportunity to swim in a fifty metre pool was tempered by the knowledge of what I would be doing in it. In an act of support, I’d reluctantly agreed to perform a Critical Swim Speed (CSS) test – two short time trials to estimate my threshold swim speed. Test sessions are a routine part of most of my training plans, but personally, I despise them. Aside from requiring hard, almost painful exertion they also remove any doubt about performance; without testing I can believe I am getting fitter because I feel I am, but a test gives potentially damning evidence. Midwinter means getting fitter is not the same as being fit, any test will reveal the gap between present condition and race day fitness.

I had that sense that swim fitness was improving. Undoubtably it was, I’ve actually been consistently swimming, after a year effectively off anything will increase my fitness. The real question, the one I didn’t want answered, was how much had I lost in the last year? So I jumped into Bath University pool with mixed feelings, pleased to be swimming long course and less than enthusiastic about the sharp reminder of lost form I would receive.

Four hundred metres warming up, loosening muscles, priming myself for the test, hoping I might discover some extra purchase on the water and save myself from embarrassment. Lanes were quiet and my ego was massaged by the fact I was the fastest there – at least if I ignored the swim squads to my right – still, it said more about those using the public lanes than my current ability. Rest, then part one – a 400m time trial. It’s a curious sensation as you swim to feel that while you’re pushing yourself, you’re probably not doing a very good job at it. I hit the wall breathing hard, but hard enough? More rest. I pushed more for the second 200m test, but did comfortably surging to pass a slower swimmer mean I still fell short of the intent? Hit the wall, relax, swim down. Job done. Times logged in my Finis Swimsense for later analysis.

Much as I dislike testing myself and find the process hard I can’t deny the value. Without benchmarking we’re left with a vague sense of improvement, and it’s easy to mislead ourselves as to how our fitness is changing. Without testing, there is always the potential to be working too easily or perhaps too hard. Everyone hates the tests, a fear of failure and the suspicion you could have achieved more is commonplace. I don’t think the concerns are entirely misplaced, and a race, where it’s an option, is better at eliciting results – a good dose of adrenaline goes a long way to delivering performance. In winter we’re stuck, struggling alone, one eye on the clock as we produce numbers with the potential to disappoint in light of season goals. It can be demotivating, but the numbers are what they are. The only acceptable response is to train well.

Before I ran my times through a CSS calculator I already had an idea of the result – threshold was certainly the wrong side of 1:30 and by quite a margin. I knew when I had last been swimming those times and how much I had progressed since. I’ve never been a fast swimmer, but I’d made steps towards it through improved technique and high mileage; my peak swim performances following periods consistently swimming six or seven days a week. I’m currently nowhere near and not sure how close I could come while balancing the desire to rebuild my run and not completely lose my bike fitness. A poor, but expected result could have been demotivating, instead I’m looking at how I can better manage my swim time. I want to recapture some of my previous form.

It’s early days, fitness is a long way from where I want it to be, but it feels like it’s improving and that’s exactly the time to test. It is a necessary evil. Swim down, I need new batteries back in my Powertap and a 10K run to complete the set.

• Tweet
• 5 Comments

One hundred and eighty-four electronic bleeps per minute accompanied my run this morning as I tested a new training aid – a metronome. Each bleep matched a footfall, targeting a cadence in that magic ninety to one hundred region elite runners inhabit. They proved remarkably engaging, my mind focused on holding the rhythm, the run felt fast, but controlled. This sample of one is encouraging, the metronome will likely become a regular running companion.

I’ve occasionally flirted with the issue of cadence. Far in the past, as I trained to be a better runner, I worked to achieve that golden ninety footfalls; once there I never gave it another thought. New to cycling, I routinely encountered advice to spin, 90 rpm, it was what Lance Armstrong would do; I followed, I tried and eventually I stopped worrying. In the water the advice was about distance per stroke, not strokes per minute; the idea of controlling the rate never entered my head. Cadence was never a major concern, I adopted what was comfortable and fast.

You can be too comfortable. Swim Smooth introduced me to the Wetronome, a waterproof, bleeping box that could set a tempo for your stroke. Stroke length was important, but so was stroke rate; if two swimmers move a metre every stroke then the one who does seventy per minute covers ten metres more than the one who does sixty. Testing showed I gravitated towards sixty, but could maintain form at seventy – I was missing speed. I incorporated a Wetronome and started training stroke rate to gain those extra seconds; inevitably use of the Wetronome faded with time, but the important of stroke rate didn’t. At my fittest I easily controlled my pace through my stroke rate, able to raise it without significant impact on distance per stroke. In my current condition I struggle to combine good technique with high turn over, so I concentrate on developing the fitness that will enable me to work on stroke rate once more. I am cadence aware, but not obsessed.

As I rode longer, hillier and harder I headed in the opposite direction, my natural cadence dropped. Power output remained unaffected, but on longer rides I naturally preferred a lower cadence, ninety felt uncomfortable, tiring. Cadence was always an option on my bike computer, but I chose to ignore it, instead concentrating on wattage and heart rate. I played, a winter spent only in the little ring was interesting, but had little influence on the year ahead (positive or negative); adjusting gears on steady state rides showed the right cadence simply felt better. I didn’t aim for a golden rule, instead I strived to learn the turnover my body preferred. I remain largely ignorant of my cycling cadence, I’m aware of power, heart rate and how my legs feel. It seems to work.

After a few months of training ninety felt natural when running, so I paid little attention to cadence. Six years later, when I acquired a Garmin Footpod, it confirmed I still tended towards ninety strides per minute, give or take. If James hadn’t suggested it during my last Kinetic Revolution track session I wouldn’t have considered running with a metronome, after all, I was already in the right region, but there are dips – fatigue takes it’s toll and momentary lapses in concentration see the cadence drop – if nothing else it would ensure consistency. What was surprising was the change it brought to my entire run; concentrating on the bleep pulled each aspect of my technique in line – I felt I was running better.

Feelings and a sample size of one – not ideal. I ran the same thirty minute route on Tuesday and Thursday this week, the first unaccompanied and the second with metronome. As the graph shows they both occupy a narrow cadence range, but the difference is consistency – with the metronome everything is a little more crisp and controlled; the beat guides me. To further this anecdotal evidence I will note that while I was fresher on Tuesday it was then my cadence fell towards the end of the run. Fatigue would predict Thursday to be the day I struggled, but the bleeps kept me honest.

So my flirtation with cadence continues, perhaps a little more seriously than before. I remain ambivalent in cycling, there is sufficient discussion to leave me unconcerned at my lower cadence while I can comfortably produce the power. I know I will need a higher arm turnover in the pool and await the full development of my fitness to enable it. And I continue to run around ninety, just a little more consistently with the aid of the metronome.

• Tweet
• 4 Comments