Trains, Travels

With a slight creak and sudden easing of tension a seatpost clamp changed the nature of my week in Lanzarote. Years of tyre spray and dirt corroded the bolt till it stiffened, seized and finally sheared leaving this last minute packer with little choice – rapidly disassemble and pack the time trial bike instead. Camp was going to be a grind, the 54-42 on my Blue Triad combined with a 25 cog on the rear guaranteed some choice moments of low cadence, high force pedalling in the face of hills and headwinds on the island. But at least I’d noticed the missing trainers and wouldn’t be taking an unplanned initiation into barefoot running in the scrubland around La Santa. Bookending camp misfortune was the cold that indicated its presence with an innocuous sniff on arrival at Arrecife; seemingly innocent, but it would bring my training to an early end, sleeping out the final day in our apartment. Sandwiched between those moments was a quality training camp with a great group of athletes.

I’m a relaxed person and this was to be a relaxed camp. I had no intention of burying myself in January and wasn’t planning to take anyone else down that route. While Dave was closing in on the peak weeks of his Ironman South Africa build, Neil and Rich had plenty of time before Roth and Germany arrived. Swim, bike and run lots. I started camp big: three kilometres in the pool, circumnavigate the island on our bike, then run; hopefully sufficiently tiring to put pay to silly games. I wasn’t surprised that the first few hours were high pace, nor shocked to shoot out the back, as I dropped through my limited gears at any hint of ascent. If it didn’t kill me, I was sure this would make me stronger. My legs might have been suffering, but illness struck the camp early, forcing Neil to retreat home; shortly after Dave wisely called it a day, leaving a small group to ride El Golfo. We sped down the highway assisted by a firm tailwind only to meet road closures and no access to the scenic circuit, instead we were left with a monotonous drag, back into the headwind, before climbing Fire Mountain back to La Santa. Not to plan, but a big day none-the-less.

Each day followed a similar pattern: attempt, in a mildly disorganised fashion, to complete – or for some compete at – all three sports. There was an element of trial and error to determine optimum – meaning warmest – times for swimming and running; Lanzarote may be hotter than the UK, but early morning and late evening swimming was a cool affair. Runs on the hills and trails posed less of a problem,you easily kept warm, the question was whether you wanted to be running after the bike? A rough routine was established and health allowing we all managed to complete a very full weekend of training.

Not unique in our desire to abandon the cold homeland, Lanzarote was packed with British triathletes. It was particularly pleasing to be able to catch-up with Steven Lord; always good company for a long ride and with plenty of experience, I was sure the others would be happy to have him along, if nothing else he could drag us round the island. It was an opportunity to educate them in proper long riding, complete with coffee stops. A slight confusion on my part ensured our first ride together was ‘proper’ – climbing over Haria, descending to Orzola, back up to Mirador del Rio, back over Haria from the other side, and then – down the centre of the island, over Fire Mountain once more and roll downhill to La Santa. Perhaps a little much when we planned a hard blast up Tabayesco the next day? My legs felt that 42.

Tabayesco was my peak, not in performance – I summited in a time I can’t be bothered to check – but from that point on I descended into illness. It was a general camp high point with some great climbing from everyone, pleasing to see a hard effort after three solid days of riding, particularly Rich pulling off an impressive 26:30 to the cafe. We’d worked enough, that time trial took us into an easy day, camp easy, three hours choice training. Despite a cold I struggled through 2.5 hours of lighter intensity sessions before admitting defeat, in hindsight I should have rested, because I woke on wednesday dead to the world.

I’d spent a restless night, struggling to breathe and concerned at the prospect of the final long day. Having set the target of a second round-the-island trip I didn’t want to let the group down, but it was clearly a bad idea; reluctantly I sent them on their way and returned to bed for the morning. By all accounts while I dozed in a darkened room they had a decent finale to the camp, hooking up with Steven and covering a large part of the island. It was disappointing not to be there, but realistically I’d have been a liability. My goal was to return from camp able to build on the training I’d achieved, twenty-five hours was plenty after a winter barely touching double figures.

A day lost to illness, a day lost to travel, to cap my frustration off more sickness on my return; moving from head to stomach I seem to have picked up another of the bugs that plagued our sick camp. Out with a splutter not a bang, I would like to train now, and all the rest leaves me able to train, but I’m forced to wait another day. Broadly camp was a success – I believe I got the kickstart I needed and recovery allowing I’ll be out training tomorrow. First steps on an uphill road to race fitness.

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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.

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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.

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