Trains, Travels

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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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.

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It had seemed a perfect day for a club ride, clear skies, roads free of ice, but the bitterly cold winds soon burrowed through my layers of gloves. Twenty minutes down the road, as numb fingers fumbled brake levers, a collective decision was made to abandon. I took the fastest route home and once there spent half an hour with my hands stuck to the radiator, life painfully creeping back into them. I haven’t put my heavy weight gloves on in this season’s mild, occasionally damp weather. Where has the winter gone?

The apparent delay to the cold and ice is obviously an advantage for training, with the right clothing there is nothing to stop a determined athlete going outside. This time last year I focussed on what could be managed indoors, how training could be adapted and how to get the most out of limited facilities. This year the question of winter training can focus on how the period is most appropriately used. I wrote about my own winter plans last week – swimming and running are my limiters and cycling can quickly be rebuilt in spring – an easy choice, but not one that will work for everyone.

Before you decide on how to divide your time there’s the traditional base mileage to consider; winter months spent training long and often slow to build an aerobic base on which we then build speed. I have no issue with developing aerobic capacity, but the approach doesn’t seem to suit many of the athletes I coach whose training is limited by free time. Before I even consider the impact of weather conditions, work, family and socialising all make their demands. My ‘average’ age grouper can manage around 12 hours training each week, rarely more and sometimes less; if they’ve already filled that time with training, they can’t increase volume. Big mileage isn’t an option.

Winter needs simple goals. There are two factors to consider – what training can be done and what training needs to be done. Specifically are there areas of weakness that can be focussed on even if conditions limit options. The weather can restrict cycling, at least forcing training indoors, but swim and run are more flexible, conditions need to be severe to stop them. Obvious choices for winter training, yet I rarely make them the goal. Despite its convenience most of my Ironman athletes are more limited by bike fitness than run fitness – the former affects their marathon performance more than the latter. They can gain from building run fitness, but they benefit more by becoming stronger cyclists.

Cycling may be the training they need to do, it’s not always the training they can do. When Winter conditions prevent cycling outside the prospect of five hours on a turbo doesn’t bear thinking about. Fortunately there’s more to cycle training than endurance; rather than focus on riding long an athlete can work on developing threshold power. Short, hard sessions several times a week, training indoors, but only for an hour at a time. With dedication and focus the winter months can be very productive and they enter spring with a new FTP to build their endurance from. Less hours spent training on the bike means more time elsewhere, usually resulting in increased run volume. The main winter goal remains developing threshold power, but run endurance can be attacked simultaneously.

The winter training plan for many of my athletes takes this form. Swim sessions are spread throughout the week similarly to the rest of the season (it’s unfortunately rare that athletes will invest the time to improve their swimming); bike sessions are short and to the point, should conditions allow there might be an occasional longer ride, but the plan focusses on intensity; the remaining hours are dedicated to running, with less intensity and more volume to target endurance. As the year progresses the balance between the two can shift to keep the athlete developing regardless of the time available.

Winter is perfect for focussing on specific aspects of your training. I don’t see the need for the already aerobically fit and time limited to plan a period training long and slow. We certainly shouldn’t feel particularly tied to training traditions if they don’t work for the lifestyle we lead.

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