If you eat or drink soy products--and especially if you feed them to your children!--the link below is a must read. But first, a little background on the soybean . . .
In a nutshell, soy was originally used to help put nitrogen back into the soils that were depleted from the less than sustainable practices of modern American agriculture. The soybean plant is very good at enriching soils with nitrogen, which is necessary to have a healthy soil. That led to the soy being the second most abundant "crop" in America (behind corn, which is NOT A VEGETABLE, people. It's a grain. Yes, that matters, but that's for another post!).
So what do you do when you're Big Agra and, by necessity, you have a lot of soy? Well, apparently, you market it as a healthy alternative to meat. Those folks at Big Agra are geniuses. But if the following is true . . . they are Evil Geniuses.
Dangers of Soy
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Friday, September 18, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
5430 Long Course Results - PASS!!
For all of you that have been eagerly awaiting a race recap from the 5430 Long Course in Boulder, here it is: I had fun. So based on my goals for the event, I passed. Yes, it was the slowest half-Ironman I've had in years. Yes, the altitude affected me more than normal, so every time I tried to increase my effort I felt like my lungs would explode. Yes, I think I was more dehydrated than I've ever been in my life (first time I've considered asking for an IV at the finish). And yes, Ryan, my Ironman protege, beat me by 7 minutes (nice job, Ryno!). But I had fun, and that was the goal.
It's really hard not to have fun when you're training or racing in beautiful Boulder, Colorado. Boulder is where triathletes go when they die. The really good ones live there already. For example, Chrissie Wellington was in the race, among many other outstanding pros. The reigning men's Ironman World Champion, Craig Alexander, was also there, but not racing. I saw him training during the race. About eight miles into the bike course, I looked over and saw him RUNNING. Yes, running down the bike course on highway 36. And I was only eight miles in, so I'm pretty sure I wasn't hallucinating yet. You hardly ever see pros of that quality in Rockwall, Texas. And by "hardly ever" I, of course, mean "never." Since I'm not going to Kona, that's the only time this year I'll get to race/train on the same roads as the reigning men's and women's Ironman World Champions. At least I did it once this year. Pretty cool.
I took the above picture while walking around at the race site the day before the race. This is the view that you have about 500 meters from the finish. Like I said, it's hard not to have fun when this is the scenery. The bike course is even better.
Tomorrow, I'm off to Arkansas to join some fellow Tri-Prosoapers (and my sister) at the DeGray Lake Sprint Triathlon on Sunday. Then next week, I'm racing in Rockwall at the annual Tri-Rock (another sprint). That will be three races in three states in three weeks. Should be fun. And fast. Like I said in my last post, time to get fast.
It's really hard not to have fun when you're training or racing in beautiful Boulder, Colorado. Boulder is where triathletes go when they die. The really good ones live there already. For example, Chrissie Wellington was in the race, among many other outstanding pros. The reigning men's Ironman World Champion, Craig Alexander, was also there, but not racing. I saw him training during the race. About eight miles into the bike course, I looked over and saw him RUNNING. Yes, running down the bike course on highway 36. And I was only eight miles in, so I'm pretty sure I wasn't hallucinating yet. You hardly ever see pros of that quality in Rockwall, Texas. And by "hardly ever" I, of course, mean "never." Since I'm not going to Kona, that's the only time this year I'll get to race/train on the same roads as the reigning men's and women's Ironman World Champions. At least I did it once this year. Pretty cool.
I took the above picture while walking around at the race site the day before the race. This is the view that you have about 500 meters from the finish. Like I said, it's hard not to have fun when this is the scenery. The bike course is even better.
Tomorrow, I'm off to Arkansas to join some fellow Tri-Prosoapers (and my sister) at the DeGray Lake Sprint Triathlon on Sunday. Then next week, I'm racing in Rockwall at the annual Tri-Rock (another sprint). That will be three races in three states in three weeks. Should be fun. And fast. Like I said in my last post, time to get fast.
Friday, August 7, 2009
We Don't Get to Pick Our Bad Days
Sunday will be seven weeks since I finished my third Ironman--Ironman Coeur d'Alene. It will be seven weeks since I had the worst swim I've ever had in an Ironman. Seven weeks since I spent 20+ miles unable to shift into the big chainring. Seven weeks since 96 miles into the race my crank came off my bike while going 22 mph, which then caused me to break my aerobars and somehow avoid having the worst crash of my life. Seven weeks since I sat at the side of the road waiting on a mechanic to come make my bike ridable again. Seven weeks since I secretly hoped it couldn't be fixed so that I would have an excuse to quit. Seven weeks since the first time I've taken longer than 4 hours to run 26.2 miles (only one minute longer, but still, longer). Seven weeks since I decided that, for me, the reward of just finishing is not worth the sacrifice it takes to get there.
See, I've "just finished" three Ironmans, three years in a row. I'm tired of "just finishing." I keep telling myself (mainly because Lindsay keeps telling me) that it was only one bad day. And we don't get to pick our bad days. But when our bad day happens to fall on the most important racing day of the past three years, that does something to your confidence. Before I even finished the bike leg, I started wondering what all of this is worth. In order to race (and I mean, RACE, not finish) an Ironman you have to make incredible sacrifices to your other goals. I'm not talking about the sacrifices of everyday life that it takes just to compete in an Ironman. I'm talking about all of my athletic goals.
For example, I've never run the Boston Marathon. I've never done as much cycling road racing as I'd like to do. I've never made a 70.3 race an A-race. In fact, in the past three years, no race other than an Ironman has been an A-race. 70.3s are my favorite distance. But I've never focused on doing one right. Ironman makes you slower at everything. You can still be relatively fast. But you will never be as fast as you could be as long as your focus is on the Ironman distance. So for me, the rest of this year, and at least the first half of next year, is focused on getting faster.
The rest of this year is totally dedicated to the Ironman 70.3 World Championships in November. I have no goals of winning or qualifying for anything. I just want to see how fast I can go. Lindsay and I will figure out a more specific time goal over the next couple of months. But for now, we're just focusing on making me fast.
Ironically enough, I leave for Boulder today for the 5430 Long Course Race, which was my "bad day" last year. Ryan is racing again, so I'm eager to see his progression. And my goal is to just have fun and gain back my confidence. No time goals, and no goals that can be affected by anything that is out of my control. My goal is simply to PASS. If I have fun and enjoy the day, then I PASS. If I get frustrated, angry, pouty, upset, etc., then I FAIL. Either way, it will be a good training day and a good time with a very good friend. Once I get back to Dallas, it's time to get busy getting fast.
I may still do an Ironman next year. But if so, I'm going back to Arizona in November. No Spring Ironman next year. That will give me lots of time to focus on speed before we start the long haul back to Arizona. And it will allow me to concentrate on that other race that I've been putting off for way too long . . . the Boston Marathon. Anybody want to meet up in Boston?
Monday, June 15, 2009
A Typical Monday
Monday is usually a rest day for me. I'm usually pretty tired by Monday morning. As most age-groupers can appreciate, the weekend is when I train the longest. Not always the hardest, but definitely the longest. So by Monday morning, I'm usually tired, sore, and ready to rest.
I have a routine that I have done almost every Monday for the past several years. At lunch, I pull up my previous week's schedule on my CTS personal page. I take this time to reflect on the week. I download my power files, update my training log from the weekend, and reflect on how everything went, how I'm feeling, what questions/concerns I have or expect Lindsay to have, etc.
Then, I put that week away. No matter how good/bad it went, it's over. What's done is done. Time to move on and prepare my mind for the week ahead.
So I click the "next" button and pull up my schedule for the current week. I look at all my workouts for the week, specifically picking out the key workouts that I know are the most important ones to focus on that particular week. These are often my weekend workouts, and reminding myself what's in store helps me get my head around what's to come. The workouts are written out with lots of detail. Time, intensity, intervals, rest intervals, power, etc. There's even a section for coach's comments where Lindsay will fill in any details that might not be apparent from the listed workout. It's very descriptive, and I like it that way.
I like routines. There are almost never surprises when I check my weekly schedule. Monday at lunch is never the first time I've seen what's on tap for that particular week. But some Mondays the schedule looks a little different than usual. And some Mondays it puts a knot in my stomach that doesn't go away for hours.
Today was one of those Mondays.
Today, I put in my comments from the past weekend: ". . . went a little faster on this run than you wanted me to, but I felt fine afterwards. . . . Felt good on the bike today . . . . the heat index today was over 100 and I didn't get on my bike until after noon . . . . " Then I turned my focus to this week.
Immediately, I noticed Sunday. The only thing it says is: "Race-Ironman." No intervals. No prescribed workout duration. No coach's comments. Just "Race-Ironman." Not much else to say about that.
There's nothing else physically I can do to prepare for Sunday. But I have six more days to get prepared mentally. Time to get my head in the game.
I have a routine that I have done almost every Monday for the past several years. At lunch, I pull up my previous week's schedule on my CTS personal page. I take this time to reflect on the week. I download my power files, update my training log from the weekend, and reflect on how everything went, how I'm feeling, what questions/concerns I have or expect Lindsay to have, etc.
Then, I put that week away. No matter how good/bad it went, it's over. What's done is done. Time to move on and prepare my mind for the week ahead.
So I click the "next" button and pull up my schedule for the current week. I look at all my workouts for the week, specifically picking out the key workouts that I know are the most important ones to focus on that particular week. These are often my weekend workouts, and reminding myself what's in store helps me get my head around what's to come. The workouts are written out with lots of detail. Time, intensity, intervals, rest intervals, power, etc. There's even a section for coach's comments where Lindsay will fill in any details that might not be apparent from the listed workout. It's very descriptive, and I like it that way.
I like routines. There are almost never surprises when I check my weekly schedule. Monday at lunch is never the first time I've seen what's on tap for that particular week. But some Mondays the schedule looks a little different than usual. And some Mondays it puts a knot in my stomach that doesn't go away for hours.
Today was one of those Mondays.
Today, I put in my comments from the past weekend: ". . . went a little faster on this run than you wanted me to, but I felt fine afterwards. . . . Felt good on the bike today . . . . the heat index today was over 100 and I didn't get on my bike until after noon . . . . " Then I turned my focus to this week.
Immediately, I noticed Sunday. The only thing it says is: "Race-Ironman." No intervals. No prescribed workout duration. No coach's comments. Just "Race-Ironman." Not much else to say about that.
There's nothing else physically I can do to prepare for Sunday. But I have six more days to get prepared mentally. Time to get my head in the game.
Friday, June 5, 2009
The Slowest Sixteen Days of the Year
I have sixteen days left until Ironman Coeur d'Alene. I am therefore in full taper mode. Yuck.
This is the time of year that I don't sleep well, I'm irritable, hungry, my muscles ache, and self-doubt starts to creep in. The only time I feel really good is after 10-20 minutes of running or riding. I'm starting to feel refreshed, which scares me because it's too early to feel this good (there's that self doubt again!). But I'm not allowed to open it up on the bike or during a run. "Save it for race day," Lindsay says. If race day doesn't come soon, I may explode.
In other news, I've had two races since my last update. I raced the inaugural Rotary Classic Rock Sprint Triathlon in Rockwall (where I live), and then one week later we made the trip down for the CapTex Olympic in Austin. Last year, I never felt like I raced well leading into the Ironman. This year, I haven't peaked yet (which is good), but I'm off to a much better start than last year.
I've been reasonably happy with both results. I ran 5:44 pace off the bike and finished second overall at the sprint. At the CapTex, I was over 3 minutes faster on the swim, only 4 seconds faster on the bike (although the course changed a little and some say there was an extra hill or two), and I was close to 4 minutes faster on the run. I wanted to break 40 minutes on the run, but was only able to do just over 41. Still, in one year, I had a much better swim, a faster bike split, and then ran a solid, steady pace, which was also faster than last year. That should mean that I'm ready to have a good day in Idaho.
Last weekend was my last long ride and run before the race. I felt good and had better results than in years past. This weekend I'll be doing a long(ish) bike/run brick on Saturday (40+mile ride followed by a 10+ mile run), and a swim/bike brick on Sunday (3800 meter swim (i.e., ironman distance) followed by a 40 mile bike).
I'm looking forward to these workouts. For one thing, I have some extra energy to burn, and this is my last chance to really wear myself out before the race. But the best thing about this weekend's schedule is that it looks fairly easy compared to the weekends I've had for the past several months. That tells me that my taper is going well, and more importantly, my mind is ready to race an Ironman. Hopefully, my body is ready as well.
This is the time of year that I don't sleep well, I'm irritable, hungry, my muscles ache, and self-doubt starts to creep in. The only time I feel really good is after 10-20 minutes of running or riding. I'm starting to feel refreshed, which scares me because it's too early to feel this good (there's that self doubt again!). But I'm not allowed to open it up on the bike or during a run. "Save it for race day," Lindsay says. If race day doesn't come soon, I may explode.
In other news, I've had two races since my last update. I raced the inaugural Rotary Classic Rock Sprint Triathlon in Rockwall (where I live), and then one week later we made the trip down for the CapTex Olympic in Austin. Last year, I never felt like I raced well leading into the Ironman. This year, I haven't peaked yet (which is good), but I'm off to a much better start than last year.
I've been reasonably happy with both results. I ran 5:44 pace off the bike and finished second overall at the sprint. At the CapTex, I was over 3 minutes faster on the swim, only 4 seconds faster on the bike (although the course changed a little and some say there was an extra hill or two), and I was close to 4 minutes faster on the run. I wanted to break 40 minutes on the run, but was only able to do just over 41. Still, in one year, I had a much better swim, a faster bike split, and then ran a solid, steady pace, which was also faster than last year. That should mean that I'm ready to have a good day in Idaho.
Last weekend was my last long ride and run before the race. I felt good and had better results than in years past. This weekend I'll be doing a long(ish) bike/run brick on Saturday (40+mile ride followed by a 10+ mile run), and a swim/bike brick on Sunday (3800 meter swim (i.e., ironman distance) followed by a 40 mile bike).
I'm looking forward to these workouts. For one thing, I have some extra energy to burn, and this is my last chance to really wear myself out before the race. But the best thing about this weekend's schedule is that it looks fairly easy compared to the weekends I've had for the past several months. That tells me that my taper is going well, and more importantly, my mind is ready to race an Ironman. Hopefully, my body is ready as well.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
First Race of the Year: Blah!
Sunday was my first triathlon this year. 13th overall and 2nd place in my age group. Glad that one's out of the way because that was not my best effort. I didn't really take this race seriously, and it cost me.
Most of you know that I am very meticulous when it comes to my race preparation (or anything else for that matter). In fact, I've been called OCD once or twice. Sometimes people refer to my little tendencies as "anal" which I find disturbing. I'm not sure where the term "anal" originated. It really makes no sense! Why anyone would use that part of the human anatomy to describe my tendencies toward perfection is beyond my comprehension. (Ironically, the fact that I just took time out of this blog post to decipher "anal" vs. "OCD" is probably a symptom of my OCD. Or would that be ADD? Never mind. Just don't call me anal!).
Back to Sunday. I didn't take the race seriously, and therefore failed to plan properly. I ended up trying to pull all my gear together at 10:00 the night before the race (when I had to get up at 4:00 to be there on time).
I haven't swam in a wetsuit since my last race last year (i.e., October . . . SIX MONTHS AGO!). I realized this when I pulled my wetsuit from the bottom of my closet, turned it right side out, and found that it was covered in mud from the Longhorn 70.3. I wondered then if my swim would be any good, or if I would practically lose the race in the water. As it turned out, my swim was no good and I lost the race in the water. I've had issues with this wetsuit since I bought it last year. I'm swimming significantly slower in that wetsuit than I am in training or in races where I'm not in that wetsuit. I don't like to blame poor performances on equipment ("It's the poor musician who blames his instrument!"). But after several consistent problems, I think it's time to find another one.
I had a decent bike ride, and this was the first time I have raced with a power meter. I averaged 23.6 for the bike course, and was the fourth fastest bike split. I managed to take back all of the time that I gave up in the swim to the eventual winner. But then, I took too much time in the second transition.
Generally, I don't wear socks on the run of any race shorter than a half Ironman (I never wear socks on the bike in a race). However, I have never run barefoot in the Newtons (bad preparation). So I decided to put on socks for the run. This took too long, and the winner passed me in transition. Actually, he passed me a few seconds after we left transition, and I never saw him. Even if he was running faster than me, he would not have passed me until a couple of miles into the run if I had just had an average transition time for me. And if he had passed me with a mile to go, I would have noticed, and would have fought to beat him.
As it was, I was not all that motivated to work any harder than I did. I only averaged 6:25s. I'm generally at 6:00 or faster per mile in a race this short, so I know I could have run with him if I had known he was there. I'm disappointed in myself for not running faster regardless of where anyone else was on the course. That's not me.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not making excuses for my lackluster performance. I'm simply venting about the fact that I: (a) did not take a race seriously; (b) did not prepare properly; and (c) did not try hard enough. All of those things cost me a top 10 overall and another age group win. If I give it my all, and I get second place, great! That's a fantastic result! But if I don't prepare, I don't take the race seriously, I don't try my hardest, and I get second place . . . well that's disappointing. I can't help who else shows up at a race. But I can help how prepared I am and how much effort I put forth.
Silver lining: This was a wake-up call. I'm glad I got the first race of the season out of the way. Time to move on. And time to prepare properly! Like the title of this blog says: "The will to win means nothing without the will to prepare." That means more than just getting in the training.
Most of you know that I am very meticulous when it comes to my race preparation (or anything else for that matter). In fact, I've been called OCD once or twice. Sometimes people refer to my little tendencies as "anal" which I find disturbing. I'm not sure where the term "anal" originated. It really makes no sense! Why anyone would use that part of the human anatomy to describe my tendencies toward perfection is beyond my comprehension. (Ironically, the fact that I just took time out of this blog post to decipher "anal" vs. "OCD" is probably a symptom of my OCD. Or would that be ADD? Never mind. Just don't call me anal!).
Back to Sunday. I didn't take the race seriously, and therefore failed to plan properly. I ended up trying to pull all my gear together at 10:00 the night before the race (when I had to get up at 4:00 to be there on time).
I haven't swam in a wetsuit since my last race last year (i.e., October . . . SIX MONTHS AGO!). I realized this when I pulled my wetsuit from the bottom of my closet, turned it right side out, and found that it was covered in mud from the Longhorn 70.3. I wondered then if my swim would be any good, or if I would practically lose the race in the water. As it turned out, my swim was no good and I lost the race in the water. I've had issues with this wetsuit since I bought it last year. I'm swimming significantly slower in that wetsuit than I am in training or in races where I'm not in that wetsuit. I don't like to blame poor performances on equipment ("It's the poor musician who blames his instrument!"). But after several consistent problems, I think it's time to find another one.
I had a decent bike ride, and this was the first time I have raced with a power meter. I averaged 23.6 for the bike course, and was the fourth fastest bike split. I managed to take back all of the time that I gave up in the swim to the eventual winner. But then, I took too much time in the second transition.
Generally, I don't wear socks on the run of any race shorter than a half Ironman (I never wear socks on the bike in a race). However, I have never run barefoot in the Newtons (bad preparation). So I decided to put on socks for the run. This took too long, and the winner passed me in transition. Actually, he passed me a few seconds after we left transition, and I never saw him. Even if he was running faster than me, he would not have passed me until a couple of miles into the run if I had just had an average transition time for me. And if he had passed me with a mile to go, I would have noticed, and would have fought to beat him.
As it was, I was not all that motivated to work any harder than I did. I only averaged 6:25s. I'm generally at 6:00 or faster per mile in a race this short, so I know I could have run with him if I had known he was there. I'm disappointed in myself for not running faster regardless of where anyone else was on the course. That's not me.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not making excuses for my lackluster performance. I'm simply venting about the fact that I: (a) did not take a race seriously; (b) did not prepare properly; and (c) did not try hard enough. All of those things cost me a top 10 overall and another age group win. If I give it my all, and I get second place, great! That's a fantastic result! But if I don't prepare, I don't take the race seriously, I don't try my hardest, and I get second place . . . well that's disappointing. I can't help who else shows up at a race. But I can help how prepared I am and how much effort I put forth.
Silver lining: This was a wake-up call. I'm glad I got the first race of the season out of the way. Time to move on. And time to prepare properly! Like the title of this blog says: "The will to win means nothing without the will to prepare." That means more than just getting in the training.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Fantasy (Tour of) Flanders; It's Going to be Scrum-diddly-umptious!
I've never played any kind of Fantasy Sports. My wife plays Fantasy Football every year, and usually does quite well. But I've never felt like I had the time to deal with it. Until now!
Don't get me wrong. There are not many sports that I don't enjoy watching (especially football). But no sport is as exciting as Professional Cycling (if you disagree, then you just don't understand the sport). And there is nothing more exciting than the spring, single-day classics in April!
So some friends of mine at work and I are having a little Fantasy Cycling pool during the month of April. Starting this weekend, with the Tour of Flanders. We have drafted three riders each. We will re-draft riders for the other two races in our pool (Paris-Roubaix and Leige-Bastogne-Leige). I got the first pick in our draft today since I was last place at our Tour de France pool last year (yes, I know, humiliating!). I ended up with "Big" Tom Boonen, "Big" George Hincapie, and "Perfect Size" (since he's only slightly smaller than me) Juan Antonio Flecha.
So some friends of mine at work and I are having a little Fantasy Cycling pool during the month of April. Starting this weekend, with the Tour of Flanders. We have drafted three riders each. We will re-draft riders for the other two races in our pool (Paris-Roubaix and Leige-Bastogne-Leige). I got the first pick in our draft today since I was last place at our Tour de France pool last year (yes, I know, humiliating!). I ended up with "Big" Tom Boonen, "Big" George Hincapie, and "Perfect Size" (since he's only slightly smaller than me) Juan Antonio Flecha.
I'm hoping my team does well for me. Usually, when I pick riders for a team, they either crash out or get kicked out for doping (e.g., the last Rabobank rider I chose, Michael Rasmussen). Ahh yes. Michael Rasmussen. That jerk almost ruined my son's life!
You see, since I knew I would take time off when my son was born, I convinced my wife in September/October of 2006 that we should have a baby. That way, he (since I was sure we would have a boy!) would be born in July, just in time for the Tour! That turned out to be perfect timing for my "paternity leave" as I was then able to stay at home for most of the month of July in 2007 and take care of my wife and newborn WATCH THE TOUR!!! However, as I tend to get carried away with things when it comes to my excitement over professional cycling, this almost turned out horribly for my son.
But alas, he was born on July 15, the day that Michael Rasmussen won the stage. And while I can think of worse names than Michael to name a son--that's my cousin's and my brother-in-law's name--I can't think of a worse cyclist to name my son after (as he is a dirty cheater!). In the end, we decided to name him after my dad, John, who has, coincidentally, never won a stage at the Tour de France, but as far as I know has never taken performance enhancing drugs either. Oh well, maybe we'll have another child soon and we can name her (since we already have a boy) after this year's winner of this week's Tour of Flanders. I'm hoping that her name will be Juan Antonio Brooks, George Hincapie Brooks, or Tom Boonen Brooks.
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