Ja, I'm a hipster

The stereotype of the LBS is that it's owned by an ex-pro and staffed by a bunch of up-and-coming guys in their late teens who are more interested in pro-dealing their shot at the big time than customer service. Cyclesmith is not like this. The average age on the sales-floor in the low 40s and most of the guys are on career 2.0.  One of the advantages of this is a wealth of disparate experiences and a fairly thick skin to boot. I like to feel we're also pretty small-l liberal; black, white, pink, rainbow. It doesn't matter.

There is one caveat. They used to say that anti-catholicism was the last remaining acceptable -ism in North America. At Cyclesmith creed or colour doesn't matter but i think there is one, last acceptable -ism.

Hipsterism.

Well, certainly against each other.

Hipster, like art, is notoriously hard to define.  There seem to be some commonly agreed-upon biomarkers; fixed-gear bikes, tattoos, facial hair, art-house coffee shops, music from the eighties and beer.

Here, many of us accuse each other (jocularly, mind you.  At least I hope it is) of being hipsters, we'll great each other with "I'm sorry sir, we don't serve your type in here", and deny any such accusation against ourselves.  As the definition if hipster is so vague, it's easy to pigeon-hole so-and-so as a hipster based on meeting only a small set of criteria e.g. bike and beer, whilst willfully ignoring facial hair and "career" in social media.  The "no I'm not a hipster" defense doesn't do anything as, as we we all know, there's nothing a hipster likes less than being pigeon-holed. It's a heads-I-win, tails-you-lose situation.

I'm going to take a stand. I'm not going to deny my hipsteristic tendencies any more. Just like suppressing your sexuality can lead you on your knees getting arrested for indecent acts public washrooms, I'm afraid that if I continue to deny my hipsterism, I'm going to end up simultaneously wearing fake tortoiseshell glasses and contacts or start drinking PBR.  So, whilst I may not have a bike-polo mallet (Tony Lacopia, I am talking to you), my name is Andrew and I am a hipster.

Lets look at the evidence.

1) I live in a condo in the North End of Halifax. When you read the "Gentrifying Scum Out Of Our Neighborhood" graffiti, they're talking about me or to me.

2) Not only do I drive a Smart car (four seats are too mainstream), so does my wife. In fact, we park two Smart cars in a single parking spot in that gentrified North End condo. Because one spot per car is, well, just too mainstream.

3) We were early adopters of Two If By Sea cafe in Dartmouth. We don't go any more because it's way too crowded nowadays and the nature of the crowd has changed since their halcyon opening days. In short, we don't go to TIBS, a watch-word for hipsters in this town, any more because it's too mainstream!

4) Instead we go to Java Blend. Does it matter we can see it from our balcony? No. Does it matter if Jim is a friend? No. Does it matter that Jim supports the events we put on including our wedding? Hell no. What matters is we get our coffee from the same place as this guy.

5) Fixies. I have two. One is a straight-up fixie, one is a road-bike conversion. I'm the original owner of both. They have brakes, fenders, a GPS speedo. In short they're proper bikes and I do proper rides on them. Have you done Peggys Cove on 68" fixed? Does any of this matter compared to the fact I bought one of the frames because the chromed lugs made it look retro? Retro? Authentic? Hello? Hipster.

5.5) There's a Brooks saddle on one of those fixies. Sigh.

6) I'll freely acknowledge my shoe problem (Filipino!) but really, I have a bike jersey problem. Hell, I could have a chapter of the Bike Jersey Project book all to myself. I'd like to draw the jury's attention to two jerseys. The Crest jersey was my club jersey in the late eighties. It still fits me. But it's like from the eighties. Pretty hipster. The retro-look Adidas wool jersey? I bought it on sale at the La Cordee in St Bruno because it looked retro and would look great when I was on those fixies. Hipster? Duh!

7) Spandau Ballet, Simple Minds, ABC, Culture Club? I like music from the eighties. Of course I like music from the eighties. I came of age in the eighties. Mind you, I like The Smiths nowadays, but I didn't care for them in the actual eighties because everyone else was listening to them; in short they were too mainstream. Evidence perhaps of latent hipster tendencies even back in the eighties. I had a crush on Molly Ringwald when I was, like, you know, in high school and she was playing kids who were, like, you know, in high school. Does any of this stand in mitigation against the fact I have hours of eighties music on my iPod and copies of The Breakfast Club and Pretty In Pink on the shelf? Hell no. Hipster.

8) I can, in fact, wear my wife's jeans. The legs are a touch tight and a short on me, but that's OK because then they don't get caught in the chain. The only thing that's worse than this would be having those Rapha jeans with the Rapha logo on the inside, so it can be read when the pants-cuff is rolled up to mid-shin. Furthermore, I do, in fact, have actual Rapha cycling clothing and yes, I have worn the cycling cap as a stand-alone fashion accessory.

9) I used drink imported Belgian beer; Hoegaarden, Duvel and the like. Pretentious? Moi? I used to think it was about getting in touch with my inner Flandrian (cyclocross is the next big thing you know), but really it was more about Molson being too mainstream. Who cares if Olands is brewed down the street and fits in with the 100 mile diet ethos (hipster), but hipster beer credentials trump buying beer with a low carbon footprint. Nowadays, I get my beer in a growler, because bottles are, like, too mainstream.

10) I don't have tattoos. But I get enough cat-5 tattoos at work portaging the bikes around. I don't so much have a chain-ring tattoo on my leg as having a succession of them. Similarly, I don't have a NOBR AKES knuckle tattoo as I skin my knuckles on other peoples bikes. Seriously man, permanent tattoos are just too mainstream.

I'm trying to get help, but it may be too late. It may have run it's course. In short, my name is Andrew and I'm a hipster.

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Run Rabbit Run

I think my attitude towards running is getting a little hedonistic. It's because of the bunny ears.

No, not that kind of bunny ears, although that would be hedonistic,  These kind of bunny ears.

Slowing down and, figuratively speaking, smelling the roses has reminded me how much fun running can be.  Not only that, but if you are not turning yourself inside out to get a PB or a BQ then even running a marathon can be fun, and fun is surely why we do this. Goodness knows we aren't doing it for the money and the consensus is out as to whether we're doing this for the good of our health or not (as we might be shortening our lives) so we might as well be having fun.  Isn't that hedonism?

My average marathon time, not including the three or four pace-bunny outings, is around the 3:07 mark, with a handful of outliers eight-to-ten minutes either side of this arithmetic mean.  Nicely Normal.  This translates to an average 4:26 kilometre pace.  Bunnying a 3:30 or longer takes the pace down to 5 minutes a kilometre or longer.   I've been asked, more than once, isn't it difficult to run this slowly?  No is the answer. If anything, it's the 4:26s that are are abnormal.  If you were to send me out Garminless (which is to say functionally naked) I would naturally do a 4:40 or 4:45, so doing a 5:00 isn't too much of a stretch. Besides, if one is bunnying a Running Room group to 3:30, they may be on a 10:1 run:walk schedule, which equals a 4:45 running pace with a 1 minute power walk.

I don't train differently if I'm "only" bunnying.  My last outing with ears was Bluenose 2013 and I still put in the miles, let me tell you.  Many of those long runs were cracked off at a pace significantly faster than my projected bunny pace.  I didn't even have a marathon of my own coming up, BN was it, and I still racked up over 1000 miles in training since Jan 1. Seems excessive?  Twenty six point two are not numbers to be taken with alacrity and, regardless of pace, you need to treat the marathon with respect.  One reason I train "properly" is because the marathon treats my body the same way, whether I'm bunning or racing.  When I'm bunnying, I often find my body goes through the same stages of aches and pains and bonkiness as in a raced marathon, only the crappy sensations don't come on quite as hard and don't last quite as long.  Similarly, I usually recover somewhat more quickly after a bunnied marathon than a raced one. Going down stairs after two days instead of three perhaps.

One hears much of bunnys and bunnying strategies.  Most of these are somewhat negative and I'm rather glad never to have heard through the grapevine "that 3:30 bunny at the x marathon was a real muppet".  The singular most important trait in a pace-bunny is to run steadily and even split the marathon. People may come and go out of your group, but as long as you run at 4:45 or 5:00 or whatever, you are doing your job. It may seem heartless to erstwhile members of your group as you steam away slowly after 20 miles, but you must stick to the pace. No deviations. It's a bit OCD, but as runners we're all a little OCD at heart, so it comes naturally!

It annoys me to hear the bunny horror stories about bunnies who bolt off the line in order to "gain time", which we all know is a marathoning fools' errand, and are never seen again. It's not sensible running if you're trying to run for yourself, much less if you've been entrusted with getting others in on time. I once heard of a bunny who crossed the line fist-pumping, like he'd got a good time for himself.  Did I mention he was ten minutes ahead of schedule too?  It may seem like a bit of a lark;  they pay your entry and you get to run, albeit in the dorky t-shirt and ears, but remember; you're essentially employed and entrusted for the morning to run a pace.

Alternatively, the 3:15 pace-bunny at Dublin was a right sargeant-major. I heard him coming, barking orders "water station coming up; water on the left, Gatorade on the right", "Left hand corner coming, lets swing right and run the tangent". I almost expected him to say "...and if you see a kitten in the middle of the road, don't stop! Take no prisoners".  

I don't bolt off the line, I don't bank time (on purpose) but neither am I the Dublin RSM.  I'll be your friend, I'll cajole and coax and encourage, I'll talk and tell jokes or I'll listen.  I'll work with them, not against them. At the start I ask the group that coalesces around me at the start how they want to run; run:walk or continuous, It's the same either way to me, this is their race, not mine. Whatever strategy they choose, I tell them I'll re-assess it periodically.  Sometimes we can keep on schedule to the end, sometimes we need to change, but let me worry about that.   I've had to do both.  I'll dole out a bit of tough love though. If one thing is certain, I tell them, I will run 3:30. That I guarantee,  I won't wait for you.  I'll come back for you once, but after that, you're on your own.   

Bunnying also gives an interesting perspective on how one runs a marathon.  In my experience, and those of others, one runs with several distinct groups. You start with a reasonably large group hoping for, let us say, 3:30.  Most of this group hangs with you for the first half.  No problem. One or two might drop off.  Somewhere between 21 and 25 kilometres this groups melts away in ones and twos.  Gradually, your original group is replaced by a second, people who were likely aiming at a 3:15 and are now coming backwards steadily.  This group might last until 35 kilometres until it too melts.  Eventually, you will pick up a few stragglers who were likely on pace for a 3:10 or better until they hit they wall.  One or two of these stragglers will find the energy to hop on your heels for the last mile or so to the finish. It makes you think upon how you run your own races. The standard deviation on my personal 4:25 average must be quite large; likely starting at a brisk 4:15 and slowing to an ignominious 4:40!

Running is often seen as a solitary activity. When one thinks about doing good by running, one thinks of charity running, which apart from pan-handling around your family, friends and acquaintances (no doubt at the same time your friends are doing the same) means running in an actual bunny suit. Or a fat-man suit. Or a turtle suit.  Of maybe just a baggy cotton t-shirt a la Simon Pegg in Run Fatboy Run, which you just know is going to do a job on your nipples.  Or you could give back to the running community by working at races or even organizing a race.  I've done those latter two. Man, that's hard work.  So, as well as the sheer unabashed fun of running, pace-bunnying has another reward.  You get to help out a bunch or runners by doing what you enjoy doing, viz, running.  Win win!

Interestingly, pace bunnies in Halifax are usually organised by the Running Room.  When I started this ears gig five years ago or so, I was the only non-Running Room pace bunny. At the last Bluenose, three or four of us out of the full. half and 10 were Halifax Running Club. I'd like to take a little credit for that, along with la belle, for getting the word out.  I think more and more of our running partners are starting to see pace-bunnying not as a chore, not as something to do if you can't race but as a rewarding and meaningful activity in it's own right.  Something I hear isn't "I wouldn't like to do it" but "I don't think I'd be good at it", which could be dissembling but I like to think is a more nuanced way of saying they're not sure they could harness their run-like-the-wind urges to come in bang on time.  Why don't you just try it, I usually reply.  You'd be great at it.

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Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?

Why, Spongebob Squarepants of course.

But more about the yellow, square absorbent one in a bit.

I really wanted my next post to be about the pace-bunny experience. It's pretty much written, and I'd love to share it with both of you.  However, I've just had a deeply unsatisfying morning that has left me more jaded with age-group sport and age-group athletes than I would care to admit.

La belle and I scored free entries to the Penguin Run at the RNS banquet last year, so we cashed them in. Except the ten miler was now a half-marathon; not an entirely popular decision I understand from listening to chat.  Oh well, it is what it is.

Overall, I like the new course. New race HQ is about a kilometre down the old course from the old one. Parking was easier. It's outside, so that'll make it tricky if it rains but with the mercury (technically ink-in-glass nowadays) hitting 28C, that wasn't a problem today.

A pretty traffic-free course, and by my Garmin, bang-on distance.  I heard some people complaining it was long, but I think they were running the tangents, not out on the left, hang a u-ey at the turnaround and come back on the left.  I saw a bit of that going on.  We (as in RNS) need to get that sorted.

Fortunately, the course was essentially traffic-free, which with runners using whichever side of the road they felt comfortable using, was a good thing. There was even a guerilla water-stop at 10km, which is always a sign that the local community is getting behind the event.

The course is really quite lumpy; not Cape Breton hilly, but grinding rollers. As you can see, not much elevation in any one hill, but they just came one after the other.

No flat to be found.

I got stuck in from the start; the first two kilometres were a bit fast, sucked along by the concomitant 5K but I tried to keep a lid on it.  I was aware of a presence on my shoulder after the 2.5km turnaround for the 5K, and could see three people up ahead; Bryan Hipson, Mike Vargo and some guy no-one knew, who turned out to be a ringer from Saskatoon. We think he found it somewhat hillier than he was used to. Oh well, come to Nova Scotia for the lobster and the hills!

My shadow became my problem. I wasn't able to elicit much information from him, apart from that his name was Patrick and he did the Bluenose half in 1:24 or something and was looking for a sub-90 performance today.  I don't know what he looked like, so I'm going with this.

I never saw his face, he never came through (not once), he never put his face in the wind. I was just aware of a figure on my shoulder. We were running pretty steady, between 4:05 and 4:15 per kilometer, nothing earth shattering.  It sounded like he was working. After a while I started to get a bit aggravated about the lack of coming through to do his share of the pacing. I made a couple of half-hearted swings across the road to gesture "your turn", but no, my heels were a good place to be.  I tried to be a good lead; pointed out the holes in the road (they were legion) and the water stops and tried to make sure we both had room at the table so we could run through unimpeded.

Still, no pacing help.  I was feeling like a pace-bunny all over again but no ears. Except there was no talking because Mr The Star was wearing an iPod, so all I got for conversation was the steady tschh, tschh, tschh of the beats. After an hour I got a bit too P.O.d by that and asked over my shoulder

"Could you turn that down or something?"

No reply

"Sorry, but could you turn that down or something?"

Pause

"Sorry, I had to turn my iPod off so I could hear you; what did you say?"

"Nothing"

Grrr.

So I slowed down and made some wild course changes from the shoulder to the yellow line and back, trying to force him to to come through. Douchy I know.  We only had three miles to go. I think I nearly went at ninety degrees at one time, but my faithful shadow stayed glued.  I think I heard something along the lines of "wow, it's like you're trying to get rid of me".  I didn't hear the sounds of pennies dropping.

The penultimate kilomter is an uphill drag, noting crazy, but after the rollercoaster of the previous nineteen it was heavy on the legs.  I tried to slow up a little to save something for the flat finish but it was really to no avail as my bolts had been shot off on each hill, trying to wear him down.  Coming around the final corner I turned and said "I suppose you're going to outsprint me now". 

With 700m to go he became quite voluble.  He was quite chuffed. Didn't think he had it in him to run that fast in the heat, didn't think he'd be able to stay with me. He couldn't come through because he couldn't have lasted out front at that pace for long.

With 500 m to go however, the front suddenly became a tenable place to be and he smoothly accelerated away. Clearly the previous 20.7 km were not to his liking, but this stretch had him written all over it!  I think I slowed down. I hope I did, because I conceded fifteen seconds in 500m.  Chip-time was a loooong 1:26. Let's do the maths.  That's 5160". Five hundred metres at 4 minute/km pace is 2 minutes, 120". Or 2.3% of the race in front.  I spent the previous 97.7% or 5040" dragging his arse up hill and down dale.

I've had many stand-up, knock-down, drag-out fights in running races and triathlons and, win or lose, I've always been able to walk up to the guy (or gal), put out my hand and say "well done, great race". Regardless of the outcome.

Not today.

On the plus side, Mr The Star had a great race. He didn't think he had it in him but he did anyway. You can't fault that.  Tactically it was pretty astute; draft off the faster guy, come around at the end for the result (even if the result was a big 4th overall). Result! Tactically, I ran a bad race; too much time on the front, chasing my own demons (I've never run a half longer than 90  minutes and I wasn't prepared for today to be that day) and not paying enough attention to the guy behind.  Plus, I think I gave up as we rounded the last corner with 700 to go. I know my heart wasn't in it.

Still, I feel used and essentially douched out of the position (yeah, yeah, that big 4th). In purely impassionate terms, he had an excellent race, I had a sub-par one and the better guy won. I just don't have to feel that way.  From my perspective, it wasn't a classy move, even if it was the right one.

I didn't stay for the awards, I was too steamed. I still am if truth be known.  La belle picked up my prize.  I haven't opened it.  If you want it Patrick let me know. It's yours. You earned it, even if you didn't work for it.

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A fit-ing process

By the time you read this I'll be back in Canada but for the purposes of writing, you find me in international departures at BWI. I just realised why this place looks familar (beyond that I was here three days ago), I was last here in 2006 (I think) with Jessica Boyd on our way to the aforementioned EFHW in Gettysbury. The drive out of Baltimore -in the dark on an unknown interstate and in a rental car, was particularly interesting, as I recall, as was getting lost in rural PA trying to find Gettysburg; something Lee probably hoped upon Meade! I can't for the life of me remember want we were presenting, probably Aeromonas salmonicida type IV pili, or maybe Type III secretion. I can't rightly remember. Either way, it seemed dreadfully important at the time!

Minute mircobial structures, needless to say, are not what brought me back here, it was the Trek fitting course. We just finished two intense days of anatomy, biomechanics and actual mechanics, with a hefty dose of evidence-based myth-debunking thrown in. Pure bliss in other words.

This is probably a good time for a Trek joke. As most of you know, my ex-wife is South African and a native Afrikanns speaker to boot. I learned a little Afrikaans, most of which I've forgotten and I realy only use at the ITU World Duathlon Championships when dealing with the South African team. Is jy die team van Suid Afrika? Ja? Lekker! Kan jy Engels praat? Ja? D'is guid! and then spent the rest of the conversation sounding like Matt Damon in Invictus! Anyway, the word "Trek" is a loanword into English from Afrikaans. It's a good job we have it, because without it the Trek Bicycle Corporation would be know as the Pull Bicycle Corporation which is nowhere near as evocative!

The course was full, with some 24 people plus Jeff Lohr and Dr Mark Timmerman from Trek, who were giving the course. 

Most of the 24 were from two big local IBDs; Race Pace from MD and Spokes Etc from northern VA. Both are independantly owned with multiple locations. They both had strong fitting cultures, even having dedicated fitters, as well as a women's program that caters to women by women. Others had come from further afield; a fairly strong Pennsylavania contingent, one guy from Boston and four Canadians. As well as myself the were three guys from JoVelo in Mont Tremblant, Jon (owner) and Dan are below. Needless to say, we stuck together.

IMHO the course was pitched ideally to someone like myself; slightly geeky, bike-experienced, bike-shop experienced and still doing a lot of hands-on in the store. I knew quite a bit of what was being presented, so I didn't feel overwhelmed with information. Rather, I was able to process the old information which was being presented; often within a framework which it hadn't necessarily had before, and integrate it with the new knowledge. Plus it's all about applying the scientific method; observe, hypothesize, predict, experiment, repeat. A process I've been doing my whole adult life, expect now I can do it with bikes! Surely a win-win.  

So overall, I now have a much better understanding of the background of bike-fitting now together with a coherent framework in which to put it and some processes to make it easier to perform. Also, when to perform it; we spent a lot of time discussing the difference between "bike sizing" and "bike fitting" which is much a business discussion as it is a cycling discussion. Anyway, this was the whole point of me coming.

Day one was lectures. Gross anatomy, biomechanics, bike mechanics and business. The load was shared evenly between Jeff and Mark. Mark was a true academic, in that he was easily sidetracked from the lecture, but to this LBS guy, the excursions from the syllabus were still interesting and added to the experience rather than take away.

The evening was on Trek at a local bar/resto called Frisco, chosen for the bewilderingly large selection of real ales on tap. Bike shops and Belgian beer; need I continue? The JoVelo guys started with shots and the evening went downhill from there! The conversation was wide ranging. We went across cycling from Trek business philosophy (in the lucid interval before the 11% ABV artisanally-brewed beer took affect), He Who Must Not Be Named(you couldn't go to Nike and not talk about Tiger Woods either! Iluminating discussions, let me tell you!), doing business against Sportcheck and MEC and finally ending with a surprisingly passionate debate on mandatory helmet use by adults!

Day two was hands on all the way. Before lunch we learned the first part of any bike fitting; the interview and testing. I was the guinea-pig for the physical examination demonstrations and Mark confirmed what I knew. I am chronically stiff, especially in the hamstrings. Never mind a Speed Concept, I think I'll have to Project 1 a Trek Verve. I think a nice Fox fork, Alfine Di2, some tubeless ready 29er race-wheels and Brooks B33 ("for our more robust customers").

The afternon was pure self!  We got our new shoes; Bontrager RXL !

We also did a full fit on ourselves. We got to be both client and fitter, seeing the process from both angles (as it were). Speaking of angles, we all downloaded digital protractor apps for our smartphones as there weren't enough goniometers. I guess I'll have to ask The Guys at work about using my phone on the sales floor!

 

Dan from JoVelo did an excellent job fitting me!

There were four sizing stations in the room, one with a differently-sized 2013 Trek Madone 5.2 and most of the tools required. Unfortunately, some of the kit destined for the course ended up in Illinois (?) so we were a little short on some things.

One sign you've been in a bike-shop too long? Totally blasé about the bikes. There was, what? $15000 retail of carbon bike just lying around, not to mention a couple of thousand dollars worth of stems, saddles and bars. Stuff most people just stop and stare at. Not to mention drooling slightly at the corners of the mouth. we need to keep a mop on the sales floor! And all you could think was "oh, another full carbon Madone? M'eh. At least it comes with the Ultegra crank". On the plus side it means we can play with these things with a certain degree of impunity, we're not intimidated by the presence of so much carbon. On the minus side, my wow-factor quotient is now so much higher than before! Along with many guys in the shop, I think I'm regressing and get more excited by nice steel now than carbon!

The fit process was great. As well as learning a whole bunch, I got a set of fit coordinates I can transfer over to my own bikes at home. If anyone is wondering, especially those people with model-year 2012 Speed Concept 7.0s, the 54cm Madone was a good fit, but a 56 cm Madone would be a bit better, espcially as my chronically tight hmastrings mean I can't run the drop I think I should have and I could use the extra head-tube. Plus it would be more aero, all other things being considered. Once you get to the retail price of a Madone 5.2 then Project 1-ing the bike for the custoom paint and nice wheels becomes a bit of a no-brainer. Just sayin'.

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Whatever happened to Virginia, Wolfe?

Overall, I'm feeling pretty stoked about this week, seeing as it finds me at a Trek Bicycles fit course. The Trek fit course has four stops this year; the Canadian stop is in Vancouver at the end of April, which is why this week finds me at the Doubletree Inn, Columbia, MD instead, Maryland being a lot easier to get to than BC, not to mention the jet-lag is a lot more manageable.

It's not the jet-lag that has me somewhat disoriented. Sitting here I'm probably only one hundred miles or so as the crow flies from Gloucester Point and Newport News, where I post-doc'd in the late nineties at the Virginia Institute of Marine Science (VIMS). Even though that was 13 years ago, the license plates and Food Lion grocery stores and the general ecology of the place are familiar enough that I don't look twice, even though I think I should.

Also, for most of the years I was with the Feds, every March or April I would attend the Eastern Fish Health Workshop (EFHW), which was always in a mid-Atlantic state; Virginia (West or Occupied), Pennsylvania or either of the Carolinas. It was an opportunity to catch up with old colleagues from VIMS as well as other Canadian researchers. Plus, organiser Rocco Cipriano, was a bit (well, a lot) of a civil war buff and the EFHW would always have a battlefield tour one evening; Harpers Ferry, Antietam and even Gettysburg. Knowing I was coming to Baltimore in late March I would occasionally catch myself thinking "oh, it'll be great to see Steve again" before realising I wouldn't, unless he's had a career change like mine recently. I think Rocco managed to turn his love of the civil war into a paying proposition after he retired, so it's possible, but unlikely.

I managed to shake some of the disorientation off with a short run after I checked in. I was initially skeptical, thinking I'd probably have a shitty 5km on the road facing oncoming traffic; they don't like sidewalks in this part of the world. I was blown away to find a network of paved cycling trails, in the style of la route verte in Quebec, that snake around the woods in this area.

As I may have said, I'm super-stoked to be doing a fit course; I really enjoy the bike-fit process. I mean who wouldn't? It's science and anatomy and angles and bikes and problem solving! Chicken soup for my sciencey, bikey, nerdy soul I don't know if I'm any good at it, but this will make me better at it.

Preparing to start geeking out in three, two, one....

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Du or Du Not, There Is No Tri

Possibly the most cliched of all the sci-fi triathlon quotes, and one proudly bruited about by the more hydrophobic amongst us. 

Ah yes,the duathlon, where the only water is in cups at the turnaround. Where, I daresay, most of us prefer it.

Which brings me to the obligatory rant; why is it so hard to get people to come to duathlons?  Listening to triathletes in the shop, in transition and on the start-line, it's clear that  the swim hardly fills most with joy. The prevailing opinion seems to be the race only starts when ones' feet hit the beach. So why the duathlon is the "poor cousin"  (I'll only do the du) I have no idea.

That's not what compelled me to put proverbial pen to proverbial paper today. Rather it was what draws age-groupers to triathlon. This was prompted by a flood of runners getting into the sport recently. There were so many bikes at the running club this morning I was starting to feel like I was on Cyclesmith duty!  

The last convert to the dark-side was a good friend of mine and an excellent runner. Two things came up in a recent conversation recently. The first was he told me that against his better nature, he really enjoyed his swim the other day.  One only hopes that his innate swimming technique is better than his innate  runnning technique which before his coach got hold of him, was best described as a frog in a blender. Apologies to South African spin bowler Paul Adams, the original sporting frog-in-a-blender.

Anyway, you get the idea.

The second thing was that a race we'd been to recently was the one local race he'd been to the most. Ten times I think.  This struck a chord with me as I've been to this race eight times in ten years and it got me to thinking.

In the same way your training goes (or should go!) through microcycles, mesocycles and macrocycles, one's running also cycles through microcycles, mesocycles and macrocycles.  The micro- and mesocycles are the cycles of getting up earlier on Saturday and Sunday to go running than one does M-F to go to work and cyclical seasonal ups and downs. 

The macrocycle is the steady annual heartbeat of the racing calendar.   In Nova Scotia it goes something like this.  March - Back to Basics 8 miler and The Moose.  Then Boston; running it for the lucky few, following them on-line for the rest of us.  Then Bluenose and the Cabot Trail Relay in May, Johnny Miles in June, Natal Day 6 miler in August, Rum Runners in September and then the three maritime marathons in October: Valley Harvest, PEI and Moncton.  Then a couple of months in hibernation before starting to train up in December to start the cycle all over again!

For some people there is comfort in this rhythm.  If it's June, it's time for a trip to New Glasgow for Johnny Miles.  I'm not sure I've ever been to New Glasgow (except for stopping for gas) at any other time.  Sometimes, it can take you by surprise; when I voluntolded to time The Moose Run this year, my first reaction was, frankly, "It's time to time The Moose Run?  Didn't I just do that?"

For some, after a while this rhythm can start to get a bit stale, and I think that's what's happening here.  For some. there's a stink of ennui about the whole "if it's Thanksgiving, it's time for Valley Harvest" thing.

Triathlon can give you a whole new perspective on your racing and training whilst keeping us true to what makes us tick in the first place.  Spiritually, a triathlon is very much like running. Sure, there'll be a winner, but it's unlikely to be you.  Did you even see the winner in Boston?  Thought not.  However, you'll still get to take away a time for that Sprint or Olympic (or whatever), a time you can use to benchmark your progress through the sport; just as your first 10K time (or whatever) did. As runners, we are  also predisposed to spending hours outside (we aren't your average gym-rats), possibly in miserable weather. Plus, we already have the lycra tights and merino wool undershirts, so we have that side of cycling nailed too!  

It also opens up a whole new calendar. now you can go to Guysborough for perhaps my favorite race in Nova Scotia (but a place I've only been to on race-day - a cruel mistake I hope to rectify one day soon).

If you don't feel like running, you can do a triathlon.  Didn't get the time in the pool?  Duathlon. Or a couple of running races.  My favourite unintended consequence is dealing with injuries.  It's been rare over the last, well too many years to count, that I've been too injured to do anything. Can't run; ride. Can't ride?  Run.  Then there's always the pool.

So there you have it.  I suspect the local triathlon scene will have to steel itself for a podium shake-up soon. There are some strong runners out there, many of them sub-three marathoners, who've been hitting the pool and getting serious about their cycling and just longing not to go to New Glasgow in June!

Don't say I didn't warn you.

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The one where I run a lot

Of course, "the one where I run a lot" isn't that descriptive, as that is all I seem to do. I really wanted to keep that title for an overview of my assault on a Marathon Maniac's Iridium four-star level.  Seeing as I haven't written since then, it seemed better to start where I left off and work up.

So, that "running a lot". How far is "a lot".  This has been a monster running week; 110.92 km according to Garmin. Yeah, I "should" have done that extra 80 m but surprisingly, I'm not losing sleep over it.  Again, according to Garmin, that's 9000 calories burned.  Garmin may overestimate calorie-burn, so if we go by the 100 cal/mile R.O.T., then that's 6600 calories.  Either way, 9000 or 6600 calories, that's between two and three days-worth food burned this week just running, which explains why I can't stop eating this week.  Seriously, I could eat a horse, which of course in the UK has gone from a charming expression to a expression of reality.

It sounds like a lot, but it goes with the long run, which is supposed to be 25-30% of your weekly mileage. So that fits in nicely with that 35 km Tour de Dartmouth last Sunday with the guys.

It's funny, this monster mileage, because I'm not sure about my racing plans this spring. I'm pace-bunnying the Bluenose Full, but after that not sure.  So, why the 35km?  It was fun.  In fact, all this pace-bunnying has had an unintended consequence. I think I've become lazy.  I've realised just how much fun running, and running a marathon, can be when you're not turning yourself inside out to get a BQ.  Denise and I had a chat about this last week, and it seems that she has also re-discovered a joy of running for running's sake.  Where running is not a means to an end, but the end itself.

Last week's long run started at 07:20; early enough for a Monty Python Four Yorkshireman reference about having to get up half an hour before going to bed.

By 'eck tha' Tim Brooke-Taylor 'as an awful Yorkshu accent!

Starting that early made me think of a trend that I'm starting to see.  Not in my group necessarily, but in conversations I have and overhear.  It can be distilled simply to the phrase; 

"we're going to start early so I can get it [my long run, by bike ride] out of the way and have the rest of my day"

Sure, once in a while it may be necessary to start early so you can get something else done that day; last week one of our number had to be out at the airport at 10 and, all grumbling aside, we were happy to accommodate him.  On a regular basis though?  I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to hand in your running (or cycling) card. 

Running (or cycling) is the reason why we get up on a Sunday earlier than we do to go to work.  Running (or cycling) is the objective of the day.   Running (or cycling) is a pleasurable activity in and of itself.  If its important to you, give it the time it deserves.   I will agree that as something large, like a marathon or an Ironman hoves into view, workouts may become longer, harder, more brutal, and I'm certainly not advocating not taking a two hour run lightly, but once this attitude starts, then running (or cycling) becomes a chore, viz "I have to go running" rather than "Yey, let's go running".

So, let's put the fun back in running.  You don't have to do it; this isn't some junior-high gym-period. You made a choice, as a grown adult, to be here so quit whinging and have fun!

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