Back from abyss?

My training has continued to spiral ever downward. Last Friday saw me plunge into the darkest abyss yet. I struggled through a pathetic and humiliating performance at the Ohtawara 10k - staggering across the finish line in 37:25.

My teammates tried to be polite and supportive, but it was impossible for them to hide their disdain and embarrassment for me. Several suggested I am washed up and my days in endurance sports should come to a merciful end: "Perhaps you should think about taking up more sedentary pastimes Jay - maybe darts? crossword puzzles? rock-scissors-paper tournaments?"

On Monday morning I could feel a searing pain in my IT Band every time I stood up after sitting for a long time. After a slow shuffling training run and a gasping, sputtering swim on Monday afternoon, I sank into complete despair and began gathering up my triathlon equipment and dragging it out of the apartment to dump in the recycling bin. But then as I started to toss my swim goggles and bike cleats into the bin for plastic, non-burnable recyclables, I begun to think about my teammates counting on me at the ekiden, and all our plans for Ironman China. What would my Grandma Magda think if I just gave up? Hadn't I been taught - A quitter never wins and winner never quits, and when the going gets tough, the tough get going?

So I dragged my gear back to my apartment and did some stretching and strength drills. Then I went to B&D Sports and had my foot plant and stance re-examined and bought some high-arch, high-cushion shoe inserts and new training flats. On Wednesday night I went to the weekly track workout and stuck behind Yoshida-san for 5-kilometers in 17:31 at an almost precise 3:30 per kilometer pace.

I still have a long way to go, but today I am feeling better that I can eventually get back on track.

Running in Qingdao

The city of Qingdao is famous among triathletes, but famous for its
Tsingtao Beer not for running or cycling courses. I only had one
free afternoon to experience the city, so naturally I decided to put
together an epic running course covering most of the city's
sightseeing highlights. I could not find much information on Qingdao,
but after scrutinizing the hotel map, I set out on a course that would
take over five hours of running/hiking/walking from east to west with
a taxi ride in the middle.

I had a taxi drop me off on the far eastern edge of greater Qingdao at
LaoShan Mountain's Taiquing Tao Temple.
It was beautiful autumn day and with the help of friendly locals I
found a path leading up the mountain looping around the coast and then
back along a ridge that parallels the coast. The path took me past
waterfalls and granite rock formations for about 10k (here is map of
this section of run).
http://www.mapmyrun.com/run/china/qingdao/514601474
(use the map's satellite view)

I was descending from mountain after close to 90 minutes of
running/hiking when I met a group of Danish and Canadian travelers
with whom I shared a taxi back to center of town. They had done a
much better job negotiating taxi fares out to Lao Shan and back. I
was told to expect to pay $30 to hire a taxi to get out to LaoShan
(one-way) and congratulated myself to have paid $20. My new friends
only paid $15 (for the round-trip) -- one of the advantages of staying
at a youth hostel. One of them told me (rather apologetically) that
he was on a "whirlwind" China trip of only 5-weeks and was spending a
mere 4-days in Qingdao. I hated to admit that I was only spending 36
hours in Qingdao, and had been thinking even that a rather extravagant
use of time.

The center of Qingdao is a forest of gleaming skyscrapers and
fountains and Starbucks and well-dressed urban professionals. I
re-started my run at the Sea Fountain, a strange piece of plop art
that the Qingdao city officials seem intent on making the symbol of
Qingdao (rather than the more familiar image of a Tsingtao beer
bottle). I ran along on impressive series of urban beaches where the
2008 Olympic sailing competition will be held. It was a weekday but
the beach was filled with wedding parties shooting wedding portraits
at sunset. I lost count of the brides in wedding dresses after 20.

The 9 kilometers along the waterfront path in the late afternoon was
great running. But for me the highlight of running in Qingdao was the
last 5 kilometers of my run in the older western section of the city.
I weaved my way up and down the streets filled with magnificent
colonial architecture. It felt just like being in Germany except
there were more Chinese restaurants.

Here is a map of the second half of my run:
http://www.mapmyrun.com/run/china/qingdao/302931086
Again use satellite image to see this

Running in Shanghai

Shanghai is another city I have visited frequently and always stuck on
the hotel treadmills since the sidewalks seemed so crowded, and the
streets far too perilous to run across. But I had heard rumors of a
mecca of running in Shanghai - Century Park - and sure enough on a
sunny Saturday morning in November I saw dozens of runners circling
the perimeter sidewalk of the huge park. The park's outside
perimeter path is approximately 5km which seems to be the global
standard for urban running loops (Tokyo's Imperial Palace, Seattle's
Green Lake, NY Central Park...). This may be the only place in
Shanghai where you can cover 5km without encountering a single
stoplight or cross traffic.

Being a tourist, I opted to pay the 10 RMB (US$1.30) and do part of my
12k run inside the park. Despite the throngs of local Chinese
families (invariably one child, two parents, four grandparents), most
of the park trails are quiet and empty. I managed two laps inside the
park before I joined the local runners streaming around the perimeter
sidewalk for half a lap. About half the runners appear to be foreign
expats and I learn from one that on my next trip to Shanghai I need to
come to Century Park's Gate 7 on Tuesday nights at 7:30pm for the
festive, weekly YiQiPao group run.

Century Park is on the Pudong side of Shanghai - adjacent to the
global financial district the Chinese government has built from empty
swampland over the past two decades. The park is right on the Metro
Line subway and my taxi ride back to the other side of town costs me
US$6

Mileage base

With the triathlon season over, you would think that I would be
laser-focused on run training.

Last summer and autumn I ran so little that when I increased my
mileage to prepare for the Tokyo Marathon I was beset my a whole
assortment of over-training injuries (shin splints, hip pain, back
pain). So I had grand ambitions of building a better mileage base
this year, and until mid-September I was largely on track. However a
lingering virus, travel, and minor hip pain have conspired to shatter
these plans.

The rule of thumb is never increase mileage by more than 10% per week,
so now as I finally start to run consistently I am still limited in my
training. Here is my monthly mileage: (in kilometers)

Gobi Desert Half-Marathon

After having such a fine time last December at the Angkor Wat
Half-Marathon, my more adventurous teammates were determined to find
another interesting destination that included a running event to serve
as something of a focal point. Isobel and Renald quickly identified
the Gobi Desert Half-Marathon, but for months I was reluctant to
commit to an itinerary that sounded so... uncomfortable. But I had
always hoped to be able to tell people that I have been to Mongolia,
and I figured this was one of my few opportunities.

In fact running the Gobi Desert Half-Marathon proved to be a fine
excuse for a surprisingly exotic journey to Mongolia, and a superb way
to experience Mongolia in an relatively authentic manner. Like most
of us I cling to the conceit that I am traveler experiencing something
"real" not a tourist being herded through a traditional packaged tour
of trinket shops and tired native dance performances for the
foreigners. The marathon created a shared goal with a group of local
Mongolians -- a shared sense of mission.

The run was the easy part - the real mission and fun was the journey
to and from the event. Ulaan Batar was far more modern and
comfortable than I expected, but outside the capital the pavement
stops and much of the life seemed to have changed very little since
the days of Ghengis Khan.

The other challenge was carbo-loading: the Mongolian diet is a steady
course of heavy, oily mutton, beef and goat milk - what you would
expect in a land-locked desert country of nomadic herdsman, but the
opposite of the light California/Asian cuisine I survive on.

After a plane ride down to the Gobi Desert we overnighted in a Ger
Camp then the whole field headed out to the middle-of-nowhere for the
start of the race. A local Mongolian in street shoes went out ahead
of me at 4:30 pace for the first few kilometers before I took the
lead. I was enjoying the solitude and vastness of desert when I heard
a support van behind me - the driver pulled up alongside and starting
shouting and gesturing. I smiled and thanked them for their support.
This went on for a little while before it became clear that the driver
wanted me to get in the jeep because I had somehow wandered off course
and was heading into miles of desolate wasteland.

Before being plucked out of remote desert I had ran past a lone
nomadic Mongolian family sitting in front of Ger. The family looked a
bit surprised to see a foreign runner emerging out of the vast
nothingness of the Gobi. They broke into wide Mongolian smiles as
they caught site of me and my Namban singlet and begun to shout and
wave. I could not be clear what they were shouting but I think it was
something like "Go Namban, go fellow barbarian horde, Bob/Genghis,
go, run" -- or something like that.

The course offers a dramatic finish line - the flaming cliffs - an
amazing red rock formation and even more amazing concentration of
dinosaur fossils. The team from Tokyo was impatient to finish the
half-marathon so we could scramble along the cliffs and dig up
dinosaur fossils and then head out on a little post marathon camel
riding into the sunset.

The return journey to Ulan Batar by jeep was even more of an adventure
--miles of rolling desert punctuated by tiny towns that truly feel
like they are at the ends of the earth. We spent a night in a Tibetan
Monastary recently rebuilt after decades of communist rule. We had
the inevitable jeep breakdown in the most remote possible spot. I
wandered off into the desert thinking I saw a Starbucks on the distant
horizon - it turned out to be a mirage, and my teammates managed to
track me down.

All of the expats and Mongolians with us agreed that the nomadic
lifestyle is starting to vanish, and will be largely gone in a
generation. It seems only a matter of time until the gers and camels
will primarily be trotted out for purposes of adventure tourism. But
don't despair - we are looking at another trip to Mongolia in less
than six months - the Baikal Ice Marathon next March is in Siberia
just north of Mongolia and will allow for yet another Mongolian
mission.

Terry Fox Run

I participate in the Terry Fox Charity Run this past Sunday. The
course is near my apartment, it is a nice social opportunity, and it
seems like a good idea to do a tempo run. The Terry Fox organizers
don't provide awards, they don't use timing chips, they don't even
provide race numbers. They don't provide race numbers since it is not
supposed to be a "race" – rather it is a commemoration of Terry Fox, a
young Canadian battling Leukemia who ran every day for about 40 Km to
raise money for cancer research. So I envisioned the Terry Fox 10k as
a friendly casual charity event with none of the aggressive
competitiveness that my team is so notorious for.

But of course I had to stay with Gordon and Christian.

Then when Gordon dropped out at 5k I found myself right behind the
pace bike. The volunteer on the pace bike barrelled through the
crowded sidewalk around the Palace clearing a path and I felt
compelled to stay right behind him though his sub-4 pace was faster
than I wanted to run. "Chotto matte" I shouted at him, but to no
avail. I repeatedly apologized and thanked the other participants and
tourists as they leaped out of our way. Thanks to the zeal and
determination of the pace bike, the second 5k loop turned out even
faster than the first (18:40 vs. 19:20). My charity tempo run turned
into another duel to death - this time the duel was with Christian who
unleashed a furious kick at the end (then amazingly continued straight
on into three more sub 25-minute loops of the Palace).

Given my recent struggle with hip pain and 23k run in the mountains
the day before, a 38 minute 10k seems to indicate I am in reasonably
good shape.

Suzu Triathlon Results

Here are my results from this past Sunday's Suzu Triathlon

Total time: 6:43:22
Swim (2.5k) 52:07
Bike (100.2k) 3:54:23
Run (23.3k) 1:56:52
65th place overall

1. Swim - 52:07
I swam well. At the Lake Stevens Half-Ironman earlier this summer it seemed like I was just floundering along - merely trying to grab a breath every stroke, avoid getting kicked, and keep pointed in roughly the right direction. At Suzu I could concentrate on making long smooth strokes and positioning myself in the pack. During the second half of the race I passed at least 10 swimmers. I even managed to draft for long stretches off swimmers from the previous wave overtaking us. Compared to my last place swim finishes of a few years ago, I felt like a real competitive swimmer as I staggered out of the water (117th out of 400).

2. Bike - 3:54:23:
Riding through Suzu's scenic blend of rugged coastline, forested mountains and traditional Japanese village was almost pure pleasure. I was able to stay in my aero bars on the flat stretches and maintain a pace over 30k per hour.

At all the big triathlons I have done (Sado, Wildflower, IM Japan..) all the participants exclaim how that particular triathlon is the most mountainous of all. I would say emphatically that Suzu has the most steep and challenging hill section.

I kept reminding myself of Mary's advice to keep eating, and consumed 2 Powerbars, 3 gels, a pack of Cliff Shot Blocks, and 2 bananas. I was worried about running out of energy like I did at Lake Stevens and my recent Edogawa training ride. But I felt genki throughout - I was loudly singing (Walking on Sunshine by Katrina & the Waves) during the last section of the bike. The caffeine helped too -during the whole race (and pre-race) I consumed a coffee, 2 Vivarin, an Espresso Love gel, a Coke, and a chocolate gel - probably a total of 800mg of caffeine.

I had grown to assume that all big triathlons will provide a water bottle exchange, but unfortunately Suzu only had tiny paper cups of ice cold water at the exchange. Foolishly I only had brought one water bottle and felt terribly unprepared - twice I stopped at aid stations and had volunteers ladle water into my bottle.

3. Run - 1:56:52 -
I managed to hang on reasonably well during the run. I walked frequently. Very frequently. Probably 20-25 times. My strategy was to run 5 minutes at 4:30 pace then walk for a 20-second interval, but the aid stations every two kilometers meant I was walking even more frequently. Mentally I felt pretty good, and for the first two-thirds of the race I clung to the fantasy that I would somehow speed up at the end and finish under 1:50, even under 1:45. But the heat started taking a real toll on me (I am convinced I am more atsugari than other triathletes). My lack of long training runs for a 23k distance over the past 6 weeks also hurt. I struggled the last 7k.

After the race I was hot and weak and had no appetite. I decided to rest next to the medical tent because it was the only place I could find shade and room to lay down. I must have looked pretty bad, or maybe the medical staff was just bored. They brought me a sleeping pad and blankets and ice and took my pulse and my temperature. I repeatedly told them I was just chotto kimochi warui, but they still looked pretty worried. I kept thinking if I could just get to somewhere air-conditioned (maybe a Royal Host?) I would regain my appetite, eat something, and generate some strength, but our minshuku was 8-kilometers away. I weighed myself when I finally did get back to the minshuku hours later and I was a startling 56 kilograms.

The end of my triathlon was not particularly "glorious" but everything else was a triumph.

Countdown to Suzu

I am trying to have realistic expectations for Sunday's Suzu Triathlon.   Everything I learn lately is causing me to ratchet back my goal time for the event:

2.3k Swim -  
I saw Yamada-san at Ys Bike shop yesterday and she informs me that the Suzu Triathlon is known for its strong currents, currents that pull swimmers wildly off the course.  I grow worried of being sucked out into the perilous Japan Sea and finding myself washed ashore in North Korea. 

100k Bike -
Apparently the swimmers who end up in North Korean prison camps are the lucky ones though.  According to the elevation map we just received, the Suzu bike is a torturous roller coaster with a long, almost vertical climb at the 40k and 80k mark.   Moreover, as teammate Mary reminds me, a 100k bike segment requires a series of long training rides.  She notes that my single 100k training ride last week (and indoor training) is pathetically inadequate. 

23k Run -
The weather forecast for Sunday is for 32 degrees (90 degrees F) by the time I start the run at around noon.  The course is cruelly exposed to the sun.  Last year few participants broke 2 hours.  So 5 minute per kilometer is actually a very competitive pace.

Nonetheless  I am looking forward to a fun weekend - the course is said to be very scenic and we have a good crew participating.

Edogawa Ride

I decide it is imperative to get in a long bicycle ride prior to the looming Suzu Triathlon and set out on a 120-kilometer ride along the scenic Edogawa River, thinking it will boost my confidence for Suzu's 100k of cycling.

But instead the Edogawa ride leaves me a broken, exhausted shell of my former self with my hopes for Suzu shattered and reduced to simple survival.

The first 60k of the ride upriver is fine thanks to the strong tailwind. But when I turn into the headwind I know I am in trouble. The 33 degree heat, sore quads, and overall fatigue bear down on me. My speed soon drops from 28k/hour to 13k/hour. Soon I can hardly pedal at all.

When another cyclist goes by me I try to jump in behind him and take advantage of the draft, but I don't have energy to keep up. Later I come upon a young schoolgirl riding a little pink bike with a flower basket, and draft off her for awhile, but she provides little shield from the headwind.

I abandon my initial plan to ride back to the Bay and stagger onto a train at Matsudo where the other passengers look upon me with mixture of concern and disgust. Upon returning home I weigh myself and am a shocking 57kg (126 pounds), my lowest weight since around the age of 14.

I run with our Yoga Master, Michael Glenn, after the ride, but I am so spent that I repeatedly implore Michael to stop and walk

Indoor trainer

Most people migrate to their indoor trainers in winter to escape cold and sleet.

Not me. I simply cannot will myself to go out into the 35 degree weather and ride for hours through the sweltering, smoggy, traffic-clogged streets.

To extent I have trained at all for the cycling portion of the upcoming Suzu triathlon it has been in the relative air-conditioned comfort of my living room. Indoor training has the advantage of being more efficient - one can obtain a decent workout in less than an hour and work on strength and speed (and watch episodes of Prison Break).

Will the indoor trainer suffice for the mountainous 100k at Suzu?

Apparently not. My teammates have lost all respect for me now, and inform me that I am doomed.

Summer Time

Apparently the US instituted daylight savings times in Japan after the war, a practice that became known as sanma taimu (summer time). The Japanese wasted no time in abandoning daylight savings time upon regaining sovereignty.

I long considered the absence of daylight savings time and resulting summer sunrise at 4am and darkness by '7pm an abomination - sweltering morning commutes and no sun light after work for cycling, trail running or barbecues.

However this past week with the afternoon sun making outdoor workouts unbearable, I am eager to see the sun set as soon as possible. I was ready to run by 5pm yesterday, but waited another 90 minutes for dusk and relief from the glaring heat. I still felt weak and light-headed doing 18k in the middle of the Tokyo urban heat island. But it is mercifully cooler in the dark and the illumination of the Tokyo skyline around the Palace is lovely, and I can understand why the Japanese jettisoned "summer time" and expedited the day.

Shiba Koen Swimming Pool

During that narrow 6-week window of time that is the official Tokyo summer, city officials open the impressive outdoor 50-meter Shiba Koen pool.

Keren swam on a drizzly night earlier this week and shared the pool with one other swimmer.

I went to the pool yesterday, a gorgeous summer weekday afternoon, and the scene was something like the accompanying picture. The pool deck was jammed with men sunbathing (so much for that salaryman work ethic Japan was so famous for).

Jostling with crowds is more representative of the conditions I will face in triathlon swims, so I am content to battle the crowds.

Kamakura Swim & Beach Party

Yesterday found us in Kamakura seeking that eccentric mix of surf/hiking culture and 1,000-year old Japanese history. Instead of my usual logical route incorporating the temples of Kita-Kamakura and the Great Buddha, I took a group of 15 runners through rugged trails to the north-east and east of town:

Kamakura lies at 35 degrees latitude and one imagines a temperate climate. But yesterday running through the forest trails it was very easy to imagine we were in the equatorial jungles of Southeast Asia

I had forgotten how scenic these forests can be on a sunny day. I had also forgotten how muddy these trails can be after a rainy day.

The mud slowed our running, but that was OK. The whole point of yesterday was the beach experience anyway, the run was just an excuse to travel down to Kamakura Beach.

Yes, some cynical locals my complain that Kamakura Beach is an urban wasteland with packs of enormous crows picking through garbage strewn sand. But for a brief period of the year which officials designate as "summer beach season", the beach is cleaned up, a remarkable city is constructed on the sand, and Kamakura Beach is just like Rio's Copacabana Beach without the crime and the volleyball. It is bizarre to witness how much resources the Japanese officials and corporate sponsors invest in this temporary beach-house metropolis -- especially taking into account that during the course of the typical beach season the whole beach city is blown apart several times by typhoons and needs to be rebuilt.

As you would expect, this little beach city provided us hot showers and lockers and a wonderful array of Thai and Okinawan beach cuisine. But what was surprising was the splendid entertainment provided: Thai fire dancing and exotic pole dancers. Yes, the pole-dancing was PG-rated entertainment, and not completely consistent with the squeaky clean, family image of our training club, but pole dancing has gone mainstream in recent years as a fitness regime, and several female teammates are taking it up for cross-training purposes to build core strength.

In addition to ogling scantily clad pole dancers, eating green curry on the sand, running in the jungle, and frolicking in the surf after a hot run, I managed to do something useful -- a one-hour swim with Mika and Keren. After my struggles at Lake Stevens Triathlon, I vow to train more in open-water.

Running in San Francisco

During my week in San Francisco I manage to run two of my favorite courses:

1. Golden Gate Bridge 20k Loop - (MAP)
Surely this is the most spectacular 20k urban run in the world.
The run starts along Crissy Field, a military air strip that has been lovingly restored to wetlands -- this is where all of San Francisco's 20-something professionals run - creating a moving dating meat market - as well as an impressive display of running talent.
Most people turn around after the Golden Gate Bridge, but I think the best part of the run is to continue out through the Presidio, Baker Beach, and the upscale Seacliff neighborhood to Lands End, and then along Ocean Beach. There are a variety of return routes, but for the most variety (and for old times sake) I run through Golden Gate Park and then straight north back through the Presidio.

2. Rancho San Antonio Park -
The mecca for Silicon Valley runners - 23 miles of great trails. Of course every high tech worker in the Valley seems to be out on their bike or running on this sunny July Sunday morning. As expected once we climb out of the forested canyon trails the crowds disappear and we wind our way up some 400 meters where we are rewarded with panoramic views of the entire Bay

Lake Stevens Triathlon

 

I was optimistic about achieving a good mark at the Lake Stevens Triathlon, perhaps even impressing my family and friends.  Whether I recorded a good personal performance or not, I looked forward to the sheer enjoyment of the day itself - anticipating a day like the Sado Triathlon where I burst out singing during much of the bike.

 

But the Lake Stevens Triathlon was just an ordeal, and my results disappointing.   So now all my impressions below are perhaps unfairly negative --

 

1. The course - 

The lake was a murky swamp, the bike course a tedious homogeneous journey through rural trailer trash blight, and much of the run was repeated loops through an industrial area.  The bicycle route was narrow and clogged with vehicular traffic which on two occasions forced me to slam on my brakes.

 

2. The local fan support -

The only local people we saw were the drivers in their SUVs and pickup trucks who were invariably flipping us off for daring to slow down traffic on Sunday morning.  (nothing like the support of the crazed people of New Zealand passionately cheering for every athlete all day long or the throngs of 90-year old Japanese ringing noisemakers along the bike course in pouring rain).

 

3. Race organization -

I am always grateful for the hard-working volunteers.  But amidst the constant chaos of Lake Stevens, I found myself missing the amazing diligence and precise organization of Japanese elementary school kids at aid stations, and the fussy elderly officials in their white hats and blazers.

 

4. My fellow Americans -  

Outside the US I am not accustomed to seeing large rolls of fat bulging over bicycle shorts. On Sunday I was shocked to see so many outright obese people participating in an event like a half-ironman.  What shocked me even more was to see how fast these overweight people were going.  And what really, really shocked me was when a heavy-set lady passed me... during the RUN.   I had recently read a thread on the Slowtwitch triathlon forum filled with mean-spirited rants about jumbo-sized US triathletes.  But as for me, I just wanted to express my admiration for how fast and determined they were given the extra pounds they were carrying.

 

5. My swim -

Why do I even bother training in a pool?

 

6. My transition - 

Why am I the only half-ironman distance triathlete who deems it worthwhile to spend 4 extra seconds to change from cycle shorts to run shorts?

 

7. Triathlon t-shirt - Superb.  But I left it in a drawer since I don't want to be reminded of the event.  

 

8.  My support - Much thanks to my parents, TC and Elaine for coming out to cheer me on.

 

9. What's next - After a few dark thoughts of abandoning the sport immediately after the race, I hope to redeem myself at Suzu.  But at Ironman Switzerland next year I plan to follow teammate Mary's strategy of doing minimalist bike training and just trying to coast along until the run.  And in Switzerland I plan to arrive earlier to recover from jet lag.