Discomfort and Mu

Discomfort. What a fun thing to talk about, but it is a very important topic when it comes to talking about sports.  Discomfort is a defining feature of sport. There are the obvious kinds of discomfort when it comes to sport; Physical, Mental, and Emotional. Which are all well and good, but the brunt of this article is about the concept of active/passive discomfort, and Mu.

Discomfort is not comfortable (duh), but it can be enjoyable.  I look at discomfort the same way I look at math.  I never very understood, or liked either of them before I figured out how wonderful and necessary they are in life.  

So what is the difference between active and passive discomfort? It kind of sounds like the difference between punching yourself in the face and getting punched in the face. Which is pretty much correct. Active discomfort is purposely seaking out discomfort. Passive discomfort is dealing with discomfort when it comes along. Active and passive can be any of the usual discomforts. Whether it be physical, mental, or emotional.

Anyone that races needs to seek out active discomfort in training. Racing hurts, and the only way to get used to hurting is finding that hurt is attempting to find that hurt in training. I use the word attempt because I do not believe it is possible to completely simulate how a race is going to feel in training.  On the brightside, I believe it is possible to “over-simulate” some aspects of racing in training. One of my biggest issues I had in my racing career was the DNF. As a cyclist a DNF was not the biggest deal, especially if my task in the race was covering breaks and/or standard domestique duties. Triathlon and Ultra running are a different beast. I can’t just stop and get picked up by my team car. I’m not even on a team, I’m racing for me. A DNF is a waste of time and money. When I started to hurt in a tri, those DNF thoughts would start to run through my head. Sadly enough, I gave in a few times and felt terrible afterward.

So, how did I fix this? I actively sought out discomfort in my training. I did, and still do, my long rides on the trainer. Inevitably I get to the point 3-4 hours into a ride where I just want to quit and be done. This is the active discomfort I need. When I get to that nearly overpowering desire to stop, I keep going. It hurts. It hurts bad, but after 5-10 minutes the discomfort passes and I know how it feels and can get through it on race day.

Super, what a typical training article so far. Adam, you mentioned Mu earlier in the article, what do a greek letter have to do with discomfort.

I am actually not referring to Mu the letter, but rather the Zen concept. In all honesty I cannot define Mu, I can only describe it with my own (semi) understanding.

I prefer Musashi’s word for Mu, which is no-thing-ness. One of my brain busters I use on my swim team is the question “Is racing real”. The knee jerk answer is “Yes”, but the deeper answer is more complicated. Racing does not exist physically.  Racing only exists to the individual and there is nothing outside one’s self that is needed to be successful. On the flip side, no-thing-ness also implies that the individual is not needed for racing. The work of the individual is what is needed for racing. This is because the work/discomfort is just as abstract, and inherent, to the individual as racing. Racing and work/discomfort share the same spirit.  Actively seeking out discomfort in training trains oneself to actively race, to be completely engaged and find success (whatever that means to the individual).

Well that is one of the shortest and simplest descriptions of Mu/no-thing-ness. If you have interest in learning more, please either contact me or read the Book of Five Rings by Miyamoto Musashi.

A Saunter

“Can’t really call it a run, more of a saunter”

That's what I said to the person giving me my medal after a 24 hour Ultra, but that was not really true either. Saunter implies leisurely and relaxed; my Ultra was definitely not relaxed.  In a nutshell, it went from “okay”, to “pretty good”, to “rough”, to “pretty good” again, and finally just “bad.”

Every good race recap needs the backstory.  This one is simple: All my races got canceled and I needed to do something.  Ultra running is one of the few things in my region that was not destroyed by COVID-19.  These ridiculous races naturally have small fields that string themselves out, thereby naturally adhering to social distancing. 

So, me being the kind of guy that says, “meh, whatever” to any distance, registered for the race. 

Now I do have a couple Ultras under my belt... in the strictest sense. I have completed longer than marathon runs before, though only 50k distance and in the 5-hour range. I’ve also completed several 12 and 24 hour bike races. The length of the race was not a concern. 

The “Okay”

The race started at 7:00am. Luckily, I pre-ran the course a few weeks beforehand (but backwards) and I had an idea of how I wanted to attack the terrain. I ran the first lap conservatively and finished exactly where I wanted: right on pace for my lofty goal. The second lap started much like the first, until about halfway through when I ruined one of my toes.  My toe hurt but I still finished right on place. 

The course was a 7 mile triangle south of Moab with about 800’ of elevation gain.  The 3 sides of the triangle were roughly equal. The first side started off flat on a little bit of dirt road before breaking off onto a jeep road that climbed for the next ¾ of the side. Side 2 was rough.  From the turn that started the side to the turn to start side 3 there was a little gain in elevation, but it had 3 slick rock ascents/descents and a deep sand ascent/descent. It was just a brutal couple miles. The third side began as a semi-technical loose rock descent followed by 2 miles on a flattish dirt road. 

The “Pretty good”

I was lucky enough to have a great race crew. By the time I finished my second lap had a variety of tape options to fix my toes. That was great. The next lap went without issue. In fact, the lap after that went by just as well! 

The very end of the third lap was when the tide began to turn. I was still moving very well, but I had gone past my IRONMAN times and way past my longest run times. I heard that tiny little sanity voice in the back of my head telling me, “this is not a sustainable pace.”

Everyone doing the race was set up in what was called the Camp Loop. The Camp Loop itself was a camping area with a ¼ mile-ish perimeter that the competitors were able to run when they got to the point they did not think they could finish a full lap. My crew was set up with a 10x20 tent, a regular sleeping tent, a few chairs, and a lantern--a great spot for a pit stop. 

The core of my crew (who I cannot thank enough) consisted of my wife Heather and Jesse Nolen (a Team MPI athlete. I also had help from my friends Amy and Tyler, both of whom did the 6 hour race. Last but not least, Kent Walter, another Team MPI athlete, was not there in person but randomly called me throughout the day to make sure I was coherent and remind me how comfortable he was in bed.  Thank you to everyone.

The “Rough”

Going completely against my natural tendency to ignore the voice in the back of my head, I decided to slow the next lap and say goodby to my lofty goal.  My strategy so far had been to walk only the 3 rock sections and the sand section, running the rest of the course.  

On this lap I began running the flat section of the first side and walking up all the climbs.  This worked perfectly, I felt great, and more importantly it felt maintainable. Then the sun set. The sun set while I was traversing side 2 of the course. I didn’t think much of it, I knew it would be dark during a 24hour race. I had my light and a pair of arm warmers. 

The unique thing about side 2 is with it being the highest side, it hugged the side of one of Moab’s famous red rock mesas. This kept side 2 oddly warm, even after dark, the temperature of side 2 stayed in the 50s. I turned my light on, pulled my warmer up, and kept trucking. Then I hit the 2 miles of dirt road on side 3. 

The dirt road was the lowest part of the course and, unlike side 2, was typical high desert. The temperature was in the 30s when I made it to the road. Those 2 miles were cold and I could not stop shivering when I got back to camp.  One of the greatest inventions ever is the heated car seat. Sitting on that car seat warmed me right up and I was able to start another lap.  I bundled up and headed on my way. 

That lap was also rough. While I was nice and warm, by the time I made it to the turn for side 2 I was hot. There is nothing my body likes to do more when it is hot than cramp.  I ended up having to tie my jacket around my waist, like a hardcore mall walker, for side 2. Not much more to say about that lap… just rough.

Nutrition at an Ultra is a fickle beast. A 24 hour Ultra is unique compared to an IRONMAN, or even a 24-hour bike. During a Full, I typically eat bars through the bike and switch to gels for the run. On a 24-hour bike race, I can sit with bars the entire time. A 24-hour Ultra, on the other hand, is much less intense than a Full, so I don’t need quick burning gels, Still, it’s more stressful than a 24-hour bike race, so I need more calories than just bars.

The beauty of every Ultra I have done is the amount of cooking by the race promoter.  The start/finish aid station had quesadillas, pizza, taco soup, pancakes, oreos, and cola. All of which I took full advantage of after 6 hours of racing.  I began the race with 30 bars in my bag, and ended with 24. Hot food is great!

The “Pretty Good” (night edition)

After 2 rough laps I had a good lap. I’m not sure what it was, maybe the full container of cookies I ate before the lap... but I felt good.  I was even a little embarrassed when someone passed me while I was singing a song to myself. The lap went great and I got back to camp feeling good.

Clothes are the most overlooked part of an Ultra. I brought 3 full changes of clothes, plus cold weather and hot weather extras. I went through all but one piece of clothing.  Few things feel better 20 hours into a race than a new pair of shorts (this is true for 24 hour bike races as well).  Taking a couple minutes to relax and change clothes during a day of exercise cannot be underestimated. 

The “Bad”

Following my “pretty good” lap, things started to go downhill (metaphorically, it was literally uphill). I tried my best to stay in the same mindset as the previous lap, but that lap felt long.  My little bit of positivity came from the fact that I knew if I finished the lap with less than 3 hours to go, I would just start during camp laps. I finished the lap with 4 hours left in the race... that’s when things went bad. 

My heart sank, the last thing I wanted to do was another lap. It was the only lap I walked the entire time, but I pushed through that lap and made it back with an hour to spare. (fun fact - my first couple of laps averaged 1:30 and the last was 2:40).  The only time I teared up during that entire race was getting to the camp loop on that last lap. I was so happy I did not have to go back out on the long lap. 

The Finish

With an hour left in the race I started doing camp laps. Walking the first several, running a few, and going full on for the last 2. I didn’t think I could run anymore when I started the camp laps, but the finish always has a funny effect on me.

I finished. I would not call myself an Ultra runner, but I will probably do more.  

How not to to an Ultra Marathon

I did my first ultra (ultramarathon) in January; any distance over 26.2 miles is considered an ultra. I did a 50k (31 miles), the shortest distance ultra distance one typically finds, but it taught me more about endurance sports than any IRONMAN, 6-day, 12 hour, or stage race that I have ever done. 

When I signed up for the Ultra Arches 50k race in Moab, Utah, I thought “this is no big deal, I’ve done a few full IRONMANs and a 50k is nowhere near as long.”  HAHAHA, what a ridiculous thought. 

I coached an athlete through full preparation for this race and I could not stress enough how important it was to be prepared for a 50k. Unfortunately, I did not take my own advice, which I sum up following this race recap.

There is definitely a different “atmosphere” to an ultra. I first noticed the difference at registration. The person that gave my race number asked me if I have ever done an IRONMAN (I was wearing my IRONMAN shirt). I said yes, and she went on to show me her M-Dot ankle tattoo. She told me that she stopped doing IRONMANs because they are too serious and ultras are more laid back. I figured that was a good sign since I was not taking the race very seriously.

With that, my wife and I went and found our hotel, got settled in, then went to get some food.

Good ‘ole nutrition, that’s a “Don’t” I did. To appreciate how “Don’t” I did, we need to go back about three weeks. My wife works out at a powerlifting gym, where three weeks prior to the ultra they had started a nutrition challenge. The challenge was a well-researched plan that is perfectly designed for a powerlifter. Unfortunately, it is not a good plan for an endurance athlete. I was invited to participate. The coach part of my brain told me that the challenge was a bad idea. The part of my brain that once told me to sign up for my first full IM ten days out said, “Definitely do the challenge, you can win a gift card.”  Anywho, I ate like a powerlifter for three weeks and just about could not finish a workout over an hour without bonking. It was not a good idea and not something I would ever recommend to my athletes.

Let’s go back to race day and my observations. I felt a little out of place because I might have been the only male without a beard. Before the race, everyone appeared to do the same warm-up, which was standing around a fire to stay warm. If that was not an example of the laid-back atmosphere, hearing a guy say, “Oh man these aren’t my running shoes,” a minute before the start definitely was.

The race got underway, and the first two miles were on the paved Moab bike path.  Everyone made the same comment about how they thought this was an offroad race, and again it was some nice laid back conversation.

(photo credit: John Von Flue)

Then we got on the dirt, which was great. It was the typical high desert dirt that I run in a few times a week. Then at mile five, the slickrock began. For those who have never experienced slickrock, it is basically a lumpy concrete parking lot.  All the soil gets blown away over time and only exposed rock remains.  We were on this for about six miles. 

The slickrock section included a couple “Don’ts” that I did. First, I went hard on this section, which was a bad idea since running in a lumpy parking lot really beats up the legs. Second, since I was feeling so good, I skipped the aid station. I felt great enough to catch the leaders around mile nine and I stayed with them for about ten miles.

Running with the leaders was a big eye opener to the world of ultras. They chatted about all the different micro-brews that are available in Moab, their plans for after the race, and their upcoming races. They were super friendly and laid-back guys. They even made me stop at the next aid station telling me that a quesadilla tastes best after fifteen miles of running. I ate with them and we walked a good mile before we started running again. Everything went well until right around mile eighteen when I took a drink from my hydration pack and just got a mouthful of air. Unlike my new running buddies, I did not top off my bladder at the last aid station and was now in a pretty bad situation about seven miles from the next aid station.

Mile nineteen was where everything started to fall apart for me.  It began with the only snow-covered section on the course, which was an icy three-quarter mile climb.  I got dropped nearly immediately and the next five miles were a bit of a blur.  I was cold, cramping, and tearing up. I bonked harder than I had ever bonked before. I do not know how, but I made it to the next, and final, aid station at mile twenty-five.

When I got to the aid station, I sat down and told the race official I was done.  But, as another example of the friendly laid-back atmosphere of the race, he did not let me drop out. I was told I had to sit there for a half an hour before he would pull me from the race. I was given what seemed like gallons of broth and several quesadillas. After twenty minutes he asked me how I felt, and much to my surprise I said I can make it the last six miles. I thanked him and all the other volunteers at the aid station and was on my way.

My second 25k was more than double my first 25k. But I did finish!

Coach Adam is an ultramarathoner (photo credit: Heather Sczech)

I learned a tremendous amount about ultras and in retrospect had a good time. 

Kent Walter, an athlete who I coach, also did the race and beat me soundly. He actually listened to his coach, which allowed him to have a good race!

Kent Walter and Coach Adam, pre-race (photo credit: Heather Sczech)

In summary, here are some of the ultra Do’s and Don’ts:

DO

• Take a race with the word “ultra” in the name seriously
• Stop and make sure you take in enough nutrition at every aid station
• Fuel properly the day (and weeks) before the race
• Do some recon on the terrain
• LISTEN TO YOUR COACH

DON’T

• Think that just because you have done other long races an ultra is “no big deal”
• Assume you have enough hydration in you bladder/bottle to make it to the next aid station
• Try to save time by skipping an aid station

Pain in the Rear

Pain in the Rear

I have been a Professional Fitter and student for biomechanics for longer than I care to admit.  The one aspect of riding that continues to amaze me is when someone is riding a saddle he or she hates and tells me it is because “No saddle is comfortable”. Nothing could be further from the truth. Assuming an individual has a proper fit and their pelvis properly rotated, there is a saddle that will be comfortable, and as amazing as it sounds, probably several saddles. There are 2 main components of a saddle that determine the comfort - the shape and the rail.

Shape

The shape of the saddle is the major determinant of whether a saddle is going to work with one’s body biomechanically. There are 4 general shapes of saddle, and once a person finds which shape works for them it becomes easy to find other saddles that may be comfortable.

Shape 1 - The original “Saddle” shape (I call it the saddle shape because it is the mathematical definition of a saddle i.e. z=x²-y²). This shape is characterised a dip in the middle when looking at the saddle from the side, and rounded profile when looking at the saddle from the front/back. A few examples of this shape are the Selle Italia Flite, Selle San Marco Concor, Fizik Aliante, Prologo Scratch, and the Specialized Ronin. In my experience, this shape tends to be the least popular for an aero fit due to the fact there is not much room to move around.

Shape 2 - The Flat-Flat saddle. This is a pretty straight forward shape in that the saddle is flat from front to back and side to side. A few examples are the Selle Italia SLR, Fizik Antares, Cobb Fifty-Five, Prologo Zero, and ISM PN1.1.

Shape 3 - The Flat-Rounded saddle. This saddle is flat when looking at it from the side, and is rounded when when looking at it from the front or back. Some examples are the Fizik Arione, Fizik Volta, Prologo Kappa, and Cobb Randee.

Shape 4 - The Dipping-Flat saddle. This saddle has a dip in the center when looking at it from the side and is flat when looking at it for the front or back. A few examples are the Cobb VFlow, Cobb G2, ISM PS 1.0, WTB Rocket.

Rail

The rail of the saddle is also a determinant of comfort, but one of the most over looked. While rails come in several different materials (steel, titanium, and carbon), the length of the rail is what tends to be the most important. While the length of the rail is important for fitting purposes, it is also directed related to the amount the saddle is able to move in relation to the bike. Meaning the rail acts like a shock absorber. The longer the rail, the more shock that can absorbed and allowing for a more comfortable saddle.

Other Things To Consider

As a fitter, I have discovered that there are other aspects of the saddle that influence comfort:

Cut-outs - Cut-outs may provide perineal relief, but is important to remember that a narrow saddle with a large cut-out will have very little surface area for actual sitting causing more discomfort.

Padding - The squishier a saddle is the less comfortable it will be for long rides. It is a little counterintuitive, but the softer and deeper the padding the more the sit bones can sink into the saddle causing the padding to press more against the soft tissue ultimately leading to numbness.

So, if you are unhappy with your current saddle, or are like me and try new things in the off season, try some different saddle shapes and see which one works the best for you.

My First Race

“Why not?”

I have uttered that phase may times when talking with someone about triathlon.  Like most people that have been doing triathlons for a long time, most of my wardrobe is made up of race t-shirts, and they are often a conversation starter.  So often I hear “Oh, that’s amazing” or “I could never do that,” which are untrue.  Just about anybody...with ANY body...can do a triathlon.

Triathlon is about doing the most with our unique body - no matter the size, shape, or abilities. Short, tall, lean, muscular, young, or wise, there is a place for each of us! Our sport includes physically challenged athletes, and I’ve raced with athletes with quadriplegia, skeletal dysplasia, and visual impairments. When I hear someone say they could never do a triathlon, I tell them about my first triathlon.

The first triathlon I ever did was way back in the day before smartphones when I was in college in 2002. It was during the summer between my freshman and sophomore year. I was a college football player and not in a skilled position: I was 312 lb offensive lineman. It’s not exactly the body type one associates with triathlon. 

I can’t explain why I wanted to do a triathlon other than it simply seemed like fun.  Even as a lumbering lineman I enjoyed biking and I tolerated running, plus I took swim lesson as a kid. I would soon discover that that swimming for fun was tremendously different than swimming for speed. 

When I saw a flyer for a little local Triathlon near my college I thought, “Why not?”

I was not going to be stopped because I did not fit what I thought of as the triathlon or endurance athlete “mold”.  I was not even going to be stopped by the fact that all I had was a mountain bike that I used to get around campus. 

If there is one true statement about triathlon, it's that there is no “mold”. Any body type and any person can do a race. No one needs the latest and greatest equipment or needs to quit their job to train. Ultimately, the only thing needed is the desire to do a triathlon, minimal equipment, and, yes, a bit of training.

The race was a week after finals, so I did not do any training beyond what I did for football. As a coach now, I would not recommend that! But even without specific preparation, I had fun. My goal was met, and I was happy.

Did I feel great? No. But I had one of the greatest feelings of my life during the bike: I passed a person on a real triathlon bike complete with race wheels. I thought that was incredible, and it was probably what got me hooked on triathlon.

The thing I did right going into my first race was having the belief that I could do a triathlon.  Never discount what you are capable of and never assume something is impossible.

“You never know how steep a climb is until you put your nose on it”.  Doing my first triathlon at 312 lbs seemed steep, but I did it. No matter what your steep climb may look like to you now, you can do it too!