For some reason, I’m always drug tested when sleep deprived…

Late last night Justin Dyszelski called.  He’s a fellow ISCorp cyclist, as well as I triathlete who I coached for IM WI this year.  This season he’s worked hard and improved, and that came through is his race as he hammered the pace late in the marathon to place 4th in M18-24 qualifying for Kona 2010.  He was calling because earlier that day he had met with Mike Webber, the ISCorp CEO and an avid cyclist himself (hence his angel and title sponsorship of the cycling team), about starting an elite triathlon team with ISCorp as the title sponsor.  Justin asked if I would coach the team, and then we kicked around some ideas and a timeline for all the loose ends to pull the team together and make this a reality for next season.  Justin has a lot of good ideas, so I think it will materialize.  Clearly it was a good conversation.  The only downside was that it lasted until 12:30, and I was getting up at 5 AM for swim practice.

Fast forward to this morning…yes, I was a bit late to practice :)  Still, it was a good workout with North Carolina Aquatic Masters–stroke felt strong and smooth, and Sam and I stretched and chatted after the workout for a bit.  After a long shower, I drove home with breakfast followed by a long nap on my mind.

As I pulled into the cul-de-sac there was a Suburban driving very slowly in front of me and looking lost.  I pulled around, drove down our long gravel driveway, and parked.  It was a cold wet morning, so I was wearing a TIMEX wool pull-over and also put on the bright orange TIMEX Zorrel jacket as I hopped out of the car.  It was pretty obvious which team I raced for.

The Suburban had followed me down the drive and a man and woman were getting out of it.  I didn’t think anything of it because my dad had mentioned someone coming over this morning to look at the landscaping, gutters, or water heater…I can’t remember.  So, as I approached to introduce myself and show them to the gutters, or landscaping, or water heater, I was surprised by a “We’re from USADA and we’re here to drug test you!”

“Oh, no worries.  Come on in!”

Ok, now rewind to last week.  I was racing the Pinehurst Triathlon on Saturday, and staying on Friday night with my long-time friend and sometimes cycling training partner, Parker, who’s a GP in Sanford.  I had asked earlier in the week for his street address so I could update USADA with my whereabouts for the evening.  Pro athletes are subject to non-advanced-notice (surprise!) out-of-competition drug tests, and we fill out quarterly whereabouts forms to inform USADA of our travel, competition, training, and residence(s) locations and schedules for the upcoming three months.  This is a daunting task, but it’s manageable.  And, if our schedules change, we can simply update them online.  The bottom line is simply that USADA has to know where you are at all times.

You can imagine that sometimes this can feel like an invasion of privacy.  Not that this applies to me, because I’m lame, but let’s just suppose a hypothetical pro  athlete picks up a hot girl at a bar, and they go back to her place for a wild night of…s…Scrabble™.  He’d have to immediately tell USADA:

Why yes ladies, I would be up for a Scrabble™ Triple-Word-Score. Let me notify USADA of my whereabouts.

“Yo, USADA, I’m at 123 Main Street, Luckytown USA. But please don’t test me now because I’m getting LUCKY!!  That’s right baby, this chick has the most Balanced Rack (equal number of vowels and consonants) in the game, and I hear she’s known up and down the East Coast for her Double-Double (covering two DWS (double word squares) in one play, for which the player receives quadruple the word score, including any DLS (double letter squares)).”

And, in the heat of the moment, sending that text or e-mail update just wouldn’t be cool.  “Am I not smart enough for you anymore!?!  Am I’m not Scrabble™-able?!?!  Who are you texting??!??   Am I just your Scrabble™-buddy?!? Do you have another Scrabble™ date tonight?! Is this just your ‘warm-up’?” Plus, you’d get accused of cheating in Scrabble™, and maybe the USASCA, (US-Anti-Scrabble™-Cheating-Agency) would come bust you, because cell phones are on their prohibited methods list.

But, again, I’m lame and don’t live life in the fast lane—except during rec swim hours—so stimulating nights of Scrabble™ don’t apply to me.  But the funny thing was that when I called Parker to let him know I was running late but on my way, he said “There’s a man with a pee cup standing on my porch.”  I had not yet been to Parker’s new house, so my first thought was “He must be living on the wrong side of town if there’s a homeless guy peeing in a cup on his porch.  You’re a doctor, Parker, is this the home you provide for your wife and daughters?” My next thought was, “Oh, it’s USADA.” And I asked, “Seriously?” not because I was surprised, but because if they were there, Parker would not be allowed to call me and let me know, because it has to be a surprise test for me. “No, I’m kidding dude” Parker replied with a dead-pan delivery.

Now, back to the current test.  The two USADA Doping Control Officers and I come into the kitchen and start going through the notification process, which is all pretty familiar by now.  But, I wasn’t feeling the urge to pee.  In med school they teach us that glomerular filtration rate (GFR)—the rate at which the kidneys filter blood to start the process of making urine—is autoregulated via variation in renal blood flow and dilation and constriction of the afferent and efferent arterioles, which are under the control of the macula densa that controls the flow rate to each individual nephron (the kidney’s functional unit), such that GFR remains constant across a range of blood pressures.  However, whenever I exercise, I have to pee, a lot, certainly more than normal.  GFR must not remain constant at the limits of cardiac output.  Anyway, the one thing I’m a guaranteed to do when I swim, run, or ride is to head straight for the bathroom—not good when biking to class late.  Since I had already peed several times this morning, I was dry, and started drinking copious amounts of water to stimulate the 90 mL of urine I’d need to produce for the sample.  We had a bit of time to kill and made small talk.

Then my mom called:

“Eric, can you look in the fridge and take out the roast.”

“Got it.”

“Ok, now put it in the crock-pot on low, and add about an inch of water, and just let it cook all day.”

“Ok, mom. Got it.  Gotta go.”

“And add some carrots.”

“Ok, will do.  I-”

“Now, don’t forget to peel the carrots. And cut them up. Not too small, but not any wider that a half-inch.  Well, if you wanted them to be 5/8ths of an inch think, that’s ok.  They’ll be soft sitting in the crock pot all day.”

“Ok.  Thanks mom.  I think I can handle it.  Consider it done.”

“Oh, you can add some potatoes too…”

“Ok-”

“…and an onion.  That would taste good.  Do we have any red onions?  Well, no worries, use a yellow onion if that’s all we have…a medium one.  And tell Michael to clean his room because we’re having company this weekend, and you guys clean the bathroom.”

“Ok. Got it.  I’m on it.  Commencing Operation: Crock Pot. 10-4.  Over n’ Out”

So now that the USADA agents new the dinner plans, I was hoping we’d wrap this up before dinner so I could grab that nap before this evening’s track workout.

Rinnnggg….Rinnnnnggg

“Hello?”

“Eric, one more thing.  Did you remember to stick a hole in the potatoes?”

“Yes, I stabbed them with a knife.”

“You may want to cut them in quarters.”

“Ok, I’ll take care of it.  Consider it done.”

*click*

So by now the water was doing it’s job and I was ready to do mine.  “Let’s do this thing!” I exclaimed banging my hands on the table.  The chaperon followed me to the bathroom, and I rinsed my hands with water, but not soap, as per USADA protocol.  And then, also according to protocol, dropped my pants to mid thy, pulled my TIMEX wool sweater up to chest level, and the sleeves of up to my elbows, and stood ready to pee in the collection jar.  You can’t be shy here, and being in the medical field I’m more comfortable with bodily functions and anatomy than most, but still it’s a bit awkward when you’re the one in the fishbowl.  For starters, you’re peeing in front of a stranger.  And this isn’t the standard “I’ll stand behind you and let you do your thing” but as describe above it’s a “Pull ‘em down, lift your top up, and I’m going to stand by your side to watch.  Stage fright?”

Another note to make here is that there are some bodily functions that go together, as Forrest Gump would say, “Like peas and car-ROTS.”   You just accept them as normal…when you’re alone.  But in front of another person, especially a stranger, they make you a bit self-conscious.  For example, when I pee, especially early in the morning, I usually fart simultaneously.  I’m not sure what’s going on physiologically, and I haven’t had the (Forrest) Gump-tion to ask any of my professors, but I just assume it’s sphincters in the same general area relaxing.  While this phenomenon hadn’t crossed my mind as we headed for the bathroom,  it became apparent as I relaxed my urethral sphincter.  “Oh well” I thought “this can’t be the first time he’s heard this.”

Hope your morning was as entertaining!  Now it’s time for me to get to that nap.”  :)

Good morning! I asked for a group photo for the blog, but apparently that's prohibited.

On September 27th, as most of my teammates are winding down their season, tapering for Kona, or in the middle of their last training push for Clearwater, I raced my first triathlon of the season, the Duke Liver Center 1/2 Iroman in Durham, North Carolina.  I’d like to start the season earlier, but my schedule doesn’t allow it.  The 3rd year of med school, which ended in June, left me with some impressive training numbers:  < 6hrs/wk of training through the first 6 months of the year, and nearly 100% of that was cycling.  Yeah, pretty much ready to rip the Triathlon World-Cup Circuit apart.

Back to reality…I called my training plan “Operation: Don’t Suck” the goal of which was simply to maintain some fitness so I didn’t start the mid-summer triathlon season with nothing in the bank.  My focus was short high power intervals.  Mostly in the 30″-2′ range, and I’d race a few criteriums.  I avoided anything resembling LT or VO2 work simply because I was too wimpy (and exhausted on 4hrs/night of sleep).  ODS actually worked amazingly well.  After 6 weeks of 15 hrs/wk of training I raced Wisconsin State TT champs, doubling down to race the Pro/1/2 and M30-34 categories.  I split a 51:25 and a then 54:?? an hour later for 40km.  I really didn’t have any gas for the second TT, but for the first I did it with a PR average power (by ~25W) and my HR 5 beats under threshold.  I was a bit slow considering the power output, but I simply need to tune-up my TT position for a 40km and not an IM.   I was riding high like a tri-geek (this is very embarrassing for me to admit as a cyclist).  The TT’s were promising, telling me I’ll have more to give after VO2 and LT training phases.  Plus,  ISCorp teammate Matthew Busche won the TT in 50:58, and a few months later signed a 2-year contract with team RadioShack based on his top-10 GC performance in some major late-season stage races while guest-riding for Kelly Benefit Strategies.  So I felt my performance wasn’t too far off the mark.  Then later that week I PR’d for 2′ big-ring steep hill climbs by over 10% power.  Note to self and Learning Point #1:  intensity is the most potent producer of fitness; you can actually set a foundation for improvement on a minuscule volume of training.

But the following week, about 6 weeks ago, I separated my shoulder in a bad bike crash at the Race the Lake in Fon du Lac, WI.  In the middle of the 150-rider peloton (you’re right, I should have been riding towards the front) a few riders went down in front of me and we crashed like Domino’s.  I launched, airborne at 30 mph, and was able to pull off a marginal shoulder-roll.  My bright orange Trek landed about 20 feet away on the side of the road…it actually took me a while to find it.  Anyway, long story short, I thought I was ok, and hopped back on to catch the disappearing pack, but a few miles into my chase attempt I felt—internally via pain, and externally with my hand—felt the deformity of my shoulder.  15 miles later I dropped out and got checked out out by the race Doc.  Diagnosis:  an AC (acromioclavicular) ligament separation.  In other words I popped the ‘rubberband’ that holds my collarbone to a piece of the scapula.  Here’s a great link describing shoulder sprains: http://www.conquestchronicles.com/special/The_Shoulder_Sprain

Shoulder Anatomy

Shoulder AC Separation Grades (Mine is a Grade 2)

Later that week, after an Xray and GP and Sports Med appointments, I was given the OK.  “It’s a minor sprain and you don’t even need PT” I was told.  “This will bother you for 3-4 weeks though.”   “Great!” I thought and headed for the pool.  Bother-schmother, pain and I are good friends and I can deal with a little discomfort.  This was a mistake.  From week to I simply wasn’t getting better at a rate that I’d be better in 4 weeks.  I had since moved back to North Carolina, and luckily, I was introduced to a Duke Sports Medicine PT who got me an appointment.  With some stretching, strengthening, and physiotaping, and only 1 week off from swimming and running, I was back at it.  At this point there were about 2 weeks until the Duke 1/2. (LEARNING POINT #2: if you ever injure yourself, REGARDLESS OF WHAT YOUR SPORTS MED DOC SAYS, go see a PT.  They have different areas of expertise, you’ll likely feel better and recover faster, and may even save yourself some long-term damage.)

AC Separation Taping

I had felt terrible all week as I was recovering from a big training block the week before that included things like my first brick of the year (run: 10′ warm-up followed by 20′ Tempo), first track workout with repeats longer than 400m, and first distance run.  We all know the feeling of new-onset running soreness and going into a first race with maybe good fitness (fingers crossed) and maybe the kind of fitness that will simply dissolve in the middle of the race, like a sandcastle in a rising tide.

Back to the race…last year, the Duke 1/2 was also my first race of the year.  And it went very well, until the run.  It’s a TOUGH run course.  It’s a cross-country course equivalent to Wildflower.  I’ve run 1:21 for the half marathon there, and ran 1:31 at Duke last year…which launched me into 2 weeks of panic run training just in time to taper for Kona.  TIMEX’s own Alex McDonald put about 8 minutes on me last year…he ran down the 4 minutes I had after the bike, caught me at mile 7 or 8 and then put another 4 miles on me.  This year we’re teammates, but Alex was on injured reserve, yet still came to cheer us all on.  Like last year I had run concerns, so I went into the race with a strategy of holding back a bit more on the bike.

Also, like last year I was off to a good start.  Out of the water in 3rd, I rode “comfortably fast” and hoped for the best.  I really hold back and allow my body to ease into each new leg of a triathlon.  LEARNING POINT #3: Going out too fast is dumb.  You’re so amped at the beginning of a race or through each transition, that its incredibly easy to over-cook yourself. So, hold back there Sparky!  The biggest mistake you can make is overpacing the first 2 minutes of a race. (Exhibit A: my 10k splits from the Carrboro 10k on October 3rd..Mile 1…5:02..”oh, this feels easy”…Mile 2 6:00…”oooohh, this isn’t feeling so easy.”)  Take it easy Sparky!

So I rode nice and steady, gradually working into the lead.  I caught Tom Clifford, a former collegiate runner with 14:30 5k credentials and who is rising up the ranks in triathlon (obviously, he was 2nd out of the water!), about 10k into the bike.  It was too early to adjust pace, so I kept ‘er steady.  About 20 minutes later I came up on Kevin Lisska of the US Pro Tri team.  He’s always a strong swimmer and emerged from Jordan Lake about 1.5 minutes ahead of Tom and I.   From here on there’s nothing much to report for the bike…I just rode, keeping it fast, but leaving enough in the tank for the run.

I arrived at T2 feeling good and with a course-record 2:13 bike split. The course must be a bit long.  The lead motorcycle had done a great job keeping 50-100m ahead of me the whole race and controlling the intersections.  I always enjoy biking in this lead spot…it’s exciting and it helps me keep focused.  These were my thoughts while cycling at the Duke 1/2:  “high cadence, relax, carry momentum, drink, stay aero.”  These are my typical thoughts during a typical race: “With the leg bone connected to the knee bone, and the knee bone connected to the thigh bone, and the thigh bone connected to the hip bone…”‘

Focused on saving energy on the bike.

So now onto the run.  I had one compression sock on, taking a fashion tip from sprinters on high school track teams.  Yeah, I was totally Baller (http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=baller).  Ladies, you can find me after the race, maybe I’ll talk to to you…if I’m not too busy looking for my other sock.

Ballin’:  The right leg was randomized to the experimental group via the protocol of Einee et. al.

Actually, it wasn’t about high fashion and picking up the Laaaadeez–though that’s an easy mistake.  It was an experiment.  I had such a tremendous experience with compression socks at IM HI 2008, experiencing near-zero calf soreness post race, that I wanted to investigate further.  So, I did a Randomized-not-really-Controlled Trial….

OBJECTIVES: To determine the presence and extent of delayed-onset-muscle-soreness (DOMS) reduction secondary to compression sock use during a half-Ironman triathlon.  INCLUSION/EXCLUSION CRITERIA:  Inclusion criteria was being one of Eric Bean’s legs.  Legs not part of Eric Bean’s body were excluded from the study.  RANDOMIZATION: During T1, each leg was randomized to either the control or experimental group  via the standard “einee menee minee mo” protocol (Einee et. al., 1987).  METHODS:  The control leg wore a TIMEX logoed low-cut running sock (Wigwam, Pocatello, ID) for only the run portion of the race and no sock while cycling.  The experimental leg wore a Running O2 compression sock size Men III (CEP, Germany) for the bike and run portion of the triathlon.  Each sock was placed by the author using standard sock-putting-on protocols, and without the use of external sock-putting-on tools.  Each foot wore identical cycling and running shoes (same manufacturer and lot number), with the exception of right- vs. left-footedness, for each portion of the triathlon.  Each leg performed an equal number of cycling pedal strokes and running strides (+/- 1.0) along a 56-mile road cycling course and then on a 13.1 mile cross country run course.  The subject did not experience any crashes or other trauma during the triathlon.  DATA:  Perceived soreness was recorded on a 10-point scale (0 = no soreness; 5 = average soreness; 10 = maximum soreness imaginable) at 0, 24, 48, and 72 hours post race.  RESULTS: (hour post race, Right calf soreness (experimental), Left calf soreness (control))

Hour   |   Right   |   Left

0         |    5        |     5

24       |    6        |     7

48       |    6        |     6

72       |    4        |     4

ASSUMPTIONS: Blood flow rate and other physiological variables such as pH, [La+], surface and blood temperature, oxygen and CO2 partial pressure, SpO2, and blood glucose measurements, were not taken during this study, but assumed to be equal bilaterally.  CONCLUSIONS: The results do not demonstrate a statistically significant difference in perceived intensity of DOMS for the right calf supported by a compression sock vs. the contralateral calf, which wore a Wigwam low-cut running sock, for the period immediately following a half-ironman race and up to 3-days post-race.  It should be noted that the compression sock was 11-months old and perceived by the author to be less compressive than when new.  Further research is needed in this area.

Ok, focus Bean, and git ‘er done…finish the frickin’ blog!

So, I ran well.  6-minutes faster than last year.  Good enough to narrowly hold off a HARD charging Tim Surface (who ran 2:24 at Chicago a few years back), and who set a new run course record of 1:17.  Strong work!  I finished in a course record 4:11:00, 6-minutes better than last year, and set a new bike course record.  Looking forward to representin’ TIMEX well at tri #2 of the season, Pinehurst, which I’ll make my personal PineHURT!

The top-2 Ironman finishes, of course, are Julie Moss’ classic1982 finish:

and the infamous 1997 “Crawl-Off” between Wendy Ingrahm and Sian Welch:

While Mike’s finish isn’t this dramatic, he does TIMEX proud and shows us how to leave it out on the course:

Mike Lavery (TIMEX) Finishing Video IM HI 2009

So most of us have heard that TIMEX’s Jackie Arendt placed 4th in W25-29 at the Ford Ironman World Championships on Saturday in a time of 10:17:58.  The race was won by  27-year-old Australian Renee Nichols in a time of 10:01:48.

But, there’s another story here.   When Jackie called yesterday to fill me in on her race, I was shocked to learn that she flatted only 6-miles into the bike.  Then, while repairing her flat, she broke the valve stem on her spare tube, and waited…waited…waited 12-AGONIZING-MINUTES for neutral support!  Meanwhile her competition raced away.  Imagine your thoughts sitting helpless, twittling your thumbs on the side of the road for enough time for Kenenisa Bekele to set a world-record in the 5,000 meters.  When neutral support finally arrived, she bargained for a spare wheel rather than to wait even longer for them to swap out the tube.  Smart choice.  However, that meant that rather than riding her light and aero Bontrager Aeolus wheel for the next 100 miles, she rocked it old school on what she politely described as a “POS that I wouldn’t even put on my commuter bike.”

So, do the math:

Equation (1)   10:17:58 – 00:12:00 – (time savings of race wheel per mile x 100 miles) = Jackie kicking some serious A$$

What has impressed me most about this incident, is Jackie’s perspective on it.  She remained cool-as-a-cucumber, didn’t get worked up, change her race strategy, or try to “make-up” time, which of course would be the prelude to an inevitable bonk.  She simply accepted it and kept racing.  Her lasting impression from the day: “The whole day was just so much fun!  The flat tire, no big deal.  That’s racing. I’m happy.”

Bottom line?  Keep your eyes on this girl.  She’s a legit sub-10hr threat at IM HI, and a 9:59 would have placed her top-20 ahead of names like Heather Gollnick, Leanda Cave, and Kate Major.  Hmmm….

PS–Jackie, we’d all love a race report.

PPS–Happy birthday!

Meeting during the world championships in Switzerland, the UCI management committee has voted to ban race radios.  Please see this Velonews article for details: http://www.velonews.com/article/98391 Yeah, this is going to be interesting as the teams an riders certainly don’t agree…the soft-pedaling-30kph-protest “races” are already written on the wall.

In response to this news, my UW-Madison Cycling teammate agreed with the UCI’s decision with this post to our listserve:

I’d like to throw out a few questions to everyone. Why does it matter? And who cares?

If certain people start losing races due to radios not being there, does it matter? No, it just means someone else will be winning. It’s not like the UCI said, oh we’re done with all technology on this pro tour thing.

I think the UCI’s stance on technology (more specifically the radio) and how it pertains to keeping the sport’s ‘honesty and integrity’, is an effort to maintain a connection with the fans. I do think the radio ban will make races more interesting and test the riders’ ability to perceive the race themselves instead of having the race director calling some (obviously not all) of the moves. It will also make time trials in the pro peloton even more of a test of personal will.

Ban the radios.

Ban the dope.

However, as a technology enthusiast, I am a triathlete too after all, I disagree.  My response:

I’m just respectfully disagreeing here…

Part of the excitement of cycling for me, and for many other fans and racers, is the innovation.  Radios are a part of that.  They are simply a tool to improve communication, and I doubt that banning them would significantly alter a race outcome.  The UCI pro-tour is made up of the top several hundred riders in the world–the top 1% of the top 1%.  Cyclists simply don’t rise to that level in the physical chess-match that cycling is without being smart.  Pro-Tour cyclists are not mindless drones waiting to be told what to do by their director.  For example, in the break-away shake-out that defines the first hour of most races, teams instantly have to decide if the break has the right combination of riders:  are any of the riders a threat to the GC; are all the major team represented; how does the break impact our objectives today…pull it back or let it go? As the Director Sportif is stuck in the caravan behind the peloton, and can’t see the break forming, this decision is often left to the riders who must react, or choose not to, instantly.  While this may seem like an easy task for those familiar with Collegiate and USA Cycling races, that’s because in comparison to UCI racing, it’s happening in slow motion.

I was fortunate to race–or more accurately, get my ass kicked–at the UCI Tour de Leelanau last year with ISCorp.  An eye opening experience.  The race was comprised mostly of domestic teams and Cat 1 amateurs.  The shake-out was ridiculous and FAR more aggressive that any race I’ve ever done.  The peloton cruised along rolling hills at 27-30 mph, with a constant barrage of attacks at 35 mph.  It was chaos.  Maybe a radio would help it that situation, but by the time you radioed your DS to say these riders are off the front and have a 100m gap, I think it would be too late.

There’s also the argument that radios make races safer because Director’s can inform their riders of road hazards, etc.  But I won’t go into that.

Technology and innovation are a part of nearly every sport, and why shouldn’t they be?  If you take the all technology out of cycling it’s called running. So for you “purists” out there, go ride your penny farthing on a gravel road.  But for me, I like carbon and titanium and my Trek Madone and TTX for the “pure and simple” reason that going faster is simply more fun.

However you’re ridin’, keep on ridin’,

Bean