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.

One Bad Run

I really despise bad training runs, and it can be one hard pill to swallow when they fall on a key track workout day. I’m not talking about the kind of day where you feel slightly off , you might have to work a little harder to achieve your goal, or at worse, your pace is a tad slower than goal pace…nope, I’m talking about the kind of day where even the coach says let’s stop this workout.

The road back from injury is usually slow (and seems to get slower with age) and requires a LOT of patience. Up until this past weekend, I had not raced since August 2008 and I missed the competition! The fact that I have recently been able to introduce some speed sessions into my training has been awesome and I truly love being out on the track. I am an athlete for many reasons, one of which is the joy and satisfaction I receive in testing my limits as I pursue my goals. These quality run days are in essence one way for me to fill the void of not being able to compete for the past 8 months. So when coach told me to stop my workout after only 1 interval, I was initially a bit dejected.

I knew when I started my interval that it was going to be a tough day. I expect tough days, but this workout was a little different. There was that internal struggle between YOU HAVE TO GUT THIS OUT versus You are not on today so let’s back it off because the risk outweighs the reward, and thankfully, I had another pair of eyes watching me. Honestly, had my coach not been at the track I probably would have completed the workout, been disappointed with the pace, and not gained one thing by doing so! Every workout has a purpose and when that purpose is compromised, adjustments need to be made, or at least expectations need to be reset. However, this is always easier said that done.

As athletes we are often our own worst critic. We condition our mind and body to handle pain, to block things out, and focus on the task ahead of us. Weakness is not tolerated. Stubbornness can get us to the finish line, but can also lead to our downfall. There are several articles and books written about what it takes to have a champions mentality and often one of the recurring themes is being able to adapt to adversity and rebound from failures. While my body was physically healing over the past several months, I focused my attention on reading such books as In Pursuit of Excellence by Terry Orlick, PhD. Today’s run was a test…would I obsess over the failed workout or embrace the day for what it was…just another training run? On that day, I chose the latter (with some help from Coach!) and decided to save the work for a better day.

above: Dad — Jason and Ally — Ally, Jen, Elle, Henna, Autumn, Juli — Autumn and Zach

Sometimes, when I quiet my mind, I’m amazed by change over time. Regardless of our choices, our paths, our intentions, our fantasies, our journey moves onward. Perhaps overstated, nonetheless, the words that keep coming to me are epic + journey. I considered this in three microcosms which are touching my life, although somewhat tangentially.

Books.
Well, someday I might just have to write a book. In the meantime, I sure like to read. Autumn and I have the same experience. We just fall in and devour the books we love. Don’t start talking about that OCD stuff, either, we know, we know. Anyhow, at the moment, I’m reading the newest Richard Russo book, Bridge of Sighs. It’s in the ‘epic’ category for me. A total Len-book. Len Fiocca is my dad. A digression, but to understand: he has his masters in literature and did his thesis on Mark Twain. Although he’s 66 and he can’t remember what plans you made with him for today unless he writes it down, you can call him right now and ask him any literary or grammar question (or any rule of golf) and he will nail it. It’s remarkable. He’s also a superb story-teller (mythology or his own). His preferences: Russo, Annie Proulx, Cormac McCarthy (but seriously, we don’t understand why, of all of his books, The Road was decorated – so depressing!), Thomas Harris, Elmore Leonard, Jon Krakauer — you get the picture. In return, I gave him Edgar Sawtelle, a well-told Hamlet knock-off. Oprah now has it as one of her ‘O’ books, but don’t let that thwart you. She does tend to have solid literary taste.
Autumn and I are reading Hatchet together, which consumes my thoughts at times…
Books that are in my epic journey category follow the character through a figurative or literal journey where regardless of our character’s flaws, follies, or fantasies, his/her life progresses. Change. Age. Chapters. Death.

Ally.
My friend, Ally, is on an epic journey of the literal kind. And maybe one of transcendence. She and her friend, Jason, are riding their bikes from Austin to New York. Follow their blog (Autumn and I get a mention in the ‘Ally’s gear’ section, as Autumn got Ally a fashion + function headband):
A2NY –
Facebook — Ally Brandt and Jason Reitz

Bike.
Ankle surgery. Recovery. Blah Blah Blah. So, I’m a few weeks into “you can ride as hard as you want”, which really means as hard as I’m able, as my fitness temporarily skipped out on me. To test my fitness, I rode my favorite IM-training hill-repeat workout. But I only did 5 repeats (not 10) and aero on my TT bike (but no power cranks). It was a fabulous suffer-fest.
To get it back, there is only one way. TOB. Time on bike.

So on Sunday, Coach Chann planned a 4.5 hour ride (the longest ride since Kona/surgery). 80% chance of rain, so I packed my rain jacket and got Zach to agree to ride with me.
As another aside, Zach Fiocca is my brother. In the genetic shake-up, he got most of the height, resourcefulness, and chick-magnetism (not that I wanted exactly that). I’m older and smarter, so na-na-na-na-boo-boo. We argue about who is more athletically and musically gifted, and cite each other. To argue my point, on Saturday, we were out for “ATC”, which is a group ride that somewhat simulates a road race. He’s hardly been out on the road lately, and he hung with the first group on a fixie. Seriously. He only got dropped because he had to unclip and hang on for dear life on the descents. So, when I want my butt kicked, he’s my go-to guy.

At 7:25am, I rolled out and rode downtown. At 8am, Zach bailed on me. At 8:30, I had tried to find group rides – without any success. I went east, I went central, I rode all over the city. Not sure if it was the date or the rain, but no one was showing up. Ended up riding through a thunderstorm, rain+sun, sun, a flat… During my ride, I contemplated my journey.

Cleveland has been very good to me. It’s an amazing town, great cycling, wonderful people, yummy restaurants, and a spectacular park system. But for crying out loud, people, no one should be expected to live through a Cleveland winter. This is number 8 for me and I’m about to pull out my nose hairs one by one to distract from the pain of the endless cloudy days. However, it was SUNNY yesterday. Of course, it couldn’t come out until after my gloomy run, but I did get to feel that hint of maybe, just maybe some warmth yesterday evening. In celebration of the event I took out my bike and gave it a full spring cleaning (with new bar tape and everything!). Granted it was so cold that I was wearing my winter coat and knee-high Sorel boots. A clean and freshly lubed bike is really something to be admired. It pedaled so smoothly and shifted like butta…. when I did my trainer ride later that day. Grrrrrr…. Thankfully, I’m pretty sure that I’ll be headed somewhere significantly sunnier and with a much longer outdoor training season for the coming years. Not that I’ll have time for that…

Just a couple days into my self-made training camp and I’m already sore. I’m currently trying to arrange my day so as to avoid the water aerobics ladies at the gym. My gym’s pool, for my non-masters days, is just 3 lanes so a carefully planned workout is key. I had to share an end lane with Mr. can’t backstroke in a straight line one day and ended up with a very bruised right hand from hitting the wall and ladder over and over trying to avoid a concussion. On the topic of swimming, it’s remarkable how much easier it is to get the yardage in with the team compared to by myself. I get to about 3000 yards on my own and am completely and utterly bored out of my skull. I can swim with the team for 5000+ and it’s still bearable.

With cycling every day indoors I’m starting to run out of ideas for trainer workouts. I suppose I should put in a couple of steady zone 2 rides, but with no TV for entertainment that’s kind of like asking me to rearrange my closet alphabetically by color and store of origin. Sure it may seem like a good idea when you start, but by the time you get to the B’s you’re looking for a less painful thing to do… like maybe a self lobotomy.

OK, enough complaining for one day. I’ll be doing all my workouts outside under the hot sun in just over a week. Ahhhhhh….