In Print
A visit to the Copia Kids Garden leads to an appearance in the SF Chronicle. Check out the full story, or read the relevant excerpt:
Before we left, we made one last visit to the chickens. There I met a veteran of sustainability. He had just purchased a basket of strawberries for himself and three potted basil plants for his mom. Niko, 5, agreed with me that the chickens are the best part of the garden.
He and his mother, Rebecca Bateman of Napa, have watched the Kids Garden grow since its inception. They come at least once a month to see what's new in the garden and to check on the animals. At home, Niko grows tomatoes and pumpkins on the roof along with millet for his pet parakeet. I asked Niko what he likes best about gardening and he said, "The way the garden changes ... well ... you know ... the evolution of the garden."
As we left, I had a good feeling knowing that there are children in the world being taught about what healthy food is, where it comes from and how to take care of the environment so that it will continue to provide for generations to come. Even my kids said they had fun and wanted to come back. Maybe we'll even see Niko again.
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Good News!
Niko has agreed to hire me as Public Relations Manager for the Ducktective Co. when it is up and running. And the reversal of the workweek that he has long advocated -- five days off and two days on -- will be implemented at all Ducktective offices and factories. "But," he added, "it will be two very long, very busy days."
The Duckdective Co. will be a dynamic leader in the inventions category, with an emphasis on products that involve conveyor belts, either in their manufacturing or ultimate use. Carbonated milk and the bagless, incinerating vacuum cleaner are already in the development stages. Other ideas announced tonight include a device that will stir food while it is in an operating microwave oven, and something to do with cat doors.
Niko has agreed to hire me as Public Relations Manager for the Ducktective Co. when it is up and running. And the reversal of the workweek that he has long advocated -- five days off and two days on -- will be implemented at all Ducktective offices and factories. "But," he added, "it will be two very long, very busy days."
The Duckdective Co. will be a dynamic leader in the inventions category, with an emphasis on products that involve conveyor belts, either in their manufacturing or ultimate use. Carbonated milk and the bagless, incinerating vacuum cleaner are already in the development stages. Other ideas announced tonight include a device that will stir food while it is in an operating microwave oven, and something to do with cat doors.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Now
Tired. Tired of needing so much. Tired of thinking I need so much. Tired of not knowing. Anything.
Stupid. Stupid and sad and stuck.
I loved the air today. The afternoon breeze, charging through the gate and off the bay and over the marshes directly south of here, was cool and felt like fall.
Niko in bed, just before lights-out, his sheet pulled up to his neck, his hair pushed back from his forehead: loved that the best.
Today, I spoke to a kind and exuberant and beautiful woman about wine. Can't beat that.
So what about that stuff? Those moments. Those experiences.
I suppose I need to count them on the other side of the ledger -- they belong it seems on the not-stupid, not-sad and not-stuck side. Or maybe I need to put a fucking match to the ledger, stop assessing, delete this puke of a post and pull my head out of my self-indulgent whining ass. Or, alternatively, my self-indulgent whining head out of my ass. Whichever.
This much I know: I'll go to the pool tomorrow dreading all the laps ahead of me, dreading them more than death it seems. But I'll get in. And about two-thirds of the way through, around the mile mark, I'll realize that I'm alive and, fuckin-a, perhaps in charge of this thing my life.
Tired. Tired of needing so much. Tired of thinking I need so much. Tired of not knowing. Anything.
Stupid. Stupid and sad and stuck.
I loved the air today. The afternoon breeze, charging through the gate and off the bay and over the marshes directly south of here, was cool and felt like fall.
Niko in bed, just before lights-out, his sheet pulled up to his neck, his hair pushed back from his forehead: loved that the best.
Today, I spoke to a kind and exuberant and beautiful woman about wine. Can't beat that.
So what about that stuff? Those moments. Those experiences.
I suppose I need to count them on the other side of the ledger -- they belong it seems on the not-stupid, not-sad and not-stuck side. Or maybe I need to put a fucking match to the ledger, stop assessing, delete this puke of a post and pull my head out of my self-indulgent whining ass. Or, alternatively, my self-indulgent whining head out of my ass. Whichever.
This much I know: I'll go to the pool tomorrow dreading all the laps ahead of me, dreading them more than death it seems. But I'll get in. And about two-thirds of the way through, around the mile mark, I'll realize that I'm alive and, fuckin-a, perhaps in charge of this thing my life.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Lightweights
I alluded a few posts ago to Lance Armstrong's recommendation that his rival Jan Ullrich begin the Tour a few pounds lighter. What follows is a noted triathlon coach's thoughts on body weight, how best to reduce it, and athletic performance:
Around the time of the Tour de France there are often questions about how an athlete should go about losing weight in order to climb better. There’s little doubt that being lighter means climbing faster. Pro cyclists who contend for the yellow jersey, the polka dot jersey or who need to support their team leader in the Alps and Pyrenees try to be lean by the time the terrain turns upward. The best climbers are generally less than 2 pounds of body weight for every inch of height (divide your weight in pounds by your height in inches to find this number). It’s rare to find a rider in the pro peloton at 2.5 pounds per inch or greater. A lot of them who are not climbing specialists are around 2.1 to 2.2. The latest average I have for the TdF field shows an average of 2.151 pounds per inch (thanks to Gregory Byerline for providing that data).
Every pound of excess fat shaved from your body saves you about 3 watts in a climb. In running it is something like 2 seconds per mile per excess pound in a race. For most endurance athletes, a 1-point shift in weight-to-height ratio means about 5 percent loss of weight—around a 7- to 9-pound loss of love handles. That can be done safely over a two-month period if there is a big A-race with lots of climbing or the need to run faster on the calendar a couple of months from now.
How is it best for an athlete to lose weight? Unfortunately, there have been few studies of serious athletes that looked at this question.
One group of researchers, however, has examined the issue in an interesting way. They compared eating less to exercising more to see which was more effective in dropping excess body fat.
They had six endurance-trained men create a 1,000-calorie-per-day deficit for seven days by either exercising more while maintaining their caloric intake, or by eating less while keeping exercise the same. With 1,000 calories of increased exercise daily—comparable to running an additional 8 miles or so each day—the men averaged 1.67 pounds of weight loss in a week. The subjects eating 1,000 fewer calories each day lost 4.75 pounds on average for the week.
So, according to this study, the old adage that “a calorie is a calorie” doesn’t hold true. At least in the short term, restricting food intake appears to have a greater return on the scales than does increasing training workload.
Notice that I said “on the scales.” The reduced-food-intake group in this study unfortunately lost a greater percentage of muscle mass than did the increased-exercise group. That is an ineffective way to lose weight. If the scales show you’re lighter, but you have less muscle to create power, the trade-off is not a good one.
How can you reduce calories yet maintain muscle mass? Unfortunately, that question hasn’t been answered for athletes, but it has been for sedentary women. Perhaps the conclusions are still applicable to athletes.
In 1994, Italian researchers had 25 women eat only 800 calories a day for 21 days. Ten ate a relatively high-protein and low-carbohydrate diet. Fifteen ate a low-protein and high-carbohydrate diet. Both were restricted to 20 percent of calories from fat. The two groups lost similar amounts of weight, but there was a significantly greater loss of muscle on the high-carbohydrate, low-protein diet. It appears that when calories are reduced to lose weight, which is more effective than increasing training workload, the protein content of the diet must be kept at near normal levels. This, of course, assumes that you’re eating adequate protein before starting the diet, which many athletes aren’t. When training hard, a quality source of protein should be included in every meal, especially when trying to lose weight.
--Joe Friel, Ultrafit.com
I alluded a few posts ago to Lance Armstrong's recommendation that his rival Jan Ullrich begin the Tour a few pounds lighter. What follows is a noted triathlon coach's thoughts on body weight, how best to reduce it, and athletic performance:
Around the time of the Tour de France there are often questions about how an athlete should go about losing weight in order to climb better. There’s little doubt that being lighter means climbing faster. Pro cyclists who contend for the yellow jersey, the polka dot jersey or who need to support their team leader in the Alps and Pyrenees try to be lean by the time the terrain turns upward. The best climbers are generally less than 2 pounds of body weight for every inch of height (divide your weight in pounds by your height in inches to find this number). It’s rare to find a rider in the pro peloton at 2.5 pounds per inch or greater. A lot of them who are not climbing specialists are around 2.1 to 2.2. The latest average I have for the TdF field shows an average of 2.151 pounds per inch (thanks to Gregory Byerline for providing that data).
Every pound of excess fat shaved from your body saves you about 3 watts in a climb. In running it is something like 2 seconds per mile per excess pound in a race. For most endurance athletes, a 1-point shift in weight-to-height ratio means about 5 percent loss of weight—around a 7- to 9-pound loss of love handles. That can be done safely over a two-month period if there is a big A-race with lots of climbing or the need to run faster on the calendar a couple of months from now.
How is it best for an athlete to lose weight? Unfortunately, there have been few studies of serious athletes that looked at this question.
One group of researchers, however, has examined the issue in an interesting way. They compared eating less to exercising more to see which was more effective in dropping excess body fat.
They had six endurance-trained men create a 1,000-calorie-per-day deficit for seven days by either exercising more while maintaining their caloric intake, or by eating less while keeping exercise the same. With 1,000 calories of increased exercise daily—comparable to running an additional 8 miles or so each day—the men averaged 1.67 pounds of weight loss in a week. The subjects eating 1,000 fewer calories each day lost 4.75 pounds on average for the week.
So, according to this study, the old adage that “a calorie is a calorie” doesn’t hold true. At least in the short term, restricting food intake appears to have a greater return on the scales than does increasing training workload.
Notice that I said “on the scales.” The reduced-food-intake group in this study unfortunately lost a greater percentage of muscle mass than did the increased-exercise group. That is an ineffective way to lose weight. If the scales show you’re lighter, but you have less muscle to create power, the trade-off is not a good one.
How can you reduce calories yet maintain muscle mass? Unfortunately, that question hasn’t been answered for athletes, but it has been for sedentary women. Perhaps the conclusions are still applicable to athletes.
In 1994, Italian researchers had 25 women eat only 800 calories a day for 21 days. Ten ate a relatively high-protein and low-carbohydrate diet. Fifteen ate a low-protein and high-carbohydrate diet. Both were restricted to 20 percent of calories from fat. The two groups lost similar amounts of weight, but there was a significantly greater loss of muscle on the high-carbohydrate, low-protein diet. It appears that when calories are reduced to lose weight, which is more effective than increasing training workload, the protein content of the diet must be kept at near normal levels. This, of course, assumes that you’re eating adequate protein before starting the diet, which many athletes aren’t. When training hard, a quality source of protein should be included in every meal, especially when trying to lose weight.
--Joe Friel, Ultrafit.com
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Gone Fishing
It is starting to make sense, the instruction from the swimming manual to be "fish-like" in the water. Long and fluid. Sleek. Knifing through the water. OK, I'm the clumsiest, klutziest fish in the pond, but I'm starting to feel it. Three and a half years after taking up swimming, thousands and thousands of torturous laps later, I'm starting to feel it. And the confirmation is on the clock, where I see myself clicking off an endless string of 55-second 50s without tiring a bit. Slow as that is, it's faster and easier and clearly more efficient than before. What to explain this transformation? Lots of swimming. Three or four days a week in the pool all summer, then six days last week and already three days this week. Plus, as I mentioned, those three-plus years. You live in the water, you get fish-like. A little bit, at least.
It is starting to make sense, the instruction from the swimming manual to be "fish-like" in the water. Long and fluid. Sleek. Knifing through the water. OK, I'm the clumsiest, klutziest fish in the pond, but I'm starting to feel it. Three and a half years after taking up swimming, thousands and thousands of torturous laps later, I'm starting to feel it. And the confirmation is on the clock, where I see myself clicking off an endless string of 55-second 50s without tiring a bit. Slow as that is, it's faster and easier and clearly more efficient than before. What to explain this transformation? Lots of swimming. Three or four days a week in the pool all summer, then six days last week and already three days this week. Plus, as I mentioned, those three-plus years. You live in the water, you get fish-like. A little bit, at least.
Saturday, August 06, 2005
Vine Times
Why, yes, I do live in Napa and, indeed, I toil in the wine industry. Been a long time since I said anything about matters of the grape. Nothing profound to offer tonight; just three quick items:
1) Tony Hendra has, rather provocatively, reviewed the new McCoy bio of Parker. Fun read.
2) My pal David Darlington writes in the Times mag about Leo McCloskey, who feeds heartily off the wine industry's assumption that Parker has vast powers. Go here for that elucidating piece.
3) Finally, tonight with grilled turkey cheeseburgers, a salad of freshly picked tomatoes, and a pile of rosemary potatoes with diced grilled red bell peppers, I enjoyed Cuvaison's 2001 Merlot Carneros. Based on many tasting experiences now, I am convinced that the region is as exciting for Merlot and Syrah as it is for Burgundian varietals.
Why, yes, I do live in Napa and, indeed, I toil in the wine industry. Been a long time since I said anything about matters of the grape. Nothing profound to offer tonight; just three quick items:
1) Tony Hendra has, rather provocatively, reviewed the new McCoy bio of Parker. Fun read.
2) My pal David Darlington writes in the Times mag about Leo McCloskey, who feeds heartily off the wine industry's assumption that Parker has vast powers. Go here for that elucidating piece.
3) Finally, tonight with grilled turkey cheeseburgers, a salad of freshly picked tomatoes, and a pile of rosemary potatoes with diced grilled red bell peppers, I enjoyed Cuvaison's 2001 Merlot Carneros. Based on many tasting experiences now, I am convinced that the region is as exciting for Merlot and Syrah as it is for Burgundian varietals.
Captured
Recently, my parents, grandmother and Auntie Margaret were over for the day. It was Margaret's first visit to the house so we took her on a tour. In the course of the tour someone pointed out a photograph, taken from the back window of Niko's room, of Niko and me on the hammock. If love could be boiled down to its pure essence, it would be this photograph:
A father and his son in the warm evening glow. Niko is reclined on top of me, his head propped up against my leg. We are facing each other and he is examining something he is holding in his hand and he is (I am sure) spinning brilliant theories about the object and its origins or use. In the photograph, the object is just barely too small to decipher. The stuff of our family life is scattered around us on the ground, brown now in early fall beneath the big oak. On the left edge of the photo there's a wading pool, empty but for a few clumps of leaves. Below, there are a couple of chairs, one wrought iron, another from an old dining-room set. There's a colorful plastic tee with the fat yellow bat nearby. There's a bunched up silver tarp, with Sammy Cat just off the edge, peering -- as he often does -- at something knowable only to him. There's also a bucket of water with one of my winemaking siphons in it. No doubt Niko had been siphoning earlier.
Looking at the photo, it occurred to me: My ex created that. One evening during our allegedly loveless marriage, she stopped what she was doing, grabbed the camera and captured that moment.
Photography is as much art as any other form. Beauty in art rarely comes by accident. And this beautiful photo, this picture of overwhelming tenderness and sweetness, was made by my ex. Could she have created it if she didn't see and feel and hold love for our lives -- for me -- in her heart? A classic technique of abandoning marriage is to revise the history; my ex wants to believe there never really was love between us. I see now where there was pain and poor communication and even meanness -- as in most human interaction. But there was love, as well. Tons of love. The evidence is everywhere, I am sure of it. Which leaves me, where, exactly? Where I was before, where I have been since this started, where I will be, it seems, for a very long time: drifting deep in sadness. Sadness for myself for what I have lost; sadness for her for the pain that drove her to destroy so much that was beautiful.
Recently, my parents, grandmother and Auntie Margaret were over for the day. It was Margaret's first visit to the house so we took her on a tour. In the course of the tour someone pointed out a photograph, taken from the back window of Niko's room, of Niko and me on the hammock. If love could be boiled down to its pure essence, it would be this photograph:
A father and his son in the warm evening glow. Niko is reclined on top of me, his head propped up against my leg. We are facing each other and he is examining something he is holding in his hand and he is (I am sure) spinning brilliant theories about the object and its origins or use. In the photograph, the object is just barely too small to decipher. The stuff of our family life is scattered around us on the ground, brown now in early fall beneath the big oak. On the left edge of the photo there's a wading pool, empty but for a few clumps of leaves. Below, there are a couple of chairs, one wrought iron, another from an old dining-room set. There's a colorful plastic tee with the fat yellow bat nearby. There's a bunched up silver tarp, with Sammy Cat just off the edge, peering -- as he often does -- at something knowable only to him. There's also a bucket of water with one of my winemaking siphons in it. No doubt Niko had been siphoning earlier.
Looking at the photo, it occurred to me: My ex created that. One evening during our allegedly loveless marriage, she stopped what she was doing, grabbed the camera and captured that moment.
Photography is as much art as any other form. Beauty in art rarely comes by accident. And this beautiful photo, this picture of overwhelming tenderness and sweetness, was made by my ex. Could she have created it if she didn't see and feel and hold love for our lives -- for me -- in her heart? A classic technique of abandoning marriage is to revise the history; my ex wants to believe there never really was love between us. I see now where there was pain and poor communication and even meanness -- as in most human interaction. But there was love, as well. Tons of love. The evidence is everywhere, I am sure of it. Which leaves me, where, exactly? Where I was before, where I have been since this started, where I will be, it seems, for a very long time: drifting deep in sadness. Sadness for myself for what I have lost; sadness for her for the pain that drove her to destroy so much that was beautiful.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Out There Running
So what in the world's come over you
And what in heaven's name have you done
You've broken the speed of the sound of loneliness
You're out there running just to be on the run
Well I got a heart that burns with a fever
And I got a worried and a jealous mind
How can a love that'll last forever
Get left so far behind
--John Prine
So what in the world's come over you
And what in heaven's name have you done
You've broken the speed of the sound of loneliness
You're out there running just to be on the run
Well I got a heart that burns with a fever
And I got a worried and a jealous mind
How can a love that'll last forever
Get left so far behind
--John Prine
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Half Vineman to Me: Here, Pete; I Have Your Ass for You
Today I entered a new realm of triathlon. I sucked. Wait -- don't be alarmed! I'm not brimming with self-loathing. I'm actually proud of my performance. The run was 2+ hours of hell, yet I never stopped. I ran the whole thing. I ran slowly, but I ran it and in the end they gave me my medal and I look at it, right now, and say, "I earned that thing."
But I still sucked.
I'm not sure what my time was. Somewhere around 6 hours, more than 20 minutes slower than last year's 5:38 and 15+ minutes slower than my first Half Vineman, in 2002.
What happened? Two things: First, in my so-called training, I didn't put in the necessary work on the bike. Gordo has said many a time that the bike is the heart of long-distance triathlon. "The bike is the engine," is how he's put it, the idea being that if the engine isn't powerful and well-tuned, the athlete will come out of the bike in no position to run well. My story, in a nutshell. In poor cycling shape, I nevertheless splitted under three hours, making it a typical Half Vineman bike for me. But getting that time zapped me. Typically, I come off the bike and uncorked a couple of 8-minute miles and only slip by about a minute-per-mile over the course of the 13.1-mile run. Today, my first mile was 9 minutes. My second was 10. My legs were shot. It was all I could do to turn out 10-minute miles the rest of the way.
There was also the matter of hydration. My wave was second-to-last of 16 to go, each separated by 8 minutes. By the time we started our swim, at 8:45 a.m., the fog deep in the Russian River Valley was already burning off. On the bike, I never felt hot and never felt thirsty, so I didn't drink much -- probably about half what I remember consuming in previous Half Vinemans. By the time I began running, I realized I was parched. I drank a couple of cups of water, and sips of Gatorade, at every aid station (every mile). My stomach took it reasonably well, and after each station, I'd feel stronger for a couple of minutes. Then I'd fade. This repeated over and over again.
OK, so how dehydrated was I. Well, three hours and a probably a half-gallon of fluids later, my weight was still down almost 6 percent. This is serious dehydration, friends. (Check out this link; I was shocked.) Now, another hour and a sandwich and a liter of water and a beer later, as the cooling evening breeze kicks in and blows into the office here, I still feel very hot.
So, OK, I sucked and I was stupid.
But hey, as I said above, that's OK. I started, I finished, I learned. Now I'm going to get ready -- really ready -- for a cool local half coming up in October. Half Vineman handed me my ass today and the Napa Valley Vintage Half is going to pay for it!
UPDATE: Official numbers are in.
--0:40:30.9 on the swim (fantastic, a PR);
--3:03:11.5 on the bike, but they didn't have a T1 for me, so it looks like they folded my usual 5-minute transition into the bike time, which means I biked a 2:58;
--a 4 1/2-minute T2 (awful; couldn't find my bike for a full minute, then when I tried to put on my tri shirt I found I'd pinned my race number through the front and back of the shirt, making it impossible to put on);
--and the aforementioned hideous run, 2:15:45.6, between 20 and 25 minutes slower than my previous Half Vineman runs.
--total time was 6:03:54.7; this left me a surprisingly high 144th out of 234 in my age group, which suggests I wasn't the only guy to suffer from a, uh, drinking problem.
Today I entered a new realm of triathlon. I sucked. Wait -- don't be alarmed! I'm not brimming with self-loathing. I'm actually proud of my performance. The run was 2+ hours of hell, yet I never stopped. I ran the whole thing. I ran slowly, but I ran it and in the end they gave me my medal and I look at it, right now, and say, "I earned that thing."
But I still sucked.
I'm not sure what my time was. Somewhere around 6 hours, more than 20 minutes slower than last year's 5:38 and 15+ minutes slower than my first Half Vineman, in 2002.
What happened? Two things: First, in my so-called training, I didn't put in the necessary work on the bike. Gordo has said many a time that the bike is the heart of long-distance triathlon. "The bike is the engine," is how he's put it, the idea being that if the engine isn't powerful and well-tuned, the athlete will come out of the bike in no position to run well. My story, in a nutshell. In poor cycling shape, I nevertheless splitted under three hours, making it a typical Half Vineman bike for me. But getting that time zapped me. Typically, I come off the bike and uncorked a couple of 8-minute miles and only slip by about a minute-per-mile over the course of the 13.1-mile run. Today, my first mile was 9 minutes. My second was 10. My legs were shot. It was all I could do to turn out 10-minute miles the rest of the way.
There was also the matter of hydration. My wave was second-to-last of 16 to go, each separated by 8 minutes. By the time we started our swim, at 8:45 a.m., the fog deep in the Russian River Valley was already burning off. On the bike, I never felt hot and never felt thirsty, so I didn't drink much -- probably about half what I remember consuming in previous Half Vinemans. By the time I began running, I realized I was parched. I drank a couple of cups of water, and sips of Gatorade, at every aid station (every mile). My stomach took it reasonably well, and after each station, I'd feel stronger for a couple of minutes. Then I'd fade. This repeated over and over again.
OK, so how dehydrated was I. Well, three hours and a probably a half-gallon of fluids later, my weight was still down almost 6 percent. This is serious dehydration, friends. (Check out this link; I was shocked.) Now, another hour and a sandwich and a liter of water and a beer later, as the cooling evening breeze kicks in and blows into the office here, I still feel very hot.
So, OK, I sucked and I was stupid.
But hey, as I said above, that's OK. I started, I finished, I learned. Now I'm going to get ready -- really ready -- for a cool local half coming up in October. Half Vineman handed me my ass today and the Napa Valley Vintage Half is going to pay for it!
UPDATE: Official numbers are in.
--0:40:30.9 on the swim (fantastic, a PR);
--3:03:11.5 on the bike, but they didn't have a T1 for me, so it looks like they folded my usual 5-minute transition into the bike time, which means I biked a 2:58;
--a 4 1/2-minute T2 (awful; couldn't find my bike for a full minute, then when I tried to put on my tri shirt I found I'd pinned my race number through the front and back of the shirt, making it impossible to put on);
--and the aforementioned hideous run, 2:15:45.6, between 20 and 25 minutes slower than my previous Half Vineman runs.
--total time was 6:03:54.7; this left me a surprisingly high 144th out of 234 in my age group, which suggests I wasn't the only guy to suffer from a, uh, drinking problem.
Saturday, July 23, 2005
Warming Up
The temperature shot up to over 100 in the valleys around the Bay today. I got in my workout -- 45 flat miles of steady, hard pedaling-- early enough to avoid much heat, but I couldn't avoid wondering what might happen next Sunday, at Half Vineman, if we have another day like this. My age group hits the water at 8:34 a.m., which means I'll probably begin the half-marathon run portion of the race sometime between noon and 12:30. Yikes.
One other quick tri-related thought: Saw a quote from Lance that Ullrich's problem has been that he isn't in quite the shape he needs to be as the Tour begins. Specifically, Lance said the big German needs to be a kilo and a half less-big when the race starts. This was a reminder of how important Lance sees body weight. I've seen many references from him regarding his own weight. Clearly, he works harder than anyone to find that sweet spot of maximum power and minimum weight.
Me? I could easily be six or seven pounds lighter without sacrificing any strength. How much time would that cut off my 56-mile bike split?
The temperature shot up to over 100 in the valleys around the Bay today. I got in my workout -- 45 flat miles of steady, hard pedaling-- early enough to avoid much heat, but I couldn't avoid wondering what might happen next Sunday, at Half Vineman, if we have another day like this. My age group hits the water at 8:34 a.m., which means I'll probably begin the half-marathon run portion of the race sometime between noon and 12:30. Yikes.
One other quick tri-related thought: Saw a quote from Lance that Ullrich's problem has been that he isn't in quite the shape he needs to be as the Tour begins. Specifically, Lance said the big German needs to be a kilo and a half less-big when the race starts. This was a reminder of how important Lance sees body weight. I've seen many references from him regarding his own weight. Clearly, he works harder than anyone to find that sweet spot of maximum power and minimum weight.
Me? I could easily be six or seven pounds lighter without sacrificing any strength. How much time would that cut off my 56-mile bike split?
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