After much frustration from lots of swimming and little progress over the last couple years, I finally decided to have my stroke analyzed by someone who knows what they're doing. For this, I went to Swimlabs in Denver for a complete stroke analysis and video. What I found is this:
1. My catch is good. What I thought was the single biggest flaw in my stroke was perfectly fine. I was performing a good high elbow catch with decent starting hand position (need to go a little deeper) and getting a grip on a good amount of water.
2. What followed was not good. I kept my elbow high, almost to the very top of the water, and was thus not able to grab much water through the rest of my stroke. In order to get still water to grab onto I needed to pull at a much deeper level.
3. From there, it did not get better. Instead of pushing hard out the back with strong triceps I chopped my stroke short and exited the water with no final push. This is likely a throwback from my high school days as a sprinter where that final push wasn't necessarily as useful in my high cadence, no form thrashing that somehow wasn't slow.
4. The final problem with the pull phase was that I simply did not have the strength to accelerate through the swim stroke time and time again. Because of the good form of my catch, large paddles were recommended to help develop this strength (it should be noted, paddles, especially large ones, should not be used without proper form).
5. After that, out of the water, form was good, but it was recommended that a straighter arm recovery could be beneficial for optimal higher cadence open water endurance swimming as it redirected the momentum of the arm instead of stopping it and starting in a new plane of motion. I had previously wondered why so many professional triathletes did this and now I know. However, since it deals with out of the water movement, it is last on my priority list to attempt to change. Though I am definitely not doing any more "fingertip" drills.
6. The final major flaw on my swim stroke was a tendency to occasionally flail the legs apart on my two beat kick. Though this maneuver is like a parachute for drag, simply swimming more seems to keep this from happening and is not currently a concern.
So with all those problems fixed or being worked on I now finally feel like I'm swimming properly. Now I just got to do a crap ton more of it...
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
A Few Swim Tips
So now that I'm in off-season with nothing to train for and a knee to heal up, what do I do? Go straight to intensive studying of the swim stroke and proceed to immediately jump to my biggest swimming week yet (just hit my 3rd straight day of a hard 5k swim off a 20k week). So with all this swimming, I've also been able to observe a lot of other swimmers in the pool. Upon seeing these mistakes made time and time again with more swimmers than I can count, I'd like to go over my top 3 common mistakes I see in the many novice swimmers at the pool.
1. Crossing over the body's center line. This is the big one. The most common by far, and the easiest to spot (or simply most common because it is the easiest to spot). I particularly see this on the opposite arm when the swimmer is lifting (should be rotating...) the head to breath. When their head lifts/rotates, the arm moves in, crosses the center line and pulls the body off its axis of rotation.
2. Straight arm catch. Not getting the elbow high on the catch to pull back on the water and instead pushing down on the water first, causing the legs to drop to react to the force. This move can also cause shoulder problems, particularly with paddles (I should know, I experienced it years ago).
3. Ultra low cadence. While getting cadence up to as high as an elite swimmer is something I am struggling with and working very hard on myself, a cadence that is too low can make it very difficult/almost impossible to get into any kind of rhythm. It also means less oxygen delivery to the muscles from opportunities to breathe. Wherever your level, you can likely benefit from working on getting more comfortable at a higher cadence.
If you know you do one or more of those, don't worry, in the next post I'll cover some of my own flaws I have recently discovered about my stroke upon Swimlabs video analysis.
1. Crossing over the body's center line. This is the big one. The most common by far, and the easiest to spot (or simply most common because it is the easiest to spot). I particularly see this on the opposite arm when the swimmer is lifting (should be rotating...) the head to breath. When their head lifts/rotates, the arm moves in, crosses the center line and pulls the body off its axis of rotation.
2. Straight arm catch. Not getting the elbow high on the catch to pull back on the water and instead pushing down on the water first, causing the legs to drop to react to the force. This move can also cause shoulder problems, particularly with paddles (I should know, I experienced it years ago).
3. Ultra low cadence. While getting cadence up to as high as an elite swimmer is something I am struggling with and working very hard on myself, a cadence that is too low can make it very difficult/almost impossible to get into any kind of rhythm. It also means less oxygen delivery to the muscles from opportunities to breathe. Wherever your level, you can likely benefit from working on getting more comfortable at a higher cadence.
If you know you do one or more of those, don't worry, in the next post I'll cover some of my own flaws I have recently discovered about my stroke upon Swimlabs video analysis.
2nd Ironman: The Fixes That Worked
Though my 2nd Ironman at Louisville this year wasn't much of a success due to the bike mechanical that left me by the side of the road for an hour and 20' waiting for the entire race to pass me, I was still able to finish and test my theoretical fixes I had in place for the problems I encountered at the first. (See May 2013 post "First Ironman: Mistakes and Lessons ")
1. Swimming easier. My form never broke down and I actually swam faster for a much, much easier effort with little to no swimming going into the race. Though the course was likely 6' faster from current, I was still 3' faster which suggests that very little time was lost from this strategy and that next time a balance between the two will yield not only the best time but the best result.
2. Waiting to pee on the bike. I skipped the port-a-potty in T1 in favor of a nice downhill stretch on the bike. When shooting for Kona, minutes and seconds count.
3. Leaving a bottle cage empty to place extra bottles from aid stations. This was a big one. It allowed me to keep much cooler by grabbing not only the Gatorade bottle I would need for nutrition but also a water bottle to use only to periodically douse my head and body with water. I had planned on finding a different flat tire setup to add a cage to the rear of my bike, but ended up just racing with no regular bottles and only some initial water in my front aero bottle. This worked perfectly. It allowed me to stash a regular bottle for cooling in my single frame cage and then grab a Gatorade bottle at the end of the aid station to refill the aero bottle (while still allowing some tweaking of the Gatorade concentration later on in the race with the bottle of water on the frame). I found no need for anything more.
4. Wearing a hat on the run. The hat I got from Vegas 70.3 last year was white and made of coolmax material so I decided to try that. The difference was big. While the heat was much less than Texas (about 5° lower, but the big difference was the amount of shade and an extra close aid station instead of one extra far apart), instead of feeling like I was melting for the entire run, I actually felt COLD. Being able to stuff ice inside the hat to keep the head cold was a major benefit in the heat.
5. Bending the head when pouring water over it on the run. This simple trick worked perfectly for keeping water out of the shoes. My feet stayed dry for about 18 miles, and by that time, I don't care if things are getting a bit wet and squishy. The Hoka Bondi S2's worked great.
Overall, it was a positive and very enjoyable experience. Can't wait for Ironman Boulder in 2014!
1. Swimming easier. My form never broke down and I actually swam faster for a much, much easier effort with little to no swimming going into the race. Though the course was likely 6' faster from current, I was still 3' faster which suggests that very little time was lost from this strategy and that next time a balance between the two will yield not only the best time but the best result.
2. Waiting to pee on the bike. I skipped the port-a-potty in T1 in favor of a nice downhill stretch on the bike. When shooting for Kona, minutes and seconds count.
3. Leaving a bottle cage empty to place extra bottles from aid stations. This was a big one. It allowed me to keep much cooler by grabbing not only the Gatorade bottle I would need for nutrition but also a water bottle to use only to periodically douse my head and body with water. I had planned on finding a different flat tire setup to add a cage to the rear of my bike, but ended up just racing with no regular bottles and only some initial water in my front aero bottle. This worked perfectly. It allowed me to stash a regular bottle for cooling in my single frame cage and then grab a Gatorade bottle at the end of the aid station to refill the aero bottle (while still allowing some tweaking of the Gatorade concentration later on in the race with the bottle of water on the frame). I found no need for anything more.
4. Wearing a hat on the run. The hat I got from Vegas 70.3 last year was white and made of coolmax material so I decided to try that. The difference was big. While the heat was much less than Texas (about 5° lower, but the big difference was the amount of shade and an extra close aid station instead of one extra far apart), instead of feeling like I was melting for the entire run, I actually felt COLD. Being able to stuff ice inside the hat to keep the head cold was a major benefit in the heat.
5. Bending the head when pouring water over it on the run. This simple trick worked perfectly for keeping water out of the shoes. My feet stayed dry for about 18 miles, and by that time, I don't care if things are getting a bit wet and squishy. The Hoka Bondi S2's worked great.
Overall, it was a positive and very enjoyable experience. Can't wait for Ironman Boulder in 2014!
End of Season Update
Well everything after my first Ironman at Texas has, frankly, been very tough. There has been plenty to talk of, however, none of it very positive. Basically, I have bounced in and out of overtraining for several months and more recently a flare up of runner's knee that turned out to be much worse than originally perceived which have led to a LOT of either laying around doing nothing or going out to happy hour to stave off the disappointment of not being able to train.
It started about 18 days after Ironman. I didn't realize it then, but looking back this was the workout that did it. For two weeks I did next to nothing. Until it was time to race at Best of the US. An opportunity I could not pass up. Best of the US went, in large part, uneventful. For me, a low 23' swim for an Olympic was decent, however, it put me in DFL for the division. Luckily, there were other racers in the elite division of the Leon's Triathlon to come out of the water around me. On the bike, it was a slow day. Watts weren't great, but the course, being cold and windy with rough roads, did not suit my strengths. Still, I pushed as hard as I could on the bike and was just happy to find my legs didn't give out on me on the run as I barely broke 40' for the 10k, passing only 2 people in the division. At this point though, I figured, I was now on my way back to recovery. How wrong that was...
The workout started out as a nice easy ride back in Tulsa, OK, at the famous Wednesday Night Ride. And I did go easy. Until the legs started to feel really good. Really powerful. I started to ride tempo for a bit. It felt good. Really good. And that's when I saw them. The fast group. Forty to fifty Category 1-3 cyclists about to haul ass on the final stretch on Avery drive building into a massive finishing sprint. I decided to see if I could catch up. I was there quicker than I thought. But they were just getting moving. Once I had passed all but three or four, I became noticed, and they weren't about to let a triathlete have even a few seconds of glory. The pace got hot, and I was already maxed out trying to at least make it to the front for a second or two before dropping dead where I stood. Luckily, I had my race wheels and tires still attached from the previous race and was making it difficult. After what seemed an eternity, I made the pass; and promptly was swallowed up. With my heart in my mouth, I jumped out of the aerobars and tucked in for the ride, somehow surviving until the final sprint. Turns out, that 15' was the hardest I had ever rode for that time period and yielded a very good new 10' power. I was ecstatic.
That's when it all came unraveled. The next days' recovery runs became tougher and tougher, until that Sunday I tried to race a small aquathlon and found myself struggling to run a 9' mile for the 5k run. The next weekend was a sprint triathlon where I ran my slowest 5k in years and could barely hold Ironman watts for the bike leg. I thought I was simply out of shape, as it didn't feel the same as when I was overtrained last year. My resting heart rate was even still within parameters. But when I tried to breathe, it felt like I couldn't get oxygen. I decided this was a time to suck it up and push on. Two weeks later, I had built back up to a solid century ride with good power, but my heart rate was high the entire time. Too high. Things still weren't right. I had to rest.
After a few more weeks of rest just not doing what it should, I had started to finally realize it could be overtraining. Not the type I had experienced last year, but a different kind. Overtraining of a different nervous system. Until this point, I hadn't realized there were multiple types of overtraining. Last time, it was parasympathetic. This time, the sympathetic system. My only option was, sigh, much more rest.
Luckily, it hadn't gotten too bad. It was almost as if I had been bouncing back and forth across the line during the first half of the summer. It was mid-July now, however, and Ironman Louisville loomed just 6 weeks away. Three weeks later I had no idea where my fitness would be, but I was going to race the Boulder 70.3 because one, I had signed up and two, I had paid for it. It turned out to be the first day in months that I was finally healthy. I cruised to a sub-5 finish with ease, despite poor fitness and the atmosphere of a race making it difficult to treat the day as a training one.
Two and a half hard weeks later though and I had the majority of my fitness back and was ready to give it my all for my last shot at Kona this year. Ironman Louisville started out well enough, with a swim time 3' faster than at Texas despite no time in the pool for the last two months and swimming much easier (course was likely 6' faster with current). With a faster and more efficient transition I started the bike a solid 5' ahead of my Texas split and target power was feeling relatively easy. I was ready to blitz the course and hope my run fitness was good enough for a spot. Twenty-five miles in, on a steep hill, I shifted hard to my easiest gear and instantly regretted it. The chain had gotten stuck between the derailleur and wheel. It would be an hour and 20' before SAG finally was able to get into the area and get the chain loose. I literally had to wait for every single person in the race to pass me. My shot at Kona was gone for the year.
If there was an opportunity to quit the race right there, I would have took it. But I had to at least bike back to transition, so I figured I might as well take the long way in. From there, I rode endurance watts in and tested my new strategies for keeping cool in the heat. I figured I would walk most of the run. But after a few miles I joined up with some good company and decided to run him in for a 12:31 finish. My additional heat strategies worked well enough I almost felt cold in the 90 degree heat during the run. Heart rate stayed stuck at a 145 average the entire run, 30 beats below what I raced at in Texas! Overall, I was pleased to be able to finish around 11:10ish for an easy endurance pace and very proud of my mental strength for pushing through what was an extremely painful run and bike in a very different way. With a long ride of 3 hours and a long run of 1:20 as prep for the race, everything that normally doesn't hurt was incredibly painful. Back, shoulders, neck on the bike. FEET on the run. I was worried my feet might fall off after 15 miles. After 26.2...
After a dismal end to an otherwise successful season, I had to finish with a bang. Instead of training for Kona I figured I would train for a marathon. Three weeks away should be plenty of time, right? And it would have, if it wasn't for an old runner's knee flare up from two weeks of hard cycling, hiking, and trail running out in Moab and along the coast of California. The Denver Marathon became my first DNF from injury. It was too much too fast and I should have known, might have known, if I hadn't been having so much fun being able to hike, bike and run to my heart's content.
Lesson learned? It's not just knowing when to back off but also how much for how long and how to properly come back.
It started about 18 days after Ironman. I didn't realize it then, but looking back this was the workout that did it. For two weeks I did next to nothing. Until it was time to race at Best of the US. An opportunity I could not pass up. Best of the US went, in large part, uneventful. For me, a low 23' swim for an Olympic was decent, however, it put me in DFL for the division. Luckily, there were other racers in the elite division of the Leon's Triathlon to come out of the water around me. On the bike, it was a slow day. Watts weren't great, but the course, being cold and windy with rough roads, did not suit my strengths. Still, I pushed as hard as I could on the bike and was just happy to find my legs didn't give out on me on the run as I barely broke 40' for the 10k, passing only 2 people in the division. At this point though, I figured, I was now on my way back to recovery. How wrong that was...
The workout started out as a nice easy ride back in Tulsa, OK, at the famous Wednesday Night Ride. And I did go easy. Until the legs started to feel really good. Really powerful. I started to ride tempo for a bit. It felt good. Really good. And that's when I saw them. The fast group. Forty to fifty Category 1-3 cyclists about to haul ass on the final stretch on Avery drive building into a massive finishing sprint. I decided to see if I could catch up. I was there quicker than I thought. But they were just getting moving. Once I had passed all but three or four, I became noticed, and they weren't about to let a triathlete have even a few seconds of glory. The pace got hot, and I was already maxed out trying to at least make it to the front for a second or two before dropping dead where I stood. Luckily, I had my race wheels and tires still attached from the previous race and was making it difficult. After what seemed an eternity, I made the pass; and promptly was swallowed up. With my heart in my mouth, I jumped out of the aerobars and tucked in for the ride, somehow surviving until the final sprint. Turns out, that 15' was the hardest I had ever rode for that time period and yielded a very good new 10' power. I was ecstatic.
That's when it all came unraveled. The next days' recovery runs became tougher and tougher, until that Sunday I tried to race a small aquathlon and found myself struggling to run a 9' mile for the 5k run. The next weekend was a sprint triathlon where I ran my slowest 5k in years and could barely hold Ironman watts for the bike leg. I thought I was simply out of shape, as it didn't feel the same as when I was overtrained last year. My resting heart rate was even still within parameters. But when I tried to breathe, it felt like I couldn't get oxygen. I decided this was a time to suck it up and push on. Two weeks later, I had built back up to a solid century ride with good power, but my heart rate was high the entire time. Too high. Things still weren't right. I had to rest.
After a few more weeks of rest just not doing what it should, I had started to finally realize it could be overtraining. Not the type I had experienced last year, but a different kind. Overtraining of a different nervous system. Until this point, I hadn't realized there were multiple types of overtraining. Last time, it was parasympathetic. This time, the sympathetic system. My only option was, sigh, much more rest.
Luckily, it hadn't gotten too bad. It was almost as if I had been bouncing back and forth across the line during the first half of the summer. It was mid-July now, however, and Ironman Louisville loomed just 6 weeks away. Three weeks later I had no idea where my fitness would be, but I was going to race the Boulder 70.3 because one, I had signed up and two, I had paid for it. It turned out to be the first day in months that I was finally healthy. I cruised to a sub-5 finish with ease, despite poor fitness and the atmosphere of a race making it difficult to treat the day as a training one.
Two and a half hard weeks later though and I had the majority of my fitness back and was ready to give it my all for my last shot at Kona this year. Ironman Louisville started out well enough, with a swim time 3' faster than at Texas despite no time in the pool for the last two months and swimming much easier (course was likely 6' faster with current). With a faster and more efficient transition I started the bike a solid 5' ahead of my Texas split and target power was feeling relatively easy. I was ready to blitz the course and hope my run fitness was good enough for a spot. Twenty-five miles in, on a steep hill, I shifted hard to my easiest gear and instantly regretted it. The chain had gotten stuck between the derailleur and wheel. It would be an hour and 20' before SAG finally was able to get into the area and get the chain loose. I literally had to wait for every single person in the race to pass me. My shot at Kona was gone for the year.
If there was an opportunity to quit the race right there, I would have took it. But I had to at least bike back to transition, so I figured I might as well take the long way in. From there, I rode endurance watts in and tested my new strategies for keeping cool in the heat. I figured I would walk most of the run. But after a few miles I joined up with some good company and decided to run him in for a 12:31 finish. My additional heat strategies worked well enough I almost felt cold in the 90 degree heat during the run. Heart rate stayed stuck at a 145 average the entire run, 30 beats below what I raced at in Texas! Overall, I was pleased to be able to finish around 11:10ish for an easy endurance pace and very proud of my mental strength for pushing through what was an extremely painful run and bike in a very different way. With a long ride of 3 hours and a long run of 1:20 as prep for the race, everything that normally doesn't hurt was incredibly painful. Back, shoulders, neck on the bike. FEET on the run. I was worried my feet might fall off after 15 miles. After 26.2...
After a dismal end to an otherwise successful season, I had to finish with a bang. Instead of training for Kona I figured I would train for a marathon. Three weeks away should be plenty of time, right? And it would have, if it wasn't for an old runner's knee flare up from two weeks of hard cycling, hiking, and trail running out in Moab and along the coast of California. The Denver Marathon became my first DNF from injury. It was too much too fast and I should have known, might have known, if I hadn't been having so much fun being able to hike, bike and run to my heart's content.
Lesson learned? It's not just knowing when to back off but also how much for how long and how to properly come back.
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