Tuesday, January 8, 2019

Sprinting for the Endurance Cyclist

[When I moved to California, I changed my promised posting schedule from once a week to once a month. It has only been a week since my last post, why the change? First, I had accumulated a number of posts and worried that some of them would get stale if I only posted once a month. Second, this and the previous post are sort of Part A and Part B of the same post so that separating them by a month might be too long. This is a very temporary change; I anticipate mostly sticking to a once a month schedule going forward.]

As much as I love reading books about training, there is one thing about them that I find frustrating; finding the information for which I am looking always seems to require jumping around in the book, extracting bits of information from here and there, and sometimes, even going outside the book to find missing bits of information critical to actually figuring out what it is that the author would have me do. Maybe it's just me. I am a very fast reader, and part of the reason for that is that I tend to skim. Maybe if I could just slow down and read carefully I would not have this problem. Sadly, I am who I am and so reconstruction of what I read seems to be a fact of life for me. That being the case, blogging really helps me, it forces me to work through the books I read and the questions I have and to organize them in logical ways, so at the end of writing a blog post, I understand the topic much better than I can by just reading. That was what happened when I wrote my recent post on "Deconstructing the 100K". Although I had read "Distance Cycling" by John Hughes and Dan Kehlenbach ("Hughes & Kehlenbach") more than once, it was only when I wrote that post that I finally figured out what they wanted me to do during their "brisk" rides. In the end, everything I needed to know what somewhere in that book, but while I was in the middle of figuring it out, I noted their reference to an electronic article by John Hughes ("Hughes") on the topic, and I purchased it in the hopes of gaining clarity. This article, shown at the top of this post, is published on the "Road Bike Rider" website, and although I did not end up needing Hughes to decode Hughes & Kehlenbach, comparing the two proved interesting.

But why am I even doing this? As I mentioned back in that 100K post, one of the experienced cyclists who commented on my blog advised me to "Throw all that training literature away..." The problem is, this is just one commenter of several; if I consider all the comments I have gotten over the years, they advise to do pretty much everything: ride faster, ride slower, ride more, ride less, read no books, read more books, etc., etc., so at the end of the day I end up where I started, I have to decide for myself. But after all this time, have I not figured this out? Did I not just present a training plan in my 100K post? Yes, I did, but.....
  • I'm still not sure. What if I am riding too fast? What if I am riding too slow? How would I know?
  • I am chronically frustrated that I am so slow, and that I never seem to get much faster. Maybe if I did the right brisk rides, I could get faster?
  • Anyway, I read the Hughes article so I might as well review it. One reason I purchased it was that it was "newly revised for 2016". Have the latest findings changed everything? Does it tell me the same thing as Hughes & Kehlenbach or is it yet another divergent opinion?
One difference between Hughes compared to Hughes & Kehlenbach is that the training zone heart rates have been revised down, so the recommended riding intensities are lower. In my 100K post, I argued that because my "GoTo" ride had so many hills, it forced me into all the different intensities (heart rate zones) as I needed. The change in zones shifted that calculation:

Different Intensities in my GoTo Ride. Because the hills in which I ride, every ride I do is at a mixture of intensities (levels of difficulty.) To determine how much of each intensity I was riding, I wore a heart rate monitor on a GoTo ride. Shown are the minutes of the 110 minute ride spent in the different heart rate zones. (Heart rate zones are a measure of intensity.) The color code is the standard one used throughout this blog; Green is an Easy Intensity. Yellow is my Long Ride Intensity, the intensity I plan for the event I for which I am training. Blue is Pace Intensity, a bit harder than what I plan for my event. Red is my Hard/Fast/Hilly Intensity. The two columns are calculated using the two different sets of heart rate zones given in Hughes & Kehlenbach and in Hughes.
Compared to Hughes and Kehlenbach, Hughes makes my GoTo ride seem more like a Pace ride and less like an Endurance ride. If I take this seriously, this would suggest that I might want to include more rides on the flat parts of The Peninsula in my schedule, which happens to be something I want to do anyway. But that would reduce the amount of "hard" (red) riding I am doing, do I need to compensate for that? As I will discuss below, perhaps not.

Both Hughes and Hughes & Kehlenbach recommend the same three less-than-hard rides; Active Recovery (Zone 1), Endurance (Zone 2), and Tempo (Zone 3). Where Hughes and Hughes & Kehlenbach differ is that Hughes considers five kinds of hard rides whereas Hughes & Kehlenbach consider only one. The five kinds of hard rides in Hughes, in order of increasing intensity, are Sweet Spot (border of Zones 3 and 4), Sub-threshold (Zone 4), Super-Threshold (Zone 5a*), VO2max (Zone 5b*), and Sprints (Zone 5c*). The single hard ride Hughes & Kehlenbach recommends corresponds to the Sub-Threshold (Zone 4) ride of Hughes.

Another difference between Hughes and Hughes & Kehlenbach is that Hughes makes different recommendations for three different kinds of riders, Health and Fitness Riders, Club and Endurance Riders, and Performance Riders. I fall into the first group, or perhaps the second group on a good day, but never in the third group. Hughes & Kehlenbach consider only one kind of rider, one corresponding to the Club and Endurance Rider of Hughes.

For the Health and Fitness rider, Hughes recommends the following: "In addition to active recovery, endurance and tempo rides, you will benefit from sprints and VO2 max intervals; however, if you don’t want to do either of these—don’t!" For the Club and Endurance rider, Hughes says "In addition to active recovery, endurance and tempo rides you will also benefit from sprints, VO2 max intervals and sweet spot training; however, if you don’t want to push yourself that hard I won’t fault you." So the good news is that, according to Hughes, whatever hard riding I do, even if that is none, will be enough.

So are we done at long last? Not quite. Hughes lists nine benefits that come from including at least some hard rides in your schedule. I won't list all nine, but I want to mention one: Better Performance. At the beginning of this post, I mentioned how I am disappointed with my speed and how I would love to find some way to increase it. If my enthusiasm and level of fatigue would allow it, might introducing some specifically hard/fast/brisk rides into my schedule be beneficial? Interestingly, the hard ride recommended by Hughes & Kehlenbach was at the low end of hard, in Zone 4, whereas the two rides Hughes recommends for the Health and Fitness cyclist are at the high end; Sprint (Zone 5c) and VO2max (5b). These last two are not intensities I reach during my GoTo ride, and thus rides at these intensities might add something I would not otherwise get. (For the Club and Endurance rider, Hughes suggests one more hard ride, the "Sweet Spot" ride, at the very low end of hard, at the border between Zones 3 and 4, an intensity that I reach often in my GoTo ride.) But is this madness? Am I about to complicate the beautifully simple schedule I developed for riding a 100K per month? I actually don't think so. I have recently been enjoying riding my 1960 Bianchi Specialissima around the neighborhood. (Because it has sew-up tires which are hard to change on the road, I have been keeping these rides close to home so I could walk home in the case of a flat.) One of the reasons I like riding this classic bike is because it feels fast. Although traffic is a consideration everywhere on The Peninsula, there are some stretches of this neighborhood ride a few blocks long where there is less traffic overall and virtually no cross traffic, so these might be places I could enjoy the speed of this beautiful bike and practice sprinting. If I do this, will it improve my speed? Stay tuned to find out.

* I have substituted Joe Friel's Zone numbering system (5a, 5b, 5c) for that of Hughes (5, 6, and 7) because Freil's system is the one I have previously used on this blog.

Tuesday, January 1, 2019

Deconstructing 100K per month

"STOP training. Stop worrying about all the numbers. Throw all that training literature away -- it isn't written for someone 60+ years old with a fairly high resting pulse (60+), anyway. Instead, start riding and enjoying the rides for the sake of the rides."

This comment, from one of my blog posts long ago and far away, is one I think about often. Although I really appreciate the sentiment (and I appreciate that the author took the trouble to post a comment even more), each of the many times I have rethought this comment, I end up telling myself the same thing: "I'm sorry Dave, I can't do that." (My name is David so when I talk to myself, I ..., oh, never mind.) Cycling inevitably involves choices, and depending on what choices I make, has consequences. How often do I ride? (A different commenter on that same post chided me for riding two days in a row.) How fast do I ride? (...and chided me for riding too fast.) For how many miles? If I am interested in a group ride, which rides are too long or too hilly and which are just right? All of that said, over the past five years, I have moved some distance in the direction this commenter suggested. Although I own a dozen books on bicycle training, these days, I only look at one, "Distance Cycling" by John Hughes and Dan Kehlenbach, the cover of which is at the top of this post. My Garmin stopped working about a year ago, so I no longer track my heart rate during a ride. But I still have choices to make, and this post is about how I am thinking about these choices at this point in my life. In particular, I am going to put this into the context of my recent goal of riding one metric century (100 kilometers or just over 60 miles) a month. This is a big step backwards from five years ago, when my goal was to complete rides twice that long with the hope of working up to even longer rides. What happened? In short, I found a 200K brevet (a bike ride of 200 kilometers or just over 120 miles) much harder than I expected, such that it seemed (and still seems) unlikely I could complete one of these a month, a prerequisite for the longer rides of which I had dreamed. My move to California pushed this dream even farther out of reach. In Texas, the 200K brevets I could ride were relatively flat. In California, they are quite hilly and therefore substantially more difficult. In short, the dream is over, 100K it is.

One more factor I need to mention is that my motives for riding are mixed. Besides "enjoying the rides for the sake of the rides", I must keep riding for my health, mental and physical, whether I enjoy it or not. And therein lies a conflict. Most of the training literature assumes you are starting at a point where you cannot complete your goal ride, and that you will work up to that goal, with no plan for sustaining that level of fitness. In particular, the exercise community builds their recommendations around the concept of a "season". At the end of one season, one quits cycling and then starts the next with a series of activities that start from no cycling and work their way back up to peak fitness. On the other hand, the medical community wants to me exercise 300 minutes a week, every week of my life. One exception to the seasonal approach of the exercise community comes from the randonneuring community in the form of the R12 award given to a randonneur who rides a 200K or longer brevet every month of the year and Hughes and Kehlenbach offer a year around, steady state training plan for earning that award. In this post, I will discuss my thoughts for adapting that plan to my goal of riding a metric century a month while meeting my medically prescribed exercise requirements. I will develop this adaptation in stages.

Original Plan: 200K/month

This is a training plan for maintaining the fitness required to ride a 124 mile bike ride (200K brevet) once a month from Hughes and Kehlenbach. This plan repeats every four weeks. Immediately after having completed a 124 mile/200K/600 minute ride, you ride the easy schedule of Week 1 to recover. You then ride the harder schedules of Weeks 2 and 3 to prepare of another 200K ride in Week 4. That 200K ride is an essential part of the training schedule, if you did not ride it every month, you would have to add some longer rides to make up for it. Of course, 200K group rides do not happen exactly every 4 weeks, so Week 3 can be deleted or duplicated within reason when brevets are more or less than four weeks apart. 

For this schedule, rides shown in green are ridden slowly, those in yellow at the speed planned for the 200K (medium), those in blue are a bit faster than the 200K (medium-fast), and  those in red are fast rides. The numbers are the length of the rides in minutes. The 600 minute ride in Week 4 is the 200K ride that is the goal for the month. The estimated time of 600 minutes comes from what Hughes and Kellenbach advise should be your time before considering advancing to a 300K ride. (For comparison, the fastest I have ever ridden a 200K is 660 minutes.)

For medical reasons, I should ride 300 or more minutes a week. The TOTAL column on the far right gives the sum of minutes ridden per month. In all except the recovery week, the 300 minutes prescribed by my doctor is reached or exceeded, and the average is well over that. However, I already know I cannot maintain a schedule of a 200K ride a month, the best I have managed is a 200K per year, which is why I am now proposing of riding half that, a 100K/month.

Scaled Down Plan: 100K/month

This is identical to the previous schedule, except that I have divided all the times by two. The problem with this schedule is that, if I were to follow it, I would get less than the medically optimum amount of exercise. Only in Week 4 do I meet my goal and the average is just over 240 minutes a week, well below my goal.

Also, the rides I can actually do on the hilly San Francisco Bay Peninsula prevent me from dividing my rides into the very discrete effort levels indicated by the above color codes. What I need to do is to substitute the rides I can actually do, each of which contains a mix of efforts, by making sure that my rides give me at least same total minutes of each effort as the above schedule.

The next schedule is designed to address these issues.

Personalized Plan: 100K/month

In this schedule, I have increased the length of some of the rides so that I now get closer to my medically prescribed 300 minutes a week.  Given that the hills where I ride mean that every ride is, by necessity, a mixture of efforts, what do the color codes in this latest plan mean? Very loosely, they are meant to convey the same things as in the previous plans; the yellow ride is my weekly long ride, which, because it is in the hills, includes a mix of efforts, but in general, is a ride on which I try to moderate my speed. Because the blue ride is shorter, I try to ride it a bit faster. The green rides are rides around my neighborhood which I try to make as easy as possible, but given that I live on a hill, even those are a bit of a mix.

What happened to the fast (red) rides? Because I live in the hills, my medium-fast (blue) and long (yellow) rides are quite strenuous going up the hills and not at all strenuous going down, so rather than a 110 minute ride being 110 minutes of medium effort, it is 14 minutes of easy effort (green), 75 minutes of medium effort (yellow), 17 minutes of medium-fast effort (blue), and 4 minutes of an effort similar in difficulty to the fast rides (red)*. Because all the rides contain some high effort hill climbing, the benefits of the red rides are provided as an unavoidable part of the other rides.

On the surface, this would appear not to add up; the previous schedule had 40-45 minutes of fast (red) rides in Weeks 2 and 3, compared to only 4 minutes of high intensity riding in a 110 minute ride. What equalizes these efforts is a few things. In the first place, the 45 minutes given for the red rides are not that many minutes of hard effort, but include warm up, cool down, and recovery between hard efforts. Thus, a 45 minute fast (red) ride actually contains only of 15 minutes of fast riding. Second, it is not just the 110 minute ride that contains some hard hills, to a greater or lesser extent, all of my rides do. I don't have the same quantitation for all the rides as I do for my 110 minute ride, but a reasonable estimate is that Week 1 of the above schedule contains 8 minutes of high intensity riding, and Weeks 2 and 3 contain 12 minutes each. Finally, note that Week 1 of the previous schedule had no red rides, so summed over the month, the previous schedule contained 30 minutes of hard (fast) riding, whereas this schedule added up to 32 minutes of hard (hilly) riding, effectively the same.

A few caveats with the above calculation are 1) The numbers are close, so if I start substituting flatter long rides for hilly ones, I may come up short on hard/fast/hilly/intense minutes. (Since most of the 100K rides I am considering are hilly, doing so would probably be a mistake anyway.) 2) It is not completely clear that riding hard up hills produces exactly the same kind of fitness as getting my heart up to the same rate by riding fast. 3) This assumes that there is "hard" and "not hard" riding. In fact, many training manuals (though not Hughes and Kehlenbach) suggest riding at different intensities to gain different kinds of fitness. This is probably getting too far into the weeds for an old, casual cyclist like me, so I will not develop scenarios around each of these, but simply note that they are in the back of my mind and might cause me to do some more traditional, fast riding on occasion. Finally, and even at the risk of getting into the weeds, I plan to revisit the question of riding at different intensities one last time in an upcoming post.

How about minutes of easy (green), medium (yellow), and medium-fast (blue) riding? The previous schedule contained 165 minutes of medium-fast riding, 630 minutes of medium riding, and 150 minutes of easy riding. This current schedule contains 170 minutes of medium-fast riding, 750 minutes of medium riding, and 380 minutes of easy riding. This certainly seems at least as good.

How does my doctor feel about all this? The medical community groups exercise levels into light, moderate, and vigorous and gives me no credit for light exercise, suggests that I should participate in 300 minutes a week of moderate exercise or 150 minutes a week of vigorous exercise, or any combination of the two. The problem is in equating my exercise levels to the three medical categories. After a lot of soul searching and poring over the various ways the medical community describes light, moderate, and vigorous exercise, I have come to the conclusion that the best thing for me to do is to describe all my rides as moderate exercise, thus the number of minutes in the TOTAL column represents the number of minutes of moderate exercise I get to report to my doctor. Even in Week 1, my recovery week, I come very close to the optimum 300 minutes of exercise, and significantly exceed that in all other weeks with an average of over 350 minutes a week. I think my doctor would be happy if I could maintain this schedule.

Despite how complicated it was to get here, this personalized schedule is designed to be simplicity itself to ride. The 30 minute easy (green) rides are just rides around my neighborhood. The 110 minute medium (blue) ride is just the "go-to" ride I ride all the time, and the longer (yellow) rides are just simple extensions to that ride. If I start to get bored, significant changes to this schedule should still leave me well prepared for a metric century, so long as I maintain the total number of minutes of riding, don't skip the long ride each week, and do roughly the same amount of riding in the hills. Finally, what happens when life intervenes such that I fail to maintain this schedule, or even stop riding altogether for a period? The consensus of the training literature suggests I should slowly work up to a long ride of between 200 and 225 minutes a week or two before the metric century, after which I could return to this maintenance schedule. The consensus of the endurance cycling (randonneuring) community would suggest that 150 minutes might be enough to prepare for a 100K, and thus once I had worked my way back to this maintenance schedule, I would be good to go. I rode the Art of Survival 8 weeks after having been completely off the bike for 10 weeks due to illness, and followed a schedule much like that recommended by the training literature, working up to a long ride of 230 minutes two weeks before the ride, and that seemed to work well. I was in something of the reverse situation for the Golden Hills metric century, being a bit overtrained seven weeks before, and in that case, rode only one long ride in preparation, 190 minutes, and that, too worked. What is the lesson from these different experiences? I think it is that, unlike a 200K ride, A 100K ride is much closer to what I can comfortably ride day in and day out, so preparing for one is a tweak to my schedule rather than a major effort that requires intense focus and a precise training plan to complete. 

Even though it is relatively easy to prepare for, the benefits of a monthly 100K should not be minimized. A 100K ride is not easy for me but rather is a welcome stretch. Thankfully, there are lots of fun group 100K rides offered in my area, providing an opportunity for making my medically-prescribed riding more entertaining. In short, 100K per month represents a worthwhile upgrade to my riding schedule. Now all that remains is to muster the organization and enthusiasm needed to sign up for metric centuries on a regular basis. Wish me luck!

* I don't normally use a heart rate monitor on my California rides, but one time I did. These levels of effort were determined from that ride.

Sunday, December 2, 2018

Listening to My Body

Recently, I have been doing some longer rides on the commuter bike I inherited from my wife through the flat neighborhoods on the east side of the peninsula. The ride illustrated on the map (shown in the lower half of the figure) went from my house in San Carlos to the house where my father grew up in Palo Alto (shown in the upper half of the figure), an approximately 20 mile ride round trip.

This blog does not have a large number of readers, most of my posts top out at 50 to 100 visits. A handful of these are regular readers, mostly or entirely friends and family (howdy!) and I suspect the rest are people who found a post via a google search. I hope they found what they were looking for, but even if they did, I suspect few of them found a reason to become regular readers. If that's the case, why do I keep posting? My younger son Matthew says "If you want to think, write" a saying I find to be very true, and this post was a perfect example. I started out writing one thing, but as my writing forced me to think things through, I ended up going an entirely different direction.

I initially anticipated that this post would discuss a recent review of the history of the development of a recommended exercise regimen by the medical community, with the goal of underlining how uncertain we are that the current recommendations are optimal, but when I dug into it, I realized everything worth saying in that paper is contained in this sentence. Don't get me wrong, the core advice of the medical community, "exercise lots", is quite solid, it is just the details that remain to be solidified. In fact, there is a recent paper reinforcing the "lots" part which has been picked up by the press (CNN for example),  that I may review one of these days. The bottom line for me is that I am trying to bicycle as much as I can, and therein lies the story for today.

As long time readers of this blog will know, I have done a fair bit of reading in the exercise literature, and one enduring lesson I have gleaned from that reading is that the best way to bicycle as much as possible is not to go out every day and ride until I drop. Doing that would lead to overtraining and, much less riding in the long term. Rather, I have to develop a sustainable exercise plan, one that I can maintain month after month, year after year. Many cyclists, including some who have commented on this blog, have found objective criteria to help them develop such sustainable plans, things like resting heart rate. I have tried a lot of these, and the only metrics that have worked for me are subjective:
  1. Measuring my speed on a standard ride.
  2. Monitoring my feelings; aching legs, general lethargy, lack of enthusiasm, and mood.
(Even though it may not seem so, speed on a standard ride is subjective. If I have more enthusiasm, I may ride harder and be faster for that reason, not because I am fully recovered, which is what I am testing for. In the end, subjective criteria are the only ones that have worked for me.)

Last August, the last time I talked about my riding schedule, I said: "I increased my riding from three to four rides a week ...[and]... I seem to be handling four days a week OK." (The "rides" I am referring to are identical repeats of my go-to ride, a 23 mile ride with 1300 feet of climbing.) That continued to be true for two more weeks, at which point I noticed that not only was I feeling more tired, but, it "seemed like" the speed at which I could do these rides was getting slower, not faster. Why do I feel the need for the "seemed like" qualifier? It is because there is a great deal of day to day variation in how fast I can do this ride, so that I cannot conclude from one or two slow rides that I am riding too much. It was only after I saw a pattern over a few weeks where my rides were significantly slower on average that I seriously wondered if four rides a week was too much. The problem is that even two weeks of rides is a very small number, statistically speaking, so it is hard to be sure that my rides had really gotten slower. On the other hand, I really couldn't wait much longer than two weeks to make a correction to my routine, should a correction be necessary. While writing this post, I actually went back and forth a few times, sometimes thinking I had overinterpreted the data, that my rides had not gotten significantly slower, and other times thinking that I had gotten it right. As of this writing, I'm thinking I got it right, but that explains the "seems like" in my characterization. So, combining apparently slower rides with a higher incidence of aching legs, low enthusiasm, and general lethargy, I decided to cut back from four of the hilly 23 mile rides a week, to three of those rides plus one shorter, flatter ride. Of course, as always, life intervened and I had to adjust my ride schedule to work around those interventions, but for four weeks, I rode schedules that attempted to approximate that goal, and it seemed like my ride speed was recovering.

On the surface, this all seems like good news; I determined I was riding a bit too much and successfully adjusted my schedule. However, the decision to cut back on my riding felt like a real setback. Four 23-mile rides a week doesn't even come close to the volume of riding I was doing just five years ago when I was participating in 200 kilometer brevets*. Had I really gone so far downhill in those five years? Why, all of a sudden, is seven hours a week too much, when five years ago, I sometimes did that much in a day? There are many possible explanations, each with their own implications for how I ought to be riding. Maybe, at my age, five years older is significant. Maybe, illness and death of my wife is still affecting me. Maybe, I have not yet thrown off all the effects of my pneumonia of last winter. Maybe, other sources of stress in my life are impacting my ability to ride. Against this background, my older son Michael came up with another possibility. "I can't believe you do this same ride over and over again. I think you are just getting bored. Boredom can feel like tiredness, you know." That didn't seem right to me, but he is a very smart man, so I took his advice seriously. With that in mind, when the opportunity came to ride a second metric century with my friend Roger came up, I jumped at it despite having little time to prepare. How little? Well, my speed may have come up a bit, but my subjective feeling was still one of tiredness, so because my body was telling me it was more in need of rest than training, I did only one 39 mile long ride two weeks in advance to prepare, followed by two relatively easy weeks. The metric century went well, I was very tired at the end but had no trouble finishing, so this minimalist training plan seemed to work, though there is, of course, no way to be sure that a different plan might not have worked better.

The metric century was one response to boredom, but another, driven not just by boredom but also inspired by the Peninsula Bikeway ride I took a while back and by my interest in easier rides that still met my medical prescription for 300 minutes of moderate exercise a week, I started exploring routes through the beautiful neighborhoods on the eastern flats of The Peninsula, the ride shown at the top of this post being one. So does this mean I have become a slacker, just easy rides and minimal training going forward? Not at all, I will continue to listen to my body, and if I am feeling strong, will try upping my mileage again, perhaps seeking out some bigger challenges. I am not yet sure if my son was right, that what I was calling fatigue was actually boredom, but I do know that introducing more variety into my riding has been an extremely pleasant change, so I intend to do more of that. The metric century is a very popular distance for group bike rides, and I like being able to participate in one of these at short notice, so I may try to work one longer ride into my weekly schedule such that I could ride a metric century with no extra preparation at all. Stay tuned to see how this all works out.

* A brevet is just a bicycle ride. Brevet is what randonneurs, a kind of bicycle rider who specializes in long distance challenge rides, calls one of their challenges. A 200 kilometer ride is their shortest brevet, the other common distances being 300, 400, 600, and 1200 kilometers.

Monday, November 12, 2018

Golden Hills Metric Century

Last May, I rode the "The Art of Survival" with my Modesto Roadmen buddy, Roger. During that event, Roger shared with me his ambition to ride a metric century (100 kilometers or 62 miles) once a month. It sounded like a great plan to me, within my capabilities while still being a challenge that encouraged me to go for a little excitement in my cycling. The plan was that, since Roger invited me to "The Art of Survival", it was my turn to come up with a ride near where I live, in the San Francisco Bay area. Well, stuff happened (doesn't it always) which kept me busy, so I kept not getting around to a second metric century, but I never gave up. Finally we managed to arrange something in October, a metric century near Modesto, the city where Roger and I met. The Event was the "Golden Hills Century", which in addition to its eponymous century (100 mile) ride, featured additional shorter rides including the metric century that we rode. The ride started and finished in the tiny, unincorporated town of Knight's Ferry. Knight's Ferry is a bit of a tourist destination both for it's recreational rafting as well as for its scenic, historic covered bridge:

...featuring its own historic plaque:

Knight's Ferry is also a popular cycling destination for rides starting in Modesto, and in fact the two rides I did with Paul, another of my Modesto Roadmen buddies, did just that. The nearest incorporated area, the City of Oakdale, also has a charm of its own. It claims to be the "Cowboy Capital of the World" (a claim some of my former neighbors in Texas might dispute) and is also a cycling hub. The ride was sponsored by the Stanislaus County Bicycle Club and benefited the Second Harvest Food Bank of Modesto. (Modesto, Oakdale, and Knight's Ferry are all within Stanislaus County, thus the name of the club.) Roger and I both drove to Oakdale the night before so we had dinner together, and then met again in the parking lot designated for the ride, got signed in, and at 8 am, started the ride. Here is a picture of Roger with some of the other riders just before the start:

The route went through the rich, agricultural landscape of the San Joaquin Valley and featured almond orchards, vineyards, and cattle ranches. But why is it called the Golden Hills century? The ride went along the edge of the San Joaquin Valley which meant it was in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains, and thus featured rolling Hills; there was about 2,000 feet of climbing in the ride (and my legs felt every foot of that.) The golden part is a bit of a euphemism. California is actually a fairly dry state, and its Central Valley is technically a desert, it's agricultural richness comes entirely from irrigation. Thus, most of the year the hills are covered with dry grass which, if you have the right attitude, are Golden:

One of the best part of the ride for me was the memories it brought back of my high school days cycling with the Modesto Roadmen. A lot has changed in the fifty years since then, traffic has gotten much heavier for one thing, and the land is much more developed for another, but enough stayed the same, like road names, that I was in close to a perpetual state of nostalgia. My family was brought to Modesto by the phone company who moved my dad there in 1961 and we lived there a total of six years before the phone company moved us along. In contrast, Roger has deep family roots in the area - some of his family were among its first settlers. As a result, he lived there much longer than I did and had even more memories.

Roger was a much stronger rider than me last May, and the same was true for this ride. (Given my current understanding of my fitness, that is unlikely to ever change.) Thus, I spent the ride desperately trying to say with him, often glued to his back wheel, or more often, failing to do so and riding off the back. Roger was very kind and always waited for me (though I assured him he didn't need to) but as a result I didn't take as many pictures as I would have liked, as I was too busy chasing. However, towards the beginning of the ride when I wasn't quite so tired, we came across the Robert's Ferry covered Bridge, and I couldn't resist. Unlike the Knight's Ferry bridge, this is not a carefully preserved historic landmark, but a fully functional working bridge that the farmer's in the area drive through every day, and yet it is charming nonetheless:

The ride was well organized. There was snacks available at signup if you hadn't had a chance to grab breakfast, the 65 miles featured four rest stops, three which provided bathrooms, water, and snacks, and the fourth which provided all that plus "lunch." The lunch was plentiful and excellent (I pigged out on the wonderful seasonal strawberries) and is in quotes only because a second, hot lunch was provided at the end; one ride, two lunches! The map was good, there were arrows on the road throughout the route, flagmen were present at all busy intersections, both the volunteers and riders were friendly, and the whole thing had a wonderfully comfortable vibe. I would most definitely participate in this ride this again despite the horrific traffic I had to drive through to get there, and would recommend it without reservation. Here is a map of the ride:

How about my preparation and fitness? Something I have talked about a little bit on this blog, that I hope to cover in more detail in the future, is that I feel like my body can tolerate very little training these days. Even just the 300 minutes of riding my doctor insists I do for my health leaves me pretty tired, so I felt that resting for this ride was as important as preparing for it. I made two change to my schedule to get ready. Two weeks before this ride, I replaced one of my 23 mile rides with a 39 mile ride. The week after, I reduced both the intensity and the volume of my riding to allow for recovery. My thought was that I was trading off between fitness and exhaustion, and that given that, this schedule was probably the best I could do. There is no way to be sure if my thinking was correct, but given the totality of my experiences over the last year and then over the last ten years, my best guess is that it would have been hard for me to do much better. At the start of the ride, I felt as good as I have for a long time. At about the 40 mile point, my legs got quite sore and I had a lot less "push"; if Roger pulled ahead of me on a hill, there is nothing I could do about it, no matter how hard I tried. By the end of the ride, my legs were completely exhausted. After a two hour drive home, I fell into bed almost immediately for a long, deep sleep. That said, there was never any doubt I would finish, and I enjoyed the ride immensely, even at the end. How best to prepare for challenging, fun rides, and what my limits are in that regard is something I think about constantly. Preparation for this ride represents my best guess for how to do so at present, stay tuned to see how my thinking evolves.

Thursday, October 11, 2018

Recovery Time: A New Variable

Figure 1

I recently came across a website I found interesting: Training Science. Normally, this is not the kind of resource to which I am attracted, it is neither a professional scientific study nor is it by an author I know and trust. The reason this site caught my eye is because the views it expresses tended to align with conclusions I had come to on my own. Two such conclusions are that genetics dominates everything else (including training) in determining athletic performance and that for most people, less is more in terms of training. In fact, agreement with my prior prejudices should have been a reason to avoid this resource rather than seek it out. The reason to avoid this site is confirmation bias, the tendency that we all have to seek out data that agrees with our prior beliefs and to avoid data that contradicts those beliefs when an effective search for the truth would have us do the opposite. Thus, I may be giving this site more weight than I should because it agrees with my prior beliefs. Despite that, I will proceed, but will do so with caution.

Training Science advocates for a number of controversial opinions. For example, it questions the importance of VO2max and of lactate threshold for predicting real world athletic performance. It does provide legitimate, scientific references for many of its assertions, making it no worse than the newspaper reports that have been inspirations for a number of my blog posts, and as in those cases, I have followed up by reading the references and evaluating them critically. In this post, I am only going to discuss one of their iconoclastic opinions; that many people ought to be exercising significantly less often than what is commonly recommended, and the reference they cite to support that assertion.

This is the assertion from Training Science:

"[W]hen the subjects were training just 3 days per week it took an average of .9 of a day for the subjects to recover.  ...  recovery time increased to 3.6 days when they increased training to 5 days per week.  ... It would seem that even though the subjects were recovered enough to repeat a previous performance, they were not completely recovered ... [and] if you choose to workout prior to full recovery, it will take you even longer to recover.  If you persist in training prior to recovery, your level of fatigue will grow and along with the increasing level of fatigue will come a slower rate of recovery and a decrease in your rate of improvement (and I would add an increase in the risk of injury)."

The reference they cite in support of this assertion is "Effects of training frequency on the dynamics of performance response to a single training bout" by Thierry Busso, Henri Benoit, Régis Bonnefoy, Léonard Feasson, and Jean-Renélacour. J Appl Physiol 92: 572–580, 2002. Figure 1, shown at the top of this post, comes from that reference, and illustrates the important numbers Training Science would like to use from this study. Specifically, tn = the time it takes to recover sufficiently from a ride so that you have the same performance as you had before the ride, and tg = the time it takes after a ride to maximally develop the increase in performance that the workout provides. This figure reminded me of so many diagrams I had seen in so many training articles; this is accepted dogma in the exercise community as to what the training response looks like. Virtually all such articles then go on to recommend that, after a workout, one should wait for a time tg between one workout and the next, so that each workout can "build" on the increase in performance from the previous workout. At first, I thought the scientific paper referenced by Training Science was a simple quantitation of this conventional training advice. When I looked closer, things got less clear, and by the time I finished evaluating this scientific reference, I felt like the authors at Training Science didn't really understand this very complicated paper, and that the paper said much less of practical value than Training Science thought it did.

Critical Analysis of Busso et al.

This study involved six subjects, a very small number. They were men in their 30s who were not participating in an exercise program prior to the study. In the study, they first exercised for 8 weeks, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, took a week off, and then exercised Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday for four weeks. Exercise involved riding a stationary bicycle. During the study, the maximum power the subjects could generate was measured on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. As one would expect, that increased with exercise. This is the raw data from the study:

Figure 2

This figure could not be simpler. A-F are the six subjects, and each maximum power measurement is plotted as a function of time after the start of training. Maximum power (which I refer to as performance) is the highest average power the subject could maintain during a five minute test. The training program is diagrammed on panels E and F; LFT is the 8 weeks of training 3 days/week, HFT is the four weeks of training 5 days a week, with one rest week in between. Just looking at this raw data, there are two obvious stories one could tell. The story Training Science would have you believe is that the rate of increase of performance went down when training was increased from 3 to 5 days a week. This story is perhaps best supported by subject D, for whom a plateau in improvement seems to begin at about the same time as HFT. However, there is a second story, offered as an alternative by the authors of the study, who note that in any training program, progress plateaus, there is only so good an athlete can get no matter how long they train. This story says that there is not much difference between training 3 and 5 days a week. Rather, there is just the natural plateau in improvement that occurs after several weeks of training. This alternative story is perhaps best supported by subject F, for whom the plateau in performance begins well before the initiation of HFT. The authors confess that a limitation of their study is that the High Frequency Training occurred immediately after the Low Frequency Training, and so the first impacted the second, allowing for these two alternative stories.

The above two stories are both based on the raw training data and do not provide nor use tn and tg, the recovery times shown on Figure 1. Where do tn and tg come from? they come from a mathematical model that the authors of this study and others developed over the years. To model figures like Figure 1, they use this equation:

Figure 3

pn is the maximum power a subject was able to generate on day n which is determined by the amount of exercise done for each day i, starting on the first day of the study, up until the day before day n. p* is the the maximum power that subject generated before training, w is a function defined in the paper, and the remaining values are the parameters whose values are varied to make the model fit the raw data for each subject, shown in the Figure 2, by adjusting them using a best fit algorithm. Once they had the value of these parameters, they used them to calculate the recovery times tn and tg  as follows:

Figure 4

I confess I have not "checked their calculations" and thus am unable to independently evaluate their model. That is the bad news. The good news is that I do not believe it is necessary to do so in order to evaluate the relevance of this paper to development of a practical training plan, an evaluation I will describe below. That said, here are the results of those calculations:

Figure 5

The X axis on these graphs is the day after start of training, and the Y axis is the calculated recovery times. The authors of this paper suggest that tn is the time it takes after a single workout for performance to return to the value it had before that workout. Training Science uses the increase in tn during weeks 10 through 13 as evidence that training 5 days a week is worse than training 3 days a week.  Are they correct? What should we make of this data? How should we decide?

Let's start with a reality check. Note that Figure 1 does not describe the experiment done in this paper, the results of that experiment are shown in Figure 2. Rather, Figure 1 is a "cartoon", a visual description of what the authors suggest their results might mean. There are two important points to understand about Figure 1. First, that it is an assumption of the authors that the tn they calculate corresponds to tn shown on Figure 1 and that the tg they calculate corresponds to the tg shown on Figure 1. Second, even if the authors model is completely correct,  Figure 1 is not drawn to scale. As drawn, Power is shown to increase by about 20% after a single workout. Assuming their model is correct, the actual amount of increase after one workout is closer to 1%. Assume that tn and tg are what the authors think they are. Note that tn is about one day, an entirely reasonable number. Looking at Figure 1, it would appear that tg would occur about 2.5 days after a workout. However, tg calculated by the authors is much longer, about 10 days, an entirely unreasonable number. Does it seem likely that performance will continue to increase for 10 days after a workout? If we assume the consensus of the training community is correct, that the time between workouts should be tg, it certainly does not seem reasonable to assume that one should exercise only once every 10 days!

The authors provide a third reality check. If it is "bad" that tn increases from about 1 day to about 3.5 days when training is increased from three days per week to five, then we should find that serious athletes have training schedules that match their measured value of tn. In contrast to this expectation, the authors reference a previous study in which a value of 23 days was measured for tn for one such athlete. Based on that, the authors suggest that, rather than suggesting a value of frequency of training, tn might relate more to the time that a successful athlete should rest (taper) between a training regimen and an important competition. This either means that the conventional wisdom of the exercise community, that the interval between training sessions should never be less than tn and ideally should be tg, is wrong, or else the tn and tg calculated in this paper do not correspond to what is shown in Figure 1.

The Bottom Line

I do not believe that the reference cited by Training Sites supports their argument that increasing training from 3 days a week to 5 is harmful. I think the reference they cite is of significant long term theoretical interest, but at this stage of its development offers little of practical value to an athlete. Do I disagree that 3 days a week is better than 5? As it happens, I neither agree nor disagree, I think "it depends", but that is just my opinion, I know of no scientific study supporting or refuting that assertion. I think the guidance offered by the exercise community, which includes Training Science (once you understand that Science has little to do with their common sense recommendations) can provide a good starting place and valuable sanity check for designing a training program. At present, I see no evidence that the scientific community has much to offer in the way of practical training advice, though I believe progress is being made and that could well change in the future. Finally, I believe we are all different, and any training plan has to be tuned to our specific set of interests and capabilities, and in the end, I am left with the only guidance I have found useful for such tuning, listening to my body.

Sunday, September 9, 2018

The Peninsula Bikeway

I talk a lot on this blog about my "GoTo Ride", a 23 mile ride through the Santa Cruz mountains. The name I use for that ride in my training notes is the Alpine ride, because it goes south from my house to Alpine Road, and then back home again. That ride is actually my goto ride only when I want a workout. When I want an easy, recovery ride, I have another goto ride, listed as the Neighborhood ride in my notes. This 5 mile long ride is so named because it goes around my neighborhood, mostly in the town of San Carlos. but dipping into the neighboring city of Redwood City at its southern end. It was while crossing into Redwood City that I encountered this sign:

(This is the kind of notice that must, by law, be placed before any kind of road construction or repair is begun.) I was intrigued! Would Bayside Stripe & Seal be painting new bike lanes? Something more? Why was this limited to Redwood City? Can't San Carlos get a little bike lane love? Shortly thereafter, Facebook supplied the beginnings of an answer:

So I went. It turns out, all that Bayside Stripe & Seal was doing was "sign toppers", a little sign that attaches to the top of an existing street sign, in this case, the sign shown at the top of this post. The long term plan is a high quality commuter bike path running north-south between the cities of Redwood City and Mountain View. The city workers championing this project felt that having something in place Right Now would help move things along, so they took advantage of bike paths where they found them, quiet neighborhood streets, when bike paths were lacking, and whatever was there when all else failed, to create an "interim" bikeway. All that interim bikeway required was the aforementioned sign toppers to mark the way, and voila. The purpose of the "launch event" announced on Facebook was two-fold: the lesser goal was to run group rides along this interim bike route, to introduce it to the community, and the greater goal was to get that community together to discuss the long term plan:

The cities of Redwood City, Menlo Park (where the event was held), Palo Alto, and Mountain View had clearly put a lot of effort into the event. Note the custom sheets of paper for collecting longer suggestions, in the foreground, and the giant map and sticky notes in the center of the picture, for collecting quick comments on particular parts of the route. If you look closely at the above picture, you will see different color lines weaving their way along the map in the center of the picture. These represent the three long term and the existing interim routes for the ride. The three proposed long term routes are along the railroad right of way (too noisy and ugly!), along El Camino Real (too busy and ugly!) and along Middlefield Road (hmmm...) The Middlefield Road route is the one farthest to the east, and thus farthest to the left on the map in the above picture, in red. Note the bright orange sticky note in the middle of the map. That one's mine, advocating for the Middlefield route. In addition, the city workers had created something like a dozen posters describing every aspect of the project, which they set up around the park. Here's just one:

Finally, there was an array of other activities, as is shown on this "Welcome" poster:

(For the city workers, this bikeway is part of a larger effort to get people moving around their cities using anything but cars, thus the Caltrain schedule.) For me, one of the highpoints of the event was the opportunity to chat with the city employees who are doing the hard work and making the decisions needed to make cycling infrastructure happen. They were available for conversation both on the ride and during the event. The specifics of how they were thinking about the project and how they reacted to the thoughts from the experienced cyclists in the group were of interest, but so was their explanation of the realpolitik that they have to navigate as they try to get something done. I learned that the current city council of Redwood City is expected to be turned out en masse this November as a reaction to traffic problems in the city and residents' hostility to the introduction of more cycling infrastructure, for example. They also talked about the complexity of funding sources, the long time that it takes to go from an idea to its fruition ("ten years"), and the difficulties of building a collaboration between the different cities needed to create a useful bike route. The City of Atherton, smack in the middle of this project, is not yet on board, nor is my home town of San Carlos. I was encouraged to attend the planning meetings of my city government to show them that there are voters in favor of cycling infrastructure, a suggestion I hope to take.

But this is a biking blog, what about the ride? The original start site in San Carlos was revised to join an existing group, so we started at the high school in Redwood City. This is our group at the start:

I decided that the appropriate bike for this ride was my Public commuter bike with the step-through frame I inherited from my late wife, in the lower left corner of the picture. There were a variety of bike and rider styles represented, from lycra and carbon fiber to heavy duty police bikes and electric bikes. Electric bikes were especially popular. Among bike brands, Public was a popular choice. We picked up riders along the route, and our group got larger and larger as we went along. When we got to the event, we were joined by another group which had traveled from Mountain View in the south. An idea of the group size can be gotten from the Bike Valet parking station:

(This represents maybe half the bikes, the other half were parked at other locations around the park.)

The ride to the event along the interim bikeway was a twisty little maze of passages, all different. Some parts were delightful, winding through interesting neighborhoods. Others were terrifying, weaving in and out of heavy traffic. The city workers on the ride were the first to acknowledge that the existing signage, the street toppers, were just a start, that more and better signage would be highly desirable. Using just the existing signs, I doubt I could follow the route again, even having ridden it once. My bottom line is that I gain little or nothing from this interim route. There was no organized ride back, so I opted to try the proposed Middlefield Road route, to give it a look-see. I knew from Google Maps that part of that route already had bike lanes, but that other parts did not. It turned out, that made a big difference. Middlefield Road is fairly busy, so even where there was bike lines, I might not ride it recreationally, but would be comfortable riding it for transportation. Where the bike lanes vanished, I felt sufficiently insecure that I probably would avoid riding it in the future. Of course, choosing the Middlefield Road route for the final bikeway would mean adding the missing bike lanes, so this route should be judged in that context. Here is my final route there and back, courtesy of Strava:

I'm really glad I attended this event! I learned a lot about the process by which the cycling infrastructure I use and love is created, and enjoyed hanging out with my fellow cyclists. I am definitely going to keep my eyes open for other group rides.

Tuesday, August 14, 2018

California: The First 300 Days

My first ~300 days of cycling since moving to California. Blue rides are "Pace" rides, ridden at my fastest comfortable speed. Green rides are "Recovery" rides ridden very slowly. Red rides are "Brisk" rides where I go all-out. Yellow rides are "Long" rides where covering a lot of miles is the goal. The numbers in the MON through SUN columns are how long the ride was in minutes. The grey, Miles column is total miles ridden for the week. Given the impact of hills on how hard and how fast a ride is, I switched to recording my rides in miles to recording them in minutes when I moved, the Miles column is a holdover from my Texas days. In the min/wk column is the total number of minutes for the week. I highlight those weeks where I met the medical community's minimum (green) or optimum (yellow) recommendations for minutes of aerobic exercise per week.

On June 10, 2017, Agi, my wife of 42 years, died and with her, the life I had been living. Since then, I have been trying to put together a new life, one based based on my new reality. Good news, it looks like bicycling is part of my new life, but just as my life is changing, so is my cycling.

The first step in creating my new life was to move from Houston, Texas, where Agi and I had lived for almost 30 years, to California's San Francisco Bay Peninsula where my two sons live with their families. I have now been cycling in California between ten and eleven months. I considered if I should delay this post for another month or two so that it could be about my first year of cycling in California, but I have things to say now, and a year is a completely arbitrary time period in any case, so this is the story of my first 300 and some odd days cycling in California. What have I learned while designing the new cycling plan for my new life?
  1. "Man Plans, God Laughs." Guess what? I still have a life, and it still gets in the way of cycling. Over a year after her death, I am still enmeshed in dealing with my wife's estate and establishing a stable life in California (health care, daily maintenance, etc.) Also, lucky me, I have purpose in life! My older son has two children, one two years old, one two months old, he and his wife can most definitely use my help, and helping them gives both meaning and joy to my life. So, whatever cycling I do has to fit around that.
  2. "Cycling is Essential for my Health." By the fall of 2016, Agi still had 8 months to live, but the writing was on the wall. Even so, being the wife that she was, she worried about me, about my health, and insisted that I find a doctor (my previous one having retired), that I schedule a physical, and that she be there during the physical to make sure I was properly cared for. My new doctor realized, to nobody's surprise, that I was clinically depressed. (The anticipated loss of a spouse will do that.) I was very lucky (or clever?) in my choice of doctors, because she also realized that, despite the widespread use of medication to treat depression, anti-depressants were the wrong choice for me, and to my delight, prescribed bicycling as my treatment. Thus, whatever other reasons I might have to ride or not to ride, I have to ride to maintain my mental health (not to mention the many benefits of cycling for my physical health.)
So how has that played out over the last 300 days? I arrived in California on September 18, 2017, moved into my rental house on September 22, and by October 10, was sufficiently settled to start establishing a cycling routine.  One thing I have learned about myself is that I find making decisions, even simple ones, difficult. If I am to maintain a riding schedule, I have to have a "go-to" ride that I can do without thinking about it, and shortly after moving to California, I found such a ride. Although it was about the flattest of the pretty rides I could find (I really don't want to ride the Freeway access roads), it is still pretty hilly, with 1300 feet of climbing over its 23 miles. It usually takes me between 1:45 and 2 hours to complete and my average speed varies between 11 and 13 mph. Because of the hills, this ride is a mix of light (downhill), moderate (flat), and vigorous (uphill) exercise, as defined by the medical community. Compare that with my MAF test ride, my go-to ride at the end of my stay in Houston. That ride was completely flat. 45 minutes were spent on the Rice Track, riding with a heart rate monitor so I could remain strictly within the bounds of moderate exercise. Another 45 minutes were spent riding to and from the Rice Track, which was done slowly, qualifying as the light exercise disdained by the medical community. My speed on the Track averaged between 14 and 16 mph, but I claim that the slower speed of my current ride is due to the hills, and in fact, that my current ride is significantly more strenuous even with its lower average speed. For the first four weeks after restarting, I repeated that go-to ride three to four times a week, meeting or exceeding the medical community's optimal recommendation for aerobic exercise. For the next five weeks, my older son Michael was able to join me on my rides, and as a result, my riding became more varied, more challenging, and more fun. At that point, life intervened and my cycling collided with one thing after another. First, there was holiday travel. Next, there were out of town guests. And just when I thought I could settle back into my routine, my granddaughter Julia ended up in the hospital with an Respiratory Syncytial Virus (RSV) infection. Although this experience was scary and disruptive, she was never in any great danger, and at the end of the week, was home again. But of course Michael, her mother Robynn, and I had all been thoroughly exposed, and developed RSV infections ourselves. I will discuss the impact of that infection more below, but briefly, my cycling was disrupted for 10 weeks. In the 17 weeks since then, I have done a pretty good job maintaining a schedule, with the exception of 1 week where I was babysitting Julia full time because she had an illness which kept her out of daycare. Overall, on a week by week basis, I have met the medical community's optimal exercise recommendations about 50% of the time, the minimal recommendation about 75% of the time, and have managed to get in at least some riding about 90% of the time.

What is the efficacy of my go-to ride for managing depression? Despite the fact that exercise is commonly prescribed for depression, as far as I know, there is no data indicating how much and what kind of exercise, so probably the exercise recommendations for general health should be used. The recommendations for general health are at least 150 minutes of moderate exercise or 75 minutes of vigorous exercise a week, ideally twice that. After lots of reading and soul searching, I have decided that my go-to ride, despite its uphills and downhills, qualifies as moderate exercise as defined by the medical community. By doing three of my go-to rides a week, I meet not just the minimum recommendation of the medical community, but the ideal recommendation, and I am currently managing four of these rides a week. More subjectively, I know my mood is better when I ride, and it seems that riding more provides more benefit. When I started riding after the RSV infection, I spent three weeks doing easy rides around my neighborhood, just meeting the minimal medical recommendation. I then ramped up to the optimal recommendation, and it was only then that my family started commenting on how much my mood had improved.


I have briefly mentioned my RSV infection in two previous posts (in March and again in June) but I wanted to summarize the whole course of this illness, and in particular, talk about some lessons I learned along the way. Michael, Robynn, and I first developed symptoms about a week after exposure (the week of 1/29/2018) and at first the symptoms were flu-like and severe. For those few days I wisely and appropriately stayed off the bike but as the illness retreated into more cold-like symptoms, I decided I was mostly over it and started riding again. Even though I started slowly, 30 minute rides around my neighborhood, it quickly became apparent that this had been a mistake; every time I rode, my infection got worse, so I stopped riding entirely for two full weeks. I slowly and carefully restarted cycling, starting once again with short rides around the neighborhood, and at first it seemed to be going fine, but as I began ramping back up to a normal schedule, my infection went from "upper respiratory" to "lower respiratory"; it turned into pneumonia. Typical pneumonia, caused by a handful of specific microorganisms, is a serious illness which often required hospitalization. What I had was atypical pneumonia, of which RSV is a well known cause. It is much less serious disease which usually does not require a hospital visit. Even so, I found that exercise, normally a health benefit, was, in the face of this pneumonia, quite the opposite.

Once I realized I had pneumonia, I stayed completely off the bike for almost four weeks until all pneumonia-like symptoms had gone, and that worked. I spend three weeks doing easy, neighborhood rides, and then ramped up pretty quickly so I could participate in "The Art of Survival", a group ride with one of my high school cycling buddies, and now have returned to my "normal" schedule of three or four of my 23 mile go-to rides a week.

This is as sick as I have been for as long as I can remember. I have known for a long time that fighting an infection and exercise compete for the body's resources, but this particular episode brought that lesson home in a much more powerful way than ever before. As I first began working on this post, I had grandiose ideas about how to explain the theoretical basis for this competition, but the more I pursued that idea, the more I realized how little I knew, and for that matter, how little the medical, scientific, and exercise communities know. Thus, I am going to take a more practical approach, describing my experiences and the immediate conclusions I draw from them, with little attempt at any kind of theoretical explanation. I have a bad habit, on this blog, of over-interpreting one or two personal experiences, and I am probably doing that again. On the other hand, I sure don't want to go through this again, and so I will try to learn what I can from my experiences, and here are my conclusions to date:

Listening to my body is important, but sometimes my body is wrong. In this case, I am guessing my body underestimated the infection I was fighting. Had it correctly understood its severity, I would have experienced symptoms which would have strongly discouraged me from exercising. However, when I went for bike rides before I was fully recovered from my infection, the cycling felt great, and I felt like it was doing me a lot of good. It was only days later that I noticed my infection getting worse. Based on this experience, the next time I have an infection, I will stop exercising altogether until I am truly symptom free, even if I feel like a ride. Even then, I think I should restart cycling slowly. There are two reasons for that. Firstly, to make sure that I am really over the infection and to minimize the damage caused by exercise should I be mistaken. Secondly, even if I am over the infection, this slow start probably is a more effective way to regain fitness and good health than to try to return too quickly to my optimal routine. An experience I have had repeatedly, over many years, is that a very modest amount of exercise provides a disproportionate share of benefits.

Stress and Fatigue

I am following the medical community's guidelines for the amount of aerobic exercise I should be getting by cycling at least 300 minutes a week. As I hope to discuss in a future post, these guidelines rest on pretty shaky evidence and are somewhat controversial even within the medical community. In addition, the primary reason I am being so diligent about exercise is for mental health, something not covered by the standard medical recommendations. I have commented that my mood seems to improve more with higher levels of exercise, why limit myself to 300 minutes a week?

In the first place, I am not limiting my cycling to the medically recommended 300 minutes. I can obtain that 300 minutes with three of my go-to rides per week, but four weeks ago, I increased my riding from three to four rides a week. I did that for reasons that, in retrospect, seem suspect. Admit it, seven is an awkward number of days to have in a week. If I ride three days a week, most rides are every other day, but once a week, there is two days between rides. (It turns out it is very helpful for maintaining my routine to ride on the same days of the week, Monday, Wednesday, Friday for example, so simply riding every other day doesn't work for me.) When I was riding three days a week, I felt like the first ride after two days off the bike was harder than the other rides, and so decided to try eliminating that gap. That meant, instead of having two days between some rides, I now do two rides back to back, with no rest day in between, and I am definitely more tired on that second day in a row. Looking back, I am less sure that two days off the bike was as harmful as it seemed at the time, it may not have been harmful at all, but I seem to be handling four days a week OK, so am sticking with it for now. That said, there are limits to how much I can ride. As noted at the beginning of this post, I have a life to lead that is not just about cycling, and cycling makes me tired. At present, I am riding in the morning to take advantage of cooler temperatures, and despite getting home fairly early in the day, I find that I am unable to get much work done, I'm just too tired. Thus, everything I need to do needs to get done in three days of the week I don't ride. Sadly, there seems to be only so much exercise my ~70 year old body can handle.

I have already discussed the devastating effect of illness on my ability to exercise. Another thing that affects my ability to ride is stress. I am an introvert, so one common source of stress for me is human interaction. Don't get me wrong, I love being with people, I am often the last guy to leave a party, but I pay a price; the next few days, I am exhausted. (The difference between an extrovert and an introvert is that extroverts gain energy by interacting with other people, while introverts lose energy.) Other things, like driving, I also find to be stressful. Two recent events really brought the impact of stress on my cycling  home. The first was a delightful trip to my home town of Modesto. My older sister Alice had a school reunion there, I drove her, and while she was at the reunion, I had brunch with two of my high school cycling buddies, Paul and Eldon. Afterwards,  Alice and I visited the grave of our younger sister, Deana. I then drove Alice home, had dinner with her and her family, and then drove a final two hours back to my home in San Carlos. Before I had time to recover from that trip, I participated in a once in a lifetime opportunity, a cemetery consecration, again involving driving and human interaction. Although I did not miss any rides due to these events, I definitely felt their effect; my legs ached and my speed was reduced for my next several rides. Although nowhere near as harmful as illness, stressful events make me tired without providing any training benefits, so definitely take their toll.


Isn't it boring to ride exactly the same ride four times a week, week in, week out? For some folks, it is. My son Michael, after riding with me for just a few weeks, has announced that he will never go on that ride again. I, on the other hand, am pretty resistant to boredom, as evidenced by the years I spent riding 5 or 6 MAF tests every week, week in and week out, each one consisting of 40 or 50 laps around the Rice track. Also, this boring schedule is my fallback, not my plan. In my first post after arriving in California, I announced my plan to attend Eroica California that year. That plan was disrupted by my bout of pneumonia, but a plan it was. When I ride with my son, he often takes me on beautiful new routes, and those rides, though not organized, are most definitely fun. Although I was not able to participate in Eroica, I made up for it by riding The Art of Survival with my friend Roger a few months ago. During my visit with him, he mentioned that his goal was to ride a metric century (a ride 100 kilometers or 62 miles long) every month. Given that he is a much stronger rider than I am, and given how much trouble I had riding a 200K brevet (a ride twice that long) this seemed to me to be an excellent aspiration, one more in line with my capabilities than some of the harder goals I have set for myself in the past. There are many ~60 mile rides available, supported group rides like The Art of Survival, populaires with a randonneuring club, and casual rides, like a ride to the coast and back my son has been wanting to do. If I could figure out a way to complete a ~60 mile ride of one kind or another every month, this would add to my fun both by giving me a goal and by providing variety. I have thoughts about how I could change the regular cycling routine I do for my health to support such an ambition and look forward to discussing that in a future post. Stay tuned.