Ben Collins

Yesterday I headed up to Bellingham, Washington, about 90 minutes north of my home. I was riding up with Chris Tremonte for the North Shore Circuit Race (cycling). We had both decided that the nearly 3000 feet of elevation gain over a 40 mile course would give us a better shot of getting away from the pack than returning to Dung, where three weeks ago we took advantage of the fact that nobody knew us.

About 30 minutes after leaving my house we ran into a blizzard. I called a friend who was about 20 miles ahead of us, and found out that it was no longer snowing up North - we kept on our route. Sure enough, the snow turned to rain, and stayed that way until about five miles from the race site.

Below are some pictures of the registration area.

Needless to say, the race was canceled.

So what do you do 80 miles from how in an end-of-March snow storm?

Snowball fight! (Chris really likes throwing snowballs. The video finally ends when he squarely lands a crotch shot - owe!)

After that we went to the local pool where I bummed goggles from the lost-and-found and wore Chris’s running shorts (yeah, I violated my own rule, but the lifeguards insisted I wear something). We did a drill-focus set* (actually five 500 yard drill sets), which was a great change of pace from the typical bread and butter sets I’ve been doing the past few weeks.

Next, we headed into downtown Bellingham and went on the wettest, coldest 90 min run I’ve ever done. I’m pretty sure 34 and snowing is the most miserable conditions that exist for being outside (I’m sure anyone in the Northeast would contest that, which is why I got out of New York the moment I graduated.) At one point we were completely turned around (I’ve never spent any time in Bellingham, and Chris is no expert either), so I set my Garmin Forerunner 305 to point us in the right direction (it has this cool "return to start" function that shows a dotted line of where you’ve been, and an arrow, compass, and distance reading that will tell you which way to go and how long if you’d like to find your car again.) I got a bearing that was 180 degrees off from where we thought we needed to go, but shortly after turning around the wet conditions finally got the best of my poor watch. About 50 random beeping noises and some crazy screen flashing, my Garmin Forerunner 305 died. Now, the manual says that it is water resistant, and I think it originally was, but it’s had a hard life being my training partner (falls from my bike at 25 mph, accidental trips into the shower [also how I killed my cell phone], and a winter of sitting on the handlebars of my rain bike in Seattle). Still, Garmin is taking it back to fix under warrantee, which is awesome. Better yet, the new Forerunner 405 is out, and it is fully waterproof, much smaller, and capable of joining me on my open water swims. I can’t wait to get one.

Before finally heading back to Seattle, we made one last stop at Bandito’s Burritos. Chris had spent the 90 minute drive north talking about this place, and - after eating a burrito the size of my head (but not my ego) - I can see why. It was phenomenal, but what really made the meal, was a selection of 12 different homemade salsas. The salsa had names like "texas five star" (a standard hot tomato), "Hawaiian ginger" (self-explanatory, but delicious), and "Kermit’s last Stand" (which had something green and enough kick to kill a frog).

And that was just the first half of the day.

*the swim set:

3×200 Swim / Kick / Pull by 200 @ 10s rest

8×50 variable (by 25s: fast/easy, Easy/fast, all easy, all fast, two times around) @ 10-15s rest

10×50 kick (max effort) @ 1:15 (40-45s rest)

500 build by 100, recovery to tempo. Start immediately after kick set.

4×125 IM @ 15s rest (easy, drill if you need to, 50 free, 25 of the other strokes)

20×25 drill (R arm, L arm, 6 and 6, 6/3/6, swim)**

10×50 negative split, underkick / overkick by 25 (negative split by adding a kick, not by adding effort)

Warm Down b/w 100 and 200 yards.

**6 and 6 is a six kick pause between strokes, so you kick for six kicks on your right side, then take a stroke and kick for six on your left. 6/3/6 is the same thing with three strokes between pauses.

I spoke with half a dozen people in Los Angeles, and a couple people in Honolulu today. In both of those places it’s warm, but in Seattle, we’re experiencing what Brian explained to be, "a low pressure front that stopped, so all the cold air sank."  He works in atmospheric science, so that’s his way of saying "BRRR!!!".

The other thing we discussed tonight is the fact that we have both been to parties fewer times than we’ve played board games the past couple months. Again, I blame it on the weather. (Though for lack of a good reason, I’m going to omit justification entirely.)

A majority of my workouts have been indoors lately (again, because of the weather), which isn’t all that bad. I go to Herriott Sports Performance where I get to meet like-minded people coming in throughout the day for personal training, group workouts, and physiological testing (not sure if I’ve mentioned how much I like HSP lately…). Today I hopped on Todd’s modified spin bike. It’s a normal yellow spin bike - like you would find in any gym - but he’s replaced the standard red plastic handlebars with drop handlebars, complete with Dura Ace STI levers, and bar tape. The big difference, however, is that the cranks have been replaced with Power Cranks, which are a neurological nightmare if you don’t have a naturally perfect pedal stroke. The two crank arms more independently. That is, you could pedal with your feet 180 degrees apart, or side-by-side. Your right leg can move faster than your left, or you could even pedal forward with one leg and backward with the other (though it wouldn’t help you get anywhere).  The first time I hopped on I didn’t last more than a couple minutes. The next time I put in 15 minutes, with a few breaks, and today I did three 15 minute pieces with a set on the Vasa Swim Trainer in between. Afterwards I put my bike on the rollers and could instantly feel the difference in my pedal stroke. The Vasa Trainer helps too (it’s a bench that slides up to let you strengthen your swim stroke), though when I got in the water today all I noticed were knots in my lats from using the trainer.

This weekend I’m getting in Lake Washington for the first time this year. The water broke 50 degrees briefly last week, but has since dropped back into the 49 range (did I mention it’s cold?). Luckily Chris Tremonte and I both have neoprene skull caps and booties. Plus it will be daylight out, which is a step up from the last time we swam in the lake last November.

In my last post I said the hills would tumble when I attacked them on Tuesday. It was true, though I think it had more to do with Todd Herriott’s poker faced attacks that left me wobbly for the first part of my cool down run. (He would look like he wasn’t even breathing, then he just doubled his speed and took off. Next week I’m keeping up.)

I need to work on my poker face. If I’m hurting it’s pretty obvious. I also found out when my sister and brother-in-law came over a few nights ago that my literal poker face is pretty poor. Mathew (the B’n-law) called exactly what was in my hand both times I actually had something. "Ben has the full house". True. "Ben has two pair". True again.

This weekend is the Men’s NCAA Championships in Federal Way, about 50 miles from my house. I’m heading down there on Saturday to watch, along with a gaggle of ex-swimmer friends. For those unfamiliar with the event, NCAA Champs is the pinnacle of college swimming. The A cuts (which are an automatic qualifying time) are the fastest time standards of any swim meet. Sure it’s harder to get to the Olympics for people who live in swimming powerhouse countries like the USA and Australia, but the minimum standards are slower, so that more countries can participate.

I’m stoked to watch some fast swimming. Maybe it’ll inspire me to enter some swim meets this season.

Probably not.

Aside from a really cool talk on sports nutrition by Peter from Institute of New Medicine, held at Herriott Sports Performance, I didn’t, so I’m going to link to other people who did.

I took Greg’s recommendation and watched King of the Grizzlies, a 1970 Disney movie that is sure to put a smile on your face (when it finally ends). Actually, I think having a boyfriend that subjects her to 93 minutes of this monotony is probably why Courtney hates everything. Meanwhile, Greg wrote a follow-up blog post to Henning’s, which is worth reading if Henning peaked your interest in why some people quit after college.

Chris Tremonte has had some Gems on his blog lately, included his review of the Continental Cup in Nevis, and most recently a "How To Race Like  Chucklehead", in which he describes race tactics that will ensure you never upgrade from cat 4.

Meanwhile, Loren has aspired to mirror Greg’s blog by writing another follow-up to Henning’s post, while simultaneously trying to convince me to watch more crappy Disney movies like Monkeys Go Home and Incredible Mr. Limpet. (I actually kind of like Monkeys go home, but that dang theme song has been stuck in my head since last July)

Today’s the last day of a rest week, and I’m getting really ansy. Tomorrow I’m going to rock some hills so hard they tumble.

Today’s story is written by Columbia University Swimming Captain, Henning Fog (pronounced foeg, with a long O). Henning came to Columbia when I was a senior, and was the fattest freshman, by far. There were rumors of his frequent (several times a week) trips to Burger King, hearty servings of fries at the dining hall, and passion for the Golden Arches.

In the water, his noticeably buoyant butt seemed to protrude from the water, and his stroke technique looked like he was fighting to keep a flock of crows from nesting on his torso.

He was also the fastest freshman.

A few months after joining the team, Henning had become toned, and Coach Jim Bolster’s stroke work (which involves a broom stick and a lot of pain) seemed to be paying off. He was one of just two freshman to be on the Championships team at EISL championships in 2005.

Outside the pool, Henning was a film student, and had among the highest GPA’s on the team. To describe his personality, I would say Henning was significantly toward the board game end of the spectrum (rather than the stay up all night drinking and chasing coeds end), and I had him pegged him for a pacifist.

After graduating I didn’t hear much from Henning until this January when I was fortunate enough to spend a few days with the Columbia  Swim Team on the Big Island of Hawaii. Henning was all smiles on the pool deck, but sounded somewhat eager to move on from his athletic career. His perspective adds some contrast to the usual viewpoints seen in athlete blogs.

I retired this week at the tender age of 21. After countless (well, ten) years of struggle, emotional turmoil, and weight fluctuation that would make even Jenny Craig blush, it was finally time to embrace an easier approach to life. Unlike my AARP card-holding counterparts, though, I’m not moving to Florida; just out of the pool. You see… I’m done swimming. For real. My career as a competitive swimmer has come to an end, and I couldn’t be happier. For starters, my hair is growing back; never again will I have to question my masculinity as I shave my legs. What else am I thrilled to leave behind?

• the early mornings
• the double practices
• the (often crippling) self-doubt
• the chlorine stench
• the split ends

Nevermore, nevermore.

Civilian life is great. It’s been a weird couple of days, though, outside the pool. On a superficial level this post-championship week is no different than any other year – I stay up later than usual, eat worse than I have all season, and generally treat my body like a rag doll – but mentally… spiritually… it’s a whole new world. In losing what has been such a constant in my life for so long, I find the need to redefine myself. My first inclination is to join a gang (Latin Kings?) and start selling drugs to school-kids, but I’ll sleep on it. Lord knows I’d be an awful drug dealer.

For a long time now, swimming has comprised a major part of my identity. Certainly a major part of my schedule – in season, I’d say I averaged one water-logged day every week – but more than that a major piece of the “who is Henning Fog” puzzle. Not that I’ve accepted this willingly. On more than one occasion I’ve brought out my “student-athlete vs. student who happens to participate in athletics” argument, defending at length my position as merely a well-rounded student and not a stupid jock. It should be noted that no one ever really accused me of the latter. In other instances I’ve tried to downplay my involvement with the sport, hiding it from people as though it were a badge of shame. I once dated a girl who had no idea I swam. To be fair, she wasn’t a very curious person.

The clear light of retirement makes it easier to see that for all my problems with labels (and girls, clearly), there was never anything wrong with the life I chose. Everyone has something they do, anyway. And for everything else I filled my time with – movies, writing, meaningless sex – none of it ever struck as deep a chord as the sport of swimming. I recognize now, without regret or resentment, that yes, I was a swimmer. Am a swimmer?

Like I said, I’m done with the sport. No more meets; no post-collegiate delusions of glory*. Time to get fat. I realized the other day, though, that even at 305 gorgeous pounds… I’ll still be a swimmer. Not in swimmer-shape, but still a swimmer. It’s sort of a part of me now; it’s sort of who I am. The experience is different for everyone, I know, but I think there are some basic plots and patterns we can all agree on: the sense of community, of shared pain; that lovely feeling of superiority to other sports; the speedo. However lame, each of these things has defined (and will continue to define) us as people. Swimming is like a more spiritual version of the Mafia – once you’re in, you’re in. No escape. Shit.

Henning Fog

* I suppose it’s funny that I’m writing this on a blog dedicated to the continuing athletic lifestyle when I’m advocating so ardently against it. I’ll say this: people like Ben should keep going. People with talent. The wannabees and hangers-on need to find a mirror, though – pronto – and reassess their lives. Who are they kidding? But that’s another blog post…

[ Unrelated: My friend Mark Webb (who works at Seattle's Road Runner Sports store, which is a great place to go for shoes.) just sent me a link to this article in the New York Times. It's a good read for swimmers of all levels. Nothing really revolutionary, but it shows that swimming technique is never "good enough".  Now on to my non-triathlon post: ]

This week is a rest week, so I’m pretty much sleeping as much as I can, doing maintenance workouts, and getting caught up on schoolwork. Last night was later than normal because I was playing Monopoly with Brian "road kill" Davis and his wife Marijana (I won for the first time in my life), so this morning I was keen on sleeping in as late as possible. Around 2am, my cat decided to join me, but he was in a hyper frenzy. He jumped into bed, head butted me awake, and flopped down next to me while I petted him. If I stopped petting he would go back to step 2 (head butting). 20 minutes later I fell into a miserable sleep, dreaming that I was riding the bumper cars and had been stuck with the crummy slow car that everyone else attacks.

Next I dreamt that I was hiking through the jungle and being attacked by mosquitos. I woke up several times to roll over, wondering why I was so itchy. I figured it was dry skin from the chlorine, but around 7am when the morning light made its way past my curtains I awoke to see that my   dear kitty was long gone, but his gift of miserable sleep kept on giving. There was a trail of dirt and grime from the floor to my pillow to the side of my bed, and where that trail ended there was a pile of cat puke sitting right next to my book (A Dirty Job by Christopher Moore - not as good as Lamb, Which was brilliantly funny, but still worth a few laughs).

"Troy!!!!!" I jumped out of bed, ran to the shower, ripped off my sheets and started a cat hunt.

It’s easy to find my cat in a hurry. You just walk to the pantry and do the tuna call: "Troy, you want some tuna? I’m making a tuna sandwich!!!! Troooyyyyeeeeeeeee!"  It never fails. On rare occasions I have to actually crack open a can of tuna before he shows, but before the can opener can make a round Troy will be there. My cat could be a mile away fighting raccoons or chasing Peppy Le Pew and he would make it to the pantry in time for first dibs on tuna (the dog always gets served second).

No tuna for the pukey kitty today. It was straight into a bath. I should probably also try to figure out why my cat is bulimic, but at least for now he’s clean, allergen free, and toasty warm wrapped up next to the fireplace.

He may be anoying sometimes, but at least he doesn’t have IBS like Shoes.

As soon as I change the sheets  I’m closing my door and going back to bed.

There is a lot of snobbery in sports when it comes to attire. Tennis and Golf are the most obvious examples of this (polo shirts, pleated skirts, and ugly plaid pants), but anyone who’s ridden a road bike on the trail with sweat pants and a cotton t-shirt knows "the look". "The look is usually given by Lance Armstrong look-alikes. That is to say they would look just like Lance in their US Postal kit and matching limited edition Trek if they were younger, skinnier, and much much faster. Ever show up to a Saturday morning run in basketball shorts? That’s "The Look".

Unfortunately, it’s hard for me to give "the look" when I’m wearing a swim cap and goggles, but every time I see a guy swimming in a racing jammer, trunks, or - and this last one is the worst of all - a one-piece tri-suit I want to push their head under water. Does that make me a snob? I think it makes me a purist. You’re not doing your stroke any favors if you wear trunks (which would more appropriately be called hip anchors) The racing jammer is a high cost way to hide your tan line from a bunch of people who really don’t care that you wore short-shorts into the tanning bed, and the unitard is most often worn by men who are embarrassed to be shirtless in public. (Note to the lap swimming men: please be advised, the uni - no matter what the fabric design, or how tight it fits - will not make you look thinner. Furthermore, just because you hang out with anorexic triathletes all day, does not mean that you are embarrassingly fat. Nobody at the pool cares. Save your modesty for the track where the extra pounds actually make a difference.)

Goggles are a personal preference. I don’t recommend swedish style goggles to anyone that didn’t grow up swimming in them (those of us that did may never give them up), but I also don’t recommend a giant snorkeling face mask with built in nose plug. You want to get a sleek pair of goggles that fit your nose (I recommend adjustable nose pieces, but if a fixed one works, go for it). You want minimal padding (rubber gaskets work better than foam). My favorite goggles are TYR, but I know plenty of other people that hate TYR goggles (like Brian Davis, who laments that Northwestern would only provide TYR equipment). Speedo makes good goggles too, though I’ve never bought them for myself.

 Swim caps are all the same. Silicon or Latex? It doesn’t matter, whatever you’re comfortable with. Just wear the cap from your last race. If you run out of swim caps you aren’t doing enough races.

Now, back to the suit. (This is mainly for men, women can pretty much wear any competition style suit. Two piece suits may look out of place in-doors, but they are never unappreciated. I asked Herriott Sports Performance Triathlon Coach Teresa Nelson and she recommended the standard polyester speedo, it all depends on what causes the least shoulder/neck chafing)

  Fabric: polyester suits (like the speedo) last forever. By far the best suits for training in terms of comfort, modesty, longevity (of the fabric) and performance (of you) are the Nylon drag suits (like the TYR polymesh trainers). Without doing anything special, one of these suits would last me a full year of college level swimming (the stitches start coming out after 52 weeks of 10-15k a day). I’ve had my current suit for three years and it still looks new. If you like a more traditional brief, get a the waterpolo cut so it doesn’t look quite so skimpy. Also, buy it big enough size that it’s not a struggle to get into. a little loose is fine.

Swimming is about gaining a feel for the water. You want to be aware of how the water interacts with your body. If you are wearing anything too loose it will pull your hips down, and covering your legs with a jammer will take away the feeling on your upper legs, leading to improper kick.

Ok, so I’m a bit of a snob, but the proper swimming attire will actually help you achieve a better feel for the water, create less restriction, and lead to far less chafing (whereas proper cycling equipment provides extra pockets). I hope this advice is helpful.

I never really knew the term ‘marked man" until last week when friend kept telling me my "strategy" that’s been working so far in bike races would be a little less effective now that everyone knew what to expect.

"Whatever," I thought. ‘If they don’t let me get away easily, I’ll just make people suffer a bit, then get away later."

I was told by the local official in charge of license upgrades that I would need a podium finish on Saturday in order to upgrade for the Sunday race. Saturday I showed up to Mason Lake with Joe Brennan from Team Hagens Berman (That team also sports the Herriott Sports performance logo). He was racing Cat 4’s, but felt obligated to warn me that my name had been mentioned as one to watch out for.

I didn’t matter much. On the second lap (of three) I started making half-hearted attempts to break away, which sent the group from a gentlemen’s pace, to more of a steady trot. A few guys got away, and I bridged up. I lack the ability to sprint, so getting away meant dragging four brave soles for about five minutes. When I finally pulled off the lead the pace slowed significantly, but to our advantage we had four of six teams represented, so the pack was unlikely to chase us down. Still, I was feeling spunky, so with one lap to go I charged a hill and went solo. By the finish I had a 3 minute lead over the four others from the break, and nearly six over the field.

Fun times. Cucina Fresca had tried to box me in a couple of times, but their failed attempts gave me a false sense of hope that I could out-power their team tactics in the Cat 4’s on Sunday. If "marked" meant I could mess with people, then I was all for it.

Notice the tense of my last paragraph.

From the first lap of the Market Street Road Race in Ravensdale Cucina’s team plan was pretty obvious.  The first time I tried to stir things up by charging a hill my meager attempt was shut down when a Cucina Fresca rider refused to pull through in a three man break. Cucina had seven riders who’s sole purpose was to make sure every pace line was shut down. It was really effective. I tried to counter it with smack talk (which is one of the thrills of racing with my head out of the water), but aside from adding humor to the ride it fell on deft ears. A few more times I tried to get the group to string out, but each time it was brought to a crawl by Cucina "we don’t pull" Fresca.

Needless to say, when it came down to a sprint, I’m inclined to just sit up. Not only am I horribly outmatched by anyone over the age of four with two legs and a big wheel, but I was also caught off guard when someone yelled "yellow line" right after th3 200m mark. Apparently the road was open, but I went back right anyway, and probably killed the race for some people behind me (Like First Rate Mortgage’s Dessa)

Moral of the story? Seven on one makes Ben’s legs hurt. I need a new plan.

Next race? I’m running a 5k on Saturday. Let’s see team tactics work against me there.

[As an aside, I borrowed a rear wheel with a power meter hub for the race on Saturday. It was pretty cool to see what wattage I could maintain (though the thrill of seeing high numbers probably made me go a lot harder than I needed to), and how that matches up with the intervals I've been doing on the computrainer. Plus, with my Garmin 305 and the Powertap computer, I had enough information on my handlebars I hardly needed to look at the road.]

[ok, one last thing because it's not worth it's own post: Take the awareness test before you drive your car again.]

Herriott Sports Performance is in on the front page of the Seattle PI today! That’s right, not the sports section, not the business section, the FRONT PAGE!!  That’s pretty cool. The article is about how cycling is the new golf among business professionals.

Check it our here.

Heads Up: I’ll be at Mason Lake #3 tomorrow racing Cat 5, and what’s more scary, I’m driving a support car for the Cat 1/2’s. My strategy for the race? Haven’t decided yet, but the early break is getting boring, so it’s going to be something new. Todd Herriott has been prepping me with the pro strategy.

 Chris Lieto, (3 time Ironman Champion, 7th at Kona last year after leading the race for 6 hours, plus a father of one (soon to be two)  - what’s your excuse?) was in Seattle for two days to visit Peter and William at the Institute of New Medicine (inewmed). He stayed with my family for two nights, and I was able to drag him around Seattle with me to a couple of swim workouts. It was a great chance to rack his brain for tips about nutrition and strategy, and to get the scoop on his new product, Base Performance.

He came in pretty late Sunday night, so we decided to skip the 5am practice Monday morning, and instead swam at my old high school pool (Garfield). It’s built like a bomb shelter under mounds of concrete. It’s dark, the pool is hot, and if it weren’t for the pool lights being covered in blue lenses the water would be yellow from all the chemicals.

Still we managed to get in a solid workout before the 85 degree water finally got to us and we decided we needed to get out. I was drinking Base Water, a product intended to increase the absorption of the water you drink, and amazingly enough I was able to stay hydrated! (normally after a longer, hot workout I would have to work all night to get enough water in).

After a quick stop at Whole Foods to sampling of face lotions (chlorine is nasty on the skin), we stopped by Herriott Sports Performance to eat and say hello (they made the mistake of telling me to make myself at home, so I spend all my time there.). Todd Herriott was pretty busy, so we headed home, cooked some white king salmon, bok choy, wild rice and carrots.

Chris was hesitant about swimming at 5am with me, and gave me a lecture about how professional athletes should have a more regular sleep schedule. I reminded him the only reason I was up until 11pm the night before was because somebody (a word I emphasized while pointing in his direction) had missed his earlier flight.

Chris unenthusiastically joined me at 5am for what turned out to be a middle distance/sprint workout, not dissimilar to what we had done the day before. The difference was that the pool was in the 81-82 degree range (still too hot, but not as bad), and there were some 15 year old kids giving us competition. Chris is used to doing long course, and like most people that didn’t grow up swimming 12,000+ yards a day, his flip turns are atrocious. (I’ve actually tried to mess up my flip turns so that I carry less momentum through the turns and get more out of each length, but the motion is ingrained.) My guess is that in a long course pool (and certainly in open water) Chris would be whooping on the 15 year olds. Problem is, Seattle’s only 50 meter pool is only open three months a year.

After practice we went home and made a big breakfast. (Oatmeal, blueberries, eggs and toast.) I was supposed to be off until the Club Northwest workout tonight, but Chris convinced me to join him for some hill intervals at Pike Place Market (left) near inewmed. I felt pretty good, despite not having had an easy day in a week. Chris attributes this to this being the first week I’ve been consistent in using Base Amino and Base Water during workouts. Honestly, I’m beginning to think he’s right.

The run was cold, and I wore shorts and a t-shirt. My hands are still thawing, and it was totally worth it. We ran up to the fish market, then down along the waterfront. I’ve never actually done any training downtown, so it was pretty cool. Afterwards Chris went in for a second day of testing / acupuncture, and I headed off to the Seattle Public Library.

Here’s the map off my Garmin Forerunner 305. (Speaking of which, there’s a new Garmin Forerunner 405 out, that is way smaller, less red, and doesn’t require a cable to download to your computer. I’m getting one as soon as possible, so I’ll let you know if it’s as great as the hype.)

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