Today I did seven laps of the February strength circuit and 90 minutes in the boat. In the boat, I warmed up and did another six of my 12-stroke sprints before settling into a steady rhythm.
I've said it before and I'll say it again, probably not for the last time: the technical aspect of training is at least as important as the physical aspect. And as I prepare to race this weekend, even though I'm not dialing back the volume, I'm pushing the pace a bit less and focusing more on relaxing and taking good strokes.
Good strokes... there's a phrase I've been casually tossing about. What exactly am I talking about when I talk about "good strokes"? A good kayak stroke gets its power from the core muscles in the body--the shoulders and the torso. Because these muscle groups are much larger than the arm muscles, they can propel the boat faster, longer.
The best instructional tools I know of for a good kayak forward stroke are a pair of videos. One is The Brent Reitz Forward Stroke Clinic. Brent is one of the more successful racers the U.S. wildwater team has ever had, and he narrowly missed a spot on the U.S. Olympic team as a flatwater kayaker in 1988. After all his hard work developing the precise stroke that an Olympic racer must have, he decided to start teaching classes to share what he had learned with touring paddlers along the California coast where he lives. He later made this video to bring his instruction to the rest of the world. You can order it on Brent's website, here.
The other video is The Kayak Forward Stroke, hosted by Greg Barton and legendary ocean racer Oscar Chalupsky. While I think the Brent Reitz video does a better job of breaking down the stroke into its components and explaining each one clearly, Greg and Oscar's video makes use of more sophisticated video technology and offers some camera angles that Brent's video lacks. Greg and Oscar's video can be purchased from the Epic Kayaks website, or at retailers who carry Epic products.
I strongly recommend watching both videos, and once you compare and
contrast them I think you'll find they're talking about exactly the same
thing. Then, get in your own boat and practice. Trying a new stroke, or even just modifying it a little, can feel very awkward at first, but don't be discouraged. Keep at it and after a while the movements will start to feel natural. Be sure to repeat the process of watching the videos and then paddling a few times, as the videos contain more information that most people can process in just one paddling session.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
Monday Photo Feature
Canoeist Richard Savoie prepares to warm up along with other racers for the Battle On The Bayou race at Ocean Springs, Mississippi, last year. The course will take them several hundred yards across this cove of the Back Bay of Biloxi, then up Old Fort Bayou for about nine and a half miles to a finish next to The Shed Barbecue. The third edition of this event takes place this Saturday. I'm hoping we're as lucky with the weather this year as we were during my two previous visits. Photo by Robbie Capel.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Staying the course
Today I did seven laps of the February strength circuit, then paddled my boat for 90 minutes.
As I move up to seven laps of the strength circuit in this final few days of the month, I notice that I'm doing a better job of keeping the workout moving than I did earlier in the month, when I was doing only four laps or so. Back then I would do a lap, do a quick e-mail check, do another lap, brush my teeth, and so on. But with the tighter time constraint of doing more laps (I always do my strength work right before I head down to the river to paddle), I stay on task.
This is not really a major revelation for me; I've known for a long time that I am much more efficient during a really busy day than I am on a day with few pressing matters. But one of my goals for this "circuit" format of strength work was to keep me moving constantly, and it's nice to see that really take effect late in each month.
Weight lifting and other strength work has never been my favorite thing to do. In past years I have done it in a more traditional manner: in each set I strove to meet a goal for amount of weight or number of reps or both. Doing things that way, there always seem to be moments I dread. For example, if in my last workout I managed 15 pullups, today I am telling myself that I must get 16 or else... or else... well, I don't know what else, but I'm sure it will be just awful.
Since this whole business of canoe and kayak racing is supposed to be something I enjoy doing, I would like to eliminate moments like that wherever I can. Sure, I suppose I enjoy the satisfaction anytime I conquer such mental challenges, or anytime I race well because I had the discipline to gut out those unpleasant moments. But there's a balance in there somewhere, and I've decided it's time to try something new on the strength-building front.
The circuit format gives me a set number of reps per set to do, and the number of sets increases as the month goes along. Since I've set the number of reps per set relatively low, I can concentrate on good form and technique in my movements without worrying whether I can make a certain rep goal, and I can move quickly to the next exercise. Early in the month, when I'm doing only three or four laps through the circuit, the workout seems almost ridiculously easy; in fact, when I first started telling people about this blog, I was a little embarrassed about how little I seemed to be doing. But by the end of the month I can tell I'm getting a good, meaningful workout, and I'm happy about that.
As I move up to seven laps of the strength circuit in this final few days of the month, I notice that I'm doing a better job of keeping the workout moving than I did earlier in the month, when I was doing only four laps or so. Back then I would do a lap, do a quick e-mail check, do another lap, brush my teeth, and so on. But with the tighter time constraint of doing more laps (I always do my strength work right before I head down to the river to paddle), I stay on task.
This is not really a major revelation for me; I've known for a long time that I am much more efficient during a really busy day than I am on a day with few pressing matters. But one of my goals for this "circuit" format of strength work was to keep me moving constantly, and it's nice to see that really take effect late in each month.
Weight lifting and other strength work has never been my favorite thing to do. In past years I have done it in a more traditional manner: in each set I strove to meet a goal for amount of weight or number of reps or both. Doing things that way, there always seem to be moments I dread. For example, if in my last workout I managed 15 pullups, today I am telling myself that I must get 16 or else... or else... well, I don't know what else, but I'm sure it will be just awful.
Since this whole business of canoe and kayak racing is supposed to be something I enjoy doing, I would like to eliminate moments like that wherever I can. Sure, I suppose I enjoy the satisfaction anytime I conquer such mental challenges, or anytime I race well because I had the discipline to gut out those unpleasant moments. But there's a balance in there somewhere, and I've decided it's time to try something new on the strength-building front.
The circuit format gives me a set number of reps per set to do, and the number of sets increases as the month goes along. Since I've set the number of reps per set relatively low, I can concentrate on good form and technique in my movements without worrying whether I can make a certain rep goal, and I can move quickly to the next exercise. Early in the month, when I'm doing only three or four laps through the circuit, the workout seems almost ridiculously easy; in fact, when I first started telling people about this blog, I was a little embarrassed about how little I seemed to be doing. But by the end of the month I can tell I'm getting a good, meaningful workout, and I'm happy about that.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Shaking off the sluggishness
Today I paddled 100 minutes out on the Mississippi. After a couple of days of fighting through windy conditions, it was nice to have a much calmer day. It was cool--probably about 50 degrees when I was on the water--and there was a light but chilly north breeze, but the river was about as glassy smooth as it ever gets.
During these weeks-long periods of doing nothing but LSD, I tend to start feeling tired and sluggish at times. I've found that it's often helpful to work the ATP-CP system a little to get myself feeling sharp again. As I said in my post back on February 16, I do this by doing very short sprints as hard and fast as I can, with a good long thorough recovery in between. If the sprints are longer than 15 seconds or so, or if you don't allow enough recovery time in between sprints, the body will abandon the ATP-CP system and start to go lactic. Since timing myself in the boat for a short intense interval is a pain, I just do 12 strokes (where one "stroke" is actually a complete cycle of a stroke on the right and a stroke on the left).
Today I did six of these 12-stroke sprints, with two minutes of recovery in between. I always do these sprints at the beginning of a paddling session, after a good warmup, while I'm feeling fresh.
Another good reason to do a small bit of speedwork is that my first race of the season, the third annual Battle On The Bayou down at Ocean Springs, Mississippi, is a week from today. I generally train through these early-season races, which is to say I'll continue doing my normal distance paddles and strength sessions for most of next week, but at the same time I want to make a good showing, so I'll hone my speed just a little and try to go down there as rested and focused as I can.
During these weeks-long periods of doing nothing but LSD, I tend to start feeling tired and sluggish at times. I've found that it's often helpful to work the ATP-CP system a little to get myself feeling sharp again. As I said in my post back on February 16, I do this by doing very short sprints as hard and fast as I can, with a good long thorough recovery in between. If the sprints are longer than 15 seconds or so, or if you don't allow enough recovery time in between sprints, the body will abandon the ATP-CP system and start to go lactic. Since timing myself in the boat for a short intense interval is a pain, I just do 12 strokes (where one "stroke" is actually a complete cycle of a stroke on the right and a stroke on the left).
Today I did six of these 12-stroke sprints, with two minutes of recovery in between. I always do these sprints at the beginning of a paddling session, after a good warmup, while I'm feeling fresh.
Another good reason to do a small bit of speedwork is that my first race of the season, the third annual Battle On The Bayou down at Ocean Springs, Mississippi, is a week from today. I generally train through these early-season races, which is to say I'll continue doing my normal distance paddles and strength sessions for most of next week, but at the same time I want to make a good showing, so I'll hone my speed just a little and try to go down there as rested and focused as I can.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Wind advisory
Today I did six laps of the February strength circuit and 90 minutes in the boat.
The freakishly warm weather is back, with the high today predicted to be about 77 degrees Fahrenheit. At this time of year, warm weather is usually accompanied by unstable conditions. Today the NOAA has a wind advisory in effect for the greater Memphis area. After my time down at the river this morning, I'd say they got it right. The wind that was blowing on Tuesday was nothing compared to what it was doing today. Today was one of the windier days I've ever seen down on the river.
I paddled to the mouth of the harbor, took one look at the river, and decided to stay in the harbor. The mile and a half or so I paddled into the wind from the marina to the mouth of the harbor had me pretty tired, so I let the waves carry me back downwind for a while until I'd recovered.
One drill I like to do on windy days is to paddle in a beam wind by going back and forth across the harbor. I try to keep the boat as "quiet" (free of rolling, pitching, and bobbing) as possible while dealing with the tricky balance issues presented by the waves coming at me from the side. What I hope to accomplish is to keep the boat moving smoothly and efficiently while I'm a little off-balance.
The freakishly warm weather is back, with the high today predicted to be about 77 degrees Fahrenheit. At this time of year, warm weather is usually accompanied by unstable conditions. Today the NOAA has a wind advisory in effect for the greater Memphis area. After my time down at the river this morning, I'd say they got it right. The wind that was blowing on Tuesday was nothing compared to what it was doing today. Today was one of the windier days I've ever seen down on the river.
I paddled to the mouth of the harbor, took one look at the river, and decided to stay in the harbor. The mile and a half or so I paddled into the wind from the marina to the mouth of the harbor had me pretty tired, so I let the waves carry me back downwind for a while until I'd recovered.
One drill I like to do on windy days is to paddle in a beam wind by going back and forth across the harbor. I try to keep the boat as "quiet" (free of rolling, pitching, and bobbing) as possible while dealing with the tricky balance issues presented by the waves coming at me from the side. What I hope to accomplish is to keep the boat moving smoothly and efficiently while I'm a little off-balance.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Keeping the boat dry
This morning I did six laps of the February strength circuit and paddled for 90 minutes.
It's sunny and warmer today, but rather windy. The wind is from the south, and for some reason that makes the Mississippi a lot rougher than a north wind does. I guess it's something to do with the current flowing against the wind. If there are towboats pushing barges upstream, the river can get extremely rough. The wind seems to push up the waves and make them last a long time.
Today the river was free of towboat traffic, so the conditions were not big as much as they were choppy and confused. I spent some time working on keeping my boat gliding over that stuff. Back when I was doing a lot of whitewater racing, one of the things I learned was the importance of keeping your boat "dry," or running on top of the water. Waves splashing over the deck will slow the boat down. The worst thing you can do is plow through a wave and have it smack you in the chest: that will stop your boat dead in its tracks.
The sort of racing I do now is not nearly as technical as slalom or wildwater racing, but I figure keeping your boat dry in rough conditions is just as important. I always enjoy finding ways to apply my whitewater experience to the challenges of flatwater or open water racing.
It's sunny and warmer today, but rather windy. The wind is from the south, and for some reason that makes the Mississippi a lot rougher than a north wind does. I guess it's something to do with the current flowing against the wind. If there are towboats pushing barges upstream, the river can get extremely rough. The wind seems to push up the waves and make them last a long time.
Today the river was free of towboat traffic, so the conditions were not big as much as they were choppy and confused. I spent some time working on keeping my boat gliding over that stuff. Back when I was doing a lot of whitewater racing, one of the things I learned was the importance of keeping your boat "dry," or running on top of the water. Waves splashing over the deck will slow the boat down. The worst thing you can do is plow through a wave and have it smack you in the chest: that will stop your boat dead in its tracks.
The sort of racing I do now is not nearly as technical as slalom or wildwater racing, but I figure keeping your boat dry in rough conditions is just as important. I always enjoy finding ways to apply my whitewater experience to the challenges of flatwater or open water racing.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
A cheerier day
Today I did six laps of the February strength circuit and paddled for 90 minutes. I didn't go to the Wolf and back today because I felt like doing something different; but 90 minutes it was.
Yesterday was a chilly, dreary day, and when I got to the dock this morning it sure looked like today would be more of the same. But about a half-hour into the session, the sky cleared up and I got to paddle in the sunshine. The weather forecast in this morning's newspaper had made it sound like we might have some sun peeking through later in the day, but it's turned out to be a sure-enough sunny day. A pleasant surprise.
Yesterday was a chilly, dreary day, and when I got to the dock this morning it sure looked like today would be more of the same. But about a half-hour into the session, the sky cleared up and I got to paddle in the sunshine. The weather forecast in this morning's newspaper had made it sound like we might have some sun peeking through later in the day, but it's turned out to be a sure-enough sunny day. A pleasant surprise.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
How long is "long"?
Today I paddled from the marina to the mouth of the harbor, then up the Mississippi to the mouth of the Wolf River, then back down the Mississippi and back into the harbor and back to the marina.
I first starting doing this circuit in the late 1990s, when Joe Royer and I started getting together to paddle. The annual Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race, of which Joe is founder and director, starts at the mouth of the Wolf and finishes about a half-mile or so up in the harbor. So basically we're doing the race course backwards and then forwards when we go up to the Wolf and back. Doing so has become a habit for Joe and me; it's sort of what we automatically do when we paddle together, unless one of us expresses a desire to do something different.
So I have paddled this route hundreds of times in the last fourteen or fifteen years. The entire round trip takes me approximately 90 minutes. Which brings up this question: when I discussed "long steady distance" in my post this past Tuesday, what exactly did I mean by "long"?
Because I've done the Wolf-and-back course so many times, I would say that an average LSD session for me is 90 minutes. Even if I decide to paddle somewhere else, I typically paddle for 90 minutes if an average-length session is what I'm looking for. No scientific research went into this; it's just what I'm used to.
If I want to do an "extra-long" session, as I try to do about once a week during the height of the spring training season, I'll paddle somewhere from two to two and a half hours. I rarely paddle for longer than this for a specific training session (i.e., not counting the times when I get together with some friends and paddle a long section of the Mississippi or something like that). The reason is that I just can't maintain good stroke form for longer than several hours, and there's no reason to continue practicing my strokes if I'm doing them poorly. And considering that the longest race I'm likely to enter this year will take me around two hours, there's no reason for me to log ultra-distance sessions. Also, while paddling is certainly an important part of my life, it's not more important than other things I've got going on--working in the workshop, petting the dog... stuff like that. So two and a half hours is about my upper limit for a training session.
Now, how about a minimum paddling time? After all, many people just don't have 90 minutes or even an hour in their day that they can spare for paddling. What advice do I have for them?
Well, once again, I don't claim to have the last word, but I will point out that the technical aspect of an LSD paddle is at least as important as the physical aspect. Therefore, I recommend doing a session that's long enough for you to get in a good warmup and then spend a meaningful length of time practicing your strokes. Forty minutes, perhaps.
But rather than simply listen to me or anybody else, you should get out and do whatever your time and ability allow you to do. If what you're doing feels beneficial, then it probably is. As Greg Barton told Bill Endicott in The Barton Mold:
I first starting doing this circuit in the late 1990s, when Joe Royer and I started getting together to paddle. The annual Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race, of which Joe is founder and director, starts at the mouth of the Wolf and finishes about a half-mile or so up in the harbor. So basically we're doing the race course backwards and then forwards when we go up to the Wolf and back. Doing so has become a habit for Joe and me; it's sort of what we automatically do when we paddle together, unless one of us expresses a desire to do something different.
So I have paddled this route hundreds of times in the last fourteen or fifteen years. The entire round trip takes me approximately 90 minutes. Which brings up this question: when I discussed "long steady distance" in my post this past Tuesday, what exactly did I mean by "long"?
Because I've done the Wolf-and-back course so many times, I would say that an average LSD session for me is 90 minutes. Even if I decide to paddle somewhere else, I typically paddle for 90 minutes if an average-length session is what I'm looking for. No scientific research went into this; it's just what I'm used to.
If I want to do an "extra-long" session, as I try to do about once a week during the height of the spring training season, I'll paddle somewhere from two to two and a half hours. I rarely paddle for longer than this for a specific training session (i.e., not counting the times when I get together with some friends and paddle a long section of the Mississippi or something like that). The reason is that I just can't maintain good stroke form for longer than several hours, and there's no reason to continue practicing my strokes if I'm doing them poorly. And considering that the longest race I'm likely to enter this year will take me around two hours, there's no reason for me to log ultra-distance sessions. Also, while paddling is certainly an important part of my life, it's not more important than other things I've got going on--working in the workshop, petting the dog... stuff like that. So two and a half hours is about my upper limit for a training session.
Now, how about a minimum paddling time? After all, many people just don't have 90 minutes or even an hour in their day that they can spare for paddling. What advice do I have for them?
Well, once again, I don't claim to have the last word, but I will point out that the technical aspect of an LSD paddle is at least as important as the physical aspect. Therefore, I recommend doing a session that's long enough for you to get in a good warmup and then spend a meaningful length of time practicing your strokes. Forty minutes, perhaps.
But rather than simply listen to me or anybody else, you should get out and do whatever your time and ability allow you to do. If what you're doing feels beneficial, then it probably is. As Greg Barton told Bill Endicott in The Barton Mold:
It's sort of a philosophical thing: Why am I doing this? If you can answer that, it's easier to motivate yourself to go out there and do the workout than if you are doing it just because someone tells you to. At times, even if your assumption is wrong, it's better than having no assumption at all. If somebody honestly believes that doing a lot of 250 meter sprints will improve his aerobic base, it probably will, although he might do even better doing some longer pieces. At least he has a purpose for doing it.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
The body's three energy systems
Today I did five laps of the February strength circuit and paddled for 90 minutes. It's warmed up into the mid-50s here, and I paddled without pogies.
To elaborate a little on what I was talking about in Tuesday's post, I've put together a summary of the three systems by which our body produces energy (with substantial help from William T. Endicott's books The Ultimate Run and The Danger Zone):
1. The aerobic system. This is the one I was talking about on Tuesday. This is the system by which our bodies produce energy in the presence of oxygen breathed in with the air. In Tuesday's post I offered a very basic description of how it works; one of the things I didn't mention is that the product of this (and the other two) systems is adenosine triphosphate (ATP), a compound necessary for muscle contraction to occur. In the case of the aerobic system, the mitochondria produce ATP from glycogen in the muscles and liver. The glycogen comes from the food we eat.
The aerobic system takes the longest to develop of the three systems--three or four months. So athletes start on it early in the season with long aerobic sessions such as the long paddles I'm doing these days. In a long-distance endurance sport like the one I do, the body uses the aerobic system to produce its energy a great majority of the time.
2. The anaerobic system. You're probably familiar with the point, once you reach a certain level of exertion, at which you start to feel that burning in your muscles or, if you're really out of shape, the muscles tie up completely. What's happened is that the oxygen supply from the air is no longer adequate for producing the energy for what you're doing, and the body is now converting glycogen to ATP anaerobically. The by-product of this reaction is lactic acid, and that's what causes the burning sensation in your muscles as well as the soreness you feel after a hard workout.
The anaerobic system takes some six to eight weeks to develop. My most intense races are scheduled for the first half of June, so I'll start doing some workouts that specifically target this system around the end of March.
3. The ATP-CP system. This system uses the ATP stored in the muscles along with creatine phosphate (CP) to enable muscle contractions. The system is depleted after about only 15 seconds, so in a sport like flatwater/open water canoe and kayak racing, it get used up in the sprint off the starting line. The ATP-CP system can be developed very quickly. I typically work on it in the week or two leading up to a big race, doing short (maximum 15 seconds) sprints with full recovery in between.
So that's my very basic understanding of the physiological principles of training. I've probably made some mistakes in my summary above, so feel free to offer corrections in the comments section. Meanwhile, I'll refer back to this post in the future when I explain some of the workouts I'm doing.
To elaborate a little on what I was talking about in Tuesday's post, I've put together a summary of the three systems by which our body produces energy (with substantial help from William T. Endicott's books The Ultimate Run and The Danger Zone):
1. The aerobic system. This is the one I was talking about on Tuesday. This is the system by which our bodies produce energy in the presence of oxygen breathed in with the air. In Tuesday's post I offered a very basic description of how it works; one of the things I didn't mention is that the product of this (and the other two) systems is adenosine triphosphate (ATP), a compound necessary for muscle contraction to occur. In the case of the aerobic system, the mitochondria produce ATP from glycogen in the muscles and liver. The glycogen comes from the food we eat.
The aerobic system takes the longest to develop of the three systems--three or four months. So athletes start on it early in the season with long aerobic sessions such as the long paddles I'm doing these days. In a long-distance endurance sport like the one I do, the body uses the aerobic system to produce its energy a great majority of the time.
2. The anaerobic system. You're probably familiar with the point, once you reach a certain level of exertion, at which you start to feel that burning in your muscles or, if you're really out of shape, the muscles tie up completely. What's happened is that the oxygen supply from the air is no longer adequate for producing the energy for what you're doing, and the body is now converting glycogen to ATP anaerobically. The by-product of this reaction is lactic acid, and that's what causes the burning sensation in your muscles as well as the soreness you feel after a hard workout.
The anaerobic system takes some six to eight weeks to develop. My most intense races are scheduled for the first half of June, so I'll start doing some workouts that specifically target this system around the end of March.
3. The ATP-CP system. This system uses the ATP stored in the muscles along with creatine phosphate (CP) to enable muscle contractions. The system is depleted after about only 15 seconds, so in a sport like flatwater/open water canoe and kayak racing, it get used up in the sprint off the starting line. The ATP-CP system can be developed very quickly. I typically work on it in the week or two leading up to a big race, doing short (maximum 15 seconds) sprints with full recovery in between.
So that's my very basic understanding of the physiological principles of training. I've probably made some mistakes in my summary above, so feel free to offer corrections in the comments section. Meanwhile, I'll refer back to this post in the future when I explain some of the workouts I'm doing.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
LSD
Today I did five laps of the February strength circuit and paddled the surf ski for 90 minutes.
At this still-early point in the season, my paddling regimen consists of, well, lots and lots of paddling. By logging many hours of steady, aerobic paddling, I'm building my "base," something that athletes in all endurance racing sports (and I think most other types of sports) do.
When I was running in high school and college, we referred to the typical base-building session as "LSD," which stands for "Long Steady Distance." I don't know whether this term predates the 1960s-70s popularity of psychedelic drugs, but all the runners and coaches I knew seemed to throw it around without giggling.
Biology was not one of my better subjects in school, but here's what I understand is going on when you string together days, weeks, and months of steady aerobic exercise:
Your heart muscle gets stronger to meet the demand for a greater volume of blood. This blood gets pumped to the muscles doing the work. In the case of paddling a kayak or canoe, this would be primarily the arms, shoulders, and abdominal muscles. In the early going, when you're out of shape, the muscles are not able to process the amount of blood they are receiving. But as time goes on, during the recovery periods between workouts, new capillary beds form in the muscles and enable the muscles to handle the increased volume of blood more efficiently. Your body also forms more mitochondria, cells that convert the oxygen in the blood to energy.
Eventually, your body becomes a much more efficient machine for performing the required movements of your sport. And the blood-processing infrastructure--what exercise physiologists call your "VO2" system--will be needed later on when you move into anaerobic exercise: it will facilitate your recovery from super-intense workouts by washing excess lactic acid from your muscles.
On the technical side, these steady distance sessions are the time when a paddler develops a smooth, fluid, efficient stroke. It's much easier to concentrate on good form when paddling at a comfortable speed that allows conversation with a fellow paddler than when paddling as hard as possible.
So these days I'm doing plenty of LSD, nudging up my volume of paddling week by week.
At this still-early point in the season, my paddling regimen consists of, well, lots and lots of paddling. By logging many hours of steady, aerobic paddling, I'm building my "base," something that athletes in all endurance racing sports (and I think most other types of sports) do.
When I was running in high school and college, we referred to the typical base-building session as "LSD," which stands for "Long Steady Distance." I don't know whether this term predates the 1960s-70s popularity of psychedelic drugs, but all the runners and coaches I knew seemed to throw it around without giggling.
Biology was not one of my better subjects in school, but here's what I understand is going on when you string together days, weeks, and months of steady aerobic exercise:
Your heart muscle gets stronger to meet the demand for a greater volume of blood. This blood gets pumped to the muscles doing the work. In the case of paddling a kayak or canoe, this would be primarily the arms, shoulders, and abdominal muscles. In the early going, when you're out of shape, the muscles are not able to process the amount of blood they are receiving. But as time goes on, during the recovery periods between workouts, new capillary beds form in the muscles and enable the muscles to handle the increased volume of blood more efficiently. Your body also forms more mitochondria, cells that convert the oxygen in the blood to energy.
Eventually, your body becomes a much more efficient machine for performing the required movements of your sport. And the blood-processing infrastructure--what exercise physiologists call your "VO2" system--will be needed later on when you move into anaerobic exercise: it will facilitate your recovery from super-intense workouts by washing excess lactic acid from your muscles.
On the technical side, these steady distance sessions are the time when a paddler develops a smooth, fluid, efficient stroke. It's much easier to concentrate on good form when paddling at a comfortable speed that allows conversation with a fellow paddler than when paddling as hard as possible.
So these days I'm doing plenty of LSD, nudging up my volume of paddling week by week.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Monday Photo Feature
Since winter has suddenly asserted itself here in the Mid South, I'm sharing another cold weather paddling photo. Joe Royer snapped this picture of me in almost the exact same location as last week's photo, but in a more recent year (2009 or '10, I think). A blast of cold air had gripped the middle and lower Mississippi basin for a few days, and we began to see ice floes coming down the river.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Winter has arrived
Late Friday night the most malevolent cold front we've had so far this winter roared in. Yesterday morning I got in my boat as the temperature hovered around 30 degrees, the sun tried desperately to find gaps in the cloud cover, and a fierce wind howled from the north. I paddled the touring boat. The pogies were on. I stayed in the harbor and sought out as much sheltered water as I could find. I paddled for 90 minutes, and was thankful to have the session over with.
This morning, after doing five laps of my strength circuit, I returned to the dock with the mercury even lower--25 degrees or so. But this time the sky was clear and there was very little wind. The harbor was as smooth as glass, so I decided to go for the surf ski.
One problem I've encountered on sub-freezing days is that my surf ski's rudder is prone to freezing up. Such was the case this morning. I didn't want to force the pedals because I once broke a cable inside the boat and it was extremely difficult to repair. So I just got in the boat and hoped it would thaw out as I paddled. The rudder was turned slightly to the right, so I pushed away from the dock and muscled the boat into an open part of the harbor where I could paddle in large circles. I completed almost one full circle when the rudder, warmed by the sun and the liquid water, came free.
I headed south toward the mouth of the harbor. The sun felt good on my legs, clad in my heavy black neoprene wetsuit pants. The day was pleasant enough that I decided to go out on the Mississippi and paddle up to the mouth of the Wolf River. That plan changed, however, when I reached the mouth of the harbor and found the big river stirred up by some busy barge traffic. If you paddle a surf ski on anything other than flat water, you will get wet. And it wasn't a good day to be wet. I had enough time to paddle up to the Hernando DeSoto Bridge and come back to the harbor before a big upstream-bound tow rig would arrive with its monster waves, so I did that.
Back in the harbor I headed north, planning to go up to the north end and then return to the marina. Energized by the simple fact that I was not miserable on such a cold day, I paddled a strong tempo and thought happy thoughts. I was getting pretty tired by the time I turned around and headed back south toward the marina, but it was the good sort of tired you feel when you've had a solid training session. Actually, I'm sure I got a perfectly good workout on Saturday too, but where Saturday's session was an ordeal to be survived, this morning's outing, though colder, was delightful. I'm always fascinated by the difference the presence or absence of wind and sunshine can make on a winter day.
It was still below freezing when I finished today. Back on the dock, which is in the shade during the morning hours, the water was freezing to the bottom of my boat as I toweled it off. I figure I'm not really training unless I do at least a couple of sessions on days like these each year.
This morning, after doing five laps of my strength circuit, I returned to the dock with the mercury even lower--25 degrees or so. But this time the sky was clear and there was very little wind. The harbor was as smooth as glass, so I decided to go for the surf ski.
One problem I've encountered on sub-freezing days is that my surf ski's rudder is prone to freezing up. Such was the case this morning. I didn't want to force the pedals because I once broke a cable inside the boat and it was extremely difficult to repair. So I just got in the boat and hoped it would thaw out as I paddled. The rudder was turned slightly to the right, so I pushed away from the dock and muscled the boat into an open part of the harbor where I could paddle in large circles. I completed almost one full circle when the rudder, warmed by the sun and the liquid water, came free.
I headed south toward the mouth of the harbor. The sun felt good on my legs, clad in my heavy black neoprene wetsuit pants. The day was pleasant enough that I decided to go out on the Mississippi and paddle up to the mouth of the Wolf River. That plan changed, however, when I reached the mouth of the harbor and found the big river stirred up by some busy barge traffic. If you paddle a surf ski on anything other than flat water, you will get wet. And it wasn't a good day to be wet. I had enough time to paddle up to the Hernando DeSoto Bridge and come back to the harbor before a big upstream-bound tow rig would arrive with its monster waves, so I did that.
Back in the harbor I headed north, planning to go up to the north end and then return to the marina. Energized by the simple fact that I was not miserable on such a cold day, I paddled a strong tempo and thought happy thoughts. I was getting pretty tired by the time I turned around and headed back south toward the marina, but it was the good sort of tired you feel when you've had a solid training session. Actually, I'm sure I got a perfectly good workout on Saturday too, but where Saturday's session was an ordeal to be survived, this morning's outing, though colder, was delightful. I'm always fascinated by the difference the presence or absence of wind and sunshine can make on a winter day.
It was still below freezing when I finished today. Back on the dock, which is in the shade during the morning hours, the water was freezing to the bottom of my boat as I toweled it off. I figure I'm not really training unless I do at least a couple of sessions on days like these each year.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Waxing philosophical
Today I did four laps of the February strength circuit and paddled my boat for 95 minutes. It was a touring boat sort of day--overcast, low 40s, chilly north wind--but I sucked it up, threw on some extra layers, and paddled the surf ski anyway, because the weather is supposed to get worse in the next few days. I wore pogies today for the first time in several weeks.
In my "vocational" life I am a woodworker. A friend of mine showed me this TV news piece on a friend of his, a woodworker in Virginia:
http://www.fox2127.com/story/16700463/john-carlins-virginia-talented-local-woodworker
Mr. Giguere articulates a couple of points I have long considered relevant to my training and to life in general. At about the 1:25 mark, Giguere says "Work is work, but I don't see it as separate from my life. It's all my life." This is how I think of my woodworking, along with paddling and everything else I do: simply as aspects of a rich, satisfying life. Each day that I manage to paddle my boat, work in my workshop, eat three good meals, spend time with my wife, pet our dog, check in with my mother, pet her dog, and read a book is a pretty darn good day as far as I'm concerned.
Giguere also mentions technique and body mechanics as important parts of what he does. All woodworking tools work best when used with proper technique, but this is especially so in the Japanese style of woodworking in which Giguere specializes (and which I'm trying to learn more about myself). I believe that if I strive for technical precision in all the other things I do, it will carry over into my kayak racing.
I'll probably have more to say on this theme by and by, but this video is worth noting now because it really resonates with me.
In my "vocational" life I am a woodworker. A friend of mine showed me this TV news piece on a friend of his, a woodworker in Virginia:
http://www.fox2127.com/story/16700463/john-carlins-virginia-talented-local-woodworker
Mr. Giguere articulates a couple of points I have long considered relevant to my training and to life in general. At about the 1:25 mark, Giguere says "Work is work, but I don't see it as separate from my life. It's all my life." This is how I think of my woodworking, along with paddling and everything else I do: simply as aspects of a rich, satisfying life. Each day that I manage to paddle my boat, work in my workshop, eat three good meals, spend time with my wife, pet our dog, check in with my mother, pet her dog, and read a book is a pretty darn good day as far as I'm concerned.
Giguere also mentions technique and body mechanics as important parts of what he does. All woodworking tools work best when used with proper technique, but this is especially so in the Japanese style of woodworking in which Giguere specializes (and which I'm trying to learn more about myself). I believe that if I strive for technical precision in all the other things I do, it will carry over into my kayak racing.
I'll probably have more to say on this theme by and by, but this video is worth noting now because it really resonates with me.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Out comes the surf ski
Today I did four laps of the February strength circuit and 75 minutes in the boat.
It was quite chilly this morning, but with very little wind blowing and the harbor looking glassy-smooth, I decided to paddle the surf ski. My first race is in less than a month and it's time to start getting the feel of it again. For the rest of the winter I figure I'll paddle it when the weather is nice, and paddle the touring boat when it's not.
It was quite chilly this morning, but with very little wind blowing and the harbor looking glassy-smooth, I decided to paddle the surf ski. My first race is in less than a month and it's time to start getting the feel of it again. For the rest of the winter I figure I'll paddle it when the weather is nice, and paddle the touring boat when it's not.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Monday Photo Feature
It's been a mild winter, but we're not in the clear yet. February has been known to get nasty. Joe Royer took this photo of me in February of 2003, one of the bleakest winter months I can remember.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
More thoughts on strength development
Today I did four laps of the new strength circuit and paddled for 80 minutes. In the boat I did the same backpaddling pieces that I described last Sunday.
Early in the season I focus on strength quite a bit. Of course, there are many different ways to approach strength building and weightlifting. One way, of course, is to push yourself to lift more and more weight. I've done my share of that; at the all-boys schools I attended growing up, how much weight you could "bench" was one of the many variables that determined your place in the pecking order.
As I got older and more serious about my sports--distance running in high school and college and canoe and kayak racing after that--I began to realize that raw bulk was not the best thing for what I was doing. In the winter of eleventh grade, I stopped hanging out in the school weight room and started working out with a small set of dumbbells at home, experimenting with lighter weights and more reps. After a while there was noticeable improvement in my muscle tone, and I felt much stronger and more confident on the track that spring.
If you watch a high school junior-varsity distance race, chances are you'll see some kids struggling across the finish line, their arms flailing and their bodies contorted. If you turn on the TV and watch, say, the Olympic final of the 5000 meters, you'll see runners competing all the way to the finish, their form just as fluid at the end of the race as it was at the beginning. I'll bet you anything that with 300 meters to go, those world class runners are hurting just as bad as those JV kids are late in their race. The difference is the physical maturity of the Olympic runners. In other words, they are stronger. But it's not bulk; theirs is a strength in motion.
Maintaining form is at least as important for a canoe and kayak racer. Probably more so, for without good stroke form, the boat will slow down no matter how fit the person paddling it. So my weight work has been concentrated more on good technique than on intensity of resistance.
This season, I'm doing strength work in a circuit format, with the idea of keeping myself moving with little rest. Consider this month's circuit, in which I have three exercises in a row (orbital circle, the Russian, behind-the-head lifts) that require my arms to be up over my head. During those three exercises, the blood runs out of my arms and by the end my arms are screaming. I try to relax and do the exercises as precisely as I can in spite of the discomfort. I'm hoping such commitment to technique will pay off in the final quarter-mile of a race where I'm digging as hard as I can to reach the finish line before my competitors, but at the same time striving to maintain good stroke form so I don't beat myself.
One last point I should make is that a quality strength routine can be done in less than 30 minutes. Since lifting weights has never been a favorite activity of mine (I wouldn't do it at all if I weren't convinced that it helps my racing and my overall health and fitness), and since I have plenty to do elsewhere in my life, I'm all too happy to keep my strength work short and sweet.
Early in the season I focus on strength quite a bit. Of course, there are many different ways to approach strength building and weightlifting. One way, of course, is to push yourself to lift more and more weight. I've done my share of that; at the all-boys schools I attended growing up, how much weight you could "bench" was one of the many variables that determined your place in the pecking order.
As I got older and more serious about my sports--distance running in high school and college and canoe and kayak racing after that--I began to realize that raw bulk was not the best thing for what I was doing. In the winter of eleventh grade, I stopped hanging out in the school weight room and started working out with a small set of dumbbells at home, experimenting with lighter weights and more reps. After a while there was noticeable improvement in my muscle tone, and I felt much stronger and more confident on the track that spring.
If you watch a high school junior-varsity distance race, chances are you'll see some kids struggling across the finish line, their arms flailing and their bodies contorted. If you turn on the TV and watch, say, the Olympic final of the 5000 meters, you'll see runners competing all the way to the finish, their form just as fluid at the end of the race as it was at the beginning. I'll bet you anything that with 300 meters to go, those world class runners are hurting just as bad as those JV kids are late in their race. The difference is the physical maturity of the Olympic runners. In other words, they are stronger. But it's not bulk; theirs is a strength in motion.
Maintaining form is at least as important for a canoe and kayak racer. Probably more so, for without good stroke form, the boat will slow down no matter how fit the person paddling it. So my weight work has been concentrated more on good technique than on intensity of resistance.
This season, I'm doing strength work in a circuit format, with the idea of keeping myself moving with little rest. Consider this month's circuit, in which I have three exercises in a row (orbital circle, the Russian, behind-the-head lifts) that require my arms to be up over my head. During those three exercises, the blood runs out of my arms and by the end my arms are screaming. I try to relax and do the exercises as precisely as I can in spite of the discomfort. I'm hoping such commitment to technique will pay off in the final quarter-mile of a race where I'm digging as hard as I can to reach the finish line before my competitors, but at the same time striving to maintain good stroke form so I don't beat myself.
One last point I should make is that a quality strength routine can be done in less than 30 minutes. Since lifting weights has never been a favorite activity of mine (I wouldn't do it at all if I weren't convinced that it helps my racing and my overall health and fitness), and since I have plenty to do elsewhere in my life, I'm all too happy to keep my strength work short and sweet.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Polar bears on the Mississippi
Today I paddled for 90 minutes. No strength work today--I'm doing that only three times a week.
I paddled out of the harbor and down to the trio of old bridges below downtown Memphis, then paddled up the Arkansas bank to the Hernando DeSoto Bridge before returning to the harbor. The weather report called for thunderstorms, but fortunately all was calm out on the river this morning. Or, I should say the sky was calm, but thanks to busy towboat traffic, the water was rather turbulent. Turbulent in a good way: I love bouncing around in the chop. It's not quite whitewater, but it sort of feels like the stretches between rapids on a big-water river like the New River Gorge. I enjoy the challenge of keeping my boat gliding in those conditions.
Mild winter or no mild winter, the Mississippi is cold right now. As I paddled through some big waves behind a towboat, I took a big splash that sent a stream of icewater down my neck and inside the tube of my sprayskirt. It took a good twenty seconds for the shock to wear off. If I had been on the surf ski I'd have been soaked to the bone for the rest of the session.
As I paddled back into the harbor and headed for the marina, I passed a bunch of people participating in some sort of polar bear swim charity event. Nobody was staying in the water for long. I didn't blame them.
I paddled out of the harbor and down to the trio of old bridges below downtown Memphis, then paddled up the Arkansas bank to the Hernando DeSoto Bridge before returning to the harbor. The weather report called for thunderstorms, but fortunately all was calm out on the river this morning. Or, I should say the sky was calm, but thanks to busy towboat traffic, the water was rather turbulent. Turbulent in a good way: I love bouncing around in the chop. It's not quite whitewater, but it sort of feels like the stretches between rapids on a big-water river like the New River Gorge. I enjoy the challenge of keeping my boat gliding in those conditions.
Mild winter or no mild winter, the Mississippi is cold right now. As I paddled through some big waves behind a towboat, I took a big splash that sent a stream of icewater down my neck and inside the tube of my sprayskirt. It took a good twenty seconds for the shock to wear off. If I had been on the surf ski I'd have been soaked to the bone for the rest of the session.
As I paddled back into the harbor and headed for the marina, I passed a bunch of people participating in some sort of polar bear swim charity event. Nobody was staying in the water for long. I didn't blame them.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
New month, new strength workout
Today I made three laps of the following circuit. All the exercises here are done with a Smart Bell:
Tai Chi rotations, 10 reps
Orbital Circle, 12 revolutions each direction
The Russian, 12 reps
Behind-the-Head lifts, 12 reps
Pushups, 10 reps
Situps, 6 reps
The Russian with squats, 10 reps
Circle, 12 revolutions each direction
Lunges, 10 reps
I also paddled my boat today for 80 minutes.
The "Smart Bell" is another exercise tool I learned about from my friend Emerson Wickwire, the wrestling coach at my last school. A friend of his, in fact, invented the Smart Bell: former U.S. national team wrestler Paul Widerman. The company website is www.thinkfit.com. I'm having trouble finding specific video examples of the exercises listed above, but there are some good general videos of Smart Bells in action here.
Just for the record, I have no endorsement agreement with Smart Bells or with any other people or companies whose products I might mention on this blog. Indeed, there seems to be no shortage of people hawking their fitness products on the Internet and on TV infomercials--exercise balls, the Bowflex, those bungees and pulleys and stuff you can attach to a doorknob, and so on. Each company wants to claim that its product is the last exercise tool you will ever need. I'm skeptical of that, but I think that many of these things do have value and I enjoy incorporating as many of them as possible in my monthly exercise routines. An exercise ball will make an appearance in a later strength workout, for instance. Basically, if I think some fitness product is interesting, I try it, and if I like it, I keep it, and if I don't, I don't.
I got the idea of having a different strength routine each month from The Barton Mold, William T. Endicott's case study of Olympic champion flatwater kayaker Greg Barton. Endicott writes
The book also notes that Greg is less concerned with the amount of weight he lifts than with precision in his muscle movements, much like a paddler must strive for in the boat.
I first read The Barton Mold in the late 1990s, and have followed Greg's example of strength conditioning ever since. As the month goes on, I increase the weight or the reps or the number of laps through the circuit, and I like how the workouts build to the point that they're quite taxing by the end of the month, only to "start over" when a new month begins.
The Barton Mold is available in PDF format on the International Canoe Federation website, here. The excerpt above is from the "How Barton trains" section.
Tai Chi rotations, 10 reps
Orbital Circle, 12 revolutions each direction
The Russian, 12 reps
Behind-the-Head lifts, 12 reps
Pushups, 10 reps
Situps, 6 reps
The Russian with squats, 10 reps
Circle, 12 revolutions each direction
Lunges, 10 reps
I also paddled my boat today for 80 minutes.
The "Smart Bell" is another exercise tool I learned about from my friend Emerson Wickwire, the wrestling coach at my last school. A friend of his, in fact, invented the Smart Bell: former U.S. national team wrestler Paul Widerman. The company website is www.thinkfit.com. I'm having trouble finding specific video examples of the exercises listed above, but there are some good general videos of Smart Bells in action here.
Just for the record, I have no endorsement agreement with Smart Bells or with any other people or companies whose products I might mention on this blog. Indeed, there seems to be no shortage of people hawking their fitness products on the Internet and on TV infomercials--exercise balls, the Bowflex, those bungees and pulleys and stuff you can attach to a doorknob, and so on. Each company wants to claim that its product is the last exercise tool you will ever need. I'm skeptical of that, but I think that many of these things do have value and I enjoy incorporating as many of them as possible in my monthly exercise routines. An exercise ball will make an appearance in a later strength workout, for instance. Basically, if I think some fitness product is interesting, I try it, and if I like it, I keep it, and if I don't, I don't.
I got the idea of having a different strength routine each month from The Barton Mold, William T. Endicott's case study of Olympic champion flatwater kayaker Greg Barton. Endicott writes
Barton takes two or three exercises from each of [his categories of lifting exercises] and makes up a routine consisting of 10-12 exercises, which he continues for three or four weeks. He then creates a new routine. Some exercises would stay in the routine, but a number would be different.
I do this is because I think it helps to get over plateaus. I'll change to another
exercise that works the same muscle, but maybe from a little different angle.
As soon as I start the new exercise, I can make improvements right away.
But pretty soon I reach a plateau. Then maybe I'll go back to the old one and
find that, sure, maybe I've lost a bit initially, but not much. And then after
a week or two, I've actually surpassed where I was. It's a way of tricking your
mind and body into improving beyond what it felt was a barrier.
The book also notes that Greg is less concerned with the amount of weight he lifts than with precision in his muscle movements, much like a paddler must strive for in the boat.
I first read The Barton Mold in the late 1990s, and have followed Greg's example of strength conditioning ever since. As the month goes on, I increase the weight or the reps or the number of laps through the circuit, and I like how the workouts build to the point that they're quite taxing by the end of the month, only to "start over" when a new month begins.
The Barton Mold is available in PDF format on the International Canoe Federation website, here. The excerpt above is from the "How Barton trains" section.
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