The Extra Mile

I don't mean to turn this forum into a look-at-me-because-I'm-so-different-and-special! blog -- I really don't. But what else should I be thinking about while working the desk at 5:31 a.m. on a Saturday?

I discovered the website XTri.com yesterday, and it is shockingly accurate at reflecting the thoughts that run through my ever-churning little mind.

Take, for example, this article on why triathletes shave their legs. It isn't about saving precious nanoseconds in a race. I do it, along with everybody else, for two basic reasons: it looks good, and it feels good.

Many guys will never know the pleasure of slipping into a cool, clean set of 300-thread count cotton sheets following a hot shower and some TLC on their lower limbs. Provided you take your time and don't go all Edward-Scissorhands on the man-fur, a clean shave on your legs feels as good as, if not better than, a clean shave on your face. And when those calf notches and formerly invisible veins are allowed to see daylight, you'll catch yourself looking down as you walk past full-length windows, thinking, "Damn, I look like an athlete!"

Or how about this simple, yet brilliant, guide to training? I feel like I've regularly deserted my friends during the last month, opting instead to take a 50-mile bike ride by myself, or push an extra run out of my legs.

Why? Because I know I have just hours each week to get better. My goal is to make my improvements appear effortless, just another piece of my daily puzzle. I've been reading The Perfect Mile by Neal Bascomb, a story not just about an athletic achievement, but of sacrifice and composure (particularly Roger Bannister, who, at the time of breaking the 4:00 minute mile, was a full-time medical student, 95% of the way to being a doctor).

I offer this as a reason/excuse/apology to my friends, both in and out of the Triathlon Club, who have noticed my absence. After fall break, when I hope to see the results of my recent dedication to training at the Hickory Knob Triathlon, I'll be more fun.

I promise.

Profile of a Triathlete

After waking for work at 4:30 a.m. and spending much of the next 3 1/2 hours reading articles like this New York Times brief on eating healthfully, I decided to track how much I eat in a normal day.

Note: I decided to do this after I had eaten lunch. Therefore, all the food is food I would've normally eaten; I didn't "watch my calories"; and the exercise is my normal volume. Leah Soro cooked dinner for me, so I only had control over how much I chose to eat (which, besides tasting delicious, felt like quite a lot).

4:30 a.m. snack:

Fig bar (1) = 160 cal

Grapes (bunch) = 75 cal

Coffee w/ creamer (2 cups) = 30 cal

Breakfast:

Scrambled eggs (2) = 140 cal

Whole-grain toast (2 slices) = 200 cal

Blackberry jam (2 tbsp) = 100 cal

Milk, 1% (1 cup) = 100 cal

Lunch:

Sandwich

Chicken (3 oz) = 100 cal

Provologne (1 slice) = 70 cal

Whole-grain bread (2 slices) = 200 cal

Pesto (1 tbsp) = 40 cal

Bell pepper / Spinach (1 cup) = 50 cal

Pretzels w/ mustard (20) = 110 cal

Orange (1) = 65

Post-swim snack:

Trail mix (2 oz) = 150 cal

Post-spin class snack:

Milk, 1% and Ovaltine (1 cup/2 tbsp) = 150 cal

Grapes (bunch) = 60

Dinner:

Chicken breast, wrapped in prosciutto (1) = 200 cal

Asparagus, roasted (5 spears) = 20 cal

Potatoes, roasted (about 1 whole) = 250 cal

Dos XX Amber (1) = 220 cal

Daily total: 2490 calories

Exercise:

Open-water swim (1 hour) = 600 calories

Spin class (45 min) = 350 calories

Based on the website Calorie Count, which was used in conjunction with my body measurements (5'9'', 142 pounds) and activity level, I was actually at a slight calorie deficit for the day. They estimate that I burn 2830 calories each day, counting my basal metabolic rate and exercise.

The good news? I eat a fairly balanced diet, exercise my fair share and have room for nearly 350 calories worth of dessert left over.

The bad news? I don't have any dessert. Anybody wishing to bring cookies to Vol Hall, apt. 1144, is more than welcome. I'll even give you a glass of milk to dunk in.