By Brad Culp
March 20, 2007 -- Alas, the final day of training. While I’m not looking forward to leaving my week-long desert home and returning to the blustery cold of the Midwest, my legs could really use a break.
But, before I can do so, I have to make it through day seven of Coach Troy Jacobson’s spring triathlon camp, in Oro Valley, Arizona. On tap for today was yet another summit, descent and re-summit of Gates Pass, followed by
an easy jog around the University of Arizona’s campus and an hour-long swim at their pool.
The group of weary campers awoke early to top off our carbohydrate stores before heading back over to the pass for one, last climb. Yesterday’s afternoon at the Hilton, complete with deep-tissue massage had put a spring back into my step, and as we started our ride, I was hopelessly optimistic that it wouldn’t hurt that much.
After a rather smooth ascent up the front-side of Gates, I enjoyed a ripping descent down the back-end. We then broke off into smaller groups to complete a pair of flat and fast, five-mile loops. I spent the majority of that time taking in the scenery and loading up on GU’s for what I knew would be a rough ascent at the end of the ride.
Rather timidly, I made my way back to the bottom of Gates and took a deep breath. I wasn’t even going uphill yet and already I could feel the week’s lactic acid buildup rolling through my quads. I don’t mean that I could feel that burning sensation that we’re all used to – I mean I could literally feel the acid sloshing around in my muscle fibers. Man, I wanted to get home.
I began the steep portion of the mile-and-a-half rise with my legs already on fire. As the gradient reached double digits, my pace fell to single figures and my mind began to wonder why the hell I was doing this.
Nine miles-per-hour: “Why didn’t I bring my 27-tooth cog.”
Eight miles-per-hour: “Damn, the top is still a long way away.”
Seven miles-per-hour: “Forget the cassette, I need to buy a triple ring.”
Six miles-per-hour: “I’m gonna eat a lot of cookies once I get to the top.”
Five miles-per-hour: “And I’m gonna drink a lot of beer tonight.”
Four miles-per-hour: “What happens if I start going backward?”
Luckily, I crested the short-but-steep peak before my wheels started spinning in reverse. Before I knew it, I was back at the hotel for a much-needed recovery nap.
After two hours in the sack and about 1,200 calories, we were headed to campus for a run and swim. However, before Troy let us go off on our easy jog, he “treated” us a 20-minute core workout. Even after three lunches, I had no energy left. With my core muscles sufficiently fatigued, I lethargically shuffled through a four-mile run and then eagerly jumped in the pool to cool off.
After a rather forgettable 3,000 meters, camp was officially over and I was able to put triathlon in the back of my mind for the first time this week. We all enjoyed greasy food and smooth brew at a local joint before making our way back to the hotel. A few of us even managed to convince the often hard-nose Coach Troy (he really just tries to act tough) to join us for a night-cap at a nearby bar.
After a week of camp, I’ll be returning home five pounds lighter and ten shades tanner. I gained a great group of new friends, and I lost my fear of long descents. I’m a better climber and a smarter triathlete and most importantly, I’m more excited about this season than any other in the past.
I’m in no rush to do another one of Coach Troy’s camps, but once my legs recover, I’ll be signing up again. Troy will host camps in Louisville, Lake Placid and Maryland this season, before heading back to Tucson next spring. If you’d like to join him, log on to www.coachtroy.com.