Tripleshot Cycling

http://www.cyclingtipsblog.com/2011/11/ ... -cyclists/

check out the article here

Agree. Rowing, like most sports when pursued at an elite level, requires a single minded obsessive drive to succeed, and with the training and volumes required, the observations in the article are easy to appreciate.

-first its all about the engine and strength you develop in this (other) crazy sport that involves massive aerobic/anaerobic and power training
-if you are a lightweight (sorry Adam K) you have the opportunity to develop some of sport's highest power to weight ratios and indexed (per kg) max VO2. When I was a skinny obsessed lightweight at the age of 22, my max VO2 was 5 l/min or over 85 ml/kg/min. Never been there since (and now at >50, it is definitely all down hill, loss of lean muscle mass, etc).

Attached--note the distinct lack or carbon fibre.

yeah, but check out his hair! That's gotta slow you down...a bit.

Warning: med-geek speak...

Brian- there was a NEJM study of cardiac hypertrophy in athlete's hearts about 20 years ago- they measured heart sizes of almost 1000 athletes. Only 16 had hearts that were so hypertrophic they actually met the criteria for hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. 15 were rowers. And the other guy?- yup, a cyclist. (though none actually had HC- their pattern of muscle wall enlargement didn't compromise cardiac output)

http://www.nejm.org/doi/full/10.1056/NE ... 1313240504

Cheers,
Chris

Hey is that brand new Roman aqueduct behind you? Man, you're really dating yourself...

Cheers,
Chris

I see you still have the same 1000 yard stare. Except now it's forward at the front half of the A group.

Chris Watt wrote:Hey is that brand new Roman aqueduct behind you? Man, you're really dating yourself...

Cheers,
Chris

Useless trivia from a St Catharines native: That bridge is the QEW viaduct. Where Tim Horton died. In high school in St Catharines, the doughnut shop was known gruesomely as 'dead tim's'.

Wkipedia: Early on the morning of February 21, 1974, Horton was driving on the Queen Elizabeth Way from Toronto to his home in Buffalo after the Sabres had played in Toronto the night before, in his De Tomaso Pantera sports car, a gift from Sabres' GM George "Punch" Imlach. He was navigating a curve on the QEW where it crosses over Twelve Mile Creek in St. Catharines when he lost control and hit a concrete culvert. The impact flipped the vehicle and Horton, who was not wearing a seat belt, was ejected from the vehicle. Horton was reported dead on arrival at the local hospital. A police officer pursuing Horton's vehicle said that he had been travelling at over 160 km/h (100 mph).

great article, that said, the lactic acid threshold in rowing exceeds anything I've experienced in cycling, or any other sport, fortunately a long head race is only about 25- 30 minutes, whereas a bike racing lasts for hours.

Lister Farrar wrote:
Useless trivia from a St Catharines native: That bridge is the QEW viaduct. Where Tim Horton died. In high school in St Catharines, the doughnut shop was known gruesomely as 'dead tim's'.

Yes Lister that is the QEW, but we were training on the Credit River in Mississauga. No bits o' Tim on that bridge.

Cool pic, Brian. The other thing that links cyclists and rowers (round these parts anyhow) is a predilection for early-morning exertion!

Also: thanks, Lister. My next midnight road-trip double-double is going to taste that much more bittersweet, knowing ol' Tim bit it at speed in a Pantera, creamed on vodka and barbiturates. Call me old fashioned, but there aren't many cruller ways to fritter away life's sweet glaze than to hit dozens of ice sprinkles and get dipped into Twelve Mile Creek in chili February.

Rolf.

<whap>

That is all.

Just desserts, Kate.

Rolf wrote:Cool pic, Brian. The other thing that links cyclists and rowers (round these parts anyhow) is a predilection for early-morning exertion!

Also: thanks, Lister. My next midnight road-trip double-double is going to taste that much more bittersweet, knowing ol' Tim bit it at speed in a Pantera, creamed on vodka and barbiturates. Call me old fashioned, but there aren't many cruller ways to fritter away life's sweet glaze than to hit dozens of ice sprinkles and get dipped into Twelve Mile Creek in chili February.

Droll. Up the puns to win.

Let's not row. Brian started it with his memories of punting as a lad.