The Lonely Triathlete

Todd Sauder
  • 5.0 (5)
  • Sports
  • Updated Weekly

An age-grouper with 25 years of experience overcomes a life altering brain injury and starts hitting the podium. Be motivated and inspired as he recounts the daily grind of an amateur triathlete and join the growing community on Patreon. You don't have to be a lonely triathlete anymore!

  1. 3d ago

    [PREVIEW] A New Triathlon Challenge

    As I embark on an ambitious (overly ambitious?) new triathlon plan I am discovering that it is going to be its very own challenge. How do I fit in more workouts than ever yet maintain my sanity and health? TRANSCRIPT So, this week concludes the first week of my training season in my journey to Germany. Where I am taking things to another level. Specifically, I'm going to be taking things to another level in terms of exercise VOLUME. For most days of the week, I'm going to be doing two workouts a day. And I have to find a way—or, I should say, I AM finding a way—to also squeeze in two strength-training sessions into my week. At first, I thought this was ambitious but doable. And after one week under my belt, I now realize how truly ambitious it's going to be. In a number of ways. The first way is just schedule-wise. Trying to fit in two workouts a day doesn't seem that hard. It doesn't sound that hard. And I've done it before with no real problem. But I've only done it before occasionally. I've never had it comprise five of my six training days. And doing double workouts for five of your six training days is a COMPLETELY different experience than trying to fit in one or two doubles in a week. So, schedule-wise, I'm going to have to figure this out. So far, doing an early-morning SOMETHING—usually a bike—followed by an afternoon, or a noon, sorry, a LUNCHTIME run, works very well because I can eat at my desk while I work. I can blast out at noon for a 30-minute workout, get back to my desk, and I can eat and work. And that leaves the evening free for personal things, and for relationship stuff, and for other things. And that's important to me. Because one of the things I'm trying to figure out with this training block isn't simply, “How much training can I cram into my life?” It's, “How much training can I do while still HAVING a life?” Those are two very different questions. When it comes to swimming, though, most days I'm going to have to try to get out for an early-morning swim. And that means I've got to get out of the house earlier than normal—maybe 7:15 at the latest—in order to be back in time for work. So I could do an early-morning swim and then an afternoon cycle or an afternoon run. And I keep saying “afternoon.” I mean lunchtime. Because I'm working. I can't just take the time off and go do these long sessions whenever I want. I have to find some way to squeeze them in. And that's what I mean about scheduling. It's going to be a challenge. I think I can do it. I mean, I did it this last week. But I had some hiccups. I went to the lake at 7:30 in the morning, and there was blue-green algae. So I couldn't swim in the lake. I had to turn around, drive all the way back home, and figure out another way of doing things. And that's going to happen. There are going to be these constant little scheduling challenges. And I hope, for the most part, I CAN figure out something that works for most days so I'm not always having to figure out how to do it. Because that would get really old really fast. If I had to wake up every day and think, “Okay, how am I going to make this work today?” I'm not sure that's sustainable. So that's challenge number one. *Challenge number two is the ENERGY required to do two workouts a day.* I was fine this week until Thursday. And then it all really started hitting me. I was feeling quite fatigued. And TrainerRoad thankfully gave me Friday off and offered me up some easier workouts. And I was grateful for that. Because I could feel the fatigue. And that's something I'm going to have to learn to manage, not just REACT to. I'm going to have to manage it PROACTIVELY. Because I can see how, over the course of even a couple of months of this, I could bury myself in a hole that I would have a hard time getting out of. And that's not the objective. The objective isn't to see how tired I can make myself. The objective is to train, recover, adapt, and get better. And if I don't recover, then I'm missing a really important part of that equation. So focusing on energy preservation when I'm not working out is going to be really key. And that may mean adding an extra half hour to my sleep. Which is not easy for me to do. Because I don't LIKE sleeping. I'm too busy having fun to sleep. Heh heh I get eight hours a night and that's pretty good. But I'm going to have to be really, really cognizant of whether eight hours is going to cut it. And I'm going to have to be prepared to go to eight and a half hours—or even longer—if required. And certainly all of my recovery protocols need to be put into play. My infrared sauna blanket. My red-light therapy. My massage gun. My nutrition. Extra protein. You name it. That all has to be on point. Because if I'm going to increase the training load, I can't just increase the training load. I have to increase the recovery that supports that training load. And that's ANOTHER thing I'm learning this week. The training itself is actually only part of the challenge. There's the training. There's the scheduling. There's the recovery. There's the sleep. There's the nutrition. And then there's everything else going on in life. And that brings me to what I think may actually be the BIGGEST challenge of all. And that's not something that's easy to quantify. It's the fact that triathlon is on my mind all the time now. And don't get me wrong. I love it. I love thinking about it. I love talking about it. I love engaging in it. I love the process. I love the idea of starting with a body that's rested from good sleep, providing it some good pre-workout nutrition, giving it a training stimulus, and then responding with nutrition and hydration and recovery. I LOVE all of that. But I really don't want to become IMBALANCED. I don't want to give up too much of my mental real estate for triathlon-related stuff when I am also wanting to work on my novel. I'm also wanting to engage with my brother and my kids and my wife. I want to do some reading. There's lots of reading. There are a lot of things I want to do. Triathlon is not my life. It's merely a significant, important part of it. And I think that's something I'm going to have to keep reminding myself of over the course of this training season. Because there's a common joke that goes around: How can you tell a triathlete if you're at a party? It's the person who's always talking about triathlon. I think that's the punchline. I probably butchered it. But you know what I mean. Triathletes can become quite obsessed. Or maybe “obsessed” isn't even the right word. They become very, very focused. And there's a reason for that. Triathlon requires so much from you. It requires planning. It requires effort. It requires gear. It requires nutrition. It requires recovery. It requires travel. It requires time. And when you put all of those things together, it's really easy for the sport to become the main part of your life. And then, when you get to a party and somebody asks you what you've been up to, well... You've been running. You've been biking. You've been swimming. You've been thinking about running, biking, and swimming. You've been thinking about what you're going to eat while you're running, biking, and swimming. You've been thinking about what equipment you're going to use. You've been thinking about your next race. You've been thinking about your training plan. And suddenly, that's what you have to talk about. And I don't want to be THAT GUY. I want to be able to talk about other things. I want to read. I want to write. I want to spend time with the people I love. I want to be engaged with the world outside of triathlon. And I think that's particularly important for me because this is going to be a big training year. I'm on a journey to Germany. I've got a goal. I've got a destination. And I'm going to be taking the training seriously. But taking something seriously doesn't necessarily mean allowing it to consume you. And I think that's going to be one of the interesting experiments of this year. Can I train at a level that I've never trained at before while still maintaining balance in the rest of my life? Can I become better at triathlon without making triathlon my entire identity? Can I pursue something with real ambition while still being flexible when other things matter more? Because there are going to be days when training has to take a back seat. There are going to be days when life gets in the way. And I don't necessarily mean that in a negative sense. Sometimes life is more important. Sometimes relationships are more important. Sometimes your mental health is more important. Sometimes you need to go do something completely unrelated to triathlon. And I think that's okay. Actually, I think that's necessary. So this first week has been a really interesting lesson. I started out thinking, “Okay, this is ambitious but doable.” And now I'm thinking, “Okay... this is really ambitious.” But that's not necessarily a bad thing. I'm excited. I am VERY excited. This is going to be a challenge, much like the sport itself is a challenge. And I think the training season is going to be another unique sport, per se. Another unique challenge. I don't know how to DO all the things I want to do. I'm not sure if I can excel at all of the things I want to do. But I'm going to try. And I'm curious. And I'm interested in how it goes. And I'm going to be flexible and adaptable. That's probably the biggest lesson from this first week. I don't need to have the entire year figured out right now. I need to figure out what works. I need to pay attention to what doesn't work. I need to make adjustments. And then I need to keep moving forward. Because that's really what this journey to Germany is about. It's not just about the race. It's about the process of becoming the athlete who can show up in Germany and perform at the level that I want to perform at. And becoming that athlete isn't simply about pu

    [PREVIEW] A New Triathlon Challenge

  2. Aug 10

    Training Without Losing the Plot

    A year of training lies ahead of me. What should I focus on? What is my plan? How am I going to get through this massive year of effort? Join the club on Patreon www.patreon.com/thelonelytriathlete TRANSCRIPT As I get ready to start a brand-new one-year training block, I’ve been thinking a lot less about the actual workouts and a lot more about how I want to approach the year. Because one year is a long time. And I think that’s the first thing I want to remember. A year is long enough that individual workouts really don't matter all that much. I’m going to have bad workouts. I’m going to have great workouts. There will be weeks where everything comes together perfectly, and there will be weeks where life gets in the way. And I don't want to stress about that. I want to focus on the workout that’s in front of me. What am I trying to accomplish today? And what can I do to give myself the best chance of accomplishing it? And, bonus points if I think about that the day before. Get a good night's sleep. Make sure my gear is clean. Get the bottles ready. Have whatever nutrition I need ready to go. Know what the workout is. Remove as much friction as possible. Because I think there’s a difference between being disciplined and making things unnecessarily difficult for yourself. If I can prepare today so that tomorrow's workout is easier to execute, that’s a win. Give the new plan a chance I’m also stepping up my training volume. I’m moving from what I’d call a medium-volume plan to a high-volume plan. And that might turn out to be too much. I honestly don't know yet. But I don't need to know yet. I want to give it a solid few months before I start deciding whether it’s working. I think athletes can sometimes make the mistake of constantly adjusting the experiment before they've actually given the experiment enough time to produce a result. So I'm going to try to resist that. I'm going to train. I'm going to pay attention to how I feel. I'm going to pay attention to my performance and recovery. And then, after I've accumulated enough information, I'll make some decisions. Keep triathlon in perspective The other thing I really want to remember is that triathlon isn't my life. It's an important part of my life. I love it. But it's not my life. My relationships and my mental health come first. Triathlon comes second. And that means I need to be willing to be flexible when those things conflict. If something important comes up with my partner, or with family, or I’m having a difficult day mentally, I don't want to look at my training plan and think, Well, I've got to get this workout done. Sometimes the workout loses. And that's okay. In fact, I think that's part of being a serious athlete. A training plan is a tool for supporting your life. Your life isn't supposed to become a tool for supporting your training plan. Habit stacking One thing I want to experiment with this year is habit stacking. I've got a lot of training. But I've also got travel time to and from the pool or gym, preparation, cleanup, nutrition, recovery, stretching, mobility—all of those little things surrounding the actual workout. And if I treat every one of those things as a completely separate task, it can start to feel like training takes over my entire day. So I want to find ways to attach those things to things that are already happening. Maybe I listen to something specific during the drive. Maybe certain recovery habits happen immediately after training. Maybe my weekly training reflection happens alongside my personal journaling. The idea is to make these things part of an existing rhythm rather than creating ten more things I have to remember to do. Routine is a tool, not a prison And that leads into another one. I really like routine. Probably too much sometimes. Routine makes life efficient. You know what you're doing. You know when you're doing it. You don't have to make a decision every time. But I don't want to become fixed on my routine. Because life isn't always efficient. Sometimes the weather changes. Sometimes plans change. Sometimes somebody needs something from you. Sometimes you just wake up and realize that today isn't going to go according to plan. And I want to be able to adapt without feeling like I've somehow failed. Routine is a mechanism for efficiency. It's not the objective. Actually enjoy the training This one might be the most important. I want to enjoy the training. Because there are definitely days when I just get the workout done. I look at the clock. I look at the intervals. I get through the session. Check. Done. And there's value in consistency. Absolutely. But sometimes I think I'm missing the experience itself. I'm swimming. I'm riding my bike. I'm running. I'm lifting weights. My body is moving. And I want to notice that. Notice how it feels. Notice the movement. Notice the thoughts that come into my head. Notice the emotion. Notice the feeling of being outside. Notice the feeling of getting stronger. Because this isn't just a transaction where I put in 60 minutes and receive some future fitness benefit. This is my life happening right now. And I want to enjoy more of it. Reflect—but don't create another chore I also think it would be useful to spend a little time at the end of each week reflecting. What went well? What didn't? What did I learn? Was there anything I could do differently next week? But—and this is important—I don't want to turn that into another item on my productivity checklist. Weekly reflection: DONE. That defeats the purpose. Maybe I habit-stack it with personal journaling. I've wanted to become more consistent with journaling anyway, so perhaps that's where the training reflection belongs. A few minutes to step back and look at the week. Not judge it. Just notice it. Food should be more than fuel I also want to periodically revisit my nutrition. Not constantly. Not obsessively. But every once in a while, step back and ask: Is this actually working for me? Am I enjoying what I'm eating? Am I making food fun? Because food is fuel, especially when you're training a lot. But food is also one of the great pleasures of life. And I don't want every meal to become a calculation of protein, carbohydrates, sodium and calories. There should be room for enjoying food. Share the experience Another thing I want to do this year is find new ways to share the experience. That's one reason I'm interested in video. I've been podcasting for years now, but there's something really fun about telling the story visually. Showing the training. Showing the places I ride. Showing the process. Being creative. And I think that's another way of enjoying the sport. Not everything has to be about performance. Sometimes it's just fun to create something. Stay organized And finally: stay organized. Because nothing makes training more stressful than getting to the moment when you're supposed to train and realizing: Oh crap. My gear isn't washed. Or: Where's that piece of equipment? Or: I wish I'd bought that thing three weeks ago. Or: I forgot to charge this. All of those little things create friction. And yes, staying organized takes time. Washing the gear. Putting things away. Replacing things before they run out. Charging things. Preparing nutrition. Getting tomorrow's stuff ready tonight. But I don't think that time is wasted. I think it's an investment in making the actual experience of training smoother and more enjoyable. And ultimately, that's what I want this year to be about. Not just getting fitter. Not just hitting numbers. Not just completing workouts. I want to build a year of training that fits into my life. A year where I'm prepared, but flexible. Disciplined, but not rigid. Focused, but not obsessive. Where I take the training seriously, but remember that triathlon isn't the most important thing in my life. And where, as much as possible, I actually enjoy the experience of doing it. Because I've got a whole year ahead of me. There's no need to rush it. I just need to show up today and make today a good day to train.

    Training Without Losing the Plot

  3. Aug 3

    New Chapter Ahead

    The time seems right. It's now or never. This might be the end. We never know what tomorrow will bring, or next month or next year. Since that is the case, maybe I should start documenting my exploits sooner rather than later. Join us on Patreon! www.patreon.com/thelonelytriathlete TRANSCRIPT It's funny...this week I sat down to think about what I was going to talk about, and I realized I don't actually have a lot of exciting training news. Which, I suppose, is exactly the point. I'm still in this maintenance phase. Three rides a week. Two VO₂ max sessions and one endurance ride. That's it. TrainerRoad is predicting I'll lose maybe two or three percent of my FTP over the next week or so. And I'm actually okay with that. If I lose five or six watts over a month, that's a small price to pay for getting some physical and mental recovery after a long season. Because the alternative is doing nothing. And if I stop riding altogether, I know what happens. I lose thirty, forty, maybe even fifty watts. Then it takes me three or four months to earn that fitness back again. So right now my goal isn't to get stronger. It's simply to stay close enough to where I finished this season that, when I start my next training block, I can hit the ground running. Which makes for a pretty boring podcast. There really isn't much to say. The workouts are getting done. Fitness is staying relatively stable. Everything is...fine. But then something happened this week that completely took over my attention. I bought a drone. Well...not just a drone. I bought the new DJI Neo 2. I bought a DJI Osmo Action camera. I picked up a chest harness so I can record rides from my perspective. I already had the DJI Mic Mini, so now I can actually narrate while I'm riding or running without sounding like I'm talking through a hurricane. And ever since these boxes showed up at my house, I've been like a kid with a new toy. I've been testing them. Learning how they work. Figuring out camera angles. Learning how the drone follows me. Seeing what kind of footage I can get while riding and running. And the interesting part is...I don't think this is actually about the cameras. It's about what the cameras allow me to do. For years this podcast has documented what's happening inside my head. You've listened to me talk about races. Training. Self-doubt. Confidence. Injuries. Motivation. Discipline. All of those things work incredibly well in an audio format. But this week I realized something. Audio only tells half the story. I've spent years saying things like... "I had an amazing ride today." "The climb was brutal." "The ocean was calm." "The sunrise was incredible." You hear those words... ...but you've never actually seen any of it. You've never seen the roads I ride every week. You've never seen the climbs. You've never seen the places where I run. You've never stood beside the ocean where I swim. You've only experienced them through my descriptions. And that's when it hit me. Maybe this journey deserves more than words. Maybe it deserves pictures. Maybe it deserves video. Not because I think video is somehow better than audio. It's just... ...different. There are things that video can communicate that words simply can't. Imagine watching a drone slowly pull away as I'm climbing one of my local hills. No narration. Just breathing. Wind. The sound of tires on pavement. Sometimes silence tells the story better than words ever could. Or imagine seeing the roads that I've talked about for years. Instead of picturing them in your imagination... ...you'd actually be there. You'd see where I train. You'd see what I see. You'd experience a little piece of the journey alongside me. And I find that incredibly exciting. Now...I don't know exactly what this becomes. I'm experimenting. I'm learning. I'm making mistakes. I'm trying different shots. Trying different editing styles. Trying to figure out what feels authentic. I don't even know where these videos will eventually live. I'm intentionally not overthinking that part. Right now the important thing is simply documenting. Capturing. Recording. Because I realized something else this week. One day... this version of me won't exist anymore. I'm fifty-eight years old. Hopefully my best race is still ahead of me. Hopefully Germany in 2027 is the peak. That's certainly what I'm training toward. But none of us really know. Maybe Germany will be the highest point of my athletic life. Maybe it won't. Maybe I'll surprise myself. Maybe life has other plans. I honestly don't know. But wouldn't it be incredible to have a visual record of this entire journey? Not just race day. Everybody records race day. I'm talking about the Tuesday morning interval session. The rainy ride when I didn't feel like training. The quiet endurance ride where nothing special happened. The run where I questioned everything. The swim where everything finally clicked. Those ordinary moments... Those are actually the story. The race is just the ending. The story is everything that happens beforehand. And maybe that's really why these cameras excite me so much. Because they're giving me a chance to preserve something that otherwise would disappear. Five years from now... I'll be able to look back and remember exactly where I was. Not because Strava says I rode 82 kilometres. Not because Garmin tells me my average heart rate. But because I'll actually be able to see it. I'll see the roads. The weather. My posture on the bike. The way I moved. The expression on my face. I'll remember things that numbers could never capture. And maybe that's something we all lose sight of as endurance athletes. We're surrounded by data. FTP. Power. Heart rate. Pace. Cadence. VO₂ max. Training Stress Score. Recovery scores. Sleep scores. We measure everything. But the numbers don't remember the experience. The numbers don't remember the sunrise. They don't remember the laughter with training partners. They don't remember the eagle flying overhead during an early morning ride. They don't remember the feeling of finally reaching the top of a climb. The numbers tell us what happened. They don't tell us what it felt like. And maybe... that's what I want these cameras to capture. Not better workouts. Better memories. Because this isn't just a training plan anymore. This is becoming a chapter of my life. It's my road to Germany. Or maybe... my Highway to Hamburg. I haven't decided what to call it yet. But whatever the title ends up being, I know one thing. I don't want to remember this journey only through graphs on Garmin Connect. I want to remember what it looked like. I want to remember what it sounded like. I want to remember how it felt. And maybe, someday, some of you will come along for that ride too. I don't know exactly what this is going to become. Maybe it's a video diary. Maybe it's a documentary. Maybe it's just a collection of moments that only I end up appreciating. But I do know this: if I'm going to spend the next year chasing one of the biggest goals of my athletic life, I don't want to remember it only through numbers on a Garmin screen. I want to remember what the roads looked like, what the water looked like, what the climbs looked like, and maybe even what I looked like. Because one day, this version of me won't exist anymore. And I think it's worth preserving while it does. Until then, I'm not replacing the podcast, not at all. I think audio works formany or you, most of you. It allows you join me on your commute, your own runs, or while doing dishes. Video is simply another window into the same journey. One where you might see a drone image of me cycling from behind up a steep hill, switching to a first person POV as I race down the other side, followed by me stading at a lookout and waxing poetic on the difficulties of rear derailluers or my favourite flavour of carb drink. That's it from me. Until next time, peace.

    New Chapter Ahead

  4. Aug 3

    [PREVIEW] New Chapter Ahead

    The time seems right. It's now or never. This might be the end. We never know what tomorrow will bring, or next month or next year. Since that is the case, maybe I should start documenting my exploits sooner rather than later. TRANSCRIPT It's funny...this week I sat down to think about what I was going to talk about, and I realized I don't actually have a lot of exciting training news. Which, I suppose, is exactly the point. I'm still in this maintenance phase. Three rides a week. Two VO₂ max sessions and one endurance ride. That's it. TrainerRoad is predicting I'll lose maybe two or three percent of my FTP over the next week or so. And I'm actually okay with that. If I lose five or six watts over a month, that's a small price to pay for getting some physical and mental recovery after a long season. Because the alternative is doing nothing. And if I stop riding altogether, I know what happens. I lose thirty, forty, maybe even fifty watts. Then it takes me three or four months to earn that fitness back again. So right now my goal isn't to get stronger. It's simply to stay close enough to where I finished this season that, when I start my next training block, I can hit the ground running. Which makes for a pretty boring podcast. There really isn't much to say. The workouts are getting done. Fitness is staying relatively stable. Everything is...fine. But then something happened this week that completely took over my attention. I bought a drone. Well...not just a drone. I bought the new DJI Neo 2. I bought a DJI Osmo Action camera. I picked up a chest harness so I can record rides from my perspective. I already had the DJI Mic Mini, so now I can actually narrate while I'm riding or running without sounding like I'm talking through a hurricane. And ever since these boxes showed up at my house, I've been like a kid with a new toy. I've been testing them. Learning how they work. Figuring out camera angles. Learning how the drone follows me. Seeing what kind of footage I can get while riding and running. And the interesting part is...I don't think this is actually about the cameras. It's about what the cameras allow me to do. For years this podcast has documented what's happening inside my head. You've listened to me talk about races. Training. Self-doubt. Confidence. Injuries. Motivation. Discipline. All of those things work incredibly well in an audio format. But this week I realized something. Audio only tells half the story. I've spent years saying things like... "I had an amazing ride today." "The climb was brutal." "The ocean was calm." "The sunrise was incredible." You hear those words... ...but you've never actually seen any of it. You've never seen the roads I ride every week. You've never seen the climbs. You've never seen the places where I run. You've never stood beside the ocean where I swim. You've only experienced them through my descriptions. And that's when it hit me. Maybe this journey deserves more than words. Maybe it deserves pictures. Maybe it deserves video. Not because I think video is somehow better than audio. It's just... ...different. There are things that video can communicate that words simply can't. Imagine watching a drone slowly pull away as I'm climbing one of my local hills. No narration. Just breathing. Wind. The sound of tires on pavement. Sometimes silence tells the story better than words ever could. Or imagine seeing the roads that I've talked about for years. Instead of picturing them in your imagination... ...you'd actually be there. You'd see where I train. You'd see what I see. You'd experience a little piece of the journey alongside me. And I find that incredibly exciting. Now...I don't know exactly what this becomes. I'm experimenting. I'm learning. I'm making mistakes. I'm trying different shots. Trying different editing styles. Trying to figure out what feels authentic. I don't even know where these videos will eventually live. I'm intentionally not overthinking that part. Right now the important thing is simply documenting. Capturing. Recording. Because I realized something else this week. One day... this version of me won't exist anymore. I'm fifty-eight years old. Hopefully my best race is still ahead of me. Hopefully Germany in 2027 is the peak. That's certainly what I'm training toward. But none of us really know. Maybe Germany will be the highest point of my athletic life. Maybe it won't. Maybe I'll surprise myself. Maybe life has other plans. I honestly don't know. But wouldn't it be incredible to have a visual record of this entire journey? Not just race day. Everybody records race day. I'm talking about the Tuesday morning interval session. The rainy ride when I didn't feel like training. The quiet endurance ride where nothing special happened. The run where I questioned everything. The swim where everything finally clicked. Those ordinary moments... Those are actually the story. The race is just the ending. The story is everything that happens beforehand. And maybe that's really why these cameras excite me so much. Because they're giving me a chance to preserve something that otherwise would disappear. Five years from now... I'll be able to look back and remember exactly where I was. Not because Strava says I rode 82 kilometres. Not because Garmin tells me my average heart rate. But because I'll actually be able to see it. I'll see the roads. The weather. My posture on the bike. The way I moved. The expression on my face. I'll remember things that numbers could never capture. And maybe that's something we all lose sight of as endurance athletes. We're surrounded by data. FTP. Power. Heart rate. Pace. Cadence. VO₂ max. Training Stress Score. Recovery scores. Sleep scores. We measure everything. But the numbers don't remember the experience. The numbers don't remember the sunrise. They don't remember the laughter with training partners. They don't remember the eagle flying overhead during an early morning ride. They don't remember the feeling of finally reaching the top of a climb. The numbers tell us what happened. They don't tell us what it felt like. And maybe... that's what I want these cameras to capture. Not better workouts. Better memories. Because this isn't just a training plan anymore. This is becoming a chapter of my life. It's my road to Germany. Or maybe... my Highway to Hamburg. I haven't decided what to call it yet. But whatever the title ends up being, I know one thing. I don't want to remember this journey only through graphs on Garmin Connect. I want to remember what it looked like. I want to remember what it sounded like. I want to remember how it felt. And maybe, someday, some of you will come along for that ride too. I don't know exactly what this is going to become. Maybe it's a video diary. Maybe it's a documentary. Maybe it's just a collection of moments that only I end up appreciating. But I do know this: if I'm going to spend the next year chasing one of the biggest goals of my athletic life, I don't want to remember it only through numbers on a Garmin screen. I want to remember what the roads looked like, what the water looked like, what the climbs looked like, and maybe even what I looked like. Because one day, this version of me won't exist anymore. And I think it's worth preserving while it does. Until then, I'm not replacing the podcast, not at all. I think audio works formany or you, most of you. It allows you join me on your commute, your own runs, or while doing dishes. Video is simply another window into the same journey. One where you might see a drone image of me cycling from behind up a steep hill, switching to a first person POV as I race down the other side, followed by me stading at a lookout and waxing poetic on the difficulties of rear derailluers or my favourite flavour of carb drink. That's it from me. Until next time, peace.

    [PREVIEW] New Chapter Ahead

  5. Jul 26

    Is a Triathlete's Body Designed to be Lazy?

    One week out of structured training and I already feel like a lazy slouch. But maybe that's natural? Please join us over at wwwpatreon.com/thelonelytriathlete TRANSCRIPT Hey everybody, and welcome back to The Lonely Triathlete. I've been in a bit of an unusual place over the last couple of weeks. My racing season is over. I had my final race on July 12th, and now I'm in what coaches would call a maintenance phase. Instead of training six days a week, I'm only riding three. Two VO₂ max sessions and one endurance ride. That's it. The goal isn't to get faster right now. The goal is simply to hold onto the fitness I've built before I begin my next training block for the 2027 World Championships in Germany. On paper, this should be easy. Three rides a week. No swimming. No running. No pressure. And yet... I'm finding it harder to motivate myself to do three workouts than I was when I was doing six. That got me thinking. Is the human body actually designed to be...lazy? Now, "lazy" is probably the wrong word, but it's the word that came to mind. Why does taking just a little time off seem to wake up this voice in our heads that says, "You could skip today. You've earned it." If you've ever taken a week off because of vacation, illness, or simply burnout, you've probably experienced the same thing. The amazing thing is that physiologically, you haven't lost much fitness at all. Research consistently shows that if you've built a strong aerobic base, one or even two weeks of reduced training causes surprisingly little decline—especially if you keep a little intensity in the program. That's exactly why I'm still doing those VO₂ max intervals. They're enough to remind my body, "Hey, we're still athletes over here." So the body isn't falling apart. The interesting part is that the mind often changes faster than the body. Why? Because your brain is constantly trying to manage energy. For almost all of human history, calories weren't unlimited. They were precious. Our ancestors weren't rewarded for going out and doing hill repeats for fun. They were rewarded for surviving, conserving energy when they could, and spending it only when there was a good reason. So in many ways, our brains evolved to be efficient, not enthusiastic. When your brain senses that there isn't an urgent reason to burn energy, it starts negotiating. "Maybe tomorrow." "One more cup of coffee." "You've had a busy day." Sound familiar? What's fascinating is that during a structured training block, those negotiations almost disappear. Why? Because you're no longer making decisions. You're following a routine. Monday is intervals. Tuesday is easy. Wednesday is strength. Thursday is another hard session. The routine does the thinking for you. But remove the structure for just a week, and suddenly every workout becomes a fresh decision. And decisions require motivation. I actually think that's why maintenance can feel harder than full training. It's not because the workouts are harder. It's because momentum has slowed down. I've often said that motivation is overrated. Identity is much more powerful. I'm not someone who trains because I feel motivated. I'm someone who trains because that's who I am. Right now, my schedule has changed. My identity hasn't. I'm still a triathlete. I'm simply in a different season. I think that's an important reminder for all of us. Not every month is about building fitness. Some months are about absorbing the work. Some months are about recovery. Some months are about letting your body and mind catch up. And that's exactly where I am. The funny thing is, I know this intellectually. I've read the research. I've experienced it before. And yet I'm still having the same conversations with myself before each ride. That's comforting in a strange way. It reminds me that discipline isn't something you achieve once. It's something you practice over and over again. Now, speaking of the next season... I've been working on something that I'm REALLY excited about. Some of you know that I qualified for the 2027 World Age Group Championships in Hamburg, Germany. Over the next year, I want to document that journey in a way I've never done before. I've ordered a follow-me sports drone. I've got a new action camera on the way. And I'm going to start experimenting with video. I'm calling the project—at least for now—Journey to Germany. I don't know exactly what form it's going to take. Some of it may end up on YouTube. Some might be exclusive to Patreon. I'm still figuring all of that out. But what excites me isn't the equipment. It's the opportunity to let you experience the process with me. Not just race day. Not just podiums. The rainy Tuesday morning ride. The workout that almost didn't happen. The trail runs. The recovery days. The small victories that nobody else usually sees. I've spent years talking into a microphone about training. Now I'd like to show you what that training actually looks like. And maybe that's fitting, because this next chapter feels different. I'm 58 years old, heading toward 59. For more than twenty-five years, I've somehow continued setting personal bests. Every few years I think, "Well...this is probably it. This is where improvement finally stops." And then somehow... Another personal best. I honestly don't know where my ceiling is anymore. Maybe I've already found it. Maybe it's still ahead of me. I don't know. But I don't want to spend the next year wondering. I'd rather find out. And if I'm going to find out, I thought it might be fun to bring all of you along for the ride. Thanks so much for listening. And if you want to hear more from me and even drop me a line, why don'tyou head on over to patreon.com and search for the lonely triathlete. If today's episode resonated with you—especially if you're struggling with motivation after taking some time off—I hope it reminds you that nothing is wrong with you. Your brain is simply doing what it evolved to do. Our job as endurance athletes isn't to eliminate that resistance. It's to gently, consistently, keep showing up anyway. Until next time... I'll be on my personal road to Germany. Peace

    Is a Triathlete's Body Designed to be Lazy?

  6. Jul 26

    [PREVIEW] Is a Triathlete's Body Designed to be Lazy?

    One week off structured training and already I feel like a lazy slob. Maybe that's natural? TRANSCRIPT Hey everybody, and welcome back to The Lonely Triathlete. I've been in a bit of an unusual place over the last couple of weeks. My racing season is over. I had my final race on July 12th, and now I'm in what coaches would call a maintenance phase. Instead of training six days a week, I'm only riding three. Two VO₂ max sessions and one endurance ride. That's it. The goal isn't to get faster right now. The goal is simply to hold onto the fitness I've built before I begin my next training block for the 2027 World Championships in Germany. On paper, this should be easy. Three rides a week. No swimming. No running. No pressure. And yet... I'm finding it harder to motivate myself to do three workouts than I was when I was doing six. That got me thinking. Is the human body actually designed to be...lazy? Now, "lazy" is probably the wrong word, but it's the word that came to mind. Why does taking just a little time off seem to wake up this voice in our heads that says, "You could skip today. You've earned it." If you've ever taken a week off because of vacation, illness, or simply burnout, you've probably experienced the same thing. The amazing thing is that physiologically, you haven't lost much fitness at all. Research consistently shows that if you've built a strong aerobic base, one or even two weeks of reduced training causes surprisingly little decline—especially if you keep a little intensity in the program. That's exactly why I'm still doing those VO₂ max intervals. They're enough to remind my body, "Hey, we're still athletes over here." So the body isn't falling apart. The interesting part is that the mind often changes faster than the body. Why? Because your brain is constantly trying to manage energy. For almost all of human history, calories weren't unlimited. They were precious. Our ancestors weren't rewarded for going out and doing hill repeats for fun. They were rewarded for surviving, conserving energy when they could, and spending it only when there was a good reason. So in many ways, our brains evolved to be efficient, not enthusiastic. When your brain senses that there isn't an urgent reason to burn energy, it starts negotiating. "Maybe tomorrow." "One more cup of coffee." "You've had a busy day." Sound familiar? What's fascinating is that during a structured training block, those negotiations almost disappear. Why? Because you're no longer making decisions. You're following a routine. Monday is intervals. Tuesday is easy. Wednesday is strength. Thursday is another hard session. The routine does the thinking for you. But remove the structure for just a week, and suddenly every workout becomes a fresh decision. And decisions require motivation. I actually think that's why maintenance can feel harder than full training. It's not because the workouts are harder. It's because momentum has slowed down. I've often said that motivation is overrated. Identity is much more powerful. I'm not someone who trains because I feel motivated. I'm someone who trains because that's who I am. Right now, my schedule has changed. My identity hasn't. I'm still a triathlete. I'm simply in a different season. I think that's an important reminder for all of us. Not every month is about building fitness. Some months are about absorbing the work. Some months are about recovery. Some months are about letting your body and mind catch up. And that's exactly where I am. The funny thing is, I know this intellectually. I've read the research. I've experienced it before. And yet I'm still having the same conversations with myself before each ride. That's comforting in a strange way. It reminds me that discipline isn't something you achieve once. It's something you practice over and over again. Now, speaking of the next season... I've been working on something that I'm REALLY excited about. Some of you know that I qualified for the 2027 World Age Group Championships in Hamburg, Germany. Over the next year, I want to document that journey in a way I've never done before. I've ordered a follow-me sports drone. I've got a new action camera on the way. And I'm going to start experimenting with video. I'm calling the project—at least for now—Journey to Germany. I don't know exactly what form it's going to take. Some of it may end up on YouTube. Some might be exclusive to Patreon. I'm still figuring all of that out. But what excites me isn't the equipment. It's the opportunity to let you experience the process with me. Not just race day. Not just podiums. The rainy Tuesday morning ride. The workout that almost didn't happen. The trail runs. The recovery days. The small victories that nobody else usually sees. I've spent years talking into a microphone about training. Now I'd like to show you what that training actually looks like. And maybe that's fitting, because this next chapter feels different. I'm 58 years old, heading toward 59. For more than twenty-five years, I've somehow continued setting personal bests. Every few years I think, "Well...this is probably it. This is where improvement finally stops." And then somehow... Another personal best. I honestly don't know where my ceiling is anymore. Maybe I've already found it. Maybe it's still ahead of me. I don't know. But I don't want to spend the next year wondering. I'd rather find out. And if I'm going to find out, I thought it might be fun to bring all of you along for the ride. Thanks so much for listening. And if you want to hear more from me and even drop me a line, why don'tyou head on over to patreon.com and search for the lonely triathlete. If today's episode resonated with you—especially if you're struggling with motivation after taking some time off—I hope it reminds you that nothing is wrong with you. Your brain is simply doing what it evolved to do. Our job as endurance athletes isn't to eliminate that resistance. It's to gently, consistently, keep showing up anyway. Until next time... I'll be on my personal road to Germany. Peace

    [PREVIEW] Is a Triathlete's Body Designed to be Lazy?

  7. Jul 21

    When Race Season Ends

    What do we do when the racing season ends? Put our feet up and chill out? And lose all that hard earned fitness? Not this time. Come join the fun at www.patreon.com/thelonelytriathlete TRANSCRIPT What do you do when your race season is over? I've been asking myself that question all week. For almost an entire year, my life revolved around one goal: qualify for the World Championships. Six days a week I trained. Every workout had a purpose. Every interval session, every endurance ride, every swim, every run—it all pointed toward one day on the calendar. When my alarm went off at 6:00 a.m., I didn't have to negotiate with myself. I knew why I was getting up. There was no debate. The goal made the decision for me. And after nearly a year of consistent training... I qualified. It was one of the most satisfying athletic achievements of my life. Then, because I'm human—and because my ego wasn't quite finished—I signed up for one more race. I wanted to prove to myself that qualifying wasn't a fluke. Fortunately, that race went well too. Mission accomplished. And now... The triathlon season around here is over. So now what? For years, I've handled the offseason the same way. I take the entire month of August off. No structured training. No TrainerRoad. No worrying about fitness. I sleep in. Go for casual rides. Eat a little more. Enjoy life. Honestly... It's wonderful. I think every athlete deserves periods of genuine recovery. The body needs it. The mind definitely needs it. But over the years I've noticed something. Recovery quietly turns into detraining. By September my FTP has usually dropped about thirty watts. Thirty watts doesn't sound dramatic. But here's what I've learned. The problem isn't losing thirty watts. The problem is how long it takes to earn them back. Every autumn I spend two or three months simply returning to where I was before I stopped training. Only then can I begin building new fitness. It's like climbing halfway up a mountain, hiking back down to the parking lot, and then spending weeks just getting back to the place where you turned around. This year... I don't want to do that. Instead, I'm going to experiment. Rather than stopping completely, I'm going to shift into what I'd call a maintenance phase. Just three rides each week. One longer endurance ride. Two quality sessions—threshold or VO₂ max work. The objective isn't to improve. The objective is simply to hold onto as much fitness as I reasonably can while giving both my body and mind a chance to recover. It sounds simple. But psychologically... It's proving much harder than I expected. I just got back from a five-day cycling trip with friends. And I say "cycling" in quotation marks because we were riding e-bikes at a wonderfully relaxed pace. Before I go any further, let me just say this... Seattle is an incredible cycling city. Bike lanes everywhere. Protected paths through parks. Trails beside rivers. Routes along the ocean. It feels like a city designed by people who actually ride bikes. If you've never cycled there, I highly recommend it. But once I got home... Reality hit. Only one week has passed since my last race. One week. And already I feel... Less motivated. Less fit. Which is funny because physiologically I probably haven't lost very much fitness at all. Fitness doesn't disappear in seven days. Research on endurance athletes consistently shows that most aerobic adaptations are remarkably resilient over short breaks. You may notice your legs feel a little flat, but meaningful losses in aerobic capacity and threshold power usually take several weeks—not several days—to develop. So if my body hasn't changed very much... Why do I already feel different? I think the answer has very little to do with physiology. I think it has everything to do with purpose. Sports psychologists often talk about the power of goal-directed behavior. Clear goals don't just tell us what to do—they organize our attention, our habits, and even our identity. When we know why we're training, our brains spend far less energy debating whether we should train. Motivation isn't something we magically possess. It's something our goals create. There's another concept in psychology called Self-Determination Theory. It suggests that people stay motivated when three basic psychological needs are being met: autonomy, competence, and relatedness. Autonomy means we feel we're choosing our actions. Competence means we feel ourselves improving. Relatedness means we feel connected to other people through what we're doing. During race season, triathlon checks every one of those boxes. I choose to train. Every workout gives me evidence that I'm improving. And every race connects me to a community of people pursuing similar goals. Then suddenly... The season ends. The races disappear. The training plan ends. The improvements become harder to measure. And without realizing it, one or more of those psychological needs begins to fade. No wonder motivation feels different. I don't think I'm losing discipline. I think I've temporarily lost direction. Last week I knew exactly who I was. I was someone trying to qualify for Worlds. Today... I'm just a guy standing in the garage wondering if I really need to ride the trainer tonight. That identity shift is surprisingly unsettling. I suspect many athletes experience this after a major goal. Maybe runners after a marathon. Cyclists after a gran fondo. Parents after their kids leave home. Professionals after retirement. When a chapter ends, we're left asking a surprisingly uncomfortable question: "Who am I now?" Maybe that's the real challenge of the offseason. Not maintaining fitness. Maintaining purpose. I've been thinking a lot about how to solve that. And I don't think the answer is to immediately find another massive goal. I think it's smaller than that. I think I simply need a plan. Not a vague intention. A written plan. For the next couple of months that means maintenance riding, a few local 10K races just for fun, and volunteering at some triathlon events so I stay connected to the community. After that... I'll begin building my roadmap toward next year's World Championships. But this time I want to do something I've never really done before. I'm going to write the entire thing out. The milestones. The training blocks. The recovery periods. The races. Everything. Because visible plans reduce decision fatigue. When the workout is already on paper, you don't wake up asking, "Should I train today?" You simply execute the next step. That's what goals do. They remove uncertainty. They replace motivation with routine. And maybe that's the lesson I'm learning this week. Purpose isn't something that accidentally appears. It's something we intentionally build. When one season ends, another one doesn't magically begin. We have to create it. So that's my project this week. Not increasing my FTP. Not becoming fitter. Simply creating enough structure that, when September arrives, I haven't lost the fitness—or the sense of purpose—that took an entire year to build. I'll let you know how it goes. Until next time... Peace.

    When Race Season Ends

  8. Jul 21

    [PREVIEW] When Race Season Ends

    What do we do when the racing season ends? Put our feet up and chill out? And lose all that hard earned fitness? Not this time. TRANSCRIPT What do you do when your race season is over? I've been asking myself that question all week. For almost an entire year, my life revolved around one goal: qualify for the World Championships. Six days a week I trained. Every workout had a purpose. Every interval session, every endurance ride, every swim, every run—it all pointed toward one day on the calendar. When my alarm went off at 6:00 a.m., I didn't have to negotiate with myself. I knew why I was getting up. There was no debate. The goal made the decision for me. And after nearly a year of consistent training... I qualified. It was one of the most satisfying athletic achievements of my life. Then, because I'm human—and because my ego wasn't quite finished—I signed up for one more race. I wanted to prove to myself that qualifying wasn't a fluke. Fortunately, that race went well too. Mission accomplished. And now... The triathlon season around here is over. So now what? For years, I've handled the offseason the same way. I take the entire month of August off. No structured training. No TrainerRoad. No worrying about fitness. I sleep in. Go for casual rides. Eat a little more. Enjoy life. Honestly... It's wonderful. I think every athlete deserves periods of genuine recovery. The body needs it. The mind definitely needs it. But over the years I've noticed something. Recovery quietly turns into detraining. By September my FTP has usually dropped about thirty watts. Thirty watts doesn't sound dramatic. But here's what I've learned. The problem isn't losing thirty watts. The problem is how long it takes to earn them back. Every autumn I spend two or three months simply returning to where I was before I stopped training. Only then can I begin building new fitness. It's like climbing halfway up a mountain, hiking back down to the parking lot, and then spending weeks just getting back to the place where you turned around. This year... I don't want to do that. Instead, I'm going to experiment. Rather than stopping completely, I'm going to shift into what I'd call a maintenance phase. Just three rides each week. One longer endurance ride. Two quality sessions—threshold or VO₂ max work. The objective isn't to improve. The objective is simply to hold onto as much fitness as I reasonably can while giving both my body and mind a chance to recover. It sounds simple. But psychologically... It's proving much harder than I expected. I just got back from a five-day cycling trip with friends. And I say "cycling" in quotation marks because we were riding e-bikes at a wonderfully relaxed pace. Before I go any further, let me just say this... Seattle is an incredible cycling city. Bike lanes everywhere. Protected paths through parks. Trails beside rivers. Routes along the ocean. It feels like a city designed by people who actually ride bikes. If you've never cycled there, I highly recommend it. But once I got home... Reality hit. Only one week has passed since my last race. One week. And already I feel... Less motivated. Less fit. Which is funny because physiologically I probably haven't lost very much fitness at all. Fitness doesn't disappear in seven days. Research on endurance athletes consistently shows that most aerobic adaptations are remarkably resilient over short breaks. You may notice your legs feel a little flat, but meaningful losses in aerobic capacity and threshold power usually take several weeks—not several days—to develop. So if my body hasn't changed very much... Why do I already feel different? I think the answer has very little to do with physiology. I think it has everything to do with purpose. Sports psychologists often talk about the power of goal-directed behavior. Clear goals don't just tell us what to do—they organize our attention, our habits, and even our identity. When we know why we're training, our brains spend far less energy debating whether we should train. Motivation isn't something we magically possess. It's something our goals create. There's another concept in psychology called Self-Determination Theory. It suggests that people stay motivated when three basic psychological needs are being met: autonomy, competence, and relatedness. Autonomy means we feel we're choosing our actions. Competence means we feel ourselves improving. Relatedness means we feel connected to other people through what we're doing. During race season, triathlon checks every one of those boxes. I choose to train. Every workout gives me evidence that I'm improving. And every race connects me to a community of people pursuing similar goals. Then suddenly... The season ends. The races disappear. The training plan ends. The improvements become harder to measure. And without realizing it, one or more of those psychological needs begins to fade. No wonder motivation feels different. I don't think I'm losing discipline. I think I've temporarily lost direction. Last week I knew exactly who I was. I was someone trying to qualify for Worlds. Today... I'm just a guy standing in the garage wondering if I really need to ride the trainer tonight. That identity shift is surprisingly unsettling. I suspect many athletes experience this after a major goal. Maybe runners after a marathon. Cyclists after a gran fondo. Parents after their kids leave home. Professionals after retirement. When a chapter ends, we're left asking a surprisingly uncomfortable question: "Who am I now?" Maybe that's the real challenge of the offseason. Not maintaining fitness. Maintaining purpose. I've been thinking a lot about how to solve that. And I don't think the answer is to immediately find another massive goal. I think it's smaller than that. I think I simply need a plan. Not a vague intention. A written plan. For the next couple of months that means maintenance riding, a few local 10K races just for fun, and volunteering at some triathlon events so I stay connected to the community. After that... I'll begin building my roadmap toward next year's World Championships. But this time I want to do something I've never really done before. I'm going to write the entire thing out. The milestones. The training blocks. The recovery periods. The races. Everything. Because visible plans reduce decision fatigue. When the workout is already on paper, you don't wake up asking, "Should I train today?" You simply execute the next step. That's what goals do. They remove uncertainty. They replace motivation with routine. And maybe that's the lesson I'm learning this week. Purpose isn't something that accidentally appears. It's something we intentionally build. When one season ends, another one doesn't magically begin. We have to create it. So that's my project this week. Not increasing my FTP. Not becoming fitter. Simply creating enough structure that, when September arrives, I haven't lost the fitness—or the sense of purpose—that took an entire year to build. I'll let you know how it goes. Until next time... Peace.

    [PREVIEW] When Race Season Ends
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About

An age-grouper with 25 years of experience overcomes a life altering brain injury and starts hitting the podium. Be motivated and inspired as he recounts the daily grind of an amateur triathlete and join the growing community on Patreon. You don't have to be a lonely triathlete anymore!

Information

  • Creator
    Todd Sauder
  • Years Active
    2021 - 2026
  • Episodes
    41
  • Rating
    Clean
  • Copyright
    © 5 years, Todd Sauder, The Lonely Triathlete
  • Show Website
    The Lonely Triathlete

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