There was once an elite marathoner named Adrian in whom reared an awesome cross-training animal. He came of the blue and raced 97 miles on inline skates from San Francisco to Santa Cruz, smashing through the ranks and finishing with the pros. He and I traded phone numbers and eventually began working out together, sometimes he with me on skates to pick up some technique, and other times I with him on foot to gain fitness.

Adrian took me out on reservoir runs with his magical trail pass, allowing us access to a 14 mile sinuous apron of dirt. Here, our roles were reversed. Now I was the one who clung doggedly until shattering before the finish. Afterwards, while I moped about not keeping up, Adrian expressed amazement at my staying power.

That power came from my high school running coach Steve Henrikson. Above all else, he taught me never to give up. After living a nightmare of insufferable pain in my first cross-country race, wracked by nausea and dry-heaves the whole way, Mr. Henrikson convinced me to try one more race before deciding to continue or not.

The next race, of course, sealed my fate. It was the stuff of dreams. I surged past the frontrunner down the homestretch with an adrenalized rush that bore me lighter than air across the finish. My running goals became loftier.

In 1984 I turned in a cautious 3:16 at the Humboldt Redwoods Marathon, then returned the following year and booked a 2:43 with even less perceived effort. There was no proverbial wall, only carpeted shoulders of springy redwood duff that brought back that weightless feeling inside as I moved up through the field.

To recapture this feeling, I didn't take to competitive running alone, but to soccer, tennis, volleyball, and swimming as well. At swim meets, I ate up the 500, but looked forward most to the 100 fly, where the motion was pleasantly undulatory but exceedingly powerful. At night I often dreamt of flying through the air with this stroke, half dolphin, half bird.

When a pair of inline skates came tumbling out of my friend's closet in 1988, I took to them like a duck on June bug. Those elusive moments of graceful power were now reproduced at higher speed, more often, and for longer periods of time than ever before. It's no wonder, then, that my penchant for cross training was relegated to the back burner while I did little else than chase packs of girls on bikes.

Each time I fought rabidly to stay attached to the umbilical cord whose name I learned was Draft. Slobber ran uncontrollably out the sides of my perma-grimace. Near the top of the hill, I saw only black dots and bobbing butts through the finger tingling anaerobic haze. I ached to stand up, but to have given in once would have been to surrender forever.

Daily maximal efforts such as these became impossible to maintain. I became sluggish and uninspired and experienced continually diminishing returns. Overtraining did teach me how to be smarter about my workout regimen, however. With a little rest and more cross training, I gave over-stressed muscles and energy systems a chance to recover and got stronger in the process.

Nowadays, I incorporate running and cycling into my usual diet of skating and jumping (pliometrics for explosive strength). Nothing gets me into better shape early in the season than running. Later in the year, cycling will take over. I'll spend up to 20 hours a week on my bike, and the few hours of skating I do will all be at top speed.

Here's what an ambitious early season week looks like in my training log:

Monday: 2 hour trail run, 60-80 percent intensity, with interspersed pliometrics (side to side jumps, imitation crossover jumps, long jumps, one-legged jumps)

Tuesday: Morning bike ride, 1.75 hours, 60-70 percent, late evening skate, 4 by 5 minute intervals in parking structure with Dan and Kimon, 80-100%

Wednesday: Morning pliometrics, 10 by 30 jumps , 100%, evening hill skate, 1 hour, 70-80%

Thursday: 2 hour trail run, 60-80%

Friday: Bike ride to Mt. Diablo, 5 hours, 60-80%

Saturday: Chase bikes on skates for two hours in Berkeley hills if no race.

Sunday: Vegetate

Other sports have functioned as cross-training for my inline skating, just as skating complemented Adrian's running. There are many other examples of athletes who excel at what they do because they cross train. For example, Glenn Winkel is a National Master's Criterium Bicycle Champion who puts in many miles on inlines. Mandy Osbourn is a champion inline skater who made the US Olympic Track Cycling team as a walk-on. I'm positive that If it weren't for sports like cycling and running, I wouldn't have been able to release the real potential of the skating animal that keeps me purring today.