My 10 Favorite Things About Cycling

1.  A sore ass.
2.  Getting chased by dogs.
3.  Sharing the road with super nice and respectful pick-up truck drivers.
4.  Numb hands
5.  Allergens flying into my mouth and eyes for hours on end.
6.  The awesome feeling of wearing tight bike shorts all morning.
7.  Four hour rides fit right into my schedule.
8.  Downward dog has nothing on aero position.
9.  Avoiding people with baby strollers on the bikeway.
10.  It’s a super cheap hobby.RevBikeOriginalsmaller

Introducing the Crushing Iron Athlete of the Week

Many of you know him as Racer K, and to know him is to love him.  In fact, I saw him running around 6:30 this morning and he gave me a hearty wave as I rolled by on my Trek.  For me, it was an easy, yet difficult, bike ride and there was something about seeing Kevin’s tenacity that gave me a boost.  Many would see this post as a coincidence, but obviously Kevin has some good mojo going because he was ALSO named East Nasty of The Week!

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Truth be told, his Crushing Iron Athlete of the Week status has less to do with his training than the fact that he donated a sweet ass couch and chair to my Wiffle Ball Country Club, Tarrolly Hills.  In fact, I haven’t made this public, but he is also the Tarrolly Hills Man of the Year (Calendar Year Ending June 9th) for his generous gift.

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Kevin also deserves praise for submitting his timely Race Recap from last year’s Ironman Louisville just last week.  So, ladies and gentlemen, say hello and a triple congratulations to our own Racer K!

Ironman Louisville Race Recap – Kevin Gammon

The following is a guest blog by Kevin Gammon (Racer K) that sums up his first Ironman experience in Louisville.  I can honestly say this race likely changed both of our lives, even though I was simply watching.

Stupid Long overdue-  IM Louisville 2012

In August 2012 I attempted my first Ironman in Louisville, KY.  It took a long time to get to writing up a race report but better late than never.  First though I want to thank everyone.  Thanks to my family, Jim, Mike, Season, Hunter, and Daniel for actually being there.   Thank you everyone for the text, calls, and posts.  I had no idea that many people were following.  I am lucky to have such an amazing group of friends.  I never would have thought to try, much less start and finish, without them.JIMKEVLOUISVILLE

First a little background.  When I was 18 I saw an Ironman on TV for the first time.  I was in moderate shape at the time.   I was instantly captivated.  I wanted to do something amazing.  I loved the sense of purpose present in each of the participants.  But life has a way of getting complicated and it took nearly 12 years to attempt that goal.

Leading up to the race I knew I was not in the best physical state.  About two month before the race, I told my friend and training partner Jim Yates, that I was beginning to feel burned out.  This feeling escalated quickly.  Before I knew it, when I wasn’t exercising I was sleeping, my workouts were lackluster, and I have a host of physical symptoms I won’t list.  Suffice it to say I had reached a point I had heard about, but like unicorns and scientology, didn’t really believe in:  I was over trained.

I went to a doctor (waste of time- “take time off”) and a nutritionist.  The nutritionist gave me two choices.  Take time off or eat you way out of overtraining.  I chose the second.  By the time race day rolled around I did indeed feel better but I knew I had missed a lot of crucial training and worse, had actually gained weight.  I packed my bags (for an Ironman this is equivalent to moving across town), told myself to trust the training I had put in and hit to road to Louisville.

When I first arrived in Louisville and started unpacking my bicycle I hit the first of many difficulties.  Stupid stuff that makes people panic.  My rear wing bottle kit broke.  The bolts holding the thing simply snapped in half.   To put that in perspective, I carry 4 water bottles.  Three of these are filled with liquids and one with my repair kit.  Obviously the repair kit is necessary so losing the rear bottle would mean that I would be down two fluid bottles.   For a person that likes to plan and was already a scared Ironman virgin, this was just getting annoying.  I went to the bike expo, bought a 50-dollar replacement, and it didn’t fit.  Eventually my father found a hardware store and found some bolts that worked.  First crisis averted.   It only led to a bit of extra stress and a lot of walking.  I visited the transition area, finish line, and swim start with my mother.  Since the swim start was about 1.5 miles away from the hotel this was actually a bit of an ordeal.  I then went to the athlete banquet and age group meeting with my training partner Jim Yates.  Mediocre food and all information that is easily accessible in the athletes’ guide.  The first day was exhausting but I see why the Ironman foundation wants you there early.  In the end all of these things were funny but if that shit happened on the day of the race I would have been a very unhappy camper.

Then my training partner was assaulted by the bike gremlins as well.   Jim started off the morning learning that his front DR was locked.  He visited three local bike shops and dropped $300 to get the bike up and running again.  It occurred to me that this is an expensive hobby.  It also made my problems look a bit small.   In the end we got our shit together.

My father decided to stop by and we all decided to look at the finish line. That moment will stick in my head for a while.  Seeing the arch, in the daylight.  Months of training to pass through Fourth Street and hear my name called.  I could almost taste victory, and it was suspiciously like PBR.  We all then decided to take out equipment to the transition check-in.  Walking to the wharf we discovered a passenger boat blaring the music to please don’t take my sunshine away played on an organ.   There was also an underwear run going on at the time.  A combination of people running at me in their underwear combined with circus organ.  You can’t make this shit up.  I felt like I was in a really strange dream, like you get when you east something too spicy before you go to bed.  I was just waiting for Bea Arthur to come out and lecture me about transition.

More walking.  More sun and a lot of heat.  I decided to go back to the room and get off of my feet and then I remember that it would probably be a good idea to eat before the race.  I didn’t really know the area and settled for Panera.  I do enjoy Panera but probably not the best pre-ironman mean.   Later that day I hear from Jim Schwan and Mike Tarrolly, who somehow thought coming to watch this race was a good idea.  I was grateful for the company.  We set out and found a bar near the finish line to have the traditional pre-race PBR.  Jim was excited about the situation but I got the feeling that Mike didn’t know what was about to happen.  I went back to my room and meditated.  I thought about what the ironman meant to me, what I went through and gave up to get there, and what tomorrow would be like.  Finally I somehow drift asleep.  I have no idea when.

Race Morning

KEVINSWIMSTARTI set my alarm 3:30.  Yes, I was unhappy about this.  Very unhappy.  I was in line at the transition area by about 4:30.  I then realized that I had forgotten my water bottles.   I think I had made every possible mistake up to this point.  I also put my Garmin on my bicycle.   Note this for later.   The nervous energy was running high and I couldn’t believe this was about to happen.  I hiked as quickly as I could to the swim start where I would promptly sit my ass down and wait in line for a few hours.  Louisville is not a mass start; it is first come first serve.  And people get in line early.  I was close to the front but nowhere near the first.  Crazy.  The athletes were all chattering nervously- mostly about the bike course.  I had heard all of this before and really wanted to rest, so I closed my eyes and started to drown it out.  At some point during the long wait Mike and Jim caught up with me.  I am a silent person before a race.  I like to visualize the course.  Walk through my transitions.  Go through my plan and backup plan.  Mike wasn’t going to have any of this shit though.  He woke up early and was a chatty as a schoolgirl with a story to tell.  But it was relaxing to have them there.  It helped considerably.  Finally, after an eternity sitting on concrete in my jammers by a port-o-let we hear the bugle, the national anthem, and a cannon.  (The announcements were too far away to hear.)  The pros had started.  My time was coming.  The line started to move.   Jim and Mike are forced to depart when I get to the dock (athletes only.)  I spend some time getting my swim cap on and start chatting with the girl in line in front of me.  We are asking each other questions; where are you from?, is this your first time?, ect.  But like a date you don’t want to be on, it went in one ear and out the other.   We still hug like long lost friends and wish each other the best of luck as we are rushed the rest of the way down the doc and shuffled into two lines.  I end up on the far side of the doc and before I have and opportunity to think about what the hell I was getting myself into a large gentleman with a surprisingly red face was yelling “go!”   I stopped thinking, jogged the short distance to the water, and hopped in.

The Swim:

SWIMSTARTLOUISVILLEWhile training from IM Louisville everyone had the attitude that the swim just “is.”  You survive it and move on.  (My attitude this season is drastically changed this season.)  But this swim lived up to my expectation at the time. Right as I hit the water I get and nice gush into my goggles and had to pause to fix that situation. Luckily, the water felt wonderful.  The swim in Louisville goes upstream past a small island first.  Since I was in the front I was around a lot of slower swimmers (first come first server, remember?)  I literally hit people who had just stopped.  And this was in the first 500 meters.  I was boxed in bad.  The sun was coming up, making it hard to site the buoys (not that I was particularly good at that anyway.)  Things opened up after I passed the small island.  Unfortunately, the smell of motor oil from the boats also increased drastically after the protection of the island. A lot of people cornered the wrong buoy and added distance.  The course went much further past the island than a lot of people expected.  After what feels like my second eternity for the day, I corner the far buoy and began my trip back to transition.  I got into one good underwater boxing match with a guy who I swear was trying to get in my way.  Jackass.  One thing I learned from this experience- if they wont get out of the way, pull yourself over them!  Because I neglected this I ended up with a wonderfully refreshing, oil filled big gulp from the Ohio River.  I mean big gulp- like one of those disgusting things people get from the gas station.   Onward we go.  Things bunched up a little bit again near transition but I exit the water with little difficulty.  I grab some water to try and dilute the greasy disgusting mess in my stomach and job into the great lawn to find the men’s changing tent.   I would later learn that my swim time was slightly slower than expected but close, coming in at 1:31:41.

T1

BIKETRANSITIONLOUISVILLEThe transition area is a sprawling open area of metal chairs, naked men, and a few blowing fans.   The smell and heat are quickly rising to dangerous levels but I bravely jump in like a man on a mission. Somewhere along the line I had decided that I was going to race the IM in a full kit and do a full change in each transition.  So I put on my EN kit, gloves, helmet, socks, shoes, sunscreen.  Why is biking so complicated?  Finally, with the help of a friendly volunteer who must be crazy, I am out of the tent and hunted for my bike among the other 3000.  Mine was the one that did cost as much as my car and I liked it that way.  I get to my bike and my Garmin is gone.  I look around and can’t find it.  Panic sunk into my heart but I eventually said “screw it, the show goes on”.   Unknown to me, I am about to enter a personal challenge the likes of which I never imagined.    T1 time –  8:45

The Bike

IMG_3725-01Leaving the bike area the first thing I noticed is that it was already seriously warming up.  I did expect this, so I tried to put it out of my head.  My goal was slow and steady because I knew 1) heat was coming and 2) because of the overtraining I actually ended up slightly undertrained.  Funny how that works.  Without my garmin I attempted to set a “feel good pace.”  As you can imagine, what feels good when you are hyped up an adrenaline is probably not what is supposed to feel good.  So I did go out a little hotter than I wanted.   Even then, I remember people zooming by me at the beginning.  I let them go.  It was going to be a long day, I didn’t feel any need to be stupid about it.

There was also a nagging queasiness in my stomach from the water.  I had no idea how this seemingly small problem would end up changing my race.

So, I settle in for the long haul and the first few miles go by in a blur.  There are not many spectators for the first 15 or so miles, just a long stretch of road by the river.  Cleverly called River Road.  Where did they get that I wonder?   The first hour is fairly uneventful.  I am on a schedule.  Or at least what I hopped was a schedule since I had no watch.  Every 15 – 20 minutes, a small bite of cliff bar.  Every 10 or so minutes a sip of  Hammer Perpetuem.  Check for crotch numbness, stretch the neck and settle back in.

The larger groups of spectators began appearing around the out and back at KY-1694.  This little stretch has an infamous climb, a bottle slinging bridge crossing, and a quick turn around after a fast descent.   It was also full of interesting sites and costumes, such as a half naked superman, a gorilla, and people with megaphones.  While it is an image I hope I don’t see again, it was a man wearing a guitar and speedo that made me laugh the most when I needed it on the climb back out.   I almost had my only wreck on this road as well.  A couple of people dangerously swerved over to the water stop around mile 22.  I almost plowed into them.  Luck saved me on that one.

The mile between KY-1694 and the loop were fairly uneventful.   As I turned onto the look (somewhere around mile 33ish) I noticed the pang in my stomach again.  It was slightly stronger than before.  That was unexpected.  I tuck my head down, contemplate why bike seats chafe so much, and move on.

The next bout of relief can in LaGrange somewhere close to mile 40.  There is a viewing area.  To my surprise, I see a Jim and Mike on the side of the road.  I don’t have a lot of time to look, but I suspect that may have already been drinking by this point.  Lucky.   I take the extra boost and most on, knowing some climbing is on the way.   That is when the trouble really began.  I turn onto Ballard School Road, climbing a hill and being offered a beer by a spectator when and unexpected stomach cramp ejected my most recent cliff bar.   I decide its time to switch to liquid nutrition.  Around mile 50, turning back towards town, even the liquid nutrition begins to fail.  At the next rest stop, before mile 60, is when I first had to get off my bike and cool down.  This was the first time I was approached by a medical professional and took a seat in the ambulance.   This time didn’t last long, I got over the sickness quickly, and began moving.  I knew I was in trouble though because I couldn’t keep anything down and the heat was rising.

Things began to blur quickly.   Rising heat and lack of nutrition is a serious problem.  I make it to the viewing area again.  I do see Daniel-  Jim and Mike said they were there but I was so out of it I never saw them.  The pit stops off the bike were becoming more frequent.  I recommend taking something with you for an upset stomach, because they do not have anything for you on the course.  I stopped at every aid station to cool down and pour water over me.  Relief was still a long way off.  The next rest stop I remember well was slightly over mile 100 on River Road.  I am off my bike and a fellow triathlete give me the wonder suggestion to stick my head in a kiddy pool full of ice that was being used to cool bottles of water.  I’m not kidding.  It was a bloody wonderful suggestion.  Next thing I know I feel a tap on my shoulder and assume it is a race official who was going to ask me to stop dying in their water.  Instead it was another EMS person.

“Sir, someone mentioned that you might need our help.”

“Waht?”

“Excuse me?  Would you like to come sit in the ambulance and cool off? Maybe let us look at you?”

“Srlakk.”

She took that as a yes.  Next thing I know I am sitting in a cool ambulance, having my blood pressure taken, and packed in cool ice packs.  I have no idea how long I sat there but I knew I was in trouble.  The longer I sat here, the harder it would be to get up.  My temperature dropped and I asked them if I could leave.  They said now that my temperature was down I was not about to die.  It was my choice.   That really isn’t a choice.  I was continuing.  The next 10 miles were a slow spin that any 12 year old with a mountain bike could keep up with.  The road seemed like it was never going to end.  The heat was oppressive.  But I was still going.  I did not want to stop.  I couldn’t give in that easily.    The look on everyone’s face when I pulled in was frightening.   They were concerned.  Asking if I was ok. Bike time:  9:00:38.  Way too damn long.

T2

The tent really stunk.  It was hot.  Humid.  There were far less naked men.  Making the change was extremely difficult.  For the longest time I just sat in the chair.  Could I possibly finish this race?  I had absolutely no idea.  In face, I think I was slightly delirious.  I came out of the tent and go over to the sunscreen table.  It was so late in the day the volunteers were gone.  I muster everything I have, leave the great lawn, and begin a freaking marathon.  T2 time – 11:10

The Run

Jim and Mike joined me for a bit at the beginning of the run.  I remember someone asking me how I was doing.  I shock my head no.  At list point I am in a slow jog.  It was almost not worthy of being called a run.  But I know I’m going to keep trying.  The bridge was grueling.  No shade.  I did catch up with the guy who told me to stick my head in the pool.  He said he was happy to see I was still alive.  I just grunted.  I stopped at the water stop, worried that I wouldn’t be able to keep anything down, and grabbed a coke.  I was amazed.  It stayed down.  It even helped my stomach a bit.

I begin my first loop running as much as I could.  I had no plan other than left foot right foot.  My nutrition plan was gone hours ago.  Around Mile 4 I took a risk.  While training for my first 50k, someone mentioned that chicken brother helped them out.  Coincidentally, the water stops had chicken broth.  I took a cup and a cup of coke.  I doused my head with cold water and moved on.  The sun was starting to go down a bit and the change in temperature was noticeable.  But something strange was happening.  My stomach was starting to feel better.  At mile 6, I repeated the process.  I was actually starting to feel better.  Chicken broth had become my magical bullet.  It was bringing me back.  I also say Jim Yates, way ahead of me on the return trip.  It was encouraging to know he was doing well.

Around mile seven I met the person I would end up running the rest of the race with.  There were a group of men and we were on the same run walk schedule.  We kept this up until around mile 10 when most of them had to back off.  One person kept with me, a gentleman that looked eerily similar to Hightower from Police Academy.  At this point I also felt good enough to do a little math in my head.  I realized that if I could keep between a 13 and 15 minute per mile pace going I would finish.  I would even have a little time to spare.  I devised a plan.  I would job a mile as fast as I could.  With any time I had left over, I would walk.  So If I finished the mile in 11 minutes, I would walk 2 to 4.  I told my new friend the plan.  He seemed to trust me and went along with it.

It worked flawlessly.  We talked about life. Where were you from? First Ironman?  We stopped at each water stop. Chicken broth and coke. (I probably had more salt in my system than medically advisable at this point.) The temperature was cooling.  We were going to be able to do this.  It was almost becoming fun again.  My body was experiencing some serious breakdowns.  All the water I had poured on myself was causing massive blistering on the feet.  I was finally able to go to the bathroom (the first time since the swim) but had to go around every 10 minutes.  I was chafing in places I didn’t know I had.  But one foot, one yard, one mile at a time… we were knocking it off.

I ran into the whole crew at the turn around for the second loop.  Hunter, Season, Mike, Jim, Daniel.  I got to walk with them a while.  It was a big lift to my spirit.  The race had gone from wanting a certain time to simply finishing.  But I was going to make that happen.  I was sad to see them go, but I had a lot of miles left and was quickly leaving the main part of town.  I still had my new friend and a burning desire to not fail.   I did see Jim Yates one last time.  After the race I would learn that he couldn’t say anything to me because he thought I was not going to be able to finish.  More miles.  Running walking.  Sticking to the plan.  I drank enough chicken broth to choke a small pony.  The spectators were starting to thin out.  I imagine most of them were going to the finish line.  It was not until mile 24 that I truly knew I would finish.  I could crawl, hop, or roll and still make it to the finish line.

LOUISVILLE FINISHIt is so hard to explain the feeling to those people who haven’t been there.  You turn right onto 4th street.  You have been hearing the sound of the crowd for miles.  Everyone is still up.  Everyone is yelling.   I have never seen a race with the finish line as electric as this.  You can’t help but smile, regardless of the pain and exhaustion.  I could barely make out the words “Congratulations, you are an Ironman!”  But they were there.  The journey was finally over.   I even had some friends there to congratulate me.   A perfect day.  I may not have reached my time goals, but I help my head high.  It was a hard fought battle.  I will worry about improving my time in Wisconsin.   Run Time: 5:38.

The Crushing Iron Trilogy of what it was like to WATCH Kevin at Ironman Louisville can be found here:

Pre-Race/Swim

Bike

The Grueling Conclusion

Pictures from the race

More pictures from Ironman Louisville

The Illusion of Happiness

Two life coaches (and life partners) with a radio show “designed to help foster and encourage your inner strengths,” and “put you confidently on the path to designing the life you’ve always wanted to live,” have committed suicide together.

Their landlord found a note from the man that said, “I can’t take it anymore, my wife is in too much pain.”

What kind of pain, I don’t know, but I truly feel for people who live with level of pain, whether it physical or emotional.

The name of their radio show was, “The Pursuit of Happiness.”

So many of us are searching for ways to be happy.  And the pursuit of that goal is often transformed into a passionate lifestyle.  That’s why I am always watching my behavior.

I think our society has is confused.  In general, most think happy should be the norm.  So, if you’re not happy, take this pill or do this and your problems will be solved.  But often those prescriptions make the problem worse.

What most people don’t understand is that it’s NORMAL to be sad or unhappy sometimes.  It’s NORMAL to be tired.  It’s NORMAL to be angry, unsure, or afraid.  If everyone was always happy, life would be ridiculously vanilla.

Anyone that really knows me, knows I can be very moody.  And when I’m moody I do a lot of my best thinking and creating.  I dig deeper and look for ways to “not” be moody.  This is where the real discoveries are made.  Diverse moods and mindsets are what make life interesting.

I am typically skeptical of people who are always happy.  Maybe it’s not fair, but I always feel like there is something fishy going on under the surface.  It’s one thing to be comfortable and content in your skin, but quite another to be overly excited about every little time your grocery store gets a new brand of pasta sauce.

So, as I continue to rebuild my body and mind through triathlon training, I keep a close eye on the state of my soul.  Am I really “super happy guy” or is it more like I am happy to be moving in the direction of growth through experience?  I’ll give you a hint . . . it’s typically the latter.

There were a couple times this morning at Open Water Swim that I was on the verge of being really pissed.  I didn’t feel great at the start, I lost my breath and confidence a few times, and I could think of a half dozen things I would have preferred to being up at 5 am to swim in a lake.

But, the result was positive.  I felt good about myself.  I worked hard and walked away in a energized, yet calm state of mind.  I didn’t win anything, I didn’t feel “cartwheel-happy,” I just felt grounded.

And isn’t that what we really want?  To feel grounded?  Being happy is part of the puzzle, not the ultimate prize.

I Think We Woke The Birds

Up at 6 am working on mass starts with the RX Endurance Team.  Image

Edit: I’ve decided to write something about this swim rather than just post the picture.

Here’s how the Open Water Sessions go down.  You should show up a little before 6 to get a little more warm up in.  Me?  I get there at six, swim a couple hundred yards, then suck gas for the next half hour because I’m barely awake and certainly not loose.

What you see above is from the middle of our practice.  We all started back by that cup on the ledge and sprinted into the water, then swam out around that buoy and back.  We did this at least twice.

Before that, we individually ran into the water, swam around that buoy, then ran down the beach about 50 yards, ran into the water, swam out and around a different buoy, then repeated it one more time.  We were instructed to swim hard.

About halfway to the second buoy I felt very winded and had to chill for a minute.  Sometimes swimming feels nice and easy, sometimes it’s very hard.  At that moment, I was struggling big time.  I gathered my bearings and finished all three loops, breathing far too hard at the end.

Then we did a couple relays out and around the buoy to end the day.  Those were all out sprints and while tired, I was just then starting to feel right.

As I think about swimming 2.4 miles at Ironman Wisconsin, I am almost grateful for the floating start.  It will be a cluster-f8ck, but that 10-15 minutes of treading water beforehand may be my saving grace.  I should be fairly warm and acclimated to the water.  After that, it’s a matter of containing myself for the first 15 minutes.  My goal is to not feel out of breath at all, except for maybe a late push at the end when I’m nice and warm.

Swimming, biking, and running are all so meditative when you’re in the right place.  Being relaxed while remaining powerful is what it’s all about to me.  A solid effort without over-exerting and the key is to push my threshold in training so my comfort zone is a relatively fast one.

It was a hard workout, mainly filled with roughly 200 yard sprints and I didn’t like it much at the time.  But, I like it now.

A Great Training Lesson from A Drunk Friend

It’s so tempting to look for external stimulation in this world.  Waiting around for your muse, the perfect time or job, but all of that is an excuse.  How do I know?  I’ve spent half my life doing it.

Signing up for an Ironman has done many things for me, but most importantly, it has forced me to take action.  There’s a big gorilla named Wisconsin sleeping in the corner, and if I don’t whip my ass in shape, he’s gonna have me for breakfast.

I’ll never forget a late night after a Brewer game in Milwaukee.  My friend, Mac (who coaches different sports year round) was in a drunken state of repeating things, but his message was filled with passion and from the purest part of his heart.  His face was turning red and he would not let the night end until his these words were firmly etched in our mushy brains, “It’s not what you say, it’s what you DO!”

He said it over and over to the point where we were all laughed and mocked his over-the-top delivery.  One o’clock in the morning and he was hammering home one of the greatest coaching/life lessons anyone can deliver.

It’s not what you say, it’s what you do.

My friends and I have joked about that line and night for years because of the absurd circumstances, but the message was absolute truth.  A lot of people talk a great game, but not many of us do the work.

It’s not what you say, it’s what you do.

Jump in the water, climb on the bike, tie your running shoes.  Travel, catch up with old friends, plant your garden.  Write the blog, take some pictures, start your own business.

What have you been saying you’ll do for years?

My 200th Post and A Lot of Thank You's

As if you needed more proof that endurance training has changed me, this is my 200th post on Crushing Iron.  Over the years I have started dozens of blogs on various subjects and most have ended before I wrote 20 posts.  Training for an Ironman has given me energy, focus, and follow-thru I have always desired.

But, it’s far more than training alone.  The people are the true motivational force, and I feel very fortunate to have so many great ones in my life.  Pushing me, supporting me, commenting that my journey has inspired them on some level.

It just happens to be National Running Day, and while I typically think these kinds of holidays are a crock, the spirit of today resonates with me on a deeper level than most.  When you run you are free, compassionate, and creative.  Competition is with yourself and the ugliest parts of human behavior are washed away.

So, in a genuine way, today is more like Thanksgiving than the formal holiday.  I’m glad to be surrounded by people who want to be better.  Who understand they are not perfect and relish the quest of that opportunity.  I apologize if you’re not mentioned by name on this list because so many have touched my journey, and many of you are in the groups mentioned.  Plus, I’m getting old and my memory is slipping.finishlinecaption

I’ve included a lot of links and hope it helps build some new connections.

The Fab Five

Jim Schwan – The man who covertly convinced me to get up and act on a passion he knew was lurking beneath my facade.  His dedication and sacrifice to this cause has changed my life.

Kevin Gammon – I watched as he struggled for over 16 hours to finish Ironman Louisville.  His toughness and determination convinced me to take a deeper look at what’s possible.  I signed up for Ironman two weeks later.

Daniel Hudgins – Who knew thrashing your body for hours on end could be fun?  Daniel did.  He laughs in the face of challenge and knows his body and soul are a gifts to be used to their fullest. Thoughtful and compassionate like no other.

Mark Scrivner – Mark pushes himself more than most.  “Want to run an extra 3 miles?”  Yeah, let’s do it.  He’s battled injury since we began training and he’s fought right through most of it.  He kept showing up and there may not be a better lesson in life.

Robbie Bruce (my coach) – Why wasn’t he my baseball coach?  I might have actually pushed myself and be writing this as a retired major leaguer.  Positive, inspiring, tough.  A coach has never connected with me and my goals like Robbie.

Allison Miles (+1) – She’s trained with the Fab 5 since January and blown my mind with her determination.  Every time it gets tough, she seems to get even tougher.  Her half ironman at Gulf Coast is further than I’ve ever traveled and she’s far from done.

John Wasky (+2) – From seemingly thin air, comes John Wasky, and an insatiable passion for triathlon, a sarcastic wit, and a natural instinct for taking it up a notch.  He made a seamless transition into the Fab 5 and has pushed us all to higher places.  His wife, Carolyn has also been a phenomenal ambassador of this crazy lifestyle.

Rebekah Shulman – The support I get from Rebekah is unparalleled.  On every turn she has encouraged me to follow my dreams and passions.  She’s listened to complaints, helped find solutions, and endorsed my crazy pursuits with unwavering conviction. She’s gotten back into running and is now turning to triathlon with her signature determination.

Roger Jokela – Roger and I met at the Village Pub and is still in my phone as “Roger Badger.”  Fellow Wisconsinite and dreamer, Roger recently quit his job, moved to the Keys and became a full-time musician.  We drank together, trained together, ran our first 1/2 marathon together.  I have a deep appreciation for Roger and the way he lives his life.

Season Kaminski – Season is proof that humans can live in their sweet spot.  I used to pepper her with endless questions about triathlon and her love for the sport flowed back to me tenfold.  Rarely do you meet someone with so much passion for the pursuit of a positive lifestyle.

Hunter Lane –  It would be hard to find someone with this level of sincerity when it comes to training.  He is a sponge and has a tenacity about nuances that is hard to match.  He’s been amazingly patient with my amateur questions from the very start.

Lee Wilson – Oregon Duck track star opens a running store in East Nashville and it just so happens to be the place that kicked off my new lifestyle.  His vision has changed the landscape of my neighborhood for the better, and his anti-Badger barbs have been a great inspiration to kick ass.

The Couch to 5K Crew from Nashville Running Company – There were about 40 of us that gathered that fateful day in January, 2012 and showed up 3 times a week in preparation for a seemingly impossible 5K.  Many of them still run with East Nasty and it genuinely makes me happy to see their faces.  Mike Clark continues to make a great commitment to beginning runners and, to this day, I thank him for being there.  Year’s ago, I wanted to be a drummer, but my first teacher didn’t resonate.  I quit and have regretted it ever since.  The patience and dedication of people who volunteer their time to help people get started is possibly the most important nuance in life.

Jeff Stokes – I remember him from my East Nasty “table-saving-days” and he’s always been a wild card.  Injuries were keeping him from running, so he turned his energy to swimming, and recently dove in with the sharks for “Escape from Alcatraz.”  His energy and dedication to the pool have given me more jolts than he knows.

Mark Miller – The thoughtful and dedicated “leader” of East Nasty whose genuine love for running has inspired so many like me along the way.  I don’t know him as well as I’d like, but I really believe his mission is  to help others get more out of life.  The power in that cannot be ignored.

Scott Piper for being himself and wearing a tube sock as a cooking glove.

Rachel Kice – The purest artist I’ve ever known.  She is a master of moving energy and her ability to transform anything (or situation) into art astounds me.  She’s also one of the few people that can visualize my quest for Ironman into a spiritual and creative journey.  The other is . . .

Kenny Varga –  One of the most creative, conceptual, and compassionate people I know.  A brilliant musician, producer, wood craftsman, and meditative runner.  Kenny simply understands.

Mike Donze – I never tire of hearing Mike’s interpretation of the world.  He is a true observer who listens and translates his feelings into beautiful photography, words, and music.  He’s also a runner at heart who truly appreciates the beauty in the human condition.

Seth Godin – His daily posts are brilliant, concise, and inspirational.  He has an uncanny way of tapping a place inside me that yearns to break free.  He’s been pelting me daily for months and I am very close to a place where his insight can be put to better use.

Robert Hartline – His entrepreneurial spirit burns like a wild fire and I’ve been lucky enough to experience that passion on many occasions.

East Nasty Running Group (This is going to have to be a group hug)
Every Wednesday night 2-300 runners gather on 14th Street and take off into the night.  If you live in East Nashville, you have seen them, and possibly been irritated by them crossing in front of your car.  I used to understand that irritation.  I wanted to get home from work and didn’t seem to have the patience to wait 15 or 30 seconds for a parade of runners.  Deep down, I knew the problem wasn’t the people in motion, but me.  I was mad that I wasn’t involved.  The East Nasty running club is all about the good.  Raising money for charity.  Donating shoes to schools and less fortunate wannabe runners.  Generally unleashing positive karma in what used to be dark and dank East Nashville neighborhoods.  These are good people who, through community, make many people’s worlds a better place to live.

The Open Water Swim crewCorey, Jonathan, Sandy, Melissa, Marc . . .

The people who consistently follow Crushing Iron from afar, like Chatter, Ann in Naptown, IowaTriBob, Sarah in Louisville, rchackman, Kruzmeister, Athleteagain, BgddyJim, Isaac976, UltraSwimFast, KickStart Endurance.  The people who follow from near, Kristine, Sallaboutme, Loni, Gina, Kelly, David, Gwen, Lisa, William.

My Co-workers – Steven for his newfound and contagious passion for triathlon. Sylwaski for listening and pushing himself when no one is watching.  Armondo for his toughness and desire to tackle whatever comes next.  Justin for caring enough to mention my 1/2 marathon improvements on air. Melissa who burns more candles than anyone I know and burns for fitness. Gil, who goes the extra mile in helping his daughter live the musical dream.  Steven who puts up with my bitching over lunch and gave me a great deal on his pool. Big Joe for randomly showing up at every 5k I run.   Rosemary, who refers to me as “Her Ironman.”

Jennifer for her love of running.  Scott for taking pride in the yellow jacket.

Kathleen for being a great friend and supporting my journey even though it means we don’t see each other as much.

Zach Layne and Heidi Wilson for publicly acknowledging the awesomeness of the Bird Walk Reservoir Weed & Feed 6k.

Andy Moss and Mark Spencer for their outlandish across-the-pond-humor and running tenacity.

The crew at Village Pub for being the best place in town and understanding I needed a little break.

Andy and Matt, who I see nearly every morning pursuing their dream in the coffee shop and inspiring me along the way.

Everyone with X3 Endurance has dished motivation.  Robert, Eddie, Brad, Sarah, Meg . . . Continually blown away by the power of community in triathlon.

Several of my college buddies like Eric, Mac, Marty, Pack, Freg, Dano, Pat, Pete, and Petey who have never seen this side of me but know I have it in me.

Mike Wright who is just as jacked as me while silently building his swim, bike, run chops in Rockford, IL.

My dog, Mattie, for putting up with my crazy schedule and teaching me to be more responsible.

And, of course, my family.  My cousins Jim, David, John, and Susie in the Northeast.  My cousins Tim and Jeni in Wisconsin.  Jeni’s husband, Phil.  And my cousin, Tiffany, who I’ve never met, but has been super supportive and will be holding a video camera on the Fab 5 at Ironman Wisconsin.

My brother Chris – We’ve had more in-depth conversations about human nature that I can count.  Nobody understands me better than my brother, and I’m sure that goes both ways.  We have spent most of our adult years apart, but the connection is undeniable.  We had incredible synergy as a double play combination on the baseball field and an unspoken bond that pushes me daily to be a better person and pursue my dreams.  Oh, and one day soon I fully expect him to be a phenomenal triathlete.

My sister Amy –  She’s lived in Dallas for years and we don’t see each other enough.  Amy and her husband, Gary are two of the most amazing people you’d want to meet.  They have three gorgeous little girls.  Not long ago, Amy ran the Dallas 1/2 marathon and I really wish I could have done it with her.  Geography has kept us apart for most of my life, but, like my brother, she has always been a major source of support and inspiration.  She’s a teacher by trade and sometimes I feel like I’m her most challenging student.

My Dad – Ironman training seems crazy to him, but it’s kinda his fault.  He’s likely the main source for my incredible determination and confidence when it comes to athletics.  We haven’t talked much about my training, but I’m pretty sure, on some level, he just expects me to crush Ironman.

Mom – She doesn’t really understand Ironman either, but it’s very exciting to her.  She’s a mom, so she’s worried about her son, but I’m 99% sure she will be holding some kind of creative home made sign as I bike and run by her in Madison.  Something like, “My Son is Crazy, but I Love Him For It.”

And finally, anything to do with my personal inspiration always seems to have a connection to Tim.  He was one of my closest friends from childhood.  We had a bond that you can never define.

He could call my bluff from a mile away.  We never lived in the same town after college, but talked on the phone multiple times a week (or day) like little school girls.  We dealt with so many of the same problems and became each others therapists.

Nothing was off limits and our connection always grounded us in hope.  We pushed and inspired each other to follow our dreams, even in the middle of nightmares.  Two years ago on Halloween, Tim died.  I was legitimately crushed.  Every day something reminded me of him and I’d pick up the phone to call.  I’d look at the screen, see his number, and resist pushing “dial” with every bone in my body.  I couldn’t believe he was gone. But even though we don’t talk, I hear his voice during every race.  Pushing me to be my best.

He was gone before I started my transformation, but he was a major factor in the process.  It sounds corny, but I know he would be proud of me.  He was a truly selfless person on so many levels.  Consumed with the concept of making life a happier and more enjoyable journey for everyone.

On September 8th, I will have a lot of time to think and I’m sure everyone I’ve mentioned and more will cross my mind at least once.  It has been a great ride and I don’t plan on getting off the train anytime soon.

I Am Not "A Runner"

There’s no question that running began my cascade into full-blown-endurance-obsession, but I can no longer sit back and let people say, “I love following your little running journey,” without some genuine repercussions.

I do like running and it is often my favorite workout, but I am not “just” a “runner.”  I have a bunch of friends who only run, and while I love them, they are a little off.

They just get up in the morning and run!  That’s what they do!  Then they’ll run some more.  It’s pretty awesome, but kinda crazy!

Then they’ll sit around after a run and talk about running in an endless conversation that goes something like this:

“Hey, How was your run?”

“Pretty good.  Foot hurt a little.”

“That sucks.  When you running again?”

“Oh, probably tomorrow.”

“Cool, me too.”

“Yeah, I’ve been running a lot.”

“I just love finding that zone.”

“Yes!”

“You just keep running and running.”

“I know!  It’s so amazing.”

“People don’t always understand it.”

“Yeah, too bad for them.”

High five.high-fiving-runners

“They just don’t know what they’re missing.”

“I never used to like running, but it’s just so free and easy.”

“Yes, I think about running all day at work.”

“Me too!”

“I was sidelined for a couple weeks with an IT band, but now it feels great, as long as I don’t push it on hills.”

“Yeah, I used to hate hills, but now I love them.”

“Me too!  It’s where I pass the most people!”

High Five.highfive

“I just love seeing people slow down on a hill.”

“I know!”

Silence.

“So when’s your next race?”

“I’m doing “Bird Walk Reservoir Weed and Feed 6K”

“Oh, that’s a great one, cool distance!”

“I just love it, and it’s cheap!  But parking’s a bit of an issue.”

“Yeah, I always get there early and run a mile or so first.”

“And they have great ice cream!”

“Yes!”

“I feel like as much as I run I deserve a little ice cream.”

“We burn so many calories.”

“We are pretty awesome.”

Soft high five over a coffee cup.tumblr_me05rr3T091r0qcqio1_1280

——————–

Oh, now.  I’m just kidding.  Triathletes are just as ridiculous.  We get trapped in similarly benign conversation about water temperature and bike seats that don’t make your under parts go numb.  We ramble on about splits and transition times like it’s straight out of something people give a shit about.

Not only that, runners are nicer than triathletes.  Don’t even think about asking a favor while sitting around in Transition before a triathlon.  You might get the answer, but it will be returned with a stink eye that says, “I am going to kill you today, punk.”  Well, that’s mainly the young kids with great equipment they didn’t have to pay for, but feel violated if you ask them for a squirt of anti-fog for your swim goggles.

But, like most things, people who act like they know something, probably don’t know jack shit.  And I will happily accept being placed in that category, but please don’t call me a runner.

Keeping The Band Together

Nothing can jack a guy’s pulse like the thought of being in a band.  An innocent comment gets legs and the momentum spins out of control.  All guys want world domination, and no form is as intriguing as idolatry from thousands of screaming fans.  The simple discussion of this plan takes you to a fantasy world and gives you more energy to tackle the mundane reality.

That’s “sorta” what happened with the Fab 5.  It bubbled for a couple weeks, then one fateful night after East Nasty we all agreed.  We would form a band together.  One that would spend hours and hours together, perfecting our craft until it paid off in front of thousands of screaming fans.  And, unlike the most band talk, this became reality.

For the next few weeks, the band did everything together.  We all wrote songs and brought our best ideas to the table.  The big gig wasn’t for 12 months.  It wasn’t quite real yet so we had time to relish in our newfound internal stardom.

We were rock stars who hadn’t played a gig.  It was easy to talk about how great and how popular we would be.  The 2.4 mile swim was a day at the beach, the 112 mile ride a country road cruise, and the 26.2 mile run a stroll in the park.  But, eventually our record label would need to see some songs.

On January 3rd, the song writing began in earnest.  The band started with 3 – 4 hour co-writes.  We took raw ideas and began melding them into concrete production.  The versus got tighter, the choruses offered more hooks, and it all had a better rhythm.

Once we had a few songs, it was time to rehearse.  We spent hours at the studio, working on our chops until we got tired of playing, only to return the next morning.  The band was tighter than ever, but time together creates tension.  Suddenly, the amiable groove was disrupted by hints of individuality and the dingy studio wasn’t the glamour we expected.

The singer had his own interpretations of the songs.  The drummer began to oversleep practice.  The guitar player had the experience and questioned the methods.  The bassist just wanted to rock.  And the keyboardist thought we should put more focus on harmony.

The band sucked it up and worked through most of the differences, but some could not be overcome.  Suddenly a rock n roll band, that hadn’t played one gig, had two managers and we all agreed to disagree on style.  Long writing sessions became rare, but everyone kept writing great songs.  Songs that would change each other and change the world.

The band played a few rehearsal shows and fans began to notice.  People were inspired the Fab 5’s dedication and mission.  Soon, those around the band began writing their own songs and that pushed the band harder.  They realized what they were doing mattered.   They were indeed changing the world and the people around them were a shot of adrenaline.

They were tired, battered and beaten.  Exhaustion, tension, and injury had taken their toll.  Each put their individual differences and personal issues aside to focus on the biggest show of their lives.

The late nights and long sessions returned.  Each had drifted their own way, but to pull this off, they knew it had to be as one.  The comradery, reflection, and support was too much to ignore.  This was a not only a group, it was a band of brothers, no piece was more important than the whole.

But, rock n roll is hard.  It’s nearly impossible to balance and even the greatest bands in history have had difficult moments.  For the Fab 5, that moment came today when Mark called each guy individually and told them he was out.  It was one of the most painful decision he’s had to make, but his body wasn’t holding up.  A stadium concert wasn’t meant to be.

Everyone in the band was stunned.  All those hours.  All the hard work.  All the focus and intensity.  Done.

But Mark knows the show must go on and he will be leading the charge from the sidelines.  Thousands of screaming fans can not be let down.  The rest of the band will have to pick up the slack.  We will have to fuse together and turn the energy of four into five.  Mark will be there with us in spirit and every bit of thought, insight and support he’s given will help lift us onto the stage and pull off the biggest show of our lives.

We will lean on each other more than ever.  We will pluck inspiration from +1 and +2 at every turn.  We will lean on our coach.  We will do it for Mark and he will be there with us as the lights go fade on the biggest show of our lives.

Riding Natchez Trace – Allison's Perspective

Allison has been training with us since January and taken leaps that have impressed us all.    Taking your bike onto Natchez Trace is not for the meek and I learn that every time I ride there.  It dishes constant hills and is typically very windy.  She sent this to me a few days ago, but I just now read it, which is fitting because the Trace just beat my ass today.  ImageIt is a glorious, beautiful, and challenging bike course, not to mention I saw a massive rattle snake just off the side of the road today.

It goes for hundreds of miles and I have yet to see many that are forgiving.  Every time I ride the Trace I silently hope it is at least as difficult as the Ironman Wisconsin bike course.  If it’s not, we are all in for a bitch of a bike ride.

Here is Alli’s account of what it’s like to be a Trace virgin.  It’s incredibly honest and vulnerable, just like her.

The Beauty and The Beast – Allison Miles

To say The Trace is overwhelming and intimidating to a beginning cyclist might an understatement, however, its also a right of passage.  To date, I’ve ridden The Trace exactly TWO times and the experiences were complete opposites.

My encounter with The Trace began back in March.  I was getting closer to my first half ironman and even though the race course fo is COMPLETELY FLAT (with the exception of a bridge crossing the Intercoastal wateray) I was convinced to join the Fab Five and other X3 athletes for a 3 hour ride on The Trace.  Leading up to the Saturday morning ride I just kept hearing about how brutal and unforgiving The Trace is but that its a ride that MUST happen if I want to keep moving forward with triathlons.

Trace day finally arrived and I planned to meet several other X3 athletes at the studio for a swim clinic, then we were all going to meet at Lovelace Cafe at 1 pm to start the ride.  I remember following Jim Schwan out there and trying to stay confident, but I KNEW all the other cyclist were much more experienced and faster than I was and I had no idea what to expect of this ride.  Everyone was so encouraging but there were a few low whispers of concern.  Why concern you ask?  Let me lay the facts out for you:

1-I was a Trace newbie
2- this would be my FIRST outdoor ride that didnt involve a leisurely stroll down the Shelby Bottoms Greenway
3-I had NO CLUE how to shift gears properly
4-This may have been my first long ride AND my first legit ride on my bike
5-Hills are widely known as my arch nemesis

All were legitimate concerns but these same people had convinced me this was a great idea, so I tried to brush it off.  We took off and within 5 minutes I had my first hurdle of the day; I dropped my chain going up the ramp to get ON The Trace.  WHOMP WHOMP  Daniel Hudgins had to put it back on for me (remember that bike newbie thing…its rearing its ugly head).  At this point the larger pack led by my coach, Robbie, was out of my sightline but thankfully Daniel, Jim Schwan, and Sarah Sheerer stayed back with me so I wouldnt have to ride alone right away.  Jim was trying to talk me through how to change gears–I quickly found out that gears were my friends and they combat my arch nemesis, the hills–and Sarah was praising me with “I CANNOT believe this is your first outdoor ride, you are awesome.”

The first 15 miles of the ride was nothing but a learning experience.  Everyone was so helpful and kept me moving, at a phenomenally slow pace, but I was moving. I would survive this.

After 90 minutes of riding we finally caught up to the faster group who stopped to wait for us.  I was exhausted and wanted to cry;  EVERYONE had been waiting on me for a while.  I was embarrased at how slow I was and couldnt look anyone in the eye.  I knew that Daniel, Sarah and Jim were all training for upcoming full ironman races and I didnt want to hold them back any longer, so I made the decision to turn around and ride back to the car while everyone else rode out another 30 minutes.  I still dont know if this was a mistake or not, but the return ride was one I will NEVER forget.
As I turned and headed back towards Lovelace Cafe my mental state was less than ideal.  I was beating myself up and questioning why I bothered to come out here knowing I would be the slowest rider.  If I could just get back to the car things would be alright and I would stick to riding shelby bottoms greenway FOREVER.  Over the next 90 minutes both my mind and body turned on me; my hips hurt, my calves cramped, I was hot and getting sunburned and I had no where near enough nutrition or fluids.  I had a long and very nasty conversation with myself, scrolling through a myriad of emotions ranging from determined to power through this ride, to panicking  I would NEVER be ready to race 70.3 miles, to quitting triathlons a minimum of three seperate times (once while sitting on the side of the road as multiple fancy looking cyclist blew past me shouting “everything ok?”) and even mentally cursing the fab five, Robbie, and anyone else that convinced me this was a great idea.  By the time I made it back to my car I was in tears and texted Season that I quit, how could she let me come out there and I was a horrible cyclist.
Thankfully, Season is used to my frustrated and upset texts during training and reminded me that not only did I survive, but that it was over and maybe it wasnt THAT bad.  That calmed me down enough to stop crying just as the rest of the group came rolling in to the parking lot.  My face was still stained with tears when I punched Robbie in the arm and yelled about how irresponsible it was of him to throw me in to a ride like that; he of course ignored me as I spouted that I quit and I wasnt racing at Gulf Coast; he may have rolled his eyes and walked off without a response.
I held on to these feelings for roughly 48 hours because I realized that maybe the ride wasnt as big of a disaster as I thought.
Fast forward 3 months; I’ve completed the half ironman but I have yet to ride the Trace again.  Last weekend the Fab Five had a five hour training ride to which they decided to do on the Trace.  I only had a 3 hour ride but decided to join them anyway, so at 5 am on 4 hours of sleep and a hangover due to a date the night before I scooped up +2 member, John Wasky, and we set out for a VERY early morning ride.  I knew I’d be riding alone but the plan allowed for the guys to circle back at least once to check on me.  The scenery was downright stunning; between the sunrise, the empty road and the cool air I couldnt get over how lucky I was to be able to ride in such a beautiful location.
Inline image 1
I was about 10 minutes in to the ride when I started flashing back to my first Trace experience.  I knew I could survive it this time but was unsure how mentally trying a 3 hour solo ride at 6 am would be.  The first part of the ride went fairly well; I was still slow but I was actually enjoying myself!!  I was about an hour in when I got to the Liepers Fork turn off and looked up to see a hot air balloon landing the the field adjacent to the Trace.  I decided that was good enough a time as any to hop off and take a little break, eat some food and watch the balloon.  I was sitting on the side of the road for about 20 minutes when Robbie’s coach senses must of kicked in because I got a rapid fire round of texts asking about my ride, what I was doing, how I was feeling.  I think I responded with, sitting on the side of the trace halfway through my ride, cant make it back yet.  Robbie was not kind in his responses but to briefly sum it up I needed to get my butt back on the bike and learn something about myself.  I may or may not have been audibly cussing him as Jim, Wasky, Kevin & Scrivner flew past me.  I hopped on my bike and was determined not to fall too far behind them.  I spent that second half of my ride thinking about how far I’ve come since my last ride out there.  I wasn’t mentally or physically falling apart, I was content riding alone and I was actually ENJOYING the ride. I quickly realized what I needed to learn was that although A LOT of the time I feel so slow and so far behind, I’ve accomplished so much since that first ride and I tend to forget that I’m training with guys that are AMAZING– its unfair to compare myself to their fitness level.  All in all I’m still more on the hate end of the love/hate relationship when it comes to the trace but it is less scary that I thought it was a few months ago.