New Triathlon Camp Video – Nashville, Tennessee 2018

Crushing Iron puts on several Triathlon camps a year and these are highlights from April, 2018 in Nashville, Tennessee. We had nearly 20 athletes in town and they all came with a great attitude ready to work. Hear their feedback on camp and see highlights from Natchez Trace, Percy Priest Lake at Anderson Beach, and the abandoned airfield we lovingly call “The Lab.”

If you’d like more information on camps or coaching please click and don’t forget to check out the Crushing Iron Podcast released every Monday and Thursday. Motivation, Information, and Good ole fashioned rambling.

Rev3 Knoxville – Weekend Overview

The Man Who Saved My Race

Saturday night after dinner, I was exhausted and shuffled back to the Knoxville Holiday Inn a little after 8:00.  As I circled through the revolving door, I remembered something very important . . . I had nothing to eat before the race in the morning.

The gates were closed on the hotel store and I cringed at the thought of navigating Rocky Top to find pre-race food.  But, when I looked a little closer, I noticed one of the gates was halfway open and there was activity inside.

I did a little limbo under the metal and noticed Eddie from Nashville was buying a few things from a very helpful clerk, who I will call Chuck.  It was obviously after hours and the older gentleman behind the counter was a freak of courtesy, even while balancing his till.

Eddie left with his goods, and I apologized for the inconvenience before asking if I might buy a few things for the morning.  Chuck was all in.

“Sure!  Whatever you need, my friend.”

I scoured the shelves for fuel.  Bagels, bars, and bananas.  This was a blessing and I loaded up. But I couldn’t find peanut butter.

“Oh, hang on buddy, I’ll go get some from the kitchen!”

Seriously?  What a guy!

ballHe came back with four packets and sheepishly asked if it was enough.  I assured him it was.

These are the little things in life that I crave and never seem to find enough.  It was more than “service” it was kind human behavior.  It was someone who put others ahead of himself.

He was lighthearted and asked genuine questions.  He even told me a story about Wisconsin and promised someone would be there at 5:30 in the morning if I forgot anything.

I tipped him kindly, then noticed three or four other guys meandering about the store.  I ducked under the gate again and heard Chuck in full glory, ready to feed the next wave of hungry triathletes.

The Rev3 Experience

I’m telling you, Rev3 puts on a great race.  You just get the feeling they really care about the athletes and takes pride in the little things.  To a man, and woman, everyone I know that raced  said they would definitely come back.

First of all, I love the course they designed.  The swim in the Tennessee River rocks.  It just feels big and anytime there is multiple bridges, count me in.

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The bike course was, as many people describe it, tough, but fair.  It’s really the perfect course for me.  Lots of turns, challenging climbs, and fast descents.  The scenery was gorgeous and everything was well marked.

The run course was a little blah, but still enjoyable.  It was mostly on a bike path, but there was a nice creek/river along the way and it’s always cool to run through parks.  The last .3 miles was uphill back into the finish line and probably the most memorable portion.revfinish

Rev3 is professional, yet accessible.  The finish line felt big, but had a warm mid-sized town feel to it.  I love their attention to detail, like the big monitors at the end showing your finish and a little tent where you can pull up your splits on the screen.  It’s not the Final Four, but it’s definitely Elite Eight, and on some level that is more intriguing.

I plan to write more later on why I believe Rev3 is poised to challenge Ironman for attention in the shorter distance races.

Location, Location, Location

I absolutely drool when races are in a city and are PART of the city.

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I love Ironman Louisville and Wisconsin because they showcase the location.  Both run through their respective downtown’s and you always know where you are.

I was underwhelmed by Ironman Muncie and New Orleans.  Both could have easily been in Bowling Green, Kentucky and I wouldn’t have known the difference.  To me it’s the difference between playing a baseball game at a stadium versus your practice field.  There is cache’ in the venue.

Rev3 Knoxville set up right at World Fair Park.  I decided to stay at the Holiday Inn which is normally attached to the finish line, but moved about a block this year because of a book fair (which I regretfully didn’t attend).

image_2Transition was a few blocks from the finish and nearly close enough to make my post-race bike fetch enjoyable.  In New Orleans, I had to drive 20 minutes to get my bike after the race and got lost in the hood along the way, which actually came in handy in the form of ridiculously delicious hot wings, but other than that, driving to get your bike blows.

At Rev3 Knox, everything was a short walk, including Market Square, which set the pre-race table beautifully.   Just a cool little town that genuinely seemed happy to have a bunch of goofy triathletes walking around in spandex.

Because of their excellent planning, I am “this” close to signing up for Rev3 Wisconsin Dells.  I’ve been there many times and it is a crazy little place with a lot going on.  Water parks, bearded women, fire eating jugglers, and I’m confident I’ll see them all.

The swim is where they hold the Tommy Bartlett water-ski show and the run course appears to be nicely entwined with the tourism absurdity.  And what could be better than a ride on the amphibious Wisconsin Dells Ducks to wind down after a glorious day of pain?

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Nashville's Country Music Marathon

Today was the two year anniversary of my first half marathon and I celebrated by watching valiant efforts and fighting back tears.  Well, I actually stood behind the finish line and watched a slow herd of battered souls chomp on cookies and chips while rejoicing that I chose not to run, but still . . .

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Thousands limped by with huge smiles it took me back back to that painful day two years earlier when I embraced what may have been the proudest moment of my endurance life, including Ironman.  I’d only been running about 4 months when I took the half marathon challenge, and it sparked a fuse that burned out of control.

That race hurt so badly I started laughing at mile 10, and getting delirious at mile 12.  Somehow I crossed the finish line in 2:14 without walking.  It was a major victory and I proved it by wearing my medal all day . . . then deep into a major-league afternoon/night of celebratory drinking.  I could barley walk the next day, or week.  Battle scars reminding me where I’d been.

But, enough about me . . .

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Today’s weather was perfect and tons of East Nasties were on the course.   I saw most of them and graciously took this group photo with my personal flip phone.

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Admittedly I didn’t see much running until I left the finish line and walked along Woodland Street to witness the misery that is Mile 18 of a marathon.

My final destination was the Nashville Running Company water stop where I volunteered to rake paper cups out of the street for an hour.  Tons of runners thanked me for the hard work, and while that never gets old, they had no idea how much I love grounds keeping.

The encouragement flowed from my lips as well, but it’s hard to seem convincing when someone stumbles by in a stupor and you’re screaming, “You got this!”  For many, it was getting dicey, and considering mile 18 is often called the marathon wall, I’m sure the fact that it was all up hill didn’t help.

It was inspiring and I can’t say enough about how good it made me feel to see all of these runners pushing themselves to the limit.  Throwing it on the line to be better people and create an endless stream of positive energy in my city.

That said, I do have a small beef that I need to get off my chest.

I get that people like to run with music, but I feel like it steals from your experience.  Especially when the entire route is lined with live bands and tons of crowd support shouting inspirational bible verses or Michael Scott quotes.  I mean, I’m raking my ass off and spewing goodness to all these wonderful people but half of them can’t hear me because they’re listening to Eye of the Tiger on their iPod.  Talk about sucking the wind out of your cup raking.

Yet, here they were, 30,000 people, exhibiting countless hours of preparation and sacrifice. A truly moving scene, and I can honestly say I felt the same way long before I was a runner and was merely shooting emotional marathon videos that made people cry their eyes out.

There can never be enough inspiration in this world and few events showcase human spirit better than a major marathon.  Every year it reminds me that life is for living and there’s no better time to pursue that freedom than today.  I just wish the cranky drivers that complain about “their street” being closed for a few hours would figure that out.

I mean, look at these happy Nasties:

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Dry Creek Trail 1/2 Marathon Part 2

Since penning Part One of my Dry Creek Race Report on the back of tree bark, it has occurred to me that I left out some valuable information.  While my wildly personal experience was noteworthy, I should have realized others may have been looking for more pertinent information, so I thought I would give a deeper analysis of the running experience.

First off, Race Director, Season Kaminski had this thing humming from the minute you got there.  It was super organized, the start line was clearly visible, and her speech on which flags to follow in the woods was spot on, not to mention loaded with trail humor!

Secondly, there was a nice downhill-ish first 3 miles.  This was mostly “roads” and ended with a not-so-nice and very steep downhill segment that was covered with leaves.  It was also my favorite part of the course.

My next favorite part came right after that downhill.  It was a nice roll through a meadow that was flat and should have signaled me of the doom that lie ahead.  But, of course I was daydreaming.

The hill that followed the meadow was unconscionable.  They claim just over a mile, but the subsequent rollers turned that climb into about three miles.  Not gonna lie, it was tough, and as my boy, Wasky, would say, “Legit.”

Listen, at the top of that long climb, nothing is more welcome than a friendly face, and that’s when I saw team photographer, and fastest Wasky, Carolyn unleashing her photographic excellence.  I smiled, laughed, and cried as I limped back into the village.

This is where the race started and hundreds . . . err . . . dozens of thirsty fans raised the roof for my arrival.  Humbled, inspired, and somewhat relieved, I moved on to the deadly Final Six.

“Rock and Roll” might be the headline for this stretch.  Lots of rocks and lots of rollers.  By mile eight, my legs were fried.  My hip was screaming bloody murder, so I settled into the Ironman-shuffle for the next mile or so, then aired it out only to hear the same song from my hip.  “Uh, dude, kinda hurtin down here.”

Yeah, but races with 700 feet of gain are going to make you hurt . . . especially if you’re not ready for them.  Which I wasn’t, but sorta was because I finished.  What bummed me most is that I never really had my breath right or find a groove with my stride, but I suppose both are more common on trails.

In all it was a memorable experience and the weather was perfect.  The food that waited for famished hurdlers was dished out by Nashville Running Company Kingpin, Lee Wilson, in an endless buffet of steaming goodness.

Runners are a different breed, but trail runners take the family tree to an entirely new limb.  They are duly committed to pain and seek it at all costs.  It was a pleasure to be in their company.

Tennessee's "Secret Race" is a Beast! #ultramarathon

Wow, this discovery just got the hair standing on my neck.  And after combining the insight from my first trail race with the unbelievable information below, I am even more convinced that wilderness runners salute a twisted code that encourages legal forms of masochistic humiliation.

That said, I am currently VERY disappointed about two things:

  1. I’ve never heard of this race.
  2. No one I know has run it (that I know of)

Fist PumpPhoto © Geoffrey S. Baker www.geoffreybakerphotography.com  (photo links to source)

Continue reading “Tennessee's "Secret Race" is a Beast! #ultramarathon”

My Craziest Race Thought to Date

Armondo’s at it again.  Now, he’s trying to convince me to do an all night trail relay.  That might be easy for the Red Wolf, but I’m like the Purple Quail in this mix.

So, the route is 5 miles with 4 people.  It’s actually only 12 hours, but all night sounds more dangerous.  I hear there is a 24 hour run, but . . .

If you remember, this is the same trail that ransacked my IT band in the first place,

Chasing the Sasquatch

but as you know, I am not one to take losing lightly.  (Maybe you don’t know that and maybe it’s not even true but these are dramatic points of the story that just need to be inserted for suspense). I have been known to climb jagged rocks to bring supper back to my family (dog) and traverse miles of wicked hot terrain to secure a metal cupful of water.

Yeah, so Armondo’s all like, “We can rest in tents in between laps.”

Dude, it’s working… keep talking.”

“And eat hard boiled eggs in our sleeping bags.”

Wow, man!

“Cornhole, acoustic guitar and lots of bears.”

Okay, I’m sold!

Well, I’m not quite sold, yet.  Three 5 mile trail laps is a tall order for a man fresh off chicken knee syndrome.

I’m gonna kick the tires and see if I can get some more teams involved.  It’s lonely on that trail and Purple Quail is afraid of the dark.