It’s easy to overthink an Ironman race and almost impossible not to.
It’s 7 AM on Thursday morning before Ironman Wisconsin and I’m sorting through just about everything, including my life. I’ve been getting up very early (for me) the last couple days in effort to acclimate my body to the start. And the one thought I keep having is . . . why don’t I just get up early all the time?
In exactly three days I will be in the middle of a chaotic swim with 2700 other people in Lake Monona. Quite a contrast to the ticking clock on my mother’s kitchen wall.
Mike Reilly will have done everything in his power to fire us up, but keep us relaxed in the same breath. It’s swimming into the abyss with friends and family awaiting your return.
I’ve thought about this swim no less than a million times.
I’ve walked barefoot down the helix on the cool concrete trying to convince myself I’ve put everything I need in transition bags. I’ve talked briefly with friends. I’ve felt the lake splash my feet, then the trickle of cool water in the back of my wetsuit. I’ve floated next to strangers trying to read their eyes through tinted goggles. I’ve gazed back at the shore and seen thousands of spectators hanging from Monona Terrace. I’ve looked into the distance at a buoy so far you can barely see it. I’ve recounted my swim training and wondered if I’m ready.
I’ve heard the blast of a cannon.
I’ve felt the chaos of flailing arms and kicking feet. I’ve sighted too many times at the start. I’ve made contact with other swimmers. I’ve recovered. I’ve found a free space in the water and settled in. I’ve found my breath and watched the spectators trail off into the distance. I’ve even “moo’d” at the first buoy.
I’ve pictured smoother water this time as we make our first left turn and swim 200 yards to corner buoy two. I’ve imagined myself feeling stronger as I begin the long back-stretch of the swim course, nearly a mile on its own. I’ve promised myself to go straight with the buoy line. The traffic will be thinner, but there will still be contact, and I’ve expected it when I least expect it. I’ve stayed calm in my own space and relaxed.
I’ve made turn three and swam two hundred more yards to the final turn. I’ve felt the smile on my face knowing it’s almost over.
I’ve made the final turn and looked straight into the eyes of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Monona Terrace. It even more beautiful from 500 yards away in the water. The path is wide open now and I do everything in my power to keep a solid stroke. To stay focused and relaxed. I force myself to slow down because it’s natural to over churn the pace. It’s a long day and don’t want to start my bike gasping for air.
I’ve heard the music and cheers as I get closer to shore. I’ve felt my hand hit the bottom of the lake and nothing compares to that feeling. The simple comfort of ground beneath you. I’ve taken two more strokes and pulled my feet forward to run under the arch. I’ve unzipped my wetsuit and given a thumbs up to friends and family. I’ve made my way to the winding helix.
I’ve done it all, so many times. Now, I just have to do it. But I can’t help thinking that all of this thinking is fruitless. What’s really important is that I embrace the moment. The feeling of being in the middle of an unbelievable event with so many other positive and growing people. I never really used to think of competition this way. It’s always been about gritting teeth, muscling up, and kicking ass. Certainly that will and must happen throughout the day. But the privilege to be able to do something like Ironman ultimately means we have one responsibility – enjoy the day as a celebration of how far we’ve come.
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“You think about it at some point during the day, almost every day . . . if not every day.” – Daniel
Well, it’s official, one week from today I will be on the Ironman Wisconsin course with about 2700 other nut jobs. Of course I say that in the most endearing way because I believe what we’re doing is, not only incredible, it’s what humans should be doing. It’s simply a great testament to how things have changed, and proof that we don’t have to resign our lives to the recliner when we hit 50.
I am a cauldren of excitement and anxiety. My concerns this time aren’t bout finishing . . . but, like most, I wonder if I’m ready for what I think I’m capable of.
The reality is “I’m as ready as I’m going to be.” Still, you always wonder if you could have done more. And the answer is probably, “yes.”
The reason for my uncertainty is once again lack of long mileage training. What’s worse is, after only riding 70-miles one time before Ironman Chattanooga last year, I promised I would rectify that problem. But I didn’t. So, if you’re worried you haven’t done enough this season, feast on my numbers.
– Longest ride this year is 65 miles.
– Longest swim 3500
– Longest run 12 miles
But that’s only part of the story. I’ve upped the frequency on everything, just kept it shorter, and mostly harder. I’ve also paid a lot of attention to active recovery in all three.
So, the question is: Will this wacky strategy work?
I hope so. Ha.
My base theory is: I’m a latecomer to endurance and at my best training happens when I’m energized and looking forward to the next workout. The “shorter” workouts also keep me focused on technique, which I think pays off in long-term form late in the race. We can train a million miles but the mental game is where it’s at on race day.
We will all face these three questions dozens of times during an Ironman:
1. Should I stop, tread water, and get my bearings, or keep swimming?
2. Should I coast this flat, or keep peddling?
3. Should I walk for a while, or suck it up and keep running?
Hopefully, the answer is always the latter. That’s the difference between a PR and just another race. It’s one day. There’s no fear of being recovered for pending workouts. It’s about being smart, but tougher than you’ve ever been.
I think the reason I tend to cut workouts short is that I usually stop when I know I could keep going. I try to build mental feel-good victories and bank on race day energy carry me the rest of the way.
90% of my focus the last 5 weeks is to burn a comfort zone for swim and bike into my brain. I’ve concentrated on varying paces, active recovery, and what it feels like to dig a little deeper when I “can’t.”
My biggest goal has been to build a positive and loving relationship with my bike so I don’t want to throw it into Lake Monona after 112 miles. Then it comes down to finding a zone and pacing the run.
It will be another long and grueling experience that will test me more than most things I’ve faced in my life. And even as I say that, I can’t truly imagine the feeling because the pain never ceases to amaze me. So much pain, so much doubt, so many thoughts about why we do this sport in the first place.
But, when you hit that Finisher’s Chute, you know exactly why you came. You know you’ve just crossed a hurdle 99% of the people are afraid to attempt. You know that you can do anything you set your mind to. It was worth every minute and you immediately vow to give it more next time. But for that now, you’re done . . . and all you have to worry about is hugging friends, family, and volunteers.
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It’s 17 days away, but I am feeling the chill of a Wisconsin September. There’s really nothing like it. Hooded sweatshirts at night and crisp clean air in the day. I can’t wait to walk around downtown Madison for a couple days as a lead-in to Ironman Wisconsin.
I’ve tried, but can’t imagine a better Ironman experience. Sure, Kona has Hawaii and its beaches, but for the old-school Wrigley Field party-in-the-middle-of-a-city, Madison is perfect.
www.wildrivertriclub.org
10 Things I Love About Ironman Wisconsin
1. The Setting – Stay downtown and eat it alive. A short walk to the expo, transition, and swim start. The Saturday Farmer’s Market on the Square. The sidewalk cafes, record stores, and art shops on State Street. There are nooks, crannies . . . and you’ll eventually run into a lake if you keep walking. For me, the Ironman Finish Line starts on State Street and winds around 3 sides of the majestic State Capital before you hit the Chute. The downtown buzz collides with a year of isolated training to blend the perfect mix.
2. The Timing – Ironman lands on the University of Wisconsin at the beginning of the school year. I love the youthful energy of over 40,000 students milling around the Square and campus during the race. As a student, it was my favorite time of the year and that fresh-start-atmosphere fills the air. Also, while unpredictable, the Wisconsin weather in September is as good as it gets. Likely a cool morning, with a moderate to warm day and crisp night.
3. Lake Monona – Wisconsin has 15,074 documented lakes and I suppose this is why they give me such a good feeling. In some way the minimalist in me would prefer to have a quaint lake house and a pier than a place on the ocean. There’s something serene and comforting about being able to look out at a lake and see the lush green tree line on the other side. Big enough to explore, yet small enough to manage. Take a few minutes and walk to the top of Monona Terrace and gaze out at the lake.
4. The Hospitality – I’m certainly biased on this note, but I’ve lived in many places and people from Wisconsin are as friendly as it gets. I think it has something to do with a genuine work ethic and tendency to cooperate. You will likely see this in action with the awesome 3,000 volunteers. Last time I raced Wisconsin we stayed at the Ruby Marie right across from the swim start. There’s a little restaurant inside the hotel and when I went to the counter for a coffee refill the guy working said it would be a minute but “I could go behind the counter and fill it myself if I wanted.” Life’s pretty simple if you think about it.
5. The Bike Course – The Ironman Wisconsin course is still my favorite bike ride ever. It’s hilly with a lot of turns, but to me that added excitement and broke the pattern. I just can’t imagine wanting to do a long flat Ironman course. Add the wacky spectators and an iconic Americana barn/silo mix and you have a near perfect equation to distract you from that ass pain.
6. The Voice of Ironman – The fact that Mike Reilly keeps hand picking this race as his appearance schedule thins should tell you it’s quite the spectacle. I’ve watched video of this race from several years and you can always hear his humbled voice in the background marveling about the breathtaking view of the swim start.
7. College Football – The Badgers always have a homegame the day before the race and there’s not much like a Wisconsin football weekend in one of the greatest college sports towns in America. I probably won’t even go, but it’s nice to know it’s going on and we all get to run in the echoes of the game the next day as the marathon takes us onto the turf of Camp Randall.
8. The Other Racers – I have no idea if this is true or not, but I’m willing to bet the reason Wisconsin sells out so quickly is because so many locals do it year after year. There’s an underlying nature about athletes from Wisconsin. They tend to be overachievers, but they never forget that competition is supposed to be fun. It’s a “serious” race with a party atmosphere and that sorta keeps you grounded to the fact that (even though it seems like it at times) Ironman isn’t the only thing in the world.
9. My Friends and Family – Last time my entire immediate family came up and I felt like it was one of the best bonding experiences we’ve had. My uncle and cousin also showed on the bike course (even though they had no idea what was going on) and I saw them two minutes after they parked. I thought for sure they’d jump in their truck and head home, but I saw them at again at the end of the first loop in Verona… then AGAIN on the second lap. My uncle, always the craftsman, was so into it he even grabbed a can of spray paint from his truck to mark pot holes on the road! My good buddy Pete and his wife also came not knowing what to expect. They watched the swim, then got hooked, hanging around to watch me finish 12 hours later. It was awesome.
10. The Spectators – I’m willing to go out on a limb and say as many people are in the crowd for the Wisconsin Swim start as there were watching Michael Phelps paint himself in gold. Thousands of people line the shore, the helix, and the roof just to watch you swim! Hell, half the time I feel like the lifeguard isn’t watching me in the pool. Look around and soak that in.
The swim is one thing, but as a friend told me before I raced Wisconsin last time, “You will be stunned by the amount of support on the bike course.” He was right. It felt like there wasn’t a five mile stretch where I didn’t see a group of people cheering us along. I’ve done Half Ironmans where the only spectator was a guy mowing his lawn. Of course, this year’s course won’t have 2 of the 3 “Tour de France” type hills, but I’m sure the fans will get creative to make it just as exciting.
I’ve seen a lot of running races and feel like the Ironman Wisconsin run would be one of the better attended stand alone marathons. The minute you leave transition, they are lined up around the capital, then down State Street cheering you on. There are certainly some dry sections, but you get State Street 4 times and that alone is enough to keep you going.
If you have any doubt about finishing this race, rest assured the people on the way will give you the energy you need. I can’t wait to see the friendly faces.
It’s never too late to get your swim dialed in before Ironman Wisconsin. Check out the video below for the C26 Coach’s Eye Swim Analysis. Simple and fast way to fix your stroke.
In today’s Ironman Wisconsin training news, some white trash family stole my backpack while I was swimming at the lake. I’m out there helpless and it’s just like the that old travel checks’ commercial. Total BS by them. “Hey, how about we take the kids to the lake today and steal some shit?”
Anyway, I hope they put my extra goggles and paddles to use to change their lives for the better. In the meantime, if you see some loser wearing my glasses around Nashville, feel free to punch him in the nose.
Correction from yesterday’s post: I’ve been informed by Steena at Swim, Bike, Run, Roar, the new hill at Ironman Wisconsin is not “Barton” road, but “Barlow Road,” and have made the change in my previous entry, but still stick to my point that I’m more worried about the lack of fan support there than I am the hill grade. Not that I’m taking the grade lightly, but you know what I mean.
Now, onto the meat of the Ironman Wisconsin post.
TOP THING I’M EXCITED ABOUT: The Madison Vibe
I love getting to Madison on Thursday to enjoy the city and the pre-race hoopla. It’s so cool just hearing the stories. 2700 racers in town that have all been through the same grinding work schedule to get there. All these people with the same goal. It’s just a celebration of positivity. Not to mention my Badgers play on Saturday, and while I’m not going, I love the energy a football game brings to that town.
2nd TOP THING I’M EXCITED ABOUT: Seeing the lake.
It’s quite possible I think about Lake Monona more than anyone in the country that lives outside of Wisconsin. I’ve watched so many swim videos from Ironman Wisconsin over the years and the very sight of the water gives me chills. I remember when the put out the buoys on Saturday. It was my first Ironman and I’d never seen how f*cking far it actually looks from the shore. I was kinda blown away and a little intimidated, probably because you can barely even see the farthest buoy when you’re way down by that bike shop, which is also a pretty awesome place, but they won’t make this list other than right in this little part. That said, they were in full swing and super helpful giving my bike a last minute tune up.
3rd TOP THING I’M EXCITED ABOUT: Laying out gear.
Something about laying all the gear bags out in the hotel room kinda makes it real. I say to myself that I’m going to keep it simple, but in the end, I always load up extra crap I don’t seem to use. Especially in Special Needs bags.* I put like sandwiches, pizza, Tums, a salad, etc. And it always seems to go to waste because the last thing I feel like doing at Special Needs is stopping to have a meal. That said, for the Run Special Needs bags, I’ve put extra socks inside and actually stopped to change them because the other ones were so wet from dousing myself with water for 13 miles. And, you guessed it, the new dry socks were wet in exactly one mile. Not to mention I could barely get up off the curb after changing them.
4th TOP THING I’M EXCITED ABOUT: The Race Meeting.
Not really excited about the race meeting, but I’ve been missing a lot of important information at my races this year, so I think I’ll be checking it out. Wait, do they have these for Ironman? I think they do.
5th THING I’M EXCITED ABOUT: The Race Expo
To me, this is sort of like hanging out in the clubhouse before a round of golf. Everyone checking out the gear and thinking trying something new that day will make them better. There’s shirts and about 8 million other Ironman Branded items you can take home and give to friends that don’t give a rat’s ass about Ironman. “Hey, I got us an Ironman door mat and candle holder!” It’s kinda crazy how much stuff they sell, but some of it is cool and it’s sort of the last place you can talk shit, but don’t, really, because you’re more anxious than cocky at that moment.
Of course the race itself excites me, too, but the entire experience is the gem. It’s Spring Training and everyone has high hopes. It’s friends, family, and teammates. It’s a Super Bowl pre-party and, on this particular Sunday, you’ll be out on the field in front of 75,000 fans.
This is a wide shot of the helix from near the Swim Exit
* Special Needs Bags are “extra things” you can have about halfway through the bike or run. Usually it’s stuff like extra tire tubes or water bottles full of your favorite nutrition drink so you don’t have to use the Gatorade they hand out. I’ve heard of everything from Advil to Beef Jerky. It’s also a place where people give themselves a little treat or something . . . kinda like an incentive.
We’re 20 days out from Ironman Wisconsin and I have committed to publishing my thoughts every day up to the race, so follow along if you’ll be jumping in Lake Monona with me September 11th.
BIGGEST CONCERN:The swim.
I always think about the swim and have been working hard to make sure I’m ready. I’ve also watched a lot of videos to see if I can figure out where I’ll start in the water. It’s a tricky decision because I’m not a fast swimmer, but don’t consider myself slow. The start line is about a hundred yards wide and the only truly clear water will be in front. So, do I start in the first row again and get swam over by a dozen people, or take a more conservative approach? I’m leaning toward the former.
SECOND BIGGEST CONCERN:The bike.
There’ve been a lot of rumblings about the bike course changes, specifically the new Barlow Road hill (what is it with these streets called “Barton or Barlow?” . . . see Ironman Chattanooga run) which is allegedly steeper than anything on the course. I have to be honest, my biggest worry isn’t the hill itself, it’s the fact that they’ve taken away two other “fun” hills in the process. Those missing hills represent the first two of the 3-Bitches and were an amazing source of spectator energy. One of the main reasons I love the Wisconsin race is the fans, so I hope they rally and figure out a way to make the new bike course even better. Knowing how my Wisconsin countrymen (and women) like to party, I have faith they will still bring the energy.
THIRD BIGGEST CONCERN:I have to wait three weeks to do this race.
I don’t know about you, but there comes a time you’re just ready to get on with it. I’m feeling anxious now and will be in overdrive the next 20 days. I’m still doing hard workouts this week, but after next weekend, the TAPER will really crank up the emotions. You start to feel those creaky phantom injuries, you start to question simple things like . . . will I remember how to ride a bike? I’ll worry about every stupid little thing until I finally just lay on the couch stare at the ceiling. This is no longer fear, it’s all about the energy that wants to release itself on that course.
FOURTH BIGGEST CONCERN: Sleep
I’m really bad at falling asleep (which I realize means I’m an ego-maniac) so I’ve been practicing by getting in bed earlier, which typically means I just spend more of my waking hours in bed. I’m not looking for recommendations here because I’ve tried everything and know the ultimate solution, but I think the only real strategy I have here is to get up at a crazy early hour on Saturday before the race. Resist caffeine and spend a very long, uneventful day with my eyes open.
SUMMARY: I’m not really concerned.
As a blogger I’m obligated to write semi-organized entries that, to some degree, make relevant points. While I acknowledge these “concerns” I should also point out that they could just as easily be “My Biggest Exciting Challenges.” What I’m really most concerned about is staying in this moment. Being here with the workout today. I can plan and plan, but if I don’t address what’s here in front of me (much like the unexpected situations that will face me on race day) all of this obsession will be for naught.
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Ironman Wisconsin is less than a month away, and I’ve decided all of these crazy thoughts, this obsession, and this excessive planning can only mean one thing: Ironman makes me feel like a kid.
Race morning at Lake Logan Half. Photo: Rebekah Shulman
I’ve heard the average 4-year-old laughs 400 times a day. They have no pre-conceptions, they just feel and respond to life around them. What a beautiful thought.
That’s exactly what happens to me when I’m swimming in the lake these days. It’s just so free and in touch with the core elements of life. The oxygen, the water, the sunshine. What is purer than that?
Ultimately, that’s what I love about the Ironman experience.
The other day I listened to a podcast with Tony Robbins and he was on this rant about the difference between achievement and fulfillment. He used the example of Robin Williams, who was arguably loved by most people. Williams achieved everything he set out to do as a comedian and actor, but in the end, for some reason, he wasn’t fulfilled.
Robbins also spoke about growth in the context of, if we’re not growing, we’re dying. Sometimes I struggle with how that relates to money and business, but ultimately his point was the more you grow, the more you have to share, and for me, that’s the driving force behind my Ironman training.
When I decided to start training, the ultimate goal was to find a more consistent, healthier self. To be able to be free with love, healthy, and laughing like a 4-year-old. I wanted to figure out what was important and share with those around me. It comes in waves, but ultimately I think I’m on the right track.
This will be my fourth Ironman and I may be more excited for this one than any before. The first was great, but there was a major fear factor. The next two felt like something I “had to do.” This one has renewed my enthusiasm.
It’s a learning cycle in so many ways. The newness perks you up, the reality bites for a while, then you start to do it naturally.
The other night I watched a ton of Ironman Wisconsin Swim videos in effort to figure out my starting spot. From the outside it probably seems like the dumbest thing ever, but for me, it was fun like playing whiffle ball with high school buddies.
Mostly, I think I’m excited about this race because I have been working hard (and it gives me legitimate reason for massages). I feel like I’m ready to take it to a new level. And that’s the kind of thought I want to translate into life, work, and relationships.
In the end, Ironman is a very long race on one day, but it’s the preparation and patterns we create along the way that are most important. My implementation of those patterns has been intermittent but I feel like this long, 4-year-journey is starting to make sense.
So, as I think about floating in the cool Madison water on the morning of September 11th, I also think about today and what comes after the race. Will I continue to put myself through this grind? I don’t know, but if I keep feeling younger than I did yesterday, I’m pretty sure the answer will be yes.
First things first: The Lake Logan Half bike is absolutely awesome. It’s an open course with occasionally weird traffic situations, but the ride is stunning, challenging, and (as much as a hilly 56 miles can be fun) a blast.
Photo Credit: Rebekah Shulman
The setting for this race is right out of a Kerouac novel. Nestled in the mountains about 20 minutes southwest of Asheville you’d be hard pressed to find a prettier stage to swim, bike and run. I raced as an Ironman Wisconsin prep, and it is absolutely perfect for that purpose. Wetsuit swim in a lake with moderate congestion, 3400 feet of elevation gain and a couple gnarly hills on the bike, and a sneaky tough run that is 50% uphill with a minor, yet challenging grade.
That said, I’ve come to the conclusion that races like this should only be an option for me if I find a group of people willing to spend a few days near the race sight in a cabin or something. We had to stay 25 minutes away and it made for a super early (4 am) morning, a dark transition load, and sketchy dining.
True story: Pre-race meal, Corey, Rebekah and I went to restaurant next to the hotel called Sagebrush. I said, “Three for dinner,” and a couple kids who clearly didn’t want to be there told me “it would be a 30-minute wait because their power had been out for a while.”
I glanced over their shoulders and Rebekah was on a covert stroll around the shady 4’x4’ salad bar and the look on her face was doubtful at best.
Just then, Corey said, “Hey, Mike, check this out.” I walked back into the entryway where he pointed at the “72 Health Score Rating.” My first thought was “power out, mushy salad, and spoiled meat.”
We both started laughing and a guy in a navy blue polo shirt coming out of the restaurant said, “What’s so funny?” Corey said, “Oh, we’re just looking at the health score.” The guy kinda smiled with a hint of pride and said, “Ah, that’s somethin, idn’t it?”
We sat down for maybe a minute and decided to drive closer to Asheville for dinner. As we walked out of the restaurant we noticed the guy in the polo shirt smoking with a couple other people in polo shirts. They were employees and I’m pretty sure he was the cook.
The Swim:
The Lake Logan Swim is A-plus. It’s a wave start with ample warm-up space at a little beach next to the start pier. It’s just a gorgeous view of the lush green mountains that frame calm water and orange buoys which create a somewhat daunting 1,931 meter swim (which Katie Kedecky could probably do in 19 minutes).
Photo Credit: Rebekah Shulman
My wetsuit dangled from my waist and when I pulled it up, I ripped a 6 inch hole in the side near my hip. I mean, it was a gash that delivered an internal freakout. I’m far from a physicist, but my scientific mind started imagining water, fish, and snakes leaking into my wetsuit.
Photo Credit: Rebekah Shulman
I tested the hole with a quick practice swim and it seemed fine, but standing on the shore I could feel water sagging in the butt and leaking down my legs. I was in a precarious situation, but not quite as bad as the guy who showed up to the swim with his wetsuit inside-out. Luckily someone told him.
Your wave waits in waist deep water with toes tangling with the mud and sticks below. It’s a little creepy and I tried not to think about what else could be down there . . . or my wetsuit filling like a water balloon. I found a relatively stable perch on top of some limbs and took a few deep breaths before the wave of 60 swimmers lurched forward.
We were to keep the buoys on our right and I started in the front on the far left of the wave. I’ve been swimming well lately, but my races are always a crapshoot. More than anything I’d rather have a relatively clear and relaxed start. Positioning wide did just that.
After 300 yards I was confident the wetsuit wouldn’t be a problem and found a nice stroke. I’ve gotten better at relaxing and realizing it normally takes me about 1,000 yards to really feel good in a swim. By the time I hit the first turn buoy I was comfortable and looking forward to cross the lake and turn back toward home.
I felt so good at this point I made a conscious effort to start looking at the scenery. As I breathed to my right I took in the unbelievable picture from far end of the lake and wished I had a GoPro on my head because the water forefront with the mountains in the background blew my mind. (This gives some idea of the view).
Photo: Rebekah Shulman
Before the race, they told us (no less than 100 times) that “As you go under the bridge, the water temperature will drop dramatically.” The lake itself was around 76 degrees… and the water at the bridge was 64 or something, which is how they average-out a wetsuit legal number.
I could feel the cool water begin to surround my face, and when I got to the bridge it was an ice bath immersion.
Once you get past the bridge, the water also gets very shallow and my hands started hitting the round rocks on the stream bottom. You could probably walk the last 50 yards if you didn’t mind breaking an ankle, instead I started “pulling” under my chest instead of to the side.
When I got to the dock, I knew it was my best swim to date. I felt great and was excited to get to the bike. I reached for a lift from the water and as I jumped, my calf felt like it exploded. I let out a loud, “Fuck!” right in the middle of wide-eyed Episcopalian spectators (sorry, Mom) and still feel bad, but the pain was tremendous.
Here you can see me on the pier in upward dog with a strapping young gentleman punching my cramp and assuring me a lot of other swimmers had felt the healing power of his fingers that day.
Floppy Seal. Photo: Rebekah Shulman
Then me with a stiff leg hobble.
Stiff Leg Hobble. Photo: Rebekah Shulman
The pain was one thing, but selfishly I was upset because I couldn’t move, and my fastest swim time was eroding as I flopped like an wounded seal a mere 50 feet from the timing mat. I couldn’t stand and the guy furiously rubbed my calf. Finally, I hobbled off the pier and down the grass toward my bike.
Official swim time was 35 minutes, but I’m certain it was closer to the high 33’s. Either way, it was a great confidence boost on my way to the beastly mass start at Ironman Wisconsin.
The Bike:
I saw exactly 7 spectators, two illegible signs, and two guys putting up a 6 foot cyclone fence around their lot while on this bike ride. Aside from that, the Lake Logan bike course is phenomenal.
Tons of fast descents, tough climbs and a lot of turns, all of which I love.
You wind through mountains, over creek beds on rustic bridges, and through small towns on nice roads. Some of the intersections are a little dicey, but in general, it was a highly enjoyable two hours and fifty minutes of my life.
I had mixed emotions about how to handle this ride. Part of me wanted to take it easy . . . while another wanted to crush it. I sided for taking it “moderately easy” because I “thought” I drove the last 10 miles the day before and what I “thought” was the end of the course scared the crap out of me.
The reality, however, was that the course broke down like this:
A pretty fast first 30 miles, then some moderate to big climbing till mile 42 or so when you hit a monster mile-long rise. Then, in my mind I’m thinking it will be hilly the rest of the way, but instead it was about 10 miles of super smooth and flat terrain until the very last mile when they decided to insert the second toughest climb of the day before you scream back into transition.
If I had known the real course I would have rode it differently and probably been able to cut 8 minutes. I most certainly would have gone out harder and taken advantage of that early speed instead of trying to save my legs for the non-existent last 10 miles of hell.
Side note: I find the contrast of super-expensive bikes and skin tight lycra very intriguing when compared to the culture of the neighborhoods we ride through in these races. They’re often unincorporated towns that likely have no appreciation (or angst) for triathlon. I have to laugh when some of these guys in massive pick-ups fly by with Skynyrd cranked and oversized tires making a mockery of my race wheels.
The Run:
I spent a lot of time on the bike stretching my cramped calf in preparation for the run. I didn’t anticipate a problem and running out the gravel road of transition, it felt pretty good.
Gravel Road. Photo: Rebekah Shulman
The plan was to average 8:30-9 the first half and pick it up a little on the second half. Unfortunately the nature of the run course didn’t really lend itself to that kind of strategy.
The first 3.2 miles were uphill. I knew this going in, but it was a gradual climb I didn’t anticipate a problem. The climb wasn’t too bad, but it got old pretty quick and the second loop started to remind me of Barton Avenue at Ironman Chattanooga.
There’s actually a lot of shade on the run course, I’d guess about 50% is under trees, but that second loop got really hot. The aid stations had super cold towels, but weren’t handing out ice.
I didn’t wear a Garmin and was restarting my watch every mile. The fist mile was just under 9:00, so I picked it up a little and got mile 2 down to 8:40, then mile 3 came in at 9:25 even though I thought I was on the same pace. Mile 4 was mostly downhill and my watch said 9:45. Frankly, that kind of pissed me off and I thought they must have the markers off, so I dug deep and ran hard to the next marker where I read 7:47.
Now, I’m completely screwed up with no plan other than getting the hell off this run course. Mile 5 went back up to 9:05, then 9:15 and blah, blah… I kind of stopped paying attention but knew it wasn’t going to be a great run. My half marathon time was 1:57, about 7 minutes slower than I’d hoped.
The bottom line is, I “ran into” the same problem I had at Chattanooga last year. My hamstrings felt weak. Not really sore, just weak. I’m sure 3-mile climb right out of transition didn’t help, but I just don’t know what’s going on here . . . other than, obviously, my hamstrings are weak.
I understand this is a common problem with triathletes because our quads become the dominant muscle group and create an imbalance. It’s too late to make any huge gains before Ironman Wisconsin, but I’m gonna focus on body-weight-hamstring stuff and overall muscle balance in my legs until race day.
One note of interest to the first time racer (and watcher) at Lake Logan. When you come around for the second run loop, the turnaround is built in the cruelest of triathlon lore. You run back down the gravel transition road, then turn into a grass field, then run right at the finish line before turning left and running across more grass on your way out the gravel road, and, of course, uphill for the next 3.2 miles.
The turnaround is fantastically sadistic in a great kind of way (which is ironic considering it’s on religious property) and about the most redeeming factor for those watching because it’s not the most spectator friendly race . . . unless you bring a camper or a rent an onsite cabin, which I understand sell out the day after the race.
Small Beef:
The run course was basically contained on the left lane of a two lane road that was open to traffic. On the way out, they tell you to stay to the left, which means (or should mean) that on the way back you stay closer to the center line. Well, I can’t tell you how many ass-wipes ran right at me as I was climbing that hill. To me, every one of them seemed like they were hopped up on EPO or something. Snarling with a loud, messy breath, and eyes spun back in their heads. They barreled down with no intention of moving, so, even though I was doing harder work and they were cruising with natural momentum, I would slide out to my right and let them take the inside before saying something like, “Nice lane, Dick.” But, when I was on my downhill portion, I noticed people all over the place. It was kind of a cluster and I just played the nice guy shuttling back and forth to avoid a head on collision.
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Below, Corey and I celebrate our glorious mid-pack finishes. He turned in a 5:22, I clocked a 5:33. This leaves us even in our head-to-head battles and he keeps baiting me for the money match at Ironman 70.3 Chattanooga, which I am currently debating while eating Pop Tarts in an ice bath.
Tomorrow I’ll embark on a new race: The Lake Logan Half, which is just outside of Asheville, NC.
Lake Logan Half Swim. Photo Courtesy http://gloryhoundevents.com
I stayed in Knoxville last night at my Rev3 headquarters and will soon be heading to fine city of Canton, NC, which is conveniently 30 minutes away from the race site, and let me tell you there’s nothing I like more than waking up 30 minutes away from a race site!
Not really, I hate it. I’m a huge fan of rolling out of bed and walking over to transition. But my bitching will get me nowhere and at least it forces me to wake up earlier and get blood pumping before the race.
From what I can tell about Lake Logan, we have a cold-ish wetsuit swim that goes clockwise (which is good for a right breather like me). Then we get on the bike for a hilly 56 mile ride, the first 20 miles of which appear to be downhill, then hit the toughest climb around mile 40 just when we’re getting warmed up. The run is a two loop course where the first 3 mile are uphill, then we return on a downhill slant and do it again.
My strategy is undetermined. With Ironman Wisconsin 5 weeks away, the last thing I want to do is crush myself to the point where I need a week off. On the other hand, it is a race. The way I see it, I have 3 options.
Option 1: Create an organized training day and race at my desired Ironman pace. This will give me some confidence going to Madison, but in reality, training is supposed to make you stronger and faster. What sense does it make to race at a pace I think I can already do?
Option 2: Start each segment at Ironman pace, then pick up the effort for the second half of the swim, bike, and run. This will force me to be patient, loosen up, then test my limits.
Option 3: Go after it like I want to win my age group. This means taking what I get when I can get it and the first half of the bike seems to be in a giving mood. As much as I want to stay under control, there’s no chance of winning my age group if I don’t take advantage of what appears to be mostly downhill out of the gate.
The reality is, it usually comes down to how I swim. If it’s a crappy swim I typically go crush the bike to redeem myself (if I can). If I swim well I feel like I can be a little more patient, but I typically go out and try to crush the bike.
So, I guess I’m gonna swim as well as I can, try to crush the bike, then run as hard as I can. Which is option 4, and usually how I race.
I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting lately–mostly on how things have changed since the decision to do my first Ironman. It’s been a rocky road, but ultimately it was exactly what I needed to loosen the rocks inside so I could discover what’s truly important.
I was digging through the archives of Crushing Iron and found this (which was one of my first posts) and it’s interesting to note how I felt at the time vs. where I am now. It’s a reminder to be patient in life because (though I could “see” the future) I genuinely feel like I’m only now starting to understand what is possible. Ironman training can be a pain in the ass, but it’s a long, slow grind that can have a major impact on many areas of our lives.
Ironman Wisconsin: Registration Day (first posted in 2012)
Let me tell you, if Ironman Wisconsin is anything as stressful as “registration” for Ironman Wisconsin, I am in deep shit.
Registration opened the day after the race at noon and I was reading stories around the web that said it could sell out in as fast as 15 minutes. There were five of us signing up and I was a wreck thinking that I might be the only one to not get in. It didn’t help that my boss called an 11:00 am meeting out of the blue.
Like most bosses, he is a big fan of hearing himself talk and this strategy session had me glued on the clock. I thought I was good, but he opened a can of worms at 11:47. It wasn’t much of a stretch to act like I was sick and run out of that office at noon, because I was getting queasy.
His can of worms was flying right over my head, and at 11:59 I stood up and declared the meeting over. He looked at me like I was crazy (I probably was) and asked where I was going. I said I had something to do and I was confident the rest of them were more than qualified to finish the meeting.
It was a bold move and I’m sure there was probably enough subordination to get fired, or at least a red flag in my file, but I didn’t care. I would have quit at that moment and, as it turns out, still might.*
It’s not just the Ironman that has me thinking about walking from the corporate world, it’s what the quest stands for. Getting to the point where I actually believe I can do a full Ironman is a major change in my thought patterns. I am turning into a different person, and that person is me.
* I finally left corporate America about a year later.
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