Crushing Iron

February 16, 2014

What IRONMAN Wisconsin "Felt" Like #IMWI

I’ve been looking through some old blog posts leading up to Ironman Wisconsin last September and came across this one that I wrote 8 months before the race about how I imagined IMWI would “feel.” I thought I’d go back and write short post-script-actualities (in italics) on each of these projections.

What Ironman Wisconsin “Feels Like” (originally written January 25, 2013)

Sometimes I’ll sit here watching Ironman Wisconsin videos and get chills. It’s surreal to think I will be on that course in seven months.

Post Script: I still get chills when I think about the morning of the race, but mainly just because it was so cool. The energy was off the charts and you just can’t explain what it feels like standing with nearly 3,000 people in wetsuits. They say preparation is the key and I was very calm and confident standing on the edge of Lake Monona.

I can already see the eyes of the Fab Five as we enter the water, a symbolic beginning to the end of training. Five guys focused on the same goal for over 8 months – and it all comes down to this. Once the swim starts, I may not see them for the next 10 – 12 hours, but in many ways we’ll be connected as one.

In reality I saw the eyes of Kevin for a few minutes on shore, then floated with Jim and Mark before the race, but I didn’t see Daniel that morning. It was a little more splintered than I envisioned. I was hoping to reenact the “Pearl Jam 10” cover photo in our wetsuit, but the reality of our individual challenges took precedent We’d tossed around the idea of drafting each other during the swim, but after seeing the conditions, it would have been impossible. Just too much congestion, not to mention very choppy water.

Tonight, I am there. I hear the screams from hundreds perched on balconies overlooking the water. I hear the encouraging words of athletes floating around me. I hear the cannon explode, sending me into mystery.

We found our place about 20 minutes before the race and tread water. You don’t really hear the fans, but the music is cranked and Mike Riley is doing his thing. Everyone in the water was very respectful of each other. This was a long road and everyone knew how the other felt. I heard Riley say, “One minute to the start,” and that is when it felt most real. Jim, Mark and I exchanged hi-fives, then found our places. I wouldn’t see them again for 10 hours.

I feel the water splashing in Lake Monona. . . the mass of humanity pounding me with no regard . . . the serenity of a place humans weren’t meant to go.

The swim was almost exactly what I imagined, but a bit more difficult. The water was very choppy and sighting was a major challenge. I was amazed at the amount of people who swam in front of me at a 90 degree angle. Many people had problems with direction and I had very few stretches of clean water. On a swim this long it’s best not to think too much, so I just kept churning. My neck was chaffed and I by the time I reached shore I was more than ready to be on my bike.

I feel the slippery shore as I exit the water . . . my bare feet slapping concrete as I climb the winding road to the top of the transition helix.

I could never quite grasp the concept of the helix and whether or not running up a ramp would be difficult after swimming 2.4 miles. Now I know the answer. The energy from the fans literally carries you up to transition. The encouragement and electricity is off the charts. Make sure to slap a few hi-fives and random drums along the way.

My ass hits the seat for the first of many times that day. My thighs burn as I roll through picturesque farmland. Cheering fans slap my back while they hug the narrow climb in Verona like a Tour de France.

The Wisconsin bike course is legendary in Ironman lore and I couldn’t wait. I drove the course with Rebekah two days before and on one hand wished I hadn’t because it seemed very intimidating in a car. I rode a ton of hills in preparation, but can honestly say I think the course was tougher than I imagined. They say relentless hills and that is not an understatement. You must be prepared for gearing lots of up and downs. The “Tour de France” talk is legit and trust me you will need the energy of those spectators on your second loop.

The loop through Camp Randall stadium, home of my favorite football team, takes me back to players I idolized as a child. A gauntlet of familiar faces wave signs and give high fives as I recall college memories from State Street.

By the time I hit Camp Randall I wasn’t thinking much about my favorite football team. I didn’t have that giddy feeling or look around in the stands for ghosts of Badger days gone by. I was just trying to hold it together. The State Street thing was amazing, though. You can’t help but feel like part of the party. It’s definitely rock star time as people line up 5 deep on one of the greatest streets there is to celebrate your hard work while they get plowed.

My ankles ache as I turn the final corner and feel the rush of the finish line. I glance at the majestic state capitol, embrace the tunnel of fans, and culminate the biggest physical accomplishment of my life.

This is exactly how it happened. It was still light, but by the time I got to the capitol it loomed in an ominous way. It “felt” dark, and I still had two and a half blocks left. It literally felt like I was a kid running home to beat the street lights, and as luck would have it my family and friends were waiting at the front door. The Ironman finish was extreme relief replaced by jubilation. My work was “done” and now it was time to let it sink into my bones.

It’s in my bones and won’t release me.

I grew up in Wisconsin, so this Ironman was extra special to me. I will forever be jaded by that, but I can honestly say I doubt there is a more enjoyable Ironman in this country. The mass start swim is epic, the bike course was my favorite ride of the year, and the run could stand alone as a great marathon. But the major selling point is the crowd. The people in Wisconsin embrace this race and turn it into a party. There is very little “dead space” anywhere on the course. There’s always someone there to give you a boost when you need it most, and believe me, I needed a lot of them.

February 16, 2014

IRONMAN: "You Think About It Everyday"

“You think about it at some point during the day . . . almost everyday. If not every day . . . maybe every couple hours.” — DH in reference to IRONMAN from the Crushing Iron Trailer

It’s that time of the year when prospective “Ironmen” are obsessing about their upcoming date with destiny, so I thought I would share a little bit about my background what it “felt like” training for my first (and only) Ironman. It was not easy getting from point A to point B, but I really believe, that with the right attitude, commitment and patience, anyone can tackle this beast.

My Swim History

I was probably 12 when I passed the swim test at the “Big Pool” in Beloit, Wisconsin. Across the pool and back for deep end privileges, and that was probably the most “swimming” I did that summer, or for the next 20 years. My pool time was focused on girls.

I liked water. I could tread water. But I couldn’t really swim that well. Maybe 8 or 10 laps, mostly breast stroke, on my best days. The thought of freestyle swimming 80 “down and backs” seemed impossible.

My Bike History

I always loved biking, and it was by far my best sport going into triathlon. But the furthest I’d ever ridden was around 40 miles.

I’m convinced most people can ride 40 miles, but the difference between riding 40 and racing 112 is a bloody big one. It’s not in proportion at all. I would contend 112 is at least 4 times harder than 40. Ironically, even though biking was my best sport, it became my least favorite of the three and proved the hardest.

My Run History

I lived on the Country Music Marathon course for 5 years and without fail I would be inspired to “start running” the next morning. I’d put on a cool t-shirt, dusty running shoes, and tear out of the complex onto Music Row.

Each time I would run 3-5 blocks before turning around to my walk of shame. I just couldn’t understand how people ran that far and put away the shoes till next year. In January of 2012, I committed to starting and sticking with a Couch to 5k program. My distance climbed slowly, but on the morning of my IRONMAN, I still had never run more than 14 miles.

The Power of the Mind

It took an incredible suspension of belief just to enter the realm of IRONMAN training. I had to let go of everything I knew and trust the process. I had to build fast, but retain a seemingly unreasonable amount of patience.

I literally remember how hard ONE lap of freestyle was in the beginning. I continue to fight swimming panic to this day, but I am getting much better at relaxing in the water. Letting go and swimming as opposed to trying to stay afloat.

Biking was the biggest test of my patience. My legs could handle it, but my ass and back revolted. I was a mountain biker at heart and somehow had to fall in love with long, boring road rides on a tri-bike. It wasn’t easy and I never fully enjoyed cycling. But I trusted the process and can honestly say race day was probably my favorite bike ride of the year.

My running limit in the beginning (a year and 8 months before Ironman) was probably 3 or 4 blocks . My Couch to 5K program was based on it. Run 3 blocks, walk 3 blocks, repeat. And build. Don’t try to grab it in one swoop. Run with others, take yourself just a little further each time.

How I Got Over The Hump

I suffered continuously in the water until I figured out how to “jog in the pool” and not get so winded. It was a major breakthrough and confidence builder. Learning to “coast” while swimming is one of the hardest things to do because the thought of sinking scares the shit out of you. But the more I swam, the more I relaxed, and the more I settled into my stroke. Practice fast, race under control.

I put in 2, 3, and 4 hours on a bike trainer and thought to myself, “Hell, add a little scenery and I can do 6 hours.” I just stuck with it and kept showing up. I put in a ton of two hour trainer and 3-4 hour outside rides. I was comfortable with 80 miles, but wasn’t sure I wanted to go much further before the race, mainly because I hated being on a bike that long. Then one day I discovered pace lining and it changed my perspective. That day I rode my first “Century Ride” and most of it was in the rain. I started to “sort of” like cycling again.

I’m not sure I ever got over the running hump in training. I thought about the marathon portion of the race every day. I just was not going to come close to the distance in training. I’d built from a 5k to 5 mile to a 1/2 marathon and had no choice but to leave the rest to my imagination. I never felt great about my running base and didn’t want to risk it, but had no choice but to trust the biking mileage was building my base and the short, sprint and hill run workouts were enough to get me through 26.2 miles.

How Long It Took

In essence I trained for about 8 months to do an IRONMAN.

Progress was slow, but one thing was constant. I kept showing up and those breakthrough moments kept surfacing when I needed them most.

In July, I waded into the water for a 1/2 Ironman in Muncie, IN. All of my previous swims were met with some kind of panic attack, but that day in Muncie, I swam strong and under control the entire way. When my hand scraped against the beach, I felt strong and knew I was on track to finish a full in two months.

It took a while to build up, but one day as Ironman neared I was scheduled for a 5 hour ride on Natchez Trace. Halfway through agreed with my coach’s suggestion to make it 6. We rode 110 miles of brutal hills that day, all in the rain. Nothing would stop me now.

One training run stands out more than most. It was the first time I ran the treacherous 11.2 mile loop in Percy Warner Park. I battled the tough climbs and steep downhills before finishing with a sprint. It was that day that I started to think of myself as a runner.

Trust the Process

I know all too well how training for an Ironman can get into your head. You can’t get enough information on the race and search for hours on end for that one tip that will put you over the edge. But it really comes down to working hard, patience, and embracing pain. I really believe my race was made on those long solo swims, trainer rides, and runs in the rain. It is in those moments that you confirm to yourself that you are tough enough to make it to the finish line. You’re forced to find something extra that refuses to let you quit. Build those moments throughout the year and the incredible energy of the spectators and race day will carry you into the finisher’s chute.

February 14, 2014

Caffeine and Training Follow Up

As usual, I went overboard. I made a fairly drastic change to my diet starting on Tuesday and decided I would try to stop drinking caffeine for a while as well. The latter lasted about one day.

The brain is a complicated place and I dove in over my head. When you drink a lot of coffee, then stop, it’s the equivalent of some mean-ass-man stopping by your house and telling you, “The fun is over punk, no more being happy.”

Man, the feeling you get when you stop drinking coffee is f-ng ridiculous. You can’t have a clean thought if your life depended on it . . . and oddly you feel like your life DOES depend on it because you are genuinely concerned you may die.

Well, maybe it’s not that bad, but it is certainly not a the plan to follow if you enjoy being in a good mood.

So, after about 30 hours of that nonsense, I caved and had a coffee. Today I’ve had a couple and feel like I’m ready to conquer the world again. But don’t think I don’t understand how jacked up that is.

I do not want my happiness tied to any chemical, period. I don’t take prescription drugs and pretty much refuse to go to the doctor. But, like most things in life, you need to be reminded about fifty times before something like this sinks into your thick skull.

So, here’s what I’m committed to from this point forward: moderation.

My natural tendency is to chase the highest of highs. 5k, sure. Half marathon, I’m in. Ironman? F-yeah!

My dietary change is hard enough, and even with that I have to be careful. Going from eating crap half the time to an overload of green vegetables has caused a few problems in its own right. I ate a full Pizza on Sunday, then decided to be gluten free on Tuesday. That shit doesn’t happen without pain. So, from here on, I’m easing into everything I do, including Ironman.

I haven’t yet signed up for Louisville and really don’t know if I will. It’s about 50/50 right now because there are a lot of things going on that feel out of my control. With all this broccoli falling from my steamer, I can’t justify putting another burden like 140.6 on my plate.

But, if you’re a betting person, you might be wise to put your money on my masochistic tendencies.

February 12, 2014

Caffeine and Ironman Training #IMLOU

Well, now that Jodie Swallow has retweeted and responded to this post, don’t be surprised if I get a bit cocky for a while. Then again, I’m having a dietary meltdown and still can’t swim for ass, so you’re probably safe.

Speaking of, I had an interesting pool session last night, replete with a light head and dizzy spells. It didn’t take me long to realize these aren’t the most enjoyable states to be juggling in water.

But, before you get alarmed, I’m pretty sure I know the source . . . caffeine. Or more accurately, too much.

I used to drink pop (soda for you weirdos) as a kid in Wisconsin. I would run around the Boy’s Club for hours, then eventually hydrate with a Mountain Dew. It was heaven on my lips and the ultimate endurance drink for a 12-year-old playing air hockey and building ridiculous coat racks in the creepy basement work shop.

But somewhere along the line I decided not to drink pop, or coffee, or caffeine at all and this lasted throughout my college years — with the exception of all-night studying for finals, but even then I didn’t enjoy it and was mainly because I liked hanging in the union acting like a serious student.

And that non-caffeine lifestyle lasted, oh, um, well, until I started working for a living and looking for ways to lift me out of the unconscionable emptiness that comes from many jobs. I was more of a Coke guy at this time, and was for many years to come.

I’ve had streaks where I’ve dumped caffeine for a few weeks and it’s always damn good stuff, but eventually work and lack of sleep or late night parties suck you back to the world of liquid crack. And when I do something, I tend to go balls out.

Fast forward to yesterday and this bizarre, over-stimulated feeling I had after trying to fill a void by pounding coffee for four days. I knew it was catching up and altering my moods, but it’s a drug man, and if you’re gonna be an addict, take the high higher!

It may sound glamorous, but it’s actually kinda jacked up.

My caffeine of choice has been coffee for about a year and I always drink too much. That’s just what I do. And I’ve always known that habit is making me weaker. I can feel it in my bones and mind. It’s a wispy and fragile feeling . . . definitely not how an Ironman-in-the-making wants to feel.

So, after last night’s the swim, I went home, made a healthy meal, and relaxed. I woke up today with remnants of that haziness, but by mid-morning and a few peppermint teas, it had subsided. The rest of my day has felt pretty solid and I think I may try another round in the pool in hopes I don’t feel like a blindfolded pinata player.

More than anything I feel too much caffeine reeks havoc on my muscles, veins, and brain. I don’t feel alive or lucid.

I’m not saying I’m giving up caffeine, but I definitely need to take a step back and moderate my intake. It’s a crazy stupid cycle of keeping you up at night, wrecking your sleep, then jolting your tired bones. It’s one thing to give yourself a little caffeine boost, but quite another to shoot it intravenously into your tongue.

It’s not you, it’s me.

February 10, 2014

How Elton John's Lyrics Impacted My Training

*Note: I wrote this sometime last Summer and have no idea why I didn’t post it. Probably over- thinking as usual. Which is ironic considering the message here.

I moved to Nashville in 2003 and have (by accident) met a lot of people in the music business. I’ve run into Keith Urban and Nicole Kidman at breakfast, met Marty Stuart in a dark alley, and even got to hang out with Lou Reed in his dressing room. Everywhere you turn in this town you’re liable to run into someone, but I kept waiting for a chance meeting with the one person that genuinely impacted my passions in life.

Bernie Taupin is Elton John’s lyricist, and legitimately one of the few people (living or dead) I would want to join for dinner. His words have moved me since I was 10 years old. Back in college, my good friend Tim and I would would listen to Elton John until 5 in the morning while exchanging off-balanced high fives and screaming, “Taupin!” after a great lyric.

I’ve never technically pursued writing as a career, but it’s deep in my bones. I’m quite sure lyrics like these have a lot to do with that:

He was born a pauper to a pawn on a Christmas day
When the New York Times said God is dead
And the wars begun
Alvin Tostig has a son today
(from Levon)

and from Don’t Let the Sun Go Down On Me . . .

I can’t light no more of your darkness
All my pictures seem to fade to black and white
I’m growing tired and time stands still before me
Frozen here on the ladder of my life

Taupin paints a picture. He creates a feeling. And somehow his words are universal. He is a brilliant example of someone who understands the human condition and I think there is a lesson there for athletes.

Connect with your mind and body, then let it flow.

So many athletes I know, including me, get trapped in the past, or the potential pain of the future instead of embracing the energy in the moment. It’s one thing to have a target, quite another to be consumed with the end and forget what it takes to get there.

Yesterday, I finally met Bernie Taupin and I was a bumbling idiot. He was in town in support of his painting exhibit and I had a zillion questions, but couldn’t come up with one. He was thinking about today and I was consumed with the past. It made for a rather awkward exchange and I feel like my confusion was symbolic of what often happens during training . . . or life for that matter.

I’m sure Bernie’s best lyrics (and paintings) come when he is in a zone. Writing without letting his mind get in the way of progress. He was probably the guy scribbling in his notepad while the teacher rambled on about stuff that didn’t matter. To Taupin, what mattered was writing, so he wrote.

The best artists don’t get caught in premature optimization, they get to work. They spend countless hours on their craft and trust that preparation will pay off when it matters. Athletes should look at training the same way. You can only do so much “planning” for the actual race. What happens on race day, is a direct result of what you do today.

———————

Here I am on the right with our reporter Stephanie Langston in the middle and the legendary Bernie Taupin with his art.

February 10, 2014

Running with Music

A lot of people I know can’t run without listening to music and I feel lucky to have started without it. Most running races will let you get away with it, but Ironman will chop off your dick if you try to sneak in ear buds or even have your phone on the bike. So . . . I normally don’t run with music, but lately it has really helped get me motivated for New Orleans, and maybe even . . . Louisville.

And now to the answer you’ve all been waiting for . . . what does Mike listen to while he’s running?

In the past it has been a mixed playlist, but the last few times I have gone specific to the best band most of you have never heard of, The Pimps. Occasionally also known as “The Goodyear Pimps,” they are guys I sort of knew when I lived back in Rockford, Illinois and they have a really interesting story (which I don’t totally know but will paraphrase).They started playing music together as kids, a true childhood rock n roll dream, and have more or less been a band ever since. They had marginal success stories until they “hit is big” when Hollywood records signed them to a two record deal and bought the rights to an album the band had already recorded in Rockford. Some dollars exchanged hands and the next thing they knew, they were on the road opening for Insane Clown Posse.

Evidently those early shows were lathered with hatred, slurs, and flying objects, but eventually the Pimps figured out the audience and “won over” some very loyal ICP fans. This tour gave them a lot of exposure, which the band promptly parlayed into a string of medium-sized shows in a continuous loop around Illinois, Minnesota, Iowa and Wisconsin.

Our favorite rockers were flying high and did what most bands do when they get a big chunk of money . . . bought a brick fourplex in one of Rockford’s worst neighborhoods. They had a little practice space in the basement and habitually rolled out of bed in the afternoon to work on their chops.

My introduction to their music was by, Jimmy “The Johnson” Johnson who owned Rockford’s only recording studio at the time. The “Noise Chamber” was a jewel and often used by “Cheap Trick” as a pre-production house before they went off to LA or NY to record the final product.

I had just moved back to Rockford and stopped to say “Hi” to Jimmy. When I was leaving he casually handed me a record he’d just produced. I started unwrapping as I walked and put it into my CD player for the ride home. To say I was blown away is an understatement. I listened to the whole record, then sat in front of my house and listened again before I went inside. To a Cool Person, Stay That Way was the album Hollywood Records eventually bought and it made a big mark on my musical tastes that day.

Shortly after signing the deal, the Pimps recorded “Rocket Science” which landed as the 5th track on the Mission Impossible 2 soundtrack that included cuts from Metallica, Limp Bizkit, Chris Cornell, Rob Zombie, Tori Amos, and the Butthole Surfers. Hollywood Records was anxious to get the Pimps to LA and record the second of the two-record deal, but the Pimps were never about the glam of Los Angeles.

“Just Give Us the Grammy Now,” the second Pimps recording for Hollywood Records, was tracked, mixed, and mastered in Rockford. Evidently the executives weren’t too pleased with this move and it was the beginning of the end of the relationship between the the Pimps and the LA suits, but the band has never looked back.

I now live in Nashville, so I don’t use these words lightly, but I can honestly say The Pimps are one of the best live bands I have ever witnessed. They were a single conscience and audiences were either sent to hysteric places or captivated by the seductive dynamics.

I try to keep up, but the Pimps are true rock-n-roll rebels and masters of what I like to call “the takeaway” which means they do what they want when they want; including making their music or merchandise un-available through traditional sources. I think is one of the main reasons I like running with the Pimps in my ear. Their music is raw, energized, catchy, rebellious, hilarious, and super tight. Perfect for losing yourself on a long run.

The Pimps are the band you will never hear of, unless you check them out on your own.

February 10, 2014

Country Music Marathon – New Course

The organizers of Country Music Marathon in Nashville have changed their course for this year’s race. It used to start at Centennial Park and avalanche its way toward the Honky Tonks on Lower Broadway, but now it will start downtown. There will no longer be that wonderful downhill that inspires and captivates runners as they spill into Music City and not everyone is happy about it, but I think it’s a good move.

Thousands come from out of town for this race and it will make logistics way easier for those staying downtown. It will also make it easier for me, and that’s kinda the real point.

BUT, I think they can still make this race a lot better.

I’ve done the half marathon twice but really have no interest in the full, mainly because of the course. It’s almost like they locked themselves in a room until they created the perfect first half, then, a few days later said, “Oh shit, we need 13 more miles!”

The first half (the half) is great, but after that, the luster quickly fades. I know there are a million road complications, but I feel like this marathon could spend way more time in downtown, giving better exposure to the awesomeness that is Music City AND spectators could see their favorite runners more often.

For example, instead of torturing runners with that Metro Center stretch, the course could utilize more of Germantown which is loaded with cool homes, shops and soon, a sweet new baseball stadium. Just wind the route in and out of the neighborhood known for crepes, hotdogs, and beer, then sit back watch the festivities unfold.

That would be around mile 15 or so and I’d imagine it would thin out enough to roll it back into town on the bike path along the river into downtown. Then bring the runners back up 1st avenue and over Shelby into East Nashville.

And there is certainly more they could do with East Nashville, other than make you run out and back on Davidson Street, which is arguably the ugliest section of town. Take them out Woodland and cut down Eastland toward Family Wash, then back down Riverside into Shelby. Way more awesome than an out and back into the park.

Then circle around in the park a bit and come back down Davidson… better yet, screw Davidson and figure out how to come back through East Nashville. Maybe even Shelby Avenue. So many awesome little neighborhoods and hills. Ohhh… not hills. Yes, hills. Do it . . . make the CMM legit.

The more I run these kinds of races the more I wish they were laid out better for scenery and spectators. I just think the whole Davidson/Metro Center thing is a cop out. I run these streets all the time and nobody wants to run in those places.

Obviously participants don’t care that much because 30,000 people pay a lot of money to run — but in a world where everyone is trying to squeeze out more profit, it would be nice if Competitor went above and beyond to deliver something truly memorable. And while they’re at it, maybe talk with someone at LP field this year so you can let runners into the concourse if it rains.

February 9, 2014

Running With Momentum

A friend of mine called the other day and relayed some bad news.

He’s a triathlete and was looking forward to this season, but the pain wasn’t going away. Finally he went for an MRI and they said his knee is shot. No more running.

No more running? Two years ago I may have welcomed that news, but now that I have realized its joys, that sounded like a crushing blow.

He was fairly upbeat and said he could probably do one triathlon this year, but he shouldn’t train by running. Just let it all hang out and deal with the pain later.

Then, of course, he said he could get a new knee.

A new knee?

I always hold out hope that the body can repair itself when treated right, but he didn’t seem so sure. He’ll get some “silicone like” injections that will help his joints move better, but in the end he doesn’t think he’ll be able to rebuild the cartilage he’s lost.

But we did talk about running style and how it can lessen the impact on your joints. Mainly by changing your gate.

It’s not easy, but it’s pretty simple.

Pounding your joints and bones for a long time will cause more damage and I have really thought about this hard since I’ve started running. I have focused on a soft stride on the ball of my foot and a quick lift. The weight of your body will destroy itself over time and the best way to combat that is to reduce impact.

How?

Shorter and more frequent strides. Pick em up and put them down. It just makes sense. The less time your ankle is on the ground the less impact it will absorb.

I remember when I started running as a kid. I had these long ass strides and taxed the crap out of my muscles to run. It was hard to run like that because you’re not using momentum. Now, I think about momentum all the time. Swim, bike, run. What’s harder to stop than momentum?

So much of being able to use momentum is trusting it. In running it is that feeling of “falling forward” that seems intimidating. It’s more about “catching yourself” than pushing off.

Sure, that’s pretty simplistic, but the reality is using momentum makes any sport 50% easier. Momentum is an unspoken force of physics that’s undeniable but runners rarely use it. They tend to land on their heels instead of hinting themselves forward. I’ve heard a 200 lb man landing on his heels actually is like catching 800 lbs. Over time, you can see how this would do damage.

Last summer we were doing one mile intervals around a track. We started slow, then picked up to our half marathon pace. For the last mile I kept pace but decided to run the last two laps as fast as I could. I was hot, spent, and ready to be done. But as hard as those last two laps were on my breathing, I really noticed how much easier it was on my legs. I was picking them up and putting them down. I was trusting the momentum of the run. It was almost literally like I was flying. I didn’t feel the pain of the steps like I had for the previous 10 miles. I was floating on air.

I was also in pretty good shape, but it makes you wonder. The less you pound, the less it will hurt. Are you trusting the momentum?

February 9, 2014

Snow and Running with the Kenyans

I live in Nashville and my morning run plan was canceled by snow. It wasn’t so much the running as it was the driving to the other side of town.

I’ve actually never run with “K” (no relation to Racer K) and this time we were going to make it happen. We actually made PLANS to meet at Percy Warner park at 9am and run the 5.8 mile loop.

I was really looking forward to it because K has been a runner for years and I’ve always loved his story about running the first Country Music Marathon in Nashville. He was a pretty good runner, so his projected time landed him in the first corral.

Back then, the race welcomed and paid elite runners, so K found himself loosening up with the Kenyans. It’s so funny to hear him tell the story because he is really humble, observant, and a tad bit paranoid.

“So, I’m this tall lanky white guy with a shaved head standing there in New Balance shoes and all these Kenyans are looking at me like, “who the fuck is this guy?” They are whispering to each other and giving me the stink eye as I do my stretches and run in place and I’m really thinking they are out to get me, but I have no idea why I’m in the first corral and certainly no challenge to the Kenyans. So I get nervous because I think these guys are gonna take me out on the run. But seriously, I am just gonna run this race and have no intention on trying to stay with the Kenyans. So, dude, I’m standing on the starting line with these guys and looking over at them and they’re looking at me and I think, man, what am I doing here, I just like to run. My TOE is ON the starting line in the first corral and there are TV news cameras on us and I know people at home are saying the same thing, “Who the fuck is THAT guy?” I was really thinking about going back to the second corral, but I couldn’t move. I was pushed to the front and then I was afraid I’d get a false start and get disqualified or hold up the race. I was just trying to keep my balance and getting a little dizzy just standing there. Then they counted down to the gun and when it shot, the Kenyans left me in the dust and everything was cool then, you know? I just ran.”

Damn, I love hearing that story and was looking forward to it again today, but we’re gonna try again tomorrow.

February 7, 2014

A Swimming Breakthrough and Jodie Swallow #IMLOU

Yeah, so I was looking around at some YouTube videos on how to get faster and stumbled onto this one featuring the badassness of pro triathlete Jodie Swallow. Now, my disclaimer here is that Jodie could probably talk me into swimming with sponges on my feet, but this video was pretty simple and made perfect sense. Just move your arms faster.

I went to the pool, armed with my Swallow security blanket and took off like a bat out of hell for the promise land. And it worked . . . for about two laps.

I was totally gassed.

I realize you actually have to be in shape to swim like this, but is three laps asking too much? Apparently.

Five minutes into my session I was swallowing pride at the end of my lane and halfheartedly listening to the same damn stories from the same damn guy who keeps forgetting who I am.

“I shouldn’t say this,” he says, “But I’m secretly racing you in the next lane.”

“How’s that goin’ for ya?,” I say again.

“Well, I’m coming off surgery, so I need motivation.”

“I hear that, bro.”

Then, as the conversation hits that awkward lull and there’s nothing left, he always, every time, looks at me like a little kid and says, “Wanna race?”

And always, every time, I say, “Yes.”

I exploded from the wall in Jodie Swallow mode and promptly roasted my soar-shouldered-friend for 50 meters before collapsing onto the ledge. I’m simply out of shape.

But, the more I swam fast, the more I started to notice I was getting a nice extension and roll without hesitating in front. A fluid churn with a solid cadence. Much like you want from your bike and run.

I wasn’t thinking “fast” as much as I was thinking consistent. Trust the roll and don’t pause or extend your glide. Just circle the arms and keep your body from turning over too far. It was one of those moments when something clicked.

It felt much more like I was swimming instead of trying to stay afloat. A consistent, powerful, and controlled rotation that didn’t wear me out. Of course I was pretty beat up when I discovered this, so I’m not sure it’s really true. We’ll find out tomorrow.

Until then, if you’re reading, Jodie, feel free to tell me I’m wrong before I do something stupid in Louisville.