Swim, Bike, Run . . . What's Most Important?

I started Monday morning with a 2,500 meter pool swim because I overslept my 6 am Open Water Clinic.  2,500 meters.  To think that was just over half of the Ironman distance can be a bitter pill to swallow.

I felt pretty good about my effort, but during the day I had a craving for insider information on Ironman Wisconsin.   What are the secrets for making your day great?  Almost everything I read said the same thing, “Don’t burn yourself on the bike.”

So, after work on Monday night, I took that “don’t burn out” information on my ride with specific concentration on gearing down early going into the hills.  It was a “just ride” after all and after numerous bad efforts, I was looking for a reason to not throw my bike off the Shelby Bottoms pedestrian bridge.

The outlandish amounts of baby strollers kept my crushing urges in check.  It was a loveable, fresh, clean, and no burnout approach . . . that worked like a charm.

I paid close attention to my speed on the climbs and it was typically only a mile or two per hour slower than aggressive climbing.  The difference was, I rarely, if ever felt like I was breathing hard and crested every hill with energy to gear up and go after the downhill if I chose.

Most every expert points to the run as the key in Ironman.

If, for example, you think you have the capability of averaging 20.4 mph on the bike at Wisconsin, you’ll come in around 5 hours and 30 minutes.  But, if that takes all you’ve got, a 4-hour marathon goal could easily end up 5:30.  On the other hand, if you hold back a bit and shoot for 18.7 mph on the bike (a 6 hour ride) that may be enough to save your legs for that 4 hour marathon.  The 30 minutes you gain by hammering the bike nets you an hour loss in the race.

It’s taken me several long rides to realize racing a bike for 112 miles is no picnic.  I saw so many people walking the marathon at Louisville and, while I completely understand it, I don’t want that to be my fate.  Time is one thing, but running the entire course is one of those things I would just like to do.  I’m hoping I can pace myself well enough complete the run, and . . . make it solid.

So, swim, bike, run.  The masterpiece puzzle that wrenches the core of every triathlete.  Each event toying at your brain like a needy child.  They all want more of your time and the balancing act becomes maddening.  Swim wants to chill and hang out with dad and splash around in the water.  Bike wants to go on a long vacation.  Run wants to stay at home and work on the playground in the backyard.

All of your kids and their needs are important, but it’s looking like I’ll get the most long-term benefit from building that playground with Run.

Ironman Wisconsin Race Report – Guest Blog

One of the coolest byproducts of being in triathlon is the people you meet.  While I was over in Knoxville for Rev3, I had a chance hotel-gift-shop meeting the night before with a guy from Wisconsin . . . which automatically gave him a high score.  He was down to earth, genuine, and passionate about racing.  We had a nice, yet brief discussion and I told him about the blog, which he said he’d check out.  Later that week I got an email from him that professed high praise on Crushing Iron and the journey of the Fab 5.

We’ve since exchanged several emails and he’s been helpful answering questions I’ve had about IMWI.  A couple days ago he wrote and said, “Alright.  You stoked the fire.  Reading your blog and the race reports from the others you posted got me to break mine out from 2010.”

He warned it was long, but it was so engaging, I didn’t even notice.  I felt like the guys I’m training with, IMWI aspirants/finishers, and triathletes in general would love the read, so I asked if I could post it on our blog.  He said, “It would be an honor.”

IRONMAN WISCONSIN 2010 Race Report – Timothy Wacker 

First and foremost I want to thank Ellen and my boys for their support throughout this whole process.   Because of already full and conflicting schedules, Ellen and I don’t get to see each other much and Ellen was amazing during the sometimes seven hour training sessions.  She hardly ever complained about the time away from the family, and she seemed to know when I was feeling guilty about being away from the family, she knew exactly what to say to prop me up.  I will be forever grateful to them for allowing me to take on such an extremely selfish venture, and I share my accomplishment with them.  I would also like to thank all of my family and friends for their help in watching the kids, their support at races, their pretend (just kidding) in how my other races went, and their well wishes.  Without an unbelievable support system none of this would have been possible.  I also want to apologize for how long this is; I realized after starting it that I am writing it as much for my own future memories as I am for anyone else.daddf5fc-4133-41e3-95c2-0d78ab1216c2

This journey started officially one year ago when I volunteered at the Ironman Wisconsin Race in Madison in 2009.  I volunteered with the intention of signing up for the race the following year (2010).  Actually the journey started a couple of years before that after my first son Tyler was born and I was stuck in the house with an immobile little one and bored out of my mind.  Tyler was too little to put in the bike trailer so I convinced Ellen to let us buy a jogging stroller.  I had run in the past, but never more than a mile or so and never regularly.  Tyler loved the stroller and soon enough I was able to run more than a couple of miles at a decent clip and began to like it.  My cousin-in-law/friend Dan heard that I was now running and had a road bike (the skinny tire kind) and started pushing me to do a triathlon.  He had been doing them for a couple of years and signed up for his first Ironman that year.  He knew I had swum in high school and now with the other two legs in place he figured triathlons were the next logical step.  So I entered a sprint distance race (500 yard swim (in a pool), 14 mile bike, and 5k (3.1 mile) run).  I did it in September of 2007 and had a blast.  From then on I was hooked, I read as much about triathlons as I could, and still do.

My triathlon “career” progressed steadily from there, doing several races in 2008.  At that point Dan would tell me about a half Iron distance race he was doing and tried to convince me of that endeavor.   I still thought the distances were unreachable and couldn’t fathom swimming over a mile, biking 56 miles, and then running a half marathon (13.1 miles).  In 2008 I started improving enough that I thought a ½ Ironman, with good training, was doable in 2009.  The winter of 2009 brought an unbelievable presents in the form of beautiful second baby boy (Jacob) and a triathlon specific bike and race wheels (deep front wheel and a disc wheel in the back).  Not only did they make me faster, but the cool factor of these toys had to make me at least 1mph faster on the bike.  The other cool thing was after Jacob was a few months old Ellen started running competitively.

I completed my first ½ iron in Door County in 2009.  I still thought a full Ironman was ridiculous (and especially thought so after the race).  Before September of 2009 Ellen and I talked and she had way more confidence in me than I had in myself and she thought I could do a full iron distance race.  We discussed me signing up for 2010 and thought that the timing was right with the age of the boys and we both knew that another opportunity might not come along for a few years so I should take advantage of it.

I volunteered at Ironman Wisconsin in the 1st transition tent (where people switch from swimming to biking) and even with all that adrenaline and the entire atmosphere I still almost chickened out when September 14, 2009 rolled around and it was time for me to sign up.  Thankfully I called Ellen that morning and she told me how much she believed in me and that got me through the registration line.  So did her money, which she donated to the registration as my birthday present.  She thinks I am not serious when I say that I probably would have bowed out of line if I hadn’t talked to her; but it is so true.

So the 2010 season approached quickly and I wanted to make sure that I had a cohesive plan to get to Ironman Wisconsin 2010 in appropriate condition.  A friend from Watertown (and amazing multisport athlete) had a coach that he had relied on for several years.  I really listen to Carl’s advice, not only because he is crazy fast, but because he seems to approach all different aspects of racing with an objective, analytical methodology.  I knew I couldn’t afford the coach’s monthly fee (which is actually pretty modest considering what others ask) but I contacted Coach Mike Plumb with a request to formulate a plan based on my past performances, my abilities, limiters, time constraints, etc.  Coach Mike came through in amazing fashion and formulated a comprehensive 36 week plan to get me to Ironman.  I started in January with the plan.  There were a couple of setbacks (a horribly strained pectoral muscle, knee pain) but I was really happy with the way I had stuck to the plan and all of the gains I was seeing throughout the training cycle.  I PR’ed (personal record) a 5k and finished 3rd overall in a sprint distance race, all while training right through those races.  I did have two major confidence hits in the form of two ½ ironman races.  Both races had great swims and bikes but the runs were dismal.  Dismal in terms of time, and dismal in terms of how I felt at the finish.  Both of these runs were due to nutrition and hydration issues (which is often referred to as the 4th discipline of triathlon after the swim, bike, and run).  The first race I woefully under hydrated on the bike and had a death march on the “run”.  The second race I probably pushed a wee bit too hard and combined with record temperatures and humidity, the run didn’t hold together like I had hoped.  These were major confidence hits, but they were positives in that it helped me realize a major limiter in MY long distance racing and I knew I would really need to concentrate on these things in training if I wanted a successful ironman race.  So concentrate I did.  When September rolled around I had a good (I thought) hydration and nutrition plan that I had trained with and worked in training.

I had never prepared more for anything in my entire life.  I entered September of 2010 feeling prepared for the race, I had done the work, I had suffered through endless hours in the pool, lots of long bike rides, and felt like I had run trenches into the roads around my house.  I still had worries like “what if the weather is terrible, what if I get punched in the swim and can’t continue; what if my bike breaks; what if I roll my ankle or something silly on the run”?  I tried to tell myself that these were things that worrying about would not change, so I tried to minimize my worry because I knew I wasn’t going to be able to rid myself of all the worry.

Throughout the training season I had been doing all my swims, rides, and runs with IMWI in mind.  As my training progressed my hopeful goals of finishing times and splits got faster and faster.  I told almost no one of my inner desires and goals because I felt that if I talked about them, I would jinx them.  I was cautiously optimistic.  I thought that I needed confidence, but I was worried about the distance and being overconfident.  I had come up with several overall goals depending on a lot of things.  The official finish cutoff time for an Ironman is 17 hours.  I tried to convince myself that 16:59:59 was good enough and I would be happy with that.  I knew I would be happy, but I would be disappointed because I knew I had a better race than that in me.  I also had a goal of finishing before dark.  I had known for weeks that sunset on September 12th was 7:13pm.  Dan has been an amazing training partner, mentor, and advice-giver, but I find myself trying to compete with his times in races. Dan had completed the Wisconsin Ironman twice and his first time was 13:38 minutes.  I knew if I had a good race that I could come in under that (and he told me that I would come in WAY under that).  His second race was 12 hours and 6 minutes; a VERY respectable time.  At the start of my training this was unreachable, but as my training progressed, beating that goal became more and more achievable.  I thought that if everything went right, al the stars aligned and the weather was perfect, I raced, hydrated, and ate smart, under 12 hours was within the realm of possibility.  I was afraid to have such lofty goals.  Ironman is a race where it is very important to dole out your energy in smart increments.  An extra .5 mph on the bike could be the difference between a successful run and an absolute sufferfest.  This is why training and practice were so crucial.

Okay, on to race weekend-

Ellen, the boys, and I drove over Friday afternoon to Madison.  You have to register Friday afternoon, check in your bike Saturday, the race is Sunday, and you pick up your remaining belongings on Monday morning.  It is certainly a weekend long event.  Thanks to my dad, we had a hotel for the whole weekend, which was a birthday present from LAST year.  Got checked in on Friday and did a quick swim and run with Bill and Tony; two of the many wonderful people I have had the opportunity to meet during training for this.

Saturday the family and I went to the expo, I checked in my bike, and we walked around and checked out the sites.  I joined a charity triathlon team in honor of a little girl near and dear to me.  I raised some money, and because of this I was given a cool bib number (74) and an awesome spot in transition!  I was really trying to not let the event stress me out, but as Ellen can attest, I was getting crabby and stressed out.  Ellen had planned on driving the boys back home so I could sleep Saturday night and then getting up super early and driving back to Madison to see me start the 140.6 mile insanity.

Saturday evening I got surprisingly relaxed and laid in bed, read a book, and watched college football.  I ate a pretty big meal of rice, vegetables, chicken, and watermelon.  The time crawled along and I was quickly regretting Ellen and the boys driving home.  As much work as the boys can be, I desperately wanted Ellen and the boys there with me.  I went to bed about 9pm and woke up around 2:30 and did the wake up every 30 minutes thing until 4am.

RACE DAY

I ate my breakfast-Honey Stinger bar, banana, and bagel with peanut butter.  Sipped on some sports drink and made my way into Madison.  I wasn’t carrying cash so when I got to the planned parking garage and saw that it was prepay and cash only I got pretty lost in downtown Madison looking for an ATM.  Wasn’t too big of a deal because I was still plenty early.  I got all of my transition bags and bike set up with all of my needed fluids and nutrition for the race and tried to meet up with Dan and Ellen; who had both been up probably as early as I had and were at the race site.

All of the sudden it was 6:10am and I had to make my way to the swim start.  I can’t explain what a calming influence it was to have Ellen there to just hug and kiss me before going to the water.  She just gave me words of encouragement and it calmed me down so much.  I got into the perfectly temp’ed 66 degree water and started to tread water waiting for the cannon to go off.  Except for 50-100 pro triathletes all of the 2500+ athletes go off at the same time and it is known as a washing machine in the beginning.  I went off to the side to hopefully avoid some of the worst of the congestion (a tip given to me by several people).  The national anthem was sung and the cannon went off.  Weird, but I almost got choked up because 9+ months of hard work was about to culminate.

The start wasn’t as bad as I had feared, but it was pretty packed.  The worst of it was at the first turn buoy where everyone seemed to come to a standstill.  It was hard not to get irritated with people who apparently had no idea in which direction to swim.  I started to get upset and then told myself that it would be easy to wreck your whole race with a crappy attitude this early, so just go with it.

The swim is two laps of a sort of rectangle.  I checked my watch after the first loop and saw 33 minutes and change.  I thought I could swim somewhere between 1:05 and 1:10 so I was happy with that first loop.  The second loop was less congested, but on the back half of the swim I actually got bored, wanting to be out of the water, and lost focus.  I realized I had slowed down quite a bit.  I regained my focus and because there was actually clear water ahead, I was able to get into a nice groove and swim strong the last 1/8 of the swim and came into the swim out arch at 1:08:25 on my watch.  Certainly not as fast as I could have swam, but being under 1:10 I was happy.

The first transition starts with a run up the helix, which is a spiral parking ramp up to the Monona Terrace.  The volunteers stripped my wetsuit off in milliseconds and I was jogging up the ramp feeling great.  I heard a “WACKER” really loud and looked over to see a friend from Watertown.  It was the first person I saw that I knew and it was cool to have someone cheering for me.  Then I ran into the convention center; lubed up my race chamois pad, got my nutrition, bike helmet and shoes, and ran to my bike.  I remembered being in the volunteer position last year and I was floored that someone in the middle of this huge endeavor would take even a second to thank me; so I wanted to return that feeling and made a point of thanking every volunteer I could.

I ran to my bike; which was handed to me by two young girls (probably about 12).  I gave them the remaining energy chews I had and thanked them.  They seemed to think it was pretty cool to get those chews and I couldn’t wipe the grin off of my face.  Then I saw a PRO triathlete running to his bike, AFTER ME!  I couldn’t believe that I had beaten a pro in any aspect of the race.  I had planned on spending at least 10 minutes in T1 (1st transition) and when I saw that I had spent about 8 minutes I was ecstatic because I felt like I had taken my time.

The bike is known as a lollipop course, you ride “the stick” out of Madison into Verona, ride two loops (the sucker part of the lollipop), and then ride “the stick” home.  The Madison course is revered as one of the more difficult in the Ironman circuit because of the hills and the technical turns and descents.  There are four “climbs” that are done once each loop and a constant barrage of rolling hills and turns in between.

I started out and almost immediately 20 miles were gone.  I remember thinking “holy cow, 20 miles already?”  The first hill is in Mount Horeb and my plan then whole time was to ride strictly by heart rate and not worry at all about pace, distance, or time.  I wanted to make sure I didn’t try to push myself to reach any sort of milestones and end up pushing too hard.  I sat in my saddle and spun up the hill as easily as I could.  It was nice to watch so many other people try to get out of the saddle and mash up the hills, and while I was just sitting up easy and still passing them.  Thanks to all who have told me to take those hills easy; golden advice!  Next is the rolling hills, and awesome descent section of the course.  It was plain to see the cyclists who had been on the course before because of how fast people were taking the descents.  The second hill is called Old Sauk Pass and is a long and steady climb surrounded by people cheering.  Again I sat up, spun easy up the hill and was amazed at how many people I passed.  I tried to remember to thank everyone volunteering and keep a positive attitude.  The third hill is on Timber Lane and is short and steep.  It also has a mini-Tour de France atmosphere where people are dressed in costume and lining the streets and running up the hill next to you, cheering you on.  Really makes the hill feel a lot smaller.  I was high fiving the more enthusiastic people and one guy sort of grabbed my hand and it yanked my bike to the left.  “Okay, not more high fiving while on the bike” I thought, almost caused a crash.  The course is incredibly scenic and the short sections where there aren’t many volunteers or spectators are scenic.  The fourth and final hill of the loop is known as the mid-town hill.  Towards the top of this hill is where I saw Ellen and my cousin-in-law Dan for the first time.  While I was taking the hill easy and feeling good, when I saw Ellen, who is normally not super loud or outspoken, cheering her head off for me, I could have out climbed Lance Armstrong (or Alberto Contador for the cycle-minded).  In fact, it was so elating that I had to consciously dial myself back because I had started working harder without noticing it.  Then into the opposite side of Verona, which was an unbelievable madhouse.  They shut the whole center of the city down and it is an absolute party!  The main road is closed to all by athletes and spectators line the whole road.  After leaving Verona there is a short section on highway that gets you to the start of the loop again.  I lost focus on one of the short rolling hills and wasn’t paying attention to good shifting and I dropped my chain off the front chainring.  It was stuck in such a way that I couldn’t just pull it back on, so I had to stop and get off and put it back on.  No biggie, just a few second delay.

At the start of the second loop is where they keep the special needs bags.  The bags are there for extra nutrition, spare tubes and tires and anything else an athlete may need or want half way through the bike (and run) course.  I grabbed my gel flask and because of the awesome bib number I had, I barely had to stop because everyone else was near the opposite end of the special needs bag stop.  I was on my way within a matter of seconds.  I started through the rollers and started to feel pretty confident on how I was feeling.  This confidence worried me because there was a lot of race to go and I was nervous that this great feeling was a smoke screen to awful feelings later.  There is a section that is fairly desolate and it happened to be in to what little wind we had.  I started to have one of the down feelings I had heard about.  There was still a long way to go and the solitude made me want to be done with the bike.  I told myself that I knew these down periods would come and that once I got back into Mount Horeb the crowds would lift my spirits.  Sure enough, the hill and the crowds got me back again and from then on I vowed to not let negative feelings hurt my race.  I started cheering and thanking the volunteers with even more vigor.  This taught me that the louder I cheered for them, the crazier they went for me and the better it made me feel.  I don’t think I am exaggerating when I say that I raced the last 50 miles of the race with a smile on my face the entire time.  A couple of times on the more difficult rolling hills volunteers had a tone of surprise in their voices when they said things like “you look really relaxed” and “looking comfortable, keep it up”.  It did wonders for my confidence. A funny aside on how the brain doesn’t run at peak efficiency:  I saw a bike I recognized from previous races as being owned by a coworker of a friend of mine.  He caught up to me and I asked him if he worked at Trek.  He said he did and I explained how I knew.  I asked him if he was on his second loop and he told me that he was.  I told him he was lucky he was so fast and so close to being done.  It took me most of ten miles to realize that I too was ON MY SECOND LAP and that I had actually left him behind shortly after that conversation.

I got into the Garfoot Road section of the course which has an awesome descent.  You start down a big hill with a hard right turn, down into a really pretty shaded valley, and then climb up another short hill that has a sharp right turn at the top of the hill.  If you do it right, you can use your speed and momentum to carry you right to the top of the backside of the valley without having to touch your pedals.  I started the descent and took a line much better and faster than I ever had before.  I was flying through the bottom of the valley and I knew I wouldn’t have to climb the hill at all.  There was a cyclist next to me going just a bit slower.  I was further to the left in the road than I ever had been and I didn’t know that there were fairly large bumps, like exaggerated ribbit-strips, toward the center of the road.  The bumps dislodged my hands from my brakes and it became painfully obvious as I reached to top of the backside hill that I was going too fast to make the right turn.  I couldn’t turn hard into the turn and try to ride the speed out because of the cyclist to my right.  I started braking as hard as I could to try and minimize the damage as the ditch and berm came closer and closer.  As the road turned right, I did not, and slammed HARD into the ditch.  I had turned sideways and my shoulder and side took the brunt of the impact.  For an instant my only thought was “oh no, my race is over”.  I had been going even faster than I realized and hit a lot harder than expected.  That lasted only a second as I realized that I was unharmed.  I checked my bike next and almost couldn’t believe that the bike wasn’t in pieces.  I noticed that the air from my front tire was leaking slowly out but nothing else appeared to be wrong.  When I realized that I had dodged an enormous bullet, I started changing my flat tire and shaking my head and laughing at myself.  I took my time changing the tube, making sure there was no obstruction in the tire, and that the tire was properly seated on the rim so I didn’t have another flat a few miles down the road.  I noticed another tube right next to where I was so I wondered if someone else had been as dumb, and then lucky, as I was.  Seven minute delay was all it cost me.  I wish I could blame the other cyclist who was blocking by riding in the middle of the road, but it was my fault by not being more cautious of the road and turn and trying to be like a pro going through the turns.  Lesson learned.  No more daredevil tactics and stay aware!  I was actually really happy with myself that I didn’t let even a bike crash and flat ruin my attitude.  I felt extra lucky about ½ mile later because volunteers were waving everyone to slow down because an ambulance was working on a “rider down”.  I didn’t look at my heart rate for awhile after the crash, but I knew it must have been elevated as I rode the last of the adrenaline from the crash.

The next two hills and in between sections went by without anything of real note.  I got to the midtown hill and saw Dan again.  I told him of my bike crash and he shook his head, laughed, and called me an idiot.  It was exactly what I needed.  I had been slightly worried that I wasn’t feeling some horrible road rash or something that I couldn’t easily see.  But when he looked at me and laughed, I was then sure I had really dodged that bullet completely.  Dan also told me that Ellen had driven back into Madison to the hotel to get the boys a much needed nap.  While I was obviously disappointed not to see Ellen and the boys, I was glad that she wasn’t torturing herself or the boys by staying on the course just to see me.  With about 30 miles left I was feeling good enough that I decided to try out my coach’s advice and push the pace and see if I could raise my average speed some.  I was able to up my average 1/2mph in those last 30 miles.  It doesn’t sound like a lot, but in that short of time with only a slight increase in effort I was really happy.  Through the craziness of Verona again and then onto the stick back into Madison.

I was feeling great, I had stuck to my nutrition plan better than I had even hoped, taken in enough fluids to have to use the bathroom three times while on the bike, and taken in plenty of calories.  I was feeling surprisingly strong.  I rode up the bike path and then onto the helix, which felt like a driveway instead of the three story climb.

The bike “catchers” caught me as I came to the dismount line.  I left my shoes on the bike and ran into the transition room.  I got my bag, sat down in a chair and yet another awesome volunteer dumped my belongings out while I put my shoes and socks on.  He seemed surprised at how relaxed and calm I looked (at least that is what he told me) and I told him that I felt surprisingly good.  I grabbed another gel flask and stopped at the sunscreen volunteers (yup, they actually have people who rub sunscreen on for you; I told you the volunteers were amazing).  I ran out from the terrace onto the square that was lined with literally thousands of people yelling and screaming.  The first mile was a concern of mine because I have a tendency to start out hard from the bike and the 90 seconds or so I gain can cost me A LOT more later on.  It was hard to not run like Carl Lewis (or Ryan Hall for the running minded) through the terrace and square.  I consciously slowed myself down.  Another brain strained moment- a lot of people were cheering for me by name.  I kept looking to see if I recognized these people and it took me most of a ½ mile to realize that my first name was printed really big on my bib number and that was how people knew my name.  Again, I shook my head at myself and laughed.  The run is an out and back two loop affair.  We get to run into Camp Randall Stadium and circle the field.  It was really cool to be able to do that.  The Camp Randall section of the run was THE ONLY section of the run course that was not lined with either spectators or volunteers, or both.  The support was absolutely amazing and it made the run go so fast.  I got to about the five mile mark and saw Dan again.  He ran next to me for a short time and told me how relaxed I looked.  Truthfully I was still feeling really good and still surprised at myself.  Dan told me that Ellen had gotten lost and was wandering downtown Madison.  I felt bad for her that an already insanely long day was probably feeling even longer for her.  It was a welcome distraction to worry about her instead of me for a time.  I hit the turn around and started back toward the square.  I saw Dan again and just as I was telling him to call Ellen and tell her not to worry about making it out; he told me that she was now getting set up near the finish line to see me.  This was just before a section where they had a huge screen.  On Friday Ellen was able to type a motivational message that I would get to see during the race.  I passed over a mat which read my chip and a short time later as I was passing the big screen I saw “WE HEART YOU” next to my number.  Again, Usain Bolt (fastest runner in the world) couldn’t have outsprinted me at that moment.  I was taking regular “pulls” from my gel flask and taking water and sports drink from the aid stations.  I had also been using the cold sponges in my top to keep me cool; even though it wasn’t really hot outside, the sponges helped a lot.  When I would pass an aid station with all the volunteers lined to help, I would just scream “thank you all so much for being here”.  At one point a girl responded “thanks for being awesome”.  She said it in such a way that I think she actually meant it; another boost.  I got into the square again and to this point hadn’t walked at all yet, which I was really happy with.  I started getting bouts of nausea which worried me, but hadn’t slowed me down as of yet.  I got toward the turn around and saw Ellen cheering like mad.  I stopped, gave her a big smooch, and hit the timing mat.  I wish I could explain the boost I got from seeing Ellen and the boys; it truly was instant energy.  I stopped at the run special needs area and put new (dry) socks and shoes on for the second half of the run.  My hamstrings were starting to get tight, but I was still surprising myself with how good I felt.  I took a walk break (which I thought was deserved) and started running again as I left the square.  Shortly thereafter the bouts of nausea started to get more frequent and last longer.  It wasn’t gut rot, it wasn’t muscular, but it felt like stomach flu symptoms.  I started walking the aid stations and by now I was so sick of gels that I stopped taking those at about 10 miles.  I saw Dan again at about 17 miles and I told him that the day was starting to catch up to me.  He told me of a friend who had just left in an ambulance so I felt lucky to be only dealing with some stomach issues.  Later I saw my friend Chris who asked me how I was doing.  When I told him of the nausea, he reminded me to try chicken broth, which I had heard volunteers yelling that they had at the last aid station.  I started taking in some chicken broth in addition to the water and sports drink at the aid stations.  My nausea was almost constant by about mile 20.  There were only two times that it went away in the last 6.2 miles.  Once when I saw the “WE HEART YOU” message and then at the finish.  At one aid station I grabbed some chicken broth and the volunteer warned “careful, it’s kinda warm”.  I thought, no big deal, the last couple of cups I had taken had been KINDA WARM”.  Apparently that volunteer lives on the sun because his ideas of kinda warm scalded my mouth!  I grabbed some water and cooled it down to drinkable temperature.  Even though I was hurting and my stomach was really bad at this point, I was starting to realize that finishing was no longer an “if” but a “when”.

I hadn’t told anyone of my true race goals because I thought it might jinx them, but I have three goals that all happened to land within about 20 minutes of each other.  Go under 12 hours; beat Dan’s best time of 12:06; and finish before dark at 7:13pm (12:13).  Apparently 134 miles of racing doesn’t help me the math skills because when I tried to calculate my current pace into my projected finish, I thought 12 hours and Dan’s race time had passed me by a long time ago.  I started working a little harder to see if I could finish before 7:13pm, which I knew was sunset.  I saw a couple of cops I knew working intersections and had to stop for a second just to shake their hands but otherwise I was doing my best not to walk at all.  I came up the hill into the square and Dan was waiting to run a bit with me.  He told me that I was going to do it and the excitement in his voice was palpable, and it got me excited.  My mind was still in a state of “if” and not “when” right up until ¼ mile left.  I saw my brother in the crowd snap a pic and then sprint toward the finish line; that made me feel pretty special.  I turned the corner and I could see Ellen’s smiling face in the crowd.  I was almost overwhelmed with emotion, but I ran straight to her and saw my dad, and neighbors all there cheering too.  I turned the very last corner and saw the finish clock.  I couldn’t believe it!  11 hours and 57 minutes.  I had actually broken 12 hours!  I started high fiving people and for a second felt silly doing it because I was more than three hours behind the winners.  Then I saw people actually working to move to get high fives and then I slowed and high fived as many people as I could; unbelievable rock star treatment. I crossed the finish line and was caught by a volunteer.  I saw my friend Bill who was volunteering and after they removed my chip I went and basked in the glow with my family and friends.  In that finishing chute I had forgotten all about my stomach issues, but once I stopped, I remembered them vehemently.  After getting congratulated a million times (I am NOT complaining) Ellen took the boys to the hotel and Dan walked with me as I tried to lose the nausea.  It wasn’t working and I puked into some bushes.  I still was on a high and just laughed about it.   Dan drove me to the hotel (I puked again, but thankfully not IN his car) where I got the biggest hug ever from Ellen, showered, and passed out.  I AM AN IRONMAN

OFFICIAL TIMES AND PLACES:
Overall time:  11:58:12

Swim: 1:08:36 (1:49/100m)

T1: 8:27

Bike: 6:03:46 (18.5mph)

T2: 3:21

Run: 4:34:03 (10:28min/mile)

OVERALL PLACE:  585/2550 (finishers, unknown amount of DNF)

AGE GROUP PLACE: 102/293

If you are still reading this, thanks for everything, and I apologize for the length.

Zen and the Bike

Okay, maybe yesterday’s post about cycling was a little harsh, but I have really been struggling with, what is ultimately, my best event.

The bike has always been my baby.  My hippie love child and warm blanket when everything else goes wrong.  But not lately.

Our estranged relationship may have started on the trainer.  Those 2-3 hour rides in the dead of winter were a new experience and frankly reminded me of walking barefoot on hot asphalt.  I poured on the chamois cream, but nothing seemed to ease the pain of stationary exercise.

After a month or so I finally got “used” to sitting in place on a bicycle while my dog sadly laid on the floor wondering why her daddy would do something so strange.  Eventually, I damn near even started liking the trainer.  My coach said, “Tough trainer rides build character,” and I was sold.  The pool of sweat below me was undeniable proof of a good workout and other than perpetually numb under parts, I felt great.

Then we started riding outside.

The first real outside ride was on Natchez Trace and it felt pretty good.  It was still early enough in the year, so allergies weren’t a problem.  Then, the Southern Bloom decided it would wreck me.536265_4814333965358_1613623106_n

A subsequent 3-hour ride left me with heat rash, blood shot eyes, and beat up bones.  I have done several mountain bike races on wicked terrain and never felt this awful after a ride.  The vibration, the extended aero position, and dust in the wind made me feel like I’d sparred with Mike Tyson in his prime and this pain uncovered a strange new fascination with getting back on the trainer.

So, as you can see, I am looking for my cycling happy place again.  I know my bike needs a re-fit, but is it that simple?  How can I translate my new found love of running through the pain onto the bike?

I’m gonna be honest, the 112 mile bike has me a bit concerned.  I know it’s one day and one shot, but 6 or more hours on my trusty Trek sounds like the last thing I would want to do right now.  It’s been suggested I get back on the mountain bike for a while, and I probably will, but if you have any other suggestions for finding my “bike Zen,” I’m all ears.

My 10 Favorite Things About Cycling

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

Introducing the Crushing Iron Athlete of the Week

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

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

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

Ironman Louisville Race Recap – Kevin Gammon

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

Stupid Long overdue-  IM Louisville 2012

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Race Morning

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

The Swim:

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

T1

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

The Bike

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Waht?”

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

“Srlakk.”

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

T2

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

The Run

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pre-Race/Swim

Bike

The Grueling Conclusion

Pictures from the race

More pictures from Ironman Louisville

The Illusion of Happiness

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I Think We Woke The Birds

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Great Training Lesson from A Drunk Friend

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Fab Five

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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