Crushing Iron

May 13, 2013

My Mom Figured Out Why I'm Doing Ironman

Gotta love my mom. She has no idea why her oldest son would put himself through something like Ironman training, but she is absolutely ecstatic about my quest. We spoke today while I was picking out flowers to put around my pool, and, in between excellent suggestions, she couldn’t stop talking about where she was going to watch the race at Wisconsin.

“Now, I looked at the route, but I’m still not sure where we’re going to stand and cheer you on.”

“Don’t worry mom, we’ll make sure you find all the best spots for you to wait hours to see me for 3 seconds.”

I’m sure the mom in her is nervous as hell, but she really thinks this is the coolest thing.

“I can’t really understand it, but it’s probably addictive. I mean, I’m sure people don’t understand why I enjoy pulling weeds in the garden.”

How awesome is that analogy? It may actually be the perfect metaphor for what I’m doing.

It’s really not about the race as much as it is preparing for the race. When you don’t pay attention to your garden, the weeds run wild — and that’s exactly what was happening to my life.

My weeds were bad food, lots of beer, couch dwelling, and putting off things I wanted to do with my life. Committing to Ironman has given me the focus I needed to turn my life in a new direction. And let me tell you, over the last 5 months I have been pulling weeds like a madman.

In the course of the last week, I woke up (and got out of bed) at 6 am four times, all without an alarm. I’ve planted flowers, cleaned and filled the pool, mowed my lawn countless times, went into work early, wrote in the mornings, and did silly amounts of training. My personal relationships are more genuine and trustworthy. I’m much better at follow through and generally more happy to be alive.

For so many years I’d look into the backyard of my parent’s home and see my mother on her hands and knees digging deep into bushes and flower beds. She was fearless and stuck her arms into the thickest of brush to remove any form of foliage that did not fit her grand scheme. After a couple hours she’d come in the house for a beer or ice tea, her clothes dripping with sweat and mud stuck to the side of her neck. But all you really saw was the smile on her face. That fully engaged, happy to be alive look. I could never understand it, but now, I am a hundred percent certain why my mom wakes up on a sunny day with an extra little bounce in her step and goes into the yard to pull more weeds.

May 12, 2013

Spoken Like A True Champion

From the documentary.

May 11, 2013

Sending the Kids Off to Gulf Coast

Hopefully they are sleeping as I write this, but some of my training buddies and our coach will soon be running into the Gulf of Mexico waves to begin their 70.3 mile trek around Panama City. I really wish I was there for support, but work and races the last two weeks have my body craving a couple days of relaxation.

Jim is the one who got me into running and subsequently triathlon. He was incredibly patient at the start. Showing up night after night to drag me along as I trained for my first 5k. He then sacrificed his time by pacing me in that first race. It took me a long time to realize how important his attention was, but eventually I realized I owe him for helping me turn around my life.

This isn’t his first time at Gulf Coast, but he’s been struggling with a foot injury and as of Wednesday night he was a little uneasy about this race. His best event is running and he just hasn’t been able to put in the time. But, we have trained an awful lot since January and there is no doubt in my mind he is ready. He’s a competitor. He’s a gamer. When the gun goes off, he will lose himself in the moment and I predict swim and bike will be just what the doctor ordered for that foot. By the time he hits the run his adrenaline will be full on and his legs nice and warm for the run. He loves this race and it will love him back.

I met Robbie at the Calypso Cafe in East Nashville. He was sitting at the table alone and I was the first of the Fab 5 to show up. I sat across from him and felt a little strange making small talk about Ironman. Truth was, I didn’t know shit about shit, but I have always had confidence in my athletic ability and Robbie sensed that.

He has pushed me beyond anything I could have imagined. His workout schedule in the beginning was far more than I was ready for, but I honestly believed (or hoped) he was just testing our limits.

He has answered 100’s of questions in the last 5 months and there may be 1000 more by the time we get to Wisconsin. He has been patient, tough, and inspiring at once.

He came with me to Rev 3 in Knoxville last weekend and having that time with a coach who has been in the thick of triathlon so long is invaluable. He stood in the rain for 3 hours and I’m pretty sure he spent a good chunk of it thinking about his strategy for Gulf Coast.

I’m not sure what he expected from me that day, but his coaching and my work showed up. In some way I was hoping my performance inspired him and would in turn give him a little boost for his race. He’s an athlete and a competitor whose toed the line many times and I sense a new intensity about to bust out. I want success for my coach as much as he wants it for me.

Allison was there with Jim and I when I started my Couch to 5k program. It was obvious she loved to run and often did in pain. She had a toughness about her that I recognized immediately.

When the Fab 5 started talking Ironman last year, she started talking Half. She did a sprint, and that was the end of it until we started training in January. She was right there with us on our 4 hour spins and jumping off the bike to join us for the runs. She was doing our full training in preparation for her half. I kept thinking she might back it down, but she never did.

In about 7 hours, she will find jump in the water and swim in her beloved ocean. I know there is a good chance she is awake as I write this. Tossing and turning much like I did before my race last weekend. Questioning whether or not she is ready. But she is, and the other day, I sent her this note:

Hey…. I’ve been thinking about you and your race. I think it’s important for you to realize that you’re ready. It is very hard to recognize when you are so close to it, but you have come a LONG ways since we first met. You have put in the work. This race is now all in your mind. You have to believe in yourself and let go of the doubt. Your biggest goal for this race is to relax. A relaxed athlete is a stronger athlete. Spin your arms in the water. Spin your legs on the bike and run. Don’t resist. Just let it flow. Your endurance is there. Your strength is there. The allergies will not bother you once you start moving. Plus, you will be in your comfort zone. The ocean. It is a place you love and want to be. By far the biggest thing I have to work on is “letting the race happen.” This doesn’t mean you aren’t racing… it just means you can’t finish until you get to the end. The rest is just movement. Being focused and in the moment. Not worrying about what could go wrong, but being focused on what is going right. Be mentally tough, but don’t let your mind take control of your soul. Trust that you will know what to do when you face decisions on the course. Play the race through in your head, but always successfully. Stay calm, stay focused, and enjoy one of the most amazing experiences you can have.

Allison is ready. Jim’s Ready. Robbie’s ready. The hard part is over, now it’s time to let those long hours in the pool, on the bike, and in running shoes pay off. I will be watching closely from a distance and likely be more nervous than them. It’s hard watching your kids grow up, but sometimes you have to let them swim in the deep end by themselves.

May 10, 2013

The Last Minute Push to Finish

At Mile 5.5, my coach ran out from the sidelines and encouraged me to suck it up for a chance at the podium. He was tracking me and by his estimation, third place was a possibility. Problem was, there wasn’t much left in the tank.

A guy from my age group passed me about a mile earlier and he was long gone. All I had left was to stay in front of all comers. But about point 4 miles from the finish line, I heard footsteps. I didn’t even have time to glance before he was right next to me. Then in front. I looked at his calf, and sure enough, he was from my age group. I couldn’t let him beat me.

I stayed on his tail and with point two miles left, channeled my Monogetti run training and darted past him. We came down under the bridge, before jumping onto the lawn for the 60 yard finish chute. I thought I had a comfortable lead, but about 15 yards from the finish, he blew by me!

As you can see by the look on my face, I was toast. The grass was slick and there wasn’t enough real estate to catch him. He finished one second ahead of me, and as I crossed the finish line on his tail, I started to slide and grabbed him to stop from falling. I nearly knocked down everyone in the path, including volunteers, but somehow stayed on my feet. I stood tall, gave him a menacing stare, then glanced at his calf again. He wasn’t in my age group after all.

Here’s a closer view so you can see the pain and rain.

May 8, 2013

Ironman Training Injuries

The Fab Five is a bit of a mess these days. Possible meniscus tears, turf toes, rotator cuffs, IT Bands, allergies, planter faciitis, hernias, tendonitis . . . and the list goes on. Thankfully mine are minor: a bump on the forehead from my Rev3 medal, and a bruised elbow from running into the door while trying to avoid two wild birds I let out of the dryer hose.

Injuries are obviously a big part of training, and this video is a hilarious viewpoint of how absurd the will to train through pain can seem to someone who is not training for Ironman. Warning: Explicit Language.

I can’t prove this, but I’m willing to bet that at least half of triathlon training injuries are directly related to running. I can honestly say that my legs (and body) feel better right now than they have in months. Over the last 24 days I have ran exactly 5 times: A 3.5 mile run with the East Nasties, a short/easy 2 mile jog after a bike, another two mile jog when I was sick, the Country Music Half, and a 10k for the Rev3 Olympic on Sunday.

Following the CM Half, my feet were very sore and my IT Band was on the brink of relapse. My calf was (and still is) in a knot. That day I ran for one hour and thirty seven minutes.

Following Olympic Triathlon Sunday, which took over an hour longer, I felt fantastic. Not one body part was sore (other than the calf). I was ready to do a hard workout the next day.

That said, there is a major catch. The run is a huge deal in triathlons and I’m not even remotely suggesting it should be avoided. In fact, I love the work involved in running. I just preparation, warm up, and strength exercises should not be taken lightly. Done right, we should all probably warm up a minimum of 15 minutes before a run and if that cuts into total run time, so be it.

That’s another reason why I love triathlon . . . by the time you get to the run, your legs are definitely warmed up.*

* Unless you did Rev3 Knoxville this year.

May 8, 2013

Rev 3 Olympic Knoxville – The Run

First of all, do any of you know if Rev 3 had photographers on the course for this race?

The Rev 3 Knoxville Olympic Run

Fresh off the bike, with frozen feet, I sat on the cold concrete and fought to slide on my new Pearl Izumi Tri N1 Racing Shoes.

I’d been wearing these bad boys around the house and while walking my dog, but never for a run. Today would be the first.

They are very comfortable, but a lot different than the Pearl Izumi Streaks that I have been wearing. Honestly, though, I think I could have been wearing Uggs for the first few miles and not known the difference.

I just kind of chuckled as I slid my way up the rainy road out of T2. I was a little disoriented and stopped for a second because I thought it was the wrong way. I threw caution to the wind and kept “running.” It felt like I had a tennis ball in each shoe right under my arch. There was no thought of speed (and no watch to confirm) and I would have to be content with a shuffle.

After a mile and a half we entered a bike path that looked like a scene out of Katrina. Every hundred yards or so it seemed like we were running through ankle to shin deep puddles from the overflowing creek. Many runners ran on the grass, but I found the splashing water actually warmed my legs.

It was an out and back so we got to the turn at around 3 miles. I still couldn’t feel my feet.

At around mile four I realized that no one was passing me, so my pace must have been pretty solid. Then I heard the hoofs of a large man closing in on me. I resisted temptation to look and he cruised by me like a gazelle. Sure enough, I looked on his calf and this gentle giant was in my age group. With just over two miles left, I suddenly had a war on my hands.

But evidently he wasn’t in the same trench because a minute later he was a hundred yards ahead of me. I just shook my head and prayed for feeling in my feet.

Amazingly, as we exited the bike path, I spotted him ahead, still within striking distance. He turned left over the bridge and I wasn’t far behind. Suddenly I was on a very tight and flooded sidewalk with runners coming from the opposite direction. Something didn’t feel right. I looked up and my challenger had stopped. I caught up to him and saw the confusion in his eyes. Then there was confusion in my eyes. Then panic.

We both turned around and went back over the bridge and out onto the road. I was right on his tail, but upset about the transgression. It wasn’t long before he created another cushion between us. I just didn’t have my legs.

About mile five, I started to feel my feet and legs again, but I’m not sure it was a good thing. They were a little weak and I was a bit gassed as I closed in on the dozens of fans waiting for us to turn into the home stretch. I saw my coach running toward me, saying something about a “podium.” I put my head down and ran after Mr. Green Jeans, but it wasn’t meant to be.

I crossed the finish line in just over 49 minutes. The Gentle Giant finished about 1:30 ahead of me. He took third in our age group.

I wasn’t disappointed, but have a lot of work to do on the run. I felt great after the swim and bike, but the run was kinda like, “Oh, and now I have to run,” more than it was something I felt like crushing.

Everything I read and hear and learn points to the run being the difference maker in triathlons. It’s so true. A week before I averaged 7:27 in a half marathon. Sunday, my pace was around 8 minute miles for less than half the distance.

Not to self: Trust frozen feet.

May 7, 2013

Quick Thought On Rev 3 Knoxville

Just a quick post as I look at a pre-swim picture taken by Robert from X3 Endurance the morning of the Rev 3 Triathlon. I see the look in my eyes and know what I was thinking. “There’s no turning back.” One part of me couldn’t believe I was in that situation, the other wanted nothing more than to dive into that 58 degree river. It’s an odd predicament in the sense that as soon as you start each stage, you want to be in the next one as fast as possible. But, the more I race, the more I try to embrace every minute and let the end come when it will. In reality, it doesn’t get much more awesome than swimming in a raging Tennessee River on a cold and rainy morning. It’s a rare opportunity to test yourself. To push the limits. To emerge from a major challenge. Not many people take those kinds of plunges because, until you do it, it’s hard to understand why you would.

I will conclude my race report later tonight with “The Run” summary.

May 7, 2013

Rev 3 Olympic Triathon Knoxville – My Bike Summary

Every day I feel like triathlon is helping me build a closer connection with myself. It’s a subtle, slow, and genuine burn that inches its way deeper into my soul with every stroke, spin, and stride. It began by setting a nearly unfathomable goal, but has now transformed into a lifestyle. Not a triathlon lifestyle, but a more confident, clear, and defined picture of who I am. And the most exciting part is, I barely feel like I’ve scratched the surface.

If you’ve never raced a triathlon, or more specifically swam a mile in 58 degree water, it’s really hard to understand the feeling of running barefoot on cold concrete for nearly half a mile. Your feet are numb and you’d better get used to it because the rain isn’t stopping and you’re about to pedal your bike for 25 miles with no socks.

Everything was warm, except my feet and hands, both of which would be extremely important in the upcoming moments. I relished the brief respite from the rain in the covered transition area as I gathered my bearings and decided what to wear or omit for my bike ride. The arm warmers were a lock (thanks, coach) but the knee warmers stayed in the bag. The helmet went on, I grabbed my bike, then ran it toward the bike exit. About halfway there I realized I was holding and not wearing my gloves. This was a problem. I stopped and tried to pull gloves onto my freezing hands and it was a total OJ moment. “The gloves didn’t fit.” I stood there for what seemed like several minutes as tons of racers blew by and my bike slid around my body like an oblong hula hoop.

All told, the run from the swim, the bike prep, and the glove fiasco took roughly six and a half minutes. The whole time, I was afraid to look at my feet.

But it’s moments like this when I try to think of something inspiring, and any time I feel sorry for myself for being cold I think of one man: Ernest Shackleton.

I’ve said it before, but if you’re into adventure, you have to read a book called, Endurance: Shackleton’s Incredible Voyage. Not only is it a great adventure book, it may be the most engaging grouping of words I’ve ever laid eyes on. “Simply Brilliant” says Crushing Iron blogger, Mike Tarrolly.

Here are a few Shackleton quotes to chew on:

“Difficulties are just things to overcome, after all.”

“I seemed to vow to myself that some day I would go to the region of ice and snow and go on and on till I came to one of the poles of the earth, the end of the axis upon which this great round ball turns.”

“After months of want and hunger, we suddenly found ourselves able to have meals fit for the gods, and with appetites the gods might have envied.”

“We had seen God in His splendors, heard the text that Nature renders. We had reached the naked soul of man.”

I mean, come on! This dude did not fuck around with exploring. “Endurance” is about an expedition to the South Pole with like twenty five guys who signed up simply for the adventure. Shackleton posted this ad in the paper to find his crew:

MEN WANTED for hazardous journey, small wages, bitter cold, constant danger, safe return doubtful, honor and recognition in case of success.

And you know what? He turned men away!

That book has helped me many times. Having cold feet is a metaphor when you try to envision what Shackleton and his men endured.

So, I finally looked and my feet were a similar hue to how I imagine them looking in my casket one day. I closed my eyes and thought of Shackleton (in the middle of winter, bobbing his way in an undersized wooden boat through the most deadly sea in the world wearing little more than a sweat shirt) and jumped on my Trek triathlon bike to ride in a misting rain along nicely paved streets in Knoxville, Tennessee.

I honestly don’t remember much of the bike leg (maybe that’s why I’m harping on the Shackleton thing . . . although, I seriously cannot recommend that book enough) but I do know it was an amazing course. It started along the river, swung up through a business district, dipped onto a major highway, then headed into the beautiful Knoxville hills. On a sunny day, the scenery would have been spectacular.

I think only two things could have gone better for me on the bike (aside from having race wheels). One was a situation where I was coming down the longest hill and could have really been cooking, but a car got in the way. There were also bikes in front of him, so he rode his breaks down the entire hill. We were probably going 20 mph and that could have easily been 28, but there was nothing I could do. I waited about a half mile until he finally turned off, clearing my way for another climb.

The other thing I did wrong was not listen to my coach and hammer the climbs. His logic was clear, “It’s wet, the course is pretty technical and you’ll be breaking a lot on the downhills.” I probably could have climbed harder and recovered on the descents. Lesson learned.

The last half mile was the same flat road along the river and I cruised in around 24 mph. I felt great, but my legs had joined my feet in the world of numb appendages. How do your legs and feet function when you can’t feel them? I can hear Shackleton laughing in my face.

I forgot to start my watch again and haven’t figured out my speedometer, so I had no idea how long the bike took, but I knew it was pretty solid. I started the bike in 141st place out of 355 total racers and ended in 100th. Average speed was 20 mph and the total time was 1:15 for 25 miles.

I dismounted my bike with one shoe still clipped on the pedal and one on my left foot, which made for a clumsy stroll through transition, especially on frozen feet, but the good news was . . . I’d get to run a 10k next!

May 6, 2013

Rev 3 Knoxville Olympic – Swim Summary

As we filed down to the swim start, I was standing next to a guy who was shivering and said, “I’m never doing this race again.” I assumed he was going to say something like the weather sucks or whatever, but he said, “It’s so unorganized, nobody knows where anything is. I mean, I got here late and missed the informational meeting, but still.”

I wanted to say, “Oh yeah, maybe next year, you should try putting on a fucking triathlon,” But I just shrugged and turned away. Nerves, anxiety, or whatever it must have been, didn’t deserve a response. I thought Rev 3 put on a tremendous race in miserable conditions.

I’m always humbled when riding or running along and see volunteers excitedly offering water in rainy/55 degree weather. Who are you awesome people? And aside from a few sticks in the mud, most of the athletes were remarkably upbeat and positive. I guess that’s why I’m so excited to be doing triathlons. Below is the summary of my Rev 3 Olympic Swim.

My wave filed through the gallows to face the hangman shaped swim course. The attitude ranged from anxious to intrepid. I mean, who in their right mind would wake up at 6 o’clock on a freezing cold and wet Sunday morning to go swim point nine miles in a raging river? But oddly, I sensed an air of calm and content, probably akin to what death row inmates feel moments before their execution. We were ready. Or were we?

My new buddy, Cliff, decide to get it over quick, and jumped in the freezing water just as we got to the pier. The problem was, it was about 40 yards downstream from the start line. I moved about 10 yards further up the pier, cupped the cold water and let it trickle down my spine to ease the shock. Then, as I was splashing my face, the starter started running toward us shouting, three, two, one! The horn blew, and our wave was off! I looked back at poor Cliff, who had just added 40 yards to his race, then sprinted down the pier and flopped into the river like a maimed walrus about 15 yards behind the people I was now chasing.

It was totally my fault, and lesson number one of the day. Don’t waste pre-race time in conversations with people trying to bring you down.

I’ve never been to the English Channel, but as I flailed about in my new environment, I glanced at the horizon and swore I saw the Walde Lighthouse peaking through the mist.

My pool training has been consistent and my improvements impressive. But as the cold reality of the open water splashed my face and pushed my backwards, my technique acted like a Copperfield prank, leaving me with a empty top hat and no rabbit.

The memory of my first Olympic swim in Ashland City at NashVegas tried its best to creep into my head. That was a rainy day, too, but certainly not as cold and I was on the verge of a meltdown. The NashVegas swim nearly drove me to quit, but I managed to drag myself out of the water in 42 minutes.

I was doing everything to remain calm, but seemingly not moving any closer to my destination. I glanced to my right and throngs of swimmers plowed their way up the line of yellow buoys. I’m no sighting savant, but my intuition told me they were taking the long way to the mark. I stayed to their left and swam next to a paddle boat hoping I wouldn’t get the urge to jump on board.

Frankly, I wasn’t warmed up. I was saying “relax” over and over to myself, but my breathing was short, and of all things, I got tired 300 yards into the race. I stopped and stared at the buoy and knew my only recourse was dropping into a casual breast stroke to find my breath.

Exactly one thing was running through my mind. “I just fucked up my race with this swim.” I forgot my watch and had no sense of time, but when people all around you are wind milling their swim strokes and you are basically treading water, the panic level cranks a little tighter.

Slowly, I began to calm down, but my breaststroke is no match for the raging currents of a river. I was going nowhere, fast, but stayed the course and slowly emerged into freestyle as I turned the corner.

I still felt a little tight in my chest, but focused on nothing but breathing and by about half way through the swim I started to engage. Suddenly, I felt strong and even found myself in a successful drafting position. I also noticed that I was passing a lot of people. It was an empowering feeling and I kept hammering toward the exit, which was still at least 500 yards away. But for the 500 yards, I did not flinch. I may have saved my race.

I touched the side of the pier and a friendly volunteer helped drag me out of the water. I landed with a big squish on my waterlogged ass, then rolled to my knees, hoping my legs would work. They did.

I walked for twenty feet then eased into a light jog as I fought to unzip my wet suit. I looked around hoping to catch a glimpse of my coach, but didn’t recognize a soul. I had ZERO idea of how long that swim took and figured coach would yell out my time as I ran by in a hazy glow. He wasn’t there, and I took that as a good sign. Maybe I got out of the water faster than he thought I would? He confirmed later it was true.* At the very least, I knew I was still in the race.

To be continued . . .

* My official swim time at Rev 3 Olympic was 26:26.

May 3, 2013

This Is Absurd

I knew there was a chance of rain for this Sunday’s Rev 3 Triathlon in Knoxville, but 100% is a little ridiculous. To make matters worse, the other guys I’m training with (who are not going) have been making weekend party plans all day!

I got absolutely drenched last weekend in the Country Music Marathon. My first tri of the year was soaked and freezing. Now this. But, I’m looking forward to the challenge and a test of will that can only help me in the long run, right? Heading out at 7 in the morning.