I’m documenting the training and mental anguish of our road to Ironman Wisconsin and along the way I’ll probably be posting short clips from each of the guys on what it means, why they do it, and what inspired them to get started. We’ll start with Jim, since he is the catalyst behind this craziness and has already completed two 140.6 races.
My YMCA Confession
Three or four times a week I slither into the downtown YMCA for a swim. And every time I get anxious about crossing paths with my nemesis.
After scanning my card, I take a deep breath and turn the corner to the mens’ locker room. Without fail, I hear the chilling words . . .
“Hey man, let me get them shoes.”
I mean, he’s a nice guy, but I feel a tremendous burden to let him drop polish on my dogs. The problem is, I’m not really into getting my shoes shined in the first place, and frankly, I feel like I need to give him at least 5 bucks. And 5 bucks a day on top of my Y membership dues is no way to go through life!
So, for a while I resorted to saying things like, “I’ll get you next time,” or simply, “I’m good, man.” But my words were always greeted with a sad-shoe-shiner-face that I couldn’t get out of my head. Then one day I had an idea.
I gave him my sweetest black dress shoes, 5 bucks, and said, “Make these babies sparkle!”
He gave me a big toothy grin and said, “Aww, man… you know I’m gonna hook you up.”
And he did. Those shoes were almost too bright to put on. People were putting on shades when I walked by. That shine was wicked and the minute I got to my car I put them in my trunk.
Now, when I park in the garage, I change out of the shoes I’m wearing and put the shiny shoes on before I walk into the Y. Half the time they don’t even match my outfit, but I give him a big ass smile before he says, “Hey man, let me get those . . . ” His words trail off into the ether like he knows he can’t eclipse his best.
I’m sure he will eventually catch on, but for now I’m not dropping an extra fin every time I hit the pool. But, if he starts offering to clean dog hair off my socks, I would be forking it over like an addict at a black jack table.
Racing In The Rain
We opened the triathlon season with a frozen jaunt through the rain at the ADPiathlon in Murfreesboro. Last weekend I ran the Country Music Half in a steady downpour and celebrated by shivering in the rain for two more hours. This weekend I’m heading to Knoxville for the Rev 3 Olympic and the forecast is for a 60% chance of scattered showers.
First of all, what the hell does 60% chance for scattered showers mean? Does that mean there’s a 40% chance of solid showers or a 40% chance that it will be dry? I have sent an email to Knoxville meteorologists for clarification and will give you an update as soon as I hear.
Either way, I’m mentally preparing for rain, which, in theory, isn’t that big of a deal while you’re racing, except on the bike. You swim in water and it can actually feel good while running . . . but rain dampens the excitement of the event for anyone watching and frankly, I use their energy.
So, Sunday, when I’m treading water and it’s also dropping on my swim cap, I will turn inside to channel all of the training and experiences of past races as I drop my face into the river and pull myself upstream toward the first orange buoy. Then I will turn downstream, glance at the three spectators, and settle into a nice backstroke toward the swim exit.
As I find land, I’ll rip myself from the wet suit, and plod the point 3 miles to my bike where I’ll stuff garbage bags under my top and hit the lonely roads of Knoxville. Biking in the rain is dicey, but I figure the more I ride in the rain, the easier riding in nice weather will be. Sooo . . . bring it on!
In the last 3 weeks I have run exactly 3 times. A 10K race, a 3 mile jaunt with the East Nasties on a Wednesday, and a half marathon. Sunday I will hop off my bike and run for the fourth time, another 10K. Since this is my second Olympic, I’m feeling more confident about sticking the run, so we’ll see what happens.
Years ago I listened to a cassette tape from motivational speaker, Zig Zigler, and the very first thing he said with regard to staying positive was, “Never judge a day by the weather,” and while it’s not always easy, that line has stuck in my head. Truthfully, the rain will “bother me” most in the swim because I would prefer to enjoy the sunshine while I’m in the river, but once you dig in, water is water, and my body will be alive and full of light, even though the sun is behind the clouds.
Ironman Wisconsin
Ironman Fever is Catching On
So, I didn’t go to open water swim this morning, but saw a message from our coach, on one of our numerous email or Facebook chains, that said, “Wasky, don’t lose any sleep over today. It happens. And will most likely happen again.”
One thing about having a training bond with all of these people is that nothing is off limits, so my first thought was, “Erectile Dysfunction,” but he’s a young guy and a snazzy dresser so I ruled that out and asked what happened.
The first response was from Racer K and said, “Wasky almost died.” I didn’t find any Life Flight reports for Percy Priest lake this morning, so then I imagined group CPR and hoped Allie took the lead.
I guess he had a water swallow incident that must have been worthy of posting about, so I was just reaching out to console Wasky when I read his Facebook post:
“Ladies and Gents….. it is officially official. Registered for Ironman Louisville. See you all in a couple months…. and to my training buddies doing IMOO…. lets get it on.”
You gotta admire a guy who almost dies, gets out of the water, then signs up for an Ironman.
An Outsider's Perspective On Ironman Training
I haven’t had a guest blog in a while, so I thought I’d give my neighbor, James, a chance to weigh in on what it’s like living next to a young man who is training for the Ironman. Sort of an “outside the lines perspective” of the craziness. I think James is a Bounty Hunter or something, so he always has an interesting perspective.
Guest Blog – by James (Mike’s Neighbor)
What up? First things first. Mike is one crazy son of a bitch. I see that boy runnin all hours of the night! For real. I be layin on the couch watchin my show at 9 o’clock and lil Jimmy start screamin, “There go Mike!” and I look out the window and sure as hell Mike be runnin’ … in the dark! I’m like what the hell wrong with this boy?
But for real tho, Mike is cool. He come home and let out that dog, Mattie, and throw the frisbie and whatnot and that dog jump like 5 feet in the air. I ain’t playin. Then Mike will get out the weed eater or some shit and work on that backyard. He love that damn grass. Sometimes he mow it twice in a row. Like right ova the top a what he just mowed. Some crazy ass shit, but that grass look good. Sometimes it make me wanna clean up my backyard but I got that damn pontoon boat sittin out there with weeds and shit all over it. I knew I shouldn’t let Harry put that rusty ass boat in my yard.
And Mike be bikin’ all the damn time. He put on them white shoes and that tight ass suit and cruise up and down the boulevard like it ain’t shit. Sometimes I think he went inside or somethin’ then he come ridin up from the otha way 3 damn hours later. I be like “Hey Mike,” and he give me that quick wave and start runnin. Shit don’t make no sense to me.
Then this mornin, I’m draggin my trash can out to the curb and he come walkin out the door at 5:30 in the damn mornin wearin a wet suit like he a damn Navy Seal or somethin. And I mean I know he aint a Seal cuz I was in the service and he just don’t seem like he that tough or whatever, but he still cool. He’s all like, “Hey James, I’m goin swimmin,” and I’m like, you a crazy motha f*cka to be goin swimmin when it 50 degrees.
I really think he know he crazy to be honest. He be grillin out at midnight and shit. Bringin ova like 20 friends and playin whiffle golf. I mean whiffle golf . . . aint that some shit? Knockin them lil balls around and drinkin beer while they listen to that crazy ass Lightning 100. And don’t even get me started on above ground pool he think some shit outta Caesar’s Palace.
But for real, Mike is cool. I told him I was gonna run with him sometime and got this treadmill set up so shit gettin real!
Losing Weight By Listening to Your Body
A fellow blogger/triathlete just made an intriguing post about weight loss and it got me thinking. One of his theories is that he may (at times) need to eat more calories to lose weight because of the amount of training he does. I think he’s right on the money.
There are so many weight loss theories out there, but like everything else, nothing good comes easily. If you’re restricting your calories while doing heavy training, you’re doing yourself a disservice. The body needs fuel, and if it’s not there, it will start chewing away at your soul.
I honestly think there are three keys to genuine and lasting weight loss:
1. Exercise often
2. Slowly change your diet
3. Get enough sleep
If you think about it, exercise is an ongoing series of pushing your body harder than normal, followed by recovering. The workout will burn calories, then you need to refuel by putting them back. I am not a nutritionist by any stretch, but I feel like I am very in tune with my body, and when I listen, it tells me what I need.
Last January I weight about 200 pounds. Today I’m at 175. Rarely, if ever, did I “force” myself to change what I eat. My body told me what it wanted and I ate it. This wasn’t always good stuff, but I think drastic changes in nutrition are just as bad as dramatic changes in workouts. They may seem like a good plan, but eventually your body gets confused and starts fighting back.
Learning happens in small steps, but it’s really hard to be patient these days. If you want to teach your body to be a good swimmer, cyclist, or runner, go slow when raising your levels of intensity. The same goes with food.
If you’re eating junk and fast food all the time, that’s what your body knows. Pouring tons of broccoli and fruit into your system is like walking into a Mormon church and screaming “Islam is the only way!” It won’t work.
I work in a fast food neighborhood and used to inhale combos 4 or 5 times a week. I still eat that crap, but only about once a week and I NEVER feel guilty. It’s only been a year and my body still remembers the greasy days, so occasionally we reminisce.
The final key is sleep. If you’re not getting good rest and restoring broken down muscles, your body starts storing fat as energy. It’s really simple. We need good rest. I’ve even had a friend tell me he thinks consistent meditation helped him lose a ton of weight, and I have no reason to doubt that. Meditation helps you slow down the body and mind, which is essentially letting it recover from what it perceives as more demands.
Most of us who need to lose weight dug our own holes. We can’t expect years of unhealthy “teaching” to go away in a few days. It takes consistency and conditioning for your body to learn (or re-learn) healthy living.
My feeling is, if you crave a greasy cheeseburger and fries, do it, but then listen to your body. Pay attention and learn from how it feels. Are you bloated? Sluggish? Consciously put that into your brain. Over time, you’ll naturally start rejecting things that don’t work. You’ll hit more and more tipping points only to find better fuel more enjoyable. Like most things in life, it’s better to pace yourself.
Country Music Marathon – Post Script (one day later)
As I looked around Corral #1 at my fellow racers, I kind of chuckled inside. Three hundred and sixty five days ago I was swaying nervously in Corral #16, having only started running three months earlier. But Saturday, on a cold rainy morning, amazingly, I felt like I belonged.
I exchanged chit chat with other runners, people just like me, who were cool and confident about the road ahead. I looked down at my bib #1805 and knew that meant I had predicted a finish around 1:30 for the half marathon. I’m not sure how many corrals there were, but the throng of people went backwards as far as I could see. I was literally starting 5 rows behind the elite runners.
I had been sick all week and the only exercise I mustered was a 2 mile run on Wednesday night that left me weak. Sometimes being a little under the weather can help calm the nerves and it definitely did as the horn sounded and my feet started paddling their way down a water logged West End Avenue.
Everyone I talked to before the race said, “Don’t start too fast,” and I clearly didn’t listen. I was floating along at my 10K PR pace for the first mile and downtown Nashville lingered like a carrot at the end of my stick. I promised myself to regroup and slow down, but the second mile was even faster! I was raging out of control, and by the time I reached the top of the long hill and hit mile 3, I had basically set my new best for a 5K at 22:54.
The good news is, I used to live on the course and knew I had a nice long downhill before climbing to the top of Music Row. Mile 4 was a little more under control, clocking in at 7:32.
The end of that hill nearly nailed me to the cross, but I forged into the Belmont campus where another long and steady decline awaited. I was humming nicely when I felt my shoelace flopping, and my mother screaming, “Tie your shoe, Michael,” so I stopped to do just that. My hands were cold and suddenly I forgot how to tie a double bow knot! It was full in-race spaz mode and must have tied 5 knots into that lace which I’m guessing took about 20 seconds, accounting for my slowest mile (7:49) of the race. The worst part the feeling you get standing out of a crouch, but I quickly found the groove and nearly ran over some animated kid raking water stop cups in the middle of the street.
We turned left at the bottom of Belmont and snaked through a nice little neighborhood that is normally packed with people, but this time I saw a lot of abandoned signs staked in the yard that said, “Good luck, Jim” or “This water is for Felix.” Really, that was the most unfortunate part of the rain, it kept the fans inside or on their porches. And even the ones who were out there were kinda cheering from inside their ponchos. The band support was a little sketchy, too, but I totally get why musicians wouldn’t want to fish their gear through the middle of a monsoon.
Coming up 12 South was a bit of a bitch. There are about 6 rolling hills and the last two tested my limits. That’s about the time I started feeling my left IT Band get a little squirrely as well. From experience I knew it was the downhills that made it flare, and sure enough I was headed toward the longest one of the course, 16th Street, Music Row East. I did my best to hold back a little, but as I began my decent, the music and screaming fans jacked me through the roof. That was the most energizing part of the course for me and sent me down the hill like a rocket.
Cruising into the Gulch at mile 10 was my nemesis last year. I could hardly feel my legs, but Saturday I felt pretty strong as I passed on yet another water stop. It was really hard to drink water in the freezing rain, but I probably forced down three or four gulps during this race.
We turned the corner and ran through a shin deep water puddle on our way to the Farmer’s Market at Mile 12 and I was more or less in a daze by this point. I knew we had two annoying switch backs ahead and did my best to stay with the ever-increasing pace of the closing runners, but at mile 13 I hit a wall.
As we exited Farmer’s Market, we curled right then back left to climb the final hill. My knee was on the edge and I took it easy. I was running out of gas quickly and knew I had to focus. We swung around the block, then pushed another small hill before hitting the bridge and I heard sort of an inspirational run on sentence from fellow East Nasty, Geeky Gunjan, that gave me the jolt I needed. I was on the bridge, nearly at the “point one” finish and another East Nasty, who I didn’t recognize, gave me a verbal push as he blew by toward the finish. I turned the corner and sprinted home.
It seemed like it was over in a flash. I felt pretty good about the race, and happy with my effort, but know I still have room to grow. Ironman Wisconsin training has been unbelievable in my progress. Training with guys like Jim, Daniel, Mark, and Kevin has pushed my limits beyond anything I could have imagined. And coach Robbie’s inspiration and wisdom has opened my eyes to endless possibilities.
So, that was the race. I signed up on a whim 10 days before and crushed last year’s time by 32 minutes, while beating my February 1/2 PR from New Orleans by five minutes. The coolest part of all of this is that I wasn’t really sore this morning and knocked out 20 minutes in the pool and a short bike ride to keep it loose.
Oh, and I started all this business at age 48, did this half at 49, and got 19th out of 677 in the 45-49 age group. It’s not too late if you really want it.
Here are my watch splits from Saturday:
Mile 1 – 7:15, Mile 2 – 7:03, Mile 3 – 7:28, Mile 4 – 7:29, Mile 5 – 7:49, Mile 6 – 7:09, Mile 7 – 7:19, Mile 8 – 7:38, Mile 9 – 7:19, Mile 10 – 7:23, Mile 11 – 7:26, Mile 12 – 7:32, Mile 13 – 7:42, Finish 6:11
Last year’s pace: 10:16
This year: 7:27
Blame It On The Rain
It rained the whole race. Then it rained four straight hours after the race. Country Music Marathon was good running, but a bummer on all other levels.
People did their best to brave the elements and cheer on runners, and in the end, there was great support by the fans. For running, it was almost perfect, and thankfully I felt strong for most of the race, even though I came out way too fast (possibly because I started in corral one). I was shooting for something below 1:40 and built a nice cushion by doing the first two miles at an average pace around 7:08. Even the third mile, which is almost all a hill, was around 7:20. I was feeling it. But that’s not all I felt.
Around mile 9 my IT band started acting up and I elected to back off a little. My pace was pretty strong and sub 1:40 seemed like it was in the bag, but I couldn’t read my watch because of contacts and the rain, so I was just looking for a “7” on the pace count and hoped it would all work out.
It did work out. I finished in 1:37:28, which is about 35 minutes faster than I ran this course last year and 5 minutes faster than I ran the very flat New Orleans Half. All in all a good day, but literally two minutes after I crossed the finish line I was freezing.
Soaking wet and standing there in a tank top, I quickly grabbed a race blanket and pulled it tight around me while I waited for friends to finish. I walked out of the chute, looked for somewhere warm to hang, but unfortunately there were no options. I walked back and forth near LP Field and was perplexed at why they didn’t open the stadium for people to get out of the rain. It was absolutely brutal.
People were shivering and waiting for people they couldn’t find because everyone looked identical wearing their “Rock n Roll marathon” warmer blankets. It was a steady rain in 50 degree weather and I’m staring up at this massive stadium that is basically locked. I don’t care if marathon people asked or not, the people in charge of LP Field should have saw it coming and offered the facility. It is an incredulous oversight and I don’t care about politics or safety or anything else. It should have been done.
So, instead, I wandered like a vagabond, teeth chattering, and legs shaking, trying to find people I knew. I ran into exactly two people I recognized, but had no clue how to find Rebekah, whose warm clothes were waiting in my car.
My knee ached and I contemplated walking 6 blocks to the car and back, but thought it would be best to just hang, then walk together, and leave. After almost two hours, I decided to go to the car, change, and bring her bag of clothes back. All told, I was standing or walking in the rain for over 3 hours. It was miserable and I still can’t believe they didn’t at least put up some more tents or something. Not like it’s their first marathon in the rain.
Anyway, the actual race was great considering the circumstances. The post-race, however, was a nightmare. I know you can’t plan for everything, but the forecast was calling for this exact weather a week ago. It would have been very easy to make this a better experience.
My Always Inspiring Teammate
Daniel never ceases to amaze me. He is pure, authentic, and full of genuine passion for friends, training, and life. Someone posted this quote from him (that I assume ran in the Tennessean) about the upcoming marathon. He has a way with words that always seems to lift and inspire you to run toward your next day, week, or race. I’m proud to know him and have him as part of the Crushing Iron team as we inch closer to Ironman Wisconsin.
