Author: Crushing Iron

Posted on

Winning Your Race

The story of my early life was team sports.  I was lucky to have a neighborhood full of kids who wanted to play football, basketball, baseball, whiffle ball, and even backyard hockey.  We made it happen, and after school or weekends weren’t complete unless we spent countless hours on some kind of imaginary field or court.  I think this background may be one of the reasons I’m so energized for triathlons.

There had been a long void in my life after I hung up the baseball glove, hockey skates, and lacrosse stick. I did play competitive softball for several summers after college, but that ended 10 years ago. Now, it’s multi-sport endurance, and I’m trying to figure out how thinking like a team-sport-athlete can help.

Exposure to competition is the first thing that comes to mind.  I have ranted many times about how running and/or triathlons are, for most athletes, personal competitions.  Quests for better time, performance, or post-race feeling.  But there is a deep-seeded competitor inside me who wants to win and I’m doing my best to channel that energy in a constructive way.  Learning to win is best done by winning, and winning in this case can be however we define it.  Celebrate and remember what it took to get that time or that feeling.  Then repeat.

Finishing the game is another advantage a competitive history brings.  Not all games start well, and it’s surely the same for athletes that tackle Ironman.  I heard John Calapari say something to his thoroughbreds at practice one day, and I think this sums up what I’m talking about.

He said something like, “You have to play defense here.  And I don’t even care if you get beat, but don’t give up on the play.”   He was referring to a play in the national championship when one of his players got beat on a backdoor play, but the kid (I think it was Michael Kidd Gilchrist) turned and hustled to block the shot, which kept them close enough to eventually win the game.

That play was about digging for something deeper.  Realizing the situation didn’t look good, but finding the will to win, or set a new PR, or simply finish the race.

Pre-game preparation is also a major factor (although I constantly forget or ignore this lesson).  A couple weeks ago, I ran about 4 miles with Jim and he was 3.5 miles in before we met.  His pace
was stellar when I saw him and I didn’t want to slow him down.  Mistake.  We went right to a trail at
sub-9 minute pace (which seemed faster) and hit the road a mile later at sub 8.  I never felt quite
loose and I really have to remember that I am a second half player.  Negative splits win the race.

I’ve been forcing myself to warm up slow, find a groove, and be fast to the finish.  I know this, but have to remind myself every time until it is habit.

Learning how to win is about setting attainable goals and hitting them.  Digging deep when things aren’t going well by trusting that you have more inside.  And preparing with purpose.  Winning is a state of mind and perpetuates more victories in training, life, and your next race.

Posted on

Flying Monkey Marathon More Pictures

Here are some more pics from the Flying Monkey Marathon in Nashville.  My apologies for shooting the “slow clock” in some of these shots.  Feel free to follow my blog for more pictures and insight on the road to Ironman Wisconsin.

Posted on

Ironman Louisville Pictures

If you know anyone who did Ironman Louisville, here are a couple dozen of the hundreds of pics I took.  These bike shots are sure to bring back good memories for Robbie and Kevin.  I’ll post more as we go:

Posted on

Ironman Wisconsin Training Video

Here’s the first in a series of Ironman Wisconsin training video from members of the “Fab Five.”  Jim kicks it off with a reflection on the excitement “just signing up” for an Ironman can bring.

It should be noted that Jim is the only Fab Five member in this video.  I shot it while he was doing tempo runs with another group in preparation for the Huntsville Marathon.

Posted on

Post Black Friday Run

Went out for dinner last night at a shoo shoo place and wracked up a huge bill, which Scott graciously paid for, but I’m not sure I’m gonna let him get away with it.  The food was great, but limited, so we all went to Family Wash for another beer before I agreed to run with Jim in the morning.  His plan was to meet at the Shelby Bottoms Nature Center, run nearly 3 miles to LP Field where he planned to do 8 one mile laps at his marathon tempo, then run back to Shelby.

It was a beautiful and very crisp morning (read freezing).  I followed through and we ran 3 miles to LP field where I promptly video taped him running.  There were about 10 people in the group and 7 of them were blazing at a sub-3-hour marathon pace.  Jim’s running the Rocket City Marathon in Huntsville and looking to qualify for Boston at around 3:25.  He said most of his laps were under his needed pace and hopefully that’s a good sign.

He passed on running back to Shelby, so I gave him a ride, then interviewed him for our Ironman Documentary.

After the interview he felt guilty and decided to run 3 more miles.  I joined him and we casually knocked out a 23:30!  Ha.  I guess it really does help running with faster runners.

Posted on

Music City Thanksgiving Day 4-Mile Run

If you had any doubt about my life being a complete cluster-f*k at times, this morning should cement your opinion.

I was up early and ready for the Music City Thanksgiving 4 Miler and carrying my new “smile attitude” for good measure.  I went through a short warm-up routine in the basement that includes running in place, some push ups, and foam rolling to one of my go-to albums, “F*k This Shit We’re Outta Here,” by The Pimps.  My dog circled me with her squeaky toy and my legs felt good, even after a 3.8 mile run with the East Nasties last night.

I left home at 7:30 for the 8:00 race and found myself in the back of a huge line of traffic around 7:40 at LP Field.  I couldn’t understand how a 500 person race could cause this much back up at an NFL football stadium with thousands of parking slots.  I found out soon enough.

After ten minutes I finally pulled into the ONE section they opened for race parking and a lady walks up to me and asked if I paid yet.

“Um, paid for what?”

“Parking.”

“Parking?”

“Yeah, it’s 5 bucks?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Don’t blame us, it’s the race organizer.”*

“I don’t have any cash.”

“Sorry.”

So, ten minutes to race time and I’m scrambling through the scrap yards and back alleys near LP Field looking for a parking spot, but there are cops everywhere screaming, “You can’t park there!”

I spin around the corner, and cut through the actual race course, loop all the way around the stadium and find a lot that takes credit cards.  But, of course, the machine wasn’t working.  I had to risk it and started running toward the start line.  I turned the corner and saw the lead runners tearing off into the sunset.  I missed the start!

Five hundred runners tore past me and I played Frogger to get through them and find the registration tent.  The nice lady gave me my bib and ripped off my timing chip which I put on my shoe.  I circled back around the start line, hit my watch, and raced after the racers.

I didn’t catch the first walker until point 3 miles into the race.  Then it was navigation time as I slipped and slid through the massive throng of people in front of me.  We curled through the “infamous parking area” and landed at the bottom of the imposing Shelby Street Bridge.

My hands and legs were cold, but my pace was blistering (for me).  I hit the first mile mark around 7:15 and flew down the backside of the bridge with my goal of sub 30 minutes in tact.  We weaved through the downtown construction, past the Rescue Mission, then up to the new roundabout near the spectacular Music City Center.  It was a short steep hill that caught me off guard and hurt.

At the top of that hill we turned right onto Demonbreun and it was a four block downhill, so I trusted my ailing knee and pounded onward.  I was cooking pretty good and passing people left and right.  I used my new smiling technique coupled with parking anger to fuel my time, which was right on pace.

I staggered mid-way up the Shelby Bridge, but kept a steady 8 minute pace.  Once on top, it was on again and I blasted down the backside feeling strong as we turned left toward the home stretch.  I didn’t look at the race clock, but clicked stop on my watch as I crossed the finish line and it read 28:51.  A solid minute under my goal and a 7:15 pace.

Like a turkey that escaped the kill, I proudly walked to the finish table where I saw fellow Fab Fiver, Daniel, who was time keeper for the race.  I asked him to look up my number but he didn’t have a time for me.  His buddy looked at my shoe and noticed I wasn’t wearing the right timing strip.  It was still on my bib and didn’t register.

Okay, so lessons did we learn, kids?

1.  Show up early to races flush with cash to grease unexpected parking officials.
2.  Never trust nice old ladies to tie on your timing chips.
3.  Listen to the Pimps to get you pumped up.
4.  Smile in the face of it.

* Edit: I now see an email warning us about parking and evidently it is LP Field’s policy.  Note to LP Field: Just because your football team sucks doesn’t mean you have to.

Posted on

Endurance Basketball: 138 Points in One Game

So, this guy scored 138 points in a basketball game last night–absolutely demolishing the old record of 113 set in 1954.  My first reaction was, “What a dick!”  Then I realized he is from my home state of Wisconsin and went to my alma mater, UW-LaCrosse, before transferring to Grinnell.  So, I guess that makes my second reaction, “I bet this guy would be a good triathlete!”

Jack’s layup form is a perfect interpretation of the Pose running method in mid-air.  Even the guy chasing him has a lean/fall going on, but his face is saying, “bonk.”  Jack, however, is fresh and relaxed.  Easing his way through mile 20 of a marathon with rhythm and confidence.  How else could you shoot over 100 times in a game without having an elbow the size of a grapefruit?

I haven’t seen the post-game pictures, but I’m guessing he fielded questions in a thermal blanket much like an Ironman veteran:

“Yeah, after 90 shots I hit a little wall, but to finish with 138 points you have to plow through your pain threshold.”

Dude launched 108 shots in this game and I’m guessing he left the locker room in a three piece suit with wing tips and a pocket watch floating around like he was the new Ben Franklin.  His girlfriend waiting patiently while batting eyes at her new celebrity boyfriend as he laid out high fives to frat boys and concession workers.

Jack has just cemented a legacy for that will last 100 years and could open a whole new mind-set for scoring much like Bannister’s 4-minute-mile did for running, but let’s hope not.

Posted on

Triathlon Simulation

This is how ridiculous I can be.  I came home after work determined to lay around and watch basketball, which I did for about 5 minutes. I got up, stumbled into the kitchen, ate an entire box of cereal, then decided, not only to workout, but to simulate a Sprint Triathlon at the Y.

I jumped in the pool and did a quick 11 laps (about 550 yards).  I did my best to imagine people beating the shit out of me, but considering there were only two old ladies on aqua bikes in the shallow end, it wasn’t easy.  I completed my first event in about 10 minutes, then ran into the locker room to dry off and change into sweats.

Transition One, about 5 minutes.

The large staircase was a welcome challenge on my way to the Spin Bike.  I deftly avoided a large woman talking very loudly on her cell phone and trucked toward the sterile room full of ugly machines.

I used to love working out inside at the Y, but after learning how to run outside, I’m starting to question the validity of “gyms.”  I mean, I get the weight part, I guess, but there is a Cross-fit gym not far from here that is in an old gas station and I love it when they open all the doors and flex “in nature.”

Inside workouts kinda bring me down.  But, I sucked it up and jumped on the Spin Bike next to a colorful woman doing short choppy steps on her Stairmaster, which I decided was some type of effort to be better in bed or on the dance floor.

I spun and spun for what seemed like forever, but looked up at the clock and it was literally only 6 minutes.  I was stunned, and, similar to most of my workouts, contemplated quitting.  But I didn’t.

There’s something about riding a stationary bike that is both bullshit and awesome sauce.  I sweat like a nun in a porn shop.  I mean, there were puddles building and the bike started to drift closer to my colorful princess.

Somehow I toughed out 25 minutes before heading to the janitor’s closet and grabbing a wet vac to slurp up the puddles around my bike.  My new lady friend didn’t seem to care and I noticed her ass was moving with a little more steam.

Transition two, about 3 minutes.

On to the treadmill for a quick 25 minute jog, or so I thought.  The minute that belt started moving I remembered how much I hate fucking treadmills.  I put the incline on “one” and pecked along at a 9 minute pace for, oh . . . about . . . 2 minutes.

I couldn’t take it.  My ankles felt like they were going to get swallowed into some kind of treadmill vortex never to be seen again.  There was nothing left to do, but chuckle, power down, and look forward to tomorrow night’s run with the East Nasties.

Post script:  I signed up for a 4 mile race on Thanksgiving morning and yes, I really did eat a whole box of cereal.  It was a smaller box, but I estimated about 1,000 calories.  Must be something to do with post-work-early-darkness depression.