I just looked at the watch on my wrist and it’s set to 00:00. That can only mean one thing . . . another workout is looming.
At the moment I am sitting in a coffee shop, writing on my computer. It is a casual, comfortable, and easy experience. But soon I will have to get into the water and push myself.
I’ve been putting a lot of effort into a “new” training philosophy. Not new in the revolutionary sense, but new in a “in the moment” sort of way.
Thinking about an Ironman Race Day can steal your soul. It will consume you to the point where everything before it is a blur. The best way to separate from a future event is doing something today that will make that future more pleasant.
It’s like preparing for a final exam.
I used to be the all-night crammer kind of guy. Ignoring the lessons months in advance, trusting an immense, short-term immersion of information the week before my test. Sometimes this worked, but one thing was always constant. That cramming experience threw me out of balance.
I’m learning.
I’m learning that consistent effort and preparation pays off.
I’m learning that repetition is the best learning vehicle.
I’m learning not to obsess over things that aren’t here now.
But it’s hard.
It’s hard because the lure of that shiny medal at the finish line has a way of validating our efforts.
It’s hard because in a strange way it doesn’t seem like the little recovery runs really matter.
It’s hard because having faith is hard.
Setting goals has always been weird to me because I typically focus on the goal instead of what it takes to get there. With Ironman, for example, I tend to compare my training efforts to my race goal. That can be dangerous territory.
The worst strategy in the world is racing an Ironman like it’s a race. It’s a brick by brick build. Stroke by stroke, pedal by pedal, stride by stride. You can’t put up the walls until the foundation is laid.
The same holds for training. I have 17 days left until Ironman Chattanooga, and while that doesn’t seem like much time, there’s a lot of things I can do to improve my race. Little things. Adding a few more bricks to the foundation. Making my weaknesses a little stronger.
The race is coming fast, but there’s really only one thing I need to think about . . . what I’m doing now.
Ironman Wisconsin was the reason I started this site a few years ago and I’ve published a bunch of writings and video about the race. I’ve dug it all up and linked everything from this page for simplicity. I absolutely love Madison and this race. Hope you find some things you enjoy!
Pretty pumped to offer these new logo shirts to anyone who will be Crushing Iron in Chattanooga. They are the same “Next Level” brand Ironman uses for their name shirts. Color is Indigo Blue and for now there are Small – XL in men’s sizes only. Cost is $20.
There are two ways to get one in Chattanooga.
– By making arrangements to meet us… Send me an email ahead of time: [email protected]
– Coming to the lobby of the Chattanoogan Hotel from 3-4:00 on Saturday.
(Note: I will soon be setting up an online store to buy them from here, but it may be a week or so. Email me if you’d like to order with a check or something and we’ll work it out).
I cannot tell you how big of a relief it was to get this in my inbox.
This has been a crazy process that started when I registered for a hotel on the same day I signed up for Ironman Chattanooga. I thought I was staying right next to transition, but inadvertently reserved the same chain hotel in Hamilton Place. Granted, it’s only about a 10 minute drive, but that’s the point. It’s a drive, and I want to relax on both sides of this grueling bastard.
About 6 weeks ago I realized my hotel mistake and started scrambling for a room. I booked rooms near Lookout Mountain, then cancelled those when I thought I made a great score at the historic Chattanooga Choo Choo hotel. Then two weeks ago I went to Chattanooga to run the course and we stayed at the Choo Choo.
The lobby is a massive, high ceiling, ex-train depot situation, that is actually pretty cool. And it seems rather normal until they send you out to “Building 3.”
First of all, we had to drive, and it’s not really a short trip. You curl around the back of a rail yard of train cars (which double as rooms) and at first sight I thought I’d somehow booked a room in bombed ruins.
Building 3
I think my actual thought was, “This is some fancy ass medieval hospitality.” Now, don’t get me wrong, I like cool, old shit, but this just felt a little strange. Like something out of a Stephen King novel and I’m not sure that’s how you want to rest before an Ironman.
But, I kept an open mind because the manager was gracious enough to upgrade us to a suite, and the room wasn’t actually that bad. But it just felt, oh, neglected. Maybe there just weren’t enough guests in Building 3 that night?
We had a corner balcony with a nice view of the pool, which has incredible potential, but I couldn’t help but think I’d wake up to headless jousting in the courtyard.
The other thing with Building 3 is that it is a long ass ways from the street, at least a half mile, and if you’re like me, walking is harder than running at this point in the game. You walk down a row of dozens of old train cars, which is juicy in theory, but just so desolate it feels like an Agatha Christie mystery in process.
The thing about the Choo Choo is that it should be amazing! It is dripping with character and with some better lighting, carpet, and a major clean, this place could be a gem.
In the meantime, bring your broadsword, battle ax, and war hammer to play along with the fantasy before you crush your Ironman.
I just read a post about someone calling Ironman Chattanooga “easy,” so I thought I would set the record straight.
2014 Ironman Winner, Chris McDonald, collapses at finish line. Photo: www.courier-journal.com
About one year ago I was not-so-gracefully recovering from Ironman Louisville. Everything was fine until Mile One of the run when some mysterious being shoveled me into a coal furnace. It was extremely hot. Unbearable. 105 heat index. I was genuinely concerned I may not finish the race, and rightly so. I’ve heard as many as 300 didn’t finish Louisville, which is a huge percentage of DNF’s at an Ironman.
A few weeks later I went to spectate Chattanooga. There were rumblings that the river current would be shut off, but I stood with wide eyes watching hundreds of swimmers get out of the water in less than an hour. I wondered how the extra four miles of the bike might affect people, and seemingly it didn’t. The weather barely crept into the 70’s with a glorious overcast sky. Just about the time people started running a light mist fell onto the athletes to cool them down. Everything lined up, and so did the times.
I’m in the 50-54 age group and 10th place at Chattanooga raced a 10:17. Tenth place at Louisville was 10:51.
But, the reason I’m writing this is because I have a very bad feeling that the fortunes will be reversed this year. Louisville in October will be 60-70 degrees, while Chattanooga is bound to have a silly hot streak in the 80’s. I’m banking on it.
If Ironman Louisville didn’t move to October, I would have done it again. I loved the challenge of that race in the heat, but sadly we’ll never know if I could have conquered it.
SWIM, BIKE, RUN Comparisons
If the current is like it was last year, Chattanooga’s swim is indeed “easier.” But in fairness, Louisville has a lot of downstream on the swim, too, but there’s still about 800 yards (400 in a crowded channel) upstream.
I’ve ridden one loop of Chattanooga’s bike course and honestly don’t remember any hills that had me swearing. Louisville definitely has some, so overall, I’d say it’s a little tougher. But Chattanooga is 116 miles, and I know it’s not a huge deal, but it’s STILL 116 miles on a bike and doing one loop was more than enough for me a few weeks ago.
Chattanooga’s run course is definitely harder from an elevation stand point. At least 8 miles of legitimate hills versus zero hills at Louisville.
Although I did the race last year, I can’t even really comment on the Louisville run because I was genuinely in a daze. If anything it was the most difficult run I’ve ever had from a psychological perspective. It’s more or less one, seemingly endless street that looks and feels the same the entire way. For that reason alone it is brutal.
I actually like hills, so the change of pace is “sorta” welcome at Chattanooga. I say that biting my tongue, of course, because I know I will be cursing myself for most of the run.
In the end, Chattanooga is every bit as challenging as Louisville in its own way. It comes down to the weather. If it’s hot, there will be unending carnage. If we get another day blessed from the Misting Fairies, things will go a lot smoother.
I’ve been spending a little time on the Ironman Chattanooga Facebook page and one thing is clear: Anxiety is setting in.
The posting is furious and reminds me of just how crazy this endeavor can be. Thoughts range from “just relax and enjoy it” to “ask any question that pops into your mind without fear of seeming ridiculous.” I can fully appreciate the entire range of the spectrum.
I’m generally pretty lazy so I have always appreciated the saying, “It’s better to be undertrained than overtrained.” Once again, I am leaning on that philosophy.
I think I do this because I tend to be a risk taker. Before my first Ironman I had never ran more than 14 miles and it worked out pretty well. But last year, I was a injured so I didn’t run more than a couple times in the month leading up to Louisville. In the back of my mind I was excited to see if by some miracle I could pull a rabbit out of my hat on race day. It didn’t happen.
Now I sit here roughly 28 days away from my third Ironman and have no real clue about how it will go. For better or worse, I train mostly in isolation and like to bank on the energy of the event and the crowd to get me to the finish line. On that day I finally have friends again and my adrenaline flows like a lonely dog greeting new house guests.
Then, of course, there’s the late training philosophy of, “Why does any of this really matter?” I can definitely see that as well.
On one hand (the big perspective) the race really shouldn’t matter that much.
My coach said something a long time ago that I’ve never forgotten, “Training is your classwork and the tests, the race is your graduation day. By the time you toe the line you’ve made all the sacrifices and done the work. You should already be proud of what you’ve done and who you’ve become.
On the other hand, internet race results are forever. You’ve filled everyone’s ear about “your Ironman training,” and you don’t want to let them down. You don’t want to let yourself down. You have a secret a top performance goal and you want to reach it.
They are both really natural ways to approach an Ironman, but at some point you just have to LET GO.
The closer we get to the race, the more mental it becomes.
Remind yourself that it’s going to hurt, because it will. Remind yourself to stay under control, especially early in each discipline. Remind yourself that pain is temporary and try to figure out a way to move that makes it hurt less. Remind yourself that it’s a long day and taking a few extra minutes to make sure you’re hydrated or stretched is okay. Remind yourself to keep moving.
Ironman comes down to determination. It comes down to good decisions. It comes down to your ability to manage pain.
Regardless of what happens on the course, the sun will rise the next day and you should be proud of the commitment you’ve made to becoming a better person. Then take advantage of that momentum. Good or bad, race day should not define you.
Note: I wrote this before the actual race, so take most of what I said and double it with regard to intensity after the 116 mile bike. This is also written pre-the-super-hot-races.
Last week I went down to run one loop of the Ironman Chattanooga course and came up with 5 thoughts that might be able to help you if you haven’t had the chance. Make no mistake, this is a challenging Ironman marathon course, especially because the bulk of the hills are in the last five miles.
I tried to find some statistics on the run and found this page which says the median time for the run in my age group (50-54) was 4:51:25, while the median time average of other North American runs is 5:13:40. I’m not sure what that says, but I’m sure it has something to do with the perfect weather and relative ease of the swim in comparison to most other courses.
Median swim time (50-54) at Chattanooga: 00:58:45 Other N. American races 1:21:29
Median bike time (50-54) at Chattanooga: 06:11:35 Other N. American races 06:29:28
Last year professional triathlete, Daniel Bretshcer, won Ironman Wisconsin, then took 2nd at Chattanooga in the same month.
His run times:
Wisconsin – 2:50:14
Chattanooga – 2:53:55
I’ve ran both of those courses and feel like they’re pretty comparable, though Chattanooga has a little more climbing. I really enjoyed Chattanooga’s run course, but wish they would have figured out how to make it run through the downtown a little bit. While the hills you face will be difficult, the long, desolate stretches of the Riverwalk will be a challenge in their own way.
Ironman Chattanooga Riverwalk section of the run.
Chattanooga Run Course – Breakdown
1. The first challenge on the run course is . . . immediately. The first mile is uphill, so be cautious of the fan energy that will surround you as you climb out of transition.
2. The good news is, after your climb to the top of mile one, you’re in “the clear” for the next 7 miles or so. You’ll run on the road for about 3 miles, then turn left to enter the Riverwalk and come back to where you started. This is standard greenway stuff that parallels the river you swam in that morning. I’m guessing it will be pretty desolate, so go inside and find your stride until mile 7.5.
3. The last section of the Riverwalk isn’t brutal but it seems that way as you make your way back onto a side street hill that starts ripping your spirit away. It’s largely uphill and a good warm up for what’s ahead.
4. Once you leave the Riverwalk, you’ll cross Veterans Bridge, which isn’t that steep, but it’s still a bridge.
5. Around mile 9, you’ll clear the bridge and start the first Barton Avenue climb. If you don’t know what’s coming your first thought will be, “Holy Shit!” The hill stares right into your battered eyes and says I’ll be here for the next half mile, so suck it up. It looks pretty intimidating in a car, but when I ran it it didn’t seem too awful. That said, I run a lot of hills.
6. Once at the top, you’ll have about the same distance of descent on the backside and curl left on Hixson Pike to tackle another climb that is almost identical to the one you just did on Barton Avenue.
7. At the top of Hixson Pike you turn right and will have to suck it up for a couple hundred more yards to conquer a short, but pretty steep section.
8. You’ll now be back in a neighborhood and descending for about .3 miles before hitting another short, but tough little climb. Then it’s downhill and flat until you get back to Barton Avenue and the toughest section of the run course.
9. You turn left to head back up the first descent you took on Barton Avenue and at this point in the game it is a beast. It’s a good half mile up, then you crest and immediately start blasting downhill to the river.
10. Instead of going back over the bridge you’ll take a right and go into North Chattanooga on your way to the pedestrian bridge. There’s a little climb here, but not too bad.
11. The first sight of the pedestrian bridge may freak you out a little, too, because it looks like bitch of a climb. It is a very long bridge and running on planks made if feel a little tougher to me. Did I mention it is long? You’ll see family and friends so this part should be great, but then you’ll circle away from the bridge and get to do all of this again. Enjoy!
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Ironman Chattanooga Swim Entrance which you will pass again on your run.
Saving energy in the swim will help your hilly Ironman Chattanooga run later in the day. Check out the C26 Swim Stroke analysis video below. It’s simple, fast, and effective . . .and it’s never too late to dial in your swim stroke.
Marco Pantani is regarded as one of the best climbers in the history of cycling. He used to toy with the field before leaving everyone in his dust on the toughest mountain climbs. Last night I watched Pantani: The Accidental Death of a Cyclist, and the absurdity of cycling really hit home.
The Tour de France is the hardest sporting event in the world.* I know some will argue the Red Bull Electric-Fence-Mud-Climb or something equally “extreme,” but the reality of hammering a bike 100 miles a day for 3 weeks is enough to make me slit my wrists.
I mean, cycling is tough. I laugh when people say, “I could never do the Ironman swim or run, but I could do the bike.” Yeah, right!
I would love to see them churn out 112 miles at even 18 miles an hour and see how the next few days make their legs, ass and brain feel.
Riding a bike is fun! Racing a bike . . . not so much. No wonder these guys are drawn to doping.
Since the 1990s, participants in the Tour de France have worn heart rate monitors, enabling researchers to examine their level of exertion (which can then be expressed as a percentage of the VO2 max). Over the long, flat stages, the monitors suggest that riders hover between 50 and 70 percent of their VO2 max. That may sound like a light workout, but keep in mind that when a Tour de France rider is “resting” at 60 percent of his maximum capacity, he’s working about as hard as an average person at full exertion.
The time trials and mountain stages are entirely different. The long time trials last more than an hour, during which the cyclists remain above 90 percent of VO2 max. (As a crude comparison, for the average person that would be like sprinting for an entire hour.)
The film is about a love affair gone wrong. Pantani was a kid who loved to ride his bike, but once he went professional he referred to the world of cycling as the mafia. The pressure was immense, especially after he won the Tour de France and Giro d’Italia in 1998. Everyone was gunning for him and, while he never technically tested positive, he was disqualified from Giro in 1999 for irregular blood levels. He believed the world of cycling had plotted against him.
This from Pantani’s Wikipedia page:
Although Pantani never tested positive during his career, his career was beset by doping allegations. In the 1999 Giro d’Italia, he was expelled due to his irregular blood values. Although he was disqualified for “health reasons”, it was implied that Pantani’s high haematocrit was the product of EPO use.
It all went downhill from there, and ironically, Lance Armstrong was emerging as the new king of the hill.
Following later accusations, Pantani went into a depression from which he never fully recovered. He died of acute cocaine poisoning in 2004.
The sport he loved, eventually killed him, and that is some fucked up shit.
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* Some will argue that Giro d’Italia or Vuelta a España are technically tougher cycling events.
One side note from the film. I have no understanding of the science, but when these guys were doping one of the things they would do is wear a heart rate monitor to bed and when it got too low an alarm would go off. They’d then get out of bed in the middle of the night and start riding a trainer to get the heart rate up again. They’d do this while the tour was going on. I mean . . . really?
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“The Pirate” Marco Pantani. (Click picture for his wiki page)
Since I started training for an Ironman, one of the consistent criticisms I hear is how this large corporation uses volunteers to make a ton of money. I’ve always had mixed emotions about that stance because, frankly, every volunteer I’ve talked to absolutely loved their experience.
Volunteers keep Ironman triathletes safe. Click picture for story. Photo Gregory Shaver for The JournalTimes.com
Something that bugs me about the way our world seems to work now is this constant obsession with “maximizing our value.” Usually this means, we should charge more more money for our services. “If we’re not getting paid for what we do, we’re getting screwed!”
This morning I stumbled on an article about volunteers at the PGA Championship at Whistling Straights in Wisconsin who PAY to be volunteers for the golf tournament. That’s right, they pay $204.74 for the privilege of working for someone else.
Volunteer slots sold out in March.
The reason they do it is because the event wouldn’t happen without their generosity. The reason they pay is because they perceive extreme value. They love golf and want to make sure it stays around.
From the article:
“If you’re a golf fan, it’s the ultimate volunteer experience,” said Allan Scheurell, 82, a retiree from Manitowoc.
The ultimate volunteer experience.
Volunteer means to give your time to help a greater cause. That’s exactly what Ironman volunteers do, and it gets them up close and personal with a sport they love.
Sure, Ironman makes a lot of money, but races (as we know and love them) wouldn’t exist without volunteers. And that means, you probably wouldn’t have the opportunity to do an Ironman.
Think about that.
My dad was the first General Manager of a minor league baseball team in Beloit, Wisconsin. It was in the early 80’s and a big deal at the time. The only way that operation existed was because of volunteers.
I was always skeptical. Why would someone volunteer precious time to serve hotdogs behind a hot counter?
Because they wanted the team to be successful. It was good for the community and of course part of the hot dog sales went to their favorite charity or cause like Little League.
The reality is, Ironman volunteers are conscientious people who understand the purpose of a greater good. It’s like helping your neighbor get his car out of the ditch. Why is most people’s first thought, “He should pay me money or buy me some beer for that!?”
Great rewards come from giving back and paying it forward. In reality, that’s the reason I have written nearly 700 posts on this blog. Because it makes me feel good, and at the core I love to exchange thoughts with passionate people about triathlon and life.
It truly is greater to give than receive. I understand this more and more as I trade in my ego-centered lifestyle. Putting others first is ultimately putting yourself first. The insecurities, guilt, and anxiety all fade away and make you a happier person.
So, next time you hear someone say Ironman should be paying volunteers, turn to them and say, “Yeah, well, maybe the volunteers should be paying Ironman.”
