1. I wonder if all runners go through the same cycle: Obsessed with knowing everything about running, obsessed about their times and pace, loving running because it’s free and feels good.
2. Why don’t all runners smile, wave, or say hi to each other?
3. Is patriotism a necessary evil in the wide scope of humanity?
4. I really wish I would have changed my socks halfway through the marathon at Ironman Louisville.
5. Are non-English speaking citizens lonely, or happier than most because they have a small and tight circle of people they trust?
6. What do dogs think runners are?
7. Are we really meant to be with one person forever?
8. I can’t wait to get back into the pool.
9. Running doesn’t have to be that hard.
10. It’s amazing how fast you can get out of shape after an Ironman.
My coach sends me a lot of triathlon articles, but this one may be my favorite. I’m a huge Wisconsin basketball fan and didn’t realize it while shooting video at the race in Madison, but former player Zach Bohannon was on his way to becoming an Ironman.
Reading made me a little emotional because the way he told the story reinforced why I love Badger basketball. He downplayed his efforts and gave credit to the team. I only wish I would have stuck around to see the celebration.
The Basketball team celebrates Zach’s Finish at the Ironman Wisconsin.
In this article by Mike Lucas, Zach says his reason for doing Ironman was “To say I did it,” but I think it’s more likely because, that’s how he does life.
For most of my childhood and early adult years (even though the teams were pretty bad in the 70’s and 80’s) Badger basketball was my favorite sport. After listening to games on the radio, I’d put on a heavy coat, shovel snow, then take jumpers on an ice-covered driveway while imagining leading Wisconsin to the national championship. It wasn’t easy to make shots with thick Winter gloves, but I never blamed the conditions.
Earlier this year, I was in the crowd as Zach and Company lost that Final Four heartbreaker in Dallas, but was incredibly proud to be a Badger fan. They were largely a group of unheralded players that worked hard, believed in themselves, and had contagious chemistry.
“We weren’t just a team last season; we are friends for life wanting each other to all do well in whatever we pursue,” says Bohannon.
I really believe there’s nothing more important than being around people that support and inspire you. Ironman can weed them out in a hurry.
Like decade-long runs at the Final Four, Ironman can be an incredibly isolating and lonely journey. You battle pain, self-doubt, and have a lot of time to reflect. At Ironman Wisconsin last year I described the end of that road like this:
“If there was any doubt about why I would do such a crazy thing, it was answered when I saw my family and friends in the Finisher’s chute. I was on the course by myself that last hour, but was not alone. I kept running because they were waiting. Waiting on their son, waiting on their friend. And there’s nothing more powerful than someone excitedly waiting for you to come home.”
This is how Zach recalled it, “As great as finishing was, seeing the support of all of these people was even better,” he said referring to his family, friends and teammates.
I’m drawn the the Ironman culture because it’s filled with “normal” people who won’t accept limits. This holds true for both the athletes, and those who support our quest. It’s embracing possibility and making the most out of our lives.
There’s a commercial on the Big 10 Network where Zach makes a bold acknowledgment that his goal is to someday be President of the United States. Ironman is surely a step in the right direction, and I have no reason to doubt he will make his dream reality.
Maybe you can spot Zach in this video I made of the Wisconsin Swim Start. [follow_me]
These are all screen grabs from the video I’m working on. Hope you enjoy.
They were lined 8 deep to watch racers run up the helix after the Swim.This is a wide shot from near the Swim ExitThey crowd in tight when you run up to your bike.This is on TOP of the building and they lined the entire way.Waiting for swimmers to reach the top of the helix.Jam packed to watch triathlon.
[follow_me]
This is on top of the building where crowds lined the walkways to watch bike transition.
EDIT: Here is another perspective on why pro triathletes may not be getting as much publicity as they should or could. I know this is all about money, but if WTC is purposely keeping pro athletes from gaining popularity, that’s pretty sad.
I think one of the coolest things about triathlon is racing with the pros. Age groupers are fascinated by the ungodly splits, mysterious lifestyles, and mythical training schedules. All of which is why I think a lot of pros are missing a huge opportunity.
Age Groupers are rabid fans who can’t get enough of their sport, but I’m pretty sure most “Ironmen” can’t name more than one or two pros in their race. I write and think about triathlon every day, and the Pro Roster at Wisconsin was totally off my radar.
Konstantin Bachor, after setting a new Wisconsin bike course record
I’d imagine it has to feel like a traveling circus for many pro triathletes. Showing up in random towns with other endurance freaks so the age groupers can gawk at their oddities. But, just like carnivals, triathlons have a built in, and captive customer base.
Occasionally I will strike a conversation with a pro at a race and they have always been really cool, but I am typically unimpressed by the way most handle their online presence. Some are accessible, but most of the time it feels like the conversations are “inside baseball.”
I went to Wisconsin to “cover” Ironman simply because I love the sport and culture. I was shocked by how many people recognized me and said they read Crushing Iron. Open communication resonates, and I certainly connected with a bunch of new friends and readers.
I have written over 500 posts about triathlon and while I’m certain much of it is BS, I rarely hear or get responses from pros. I don’t mean praise or positive reinforcement, but a quick barb, thank you, disagreement, or whatever.
Last night, out of the blue, I did get a “thank you” on Twitter from Pedro Gomes for posting a picture of him at Ironman Wisconsin. I didn’t even tag his name under the photo because I wasn’t sure who he was. But now I know.
Not only did he thank me, he followed, responded again, then sent his email so I could link him some video I shot at the race.
Pedro Gomes, 3rd Place at Ironman Wisconsin 2014
It’s not a huge deal, but I thought it was cool, so I checked out his website, and Race Report (which included a photo credit for me). You can rest assured my friends will now be getting a taste of Pedro Gomes 1st place predictions.
A little Twitter love goes a long ways. I’ve heard from Jodie Swallow, Mirinda Cafrae, Ben Hoffman, and . . . well, that’s about it, but I definitely remember and talk about them.
I just think with all this talk about cutting pros out of races, etc, it would be in their best interests to build followings and marketable brands for coaching, merchandise, or general leverage with sponsors. I would certainly order a “Gomes Racing” or “I Follow The Swallow” t-shirt.
I really enjoy having pros at races and think it’s important for the integrity of the sport. But with the growing popularity of Ironman among the carnival goers, it makes you wonder if the pro circuit is losing some of its allure with race directors.
The Mass Swim Start at Wisconsin is one of the coolest sporting spectacles you’ll ever see. If you don’t believe me, ask my mother.
This Pro triathlete, Pedro Gomes. I posted this picture on Twitter with the caption “3rd Place Pro,” and somehow he found it and personally thanked me. Pretty cool move.
State Street has that European Cafe flavor and it was bustling all afternoon for Ironman Wisconsin. “My people” never miss a reason to have a party and they were throwing down in Madison.
I happened to be standing by the Run Out when first pro off the bike, Konstantin Bachor, glided by with a big smile. I didn’t move until the next runner came by and it seemed like forever. I truly started to wonder if Bachor was an impostor. He wasn’t and held on for 4th place.
The 3 big hills at Wisconsin aren’t “that” bad, but they are nice little climbs in the middle of a challenging course. I was lucky enough to hang out at the third one where people are absolutely bonkers with their support. There’s nothing like laughing while you grind your way up a tough hill.
I grew up in Wisconsin and only last year realized the true beauty of the state capitol. It is absolutely massive and the perfect backdrop for this finish line.
The crowds were genuinely overwhelming and made it very hard for me to get good video footage.
These were from my walk around on Saturday night. The calm before the storm, including a rare nighttime shot of bike transition.
Here’s the official Crushing Iron video from Ironman Louisville 2014. This is been a pretty heavy year for me and some close friends (maybe more transitional) and I think this video sums up a lot of the feelings.
I really appreciate the support of everyone who travelled to see us tackle a very difficult day. Mom, Chris, Rebekah, Pete, Jim, and Allie were there every step of the way, and we all know spectating an Ironman is no walk in the park.
A special thanks to my brother Chris for capturing so many amazing moments with the camera, and to Sarah, who graciously watched my dog Mattie for the weekend.
Here’s to Robbie and Elyse who trained their asses off to rock Louisville.
This is just a quickie, but I had to say a little something about this phenomenal day. I showed up around 6 am with my mind on the money shot. I had thought about this for months. I wanted to get an incredible overhead view of the swim gaggle as they set out to sea. There was only one problem. There were so many damn people there I couldn’t get a good shot.
Eight deep everywhere I looked. I was running around like a guy looking for his toe covers in transition. It was a madhouse! I’m going up and down the stairs, back and forth, all over that damn Helix and I couldn’t find one shot worth shooting.
I was starting to get seriously bummed. I drove 10 hours from Nashville and I wouldn’t get the one shot I wanted most? I even pleaded with the Ironman VIP area to give me 10 minutes in Swanksville. I mean it’s not like I don’t give them endless attention and praise nearly every day of the year. But, they wouldn’t let me in, and in fairness it was volunteers, I’m sure the head honcho would have graciously offered the Catbird seat, but I didn’t have time to wait.
I finally landed in a stairwell and shot the incredible start through the glass. I think it will work out find, but not idea. Here’s a sample.
I knew there was a nice crowd last year while I raced, but I just had no idea how nuts this place was. Without any “real access” my shooting was severely challenged. Hopefully I can make something of the video, and thankfully, with a crazy stroke of luck I met two Crushing Iron readers who totally hooked me up for the bike. Tom connected me with Ryan who took me right to the 3rd of the “Three Bitches” somewhere out in the middle of nowhere.
These people are kind of crazy in the greatest of ways. Screaming things like “I bet you wish you were still in the water!” as cyclists focused every ounce of energy on climbing that hill. Costumes ruled the day and I can’t help but feel a sense of pride when I watch literally hundreds of fellow Wisconsinites so excited to strange men and women get to the top of the hill.
After the bike, Ryan dropped me off and I went right to the Run Out and within two minutes I saw the first pro, Konstantin Bachor, hit the pavement. He was ELEVEN minutes ahead and had just set a bike course record of 4:31:13. He smiled, ran by, and gave me a friendly slap to the head as if to say, “See you in a few minutes.”
I rolled up and down State Street mesmerized by all the energy and excitement. It was a perfect day, loaded with a comfortable Wisconsin sun and spectators were soaking it in.
It’s going to be very hard not pulling the trigger tomorrow.
I’ve written an Ironman Louisville race report, but feel like the run deserves a little more attention. Namely because it was the hardest and most confusing athletic endeavor I have ever experienced.
I say “athletic endeavor” but my journey was much more reminiscent of Fear Factor meets 65 “Ice Cup Challenges.”
The only thing I can compare it to was the run last year at Ironman Wisconsin. It was a very similar experience, but this year I felt much better getting off the bike, so the collapse is even more intriguing.
My run at Wisconsin was 4:23 and hurt every step. My Louisville time was 5:27 and damn near killed me.
God, that run. I don’t even know how to describe it other than a precession of 25 Aid Station hunts. One mile at a time, I blindly felt my way through darkness under searing sunlight. An endless mirage that tugged and taunted until the finish line was my only remaining option.
I mean, the heat is obviously the reason Louisville’s run turned me into a corn on the cob, but I still have deeper questions: When and how did it fall apart?
Did I push too hard on the bike? Sure didn’t feel like it. I nearly lived in the small ring, coasted all downhills and rarely felt like I was hammering. The main problem I had on the bike was my neck.
But, there is just no other reasoning that makes sense. I must have been much hotter on the bike than I realized. That, and/or I didn’t get enough fluids. I mean, how else could I be that hot, that fast on the run?
There is no doubt I ran my first mile too fast (9:38) but I honestly felt strong off the bike. It wasn’t until the first Aid Station when I started seeing two headed vulcans.
Exactly one mile into the marathon I was in survival mode. Volunteers were cooling water and Perform bottles in those little kiddie pools and all I could think about was parking my hot ass in the middle of their stash.
I also had a gut cramp, which didn’t help matters. I popped salt and chicken broth to no avail. Maybe I should have gone with more Perform? I just couldn’t even look at that stuff after the bike. I would have surely puked.
This run felt like trudging through a swamp on the hottest day of the year. My body, including my feet, were soaked, and nothing was drying off. BUT, that ice was certainly melting.
By the time I was a quarter mile away from the Aid Station, I was scrambling for any secret to save my melting ice. It was my personal cartoon where the character melts and seeps into the sewer grates.
All of my injuries were a mute point. They had ZERO to do with this run. My legs (and ribs) felt fine. It was just an overall feeling of sloth. A muddled and confused “forward is technically a pace” adventure.
There was a period of time when I felt outside my body, only be reminded by some very nice liar that I was looking good. “You look good, Mike, hang in there!”
I looked like shit and have video to prove it (which I will soon be releasing for the world to make fun of). It will be a public humiliation like never witnessed before. Life of Brian shit.
But, seriously, I’m glad I had the sense to spend time cooling my core. It could have been a very bad ending and we wouldn’t have had any video to laugh at later this month.
I did make it, but in typical me fashion, I’m a little pissed that I walked at all. I may not have been “run ready” for this race, but I think my legs where there. I really do. It is this core temperature thing that I don’t quite understand.
I was over an hour slower at Louisville than Wisconsin. I think I was in at least as good of shape . . . and clearly 20 degrees makes a big difference, but when and how did it go off the rails?
I wrote the following piece a few months ago but held off on posting it for some reason. Probably because it seems a bit harsh, or maybe because I wanted to complete my second Ironman to have a better perspective.
The topic was “less time than normal” to finish the race, but now there is yet another beef crawling around in the Ironman Chattanooga Facebook group: 4 extra miles on the bike.
I honestly get why people would be upset about this one. For me it’s not the extra distance from a physical standpoint, but the integrity of 140.6. It’s the same reason I was so bummed about the rumblings that Louisville would be shortened because of the heat. I wanted the Ironman distance race so it could be compared and contrasted with the others.
But, my perspective was wrong. Ironman shouldn’t be treated like a “bucket list” item, it should be a well-rounded path to a better and stronger you.
Completing an Ironman in 17, or 16.5 hours isn’t nearly as hard as I thought it would be. I am 50 years old and basically started running and biking just over two years ago. I had minor experience as a cyclist from a collection of mountain bike races, but none were over 40 miles. I started my training and worked my ass off to finish my first race on a difficult Wisconsin course in under 12 hours.
I got the medal and started thinking of myself as an Ironman, and while I’m not sure of what that definition is, I still wasn’t even close to being one. It’s not about the medal, it’s about the process that gets you there, and where that process takes you next.
The Ironman Chattanooga Race Director has undergone a shit-storm of backlash that needs to go away. Ironman is a challenge that “Ironmen” should rise to and conquer. The continual anxiety gets you nowhere and this whole situation is akin to bitching at the Park Ranger because Mount Everest is too high. Buckle up, and climb it.
Ironman Chattanooga 16.5 Hour Time Limit – Crushing Iron
There’s been a lot of rumbles about the fact that, instead of the traditional seventeen hours, athletes will only have 16.5 hours to complete Ironman Chattanooga. For most it shouldn’t be much of an issue, but the vocal have been eyeballing that 17 hour time limit from day one. While I can understand their frustration, I feel like it’s more of an opportunity than a negative. The best way to handle change is to include what you’ve learned from the past and transcend it in the future.
We Evolve
I am 50 years old.
Remember 50 year olds when you were a child? They were OLD. They were my grandpa. He could barely walk across the kitchen. To think about him doing an Ironman is laughable.
Our Potential Has Evolved
When I was a kid, Ironman was impossible. In fact, it wasn’t even invented.
When they did the first race in Hawaii, there was no map. It was like traveling across America in a covered wagon.
Now, we have GPS, paved roads, convenience stores, rest stops with food and drink. What used to take four months now takes about 6 days. Times have changed.
We have trainers, videos, aero helmets, race wheels, space-aged nutrition, an endless source of people who have traveled the Ironman roads who can tell you what to expect at every turn. Frankly, it’s easier now than it was in the 80’s.
We Grow to the Size of Our Cage
If I’m an unhappy person making $30,000 a year, the odds of me being the same unhappy person making a million a year are pretty good. I’ll just spend more money and create the same kinds of problems.
I used to work in television and it’s a fast paced business. Sometimes I’d have a month to write a promo. Sometimes I’d have ten minutes. Often the longer I had made it worse.
The more time we have, the more time we have to waste. What really matters is how much time you’re putting into the pool, on the bike, and in your running shoes. Worrying about having an extra 30 minutes is an excuse. Put the pen to paper and write.
Time to Change
There’s definitely something cool about the midnight cut off. The stories of dramatic finishes are a major point of intrigue about these races. But we are adaptable creatures that would easily adjust and produce the same memorable moment with a shorter time.
Maybe it’s time to move the start to 7:30 across the board. Our friends and family would get more sleep and you’d have a little extra time to warm up and do visualize yourself crossing the line an hour before the cut off.
History is laced with examples of amazing feats that shatter the belief system of athletes. Once an “impossible” record goes down, there is always a pattern of multiple people eclipsing the same, “unattainable” feat shortly after the barrier has been broken. It’s mental, and now thousands and thousands of people have completed Ironman in less than 16.5 hours.
Plan to Get There Sooner
I really believe odds of something going wrong increase proportionately to the amount of time you spend worrying about them. If you prepare, practice your plan, and stay under control, your race will go a lot smoother.
Reality is reality and now it’s 16.5 hours or a tad less for those going to Chattanooga. Roughly, that’s 1:50 in the water (downstream and likely in a wetsuit), 7:50 on the bike, and about 6:30 to walk a marathon. And, this may sound harsh, but other than genuine injury, it’s kinda weak if you enter Ironman with a plan to straight-out-walk the entire marathon.
Remember Julie Moss? She’s the iconic woman in the annals of Ironman lore for her dramatic finish in 1982. She competed in Hawaii as part of her research for an exercise physiology thesis and admits she didn’t take the race seriously, nor did she do any special training. Julie literally crawled across the finish line in 11:56:18.
She had no clue what she was getting into, but we do. We train in groups with people who’ve been there. We do bricks. We watch “normal” men and women finish Ironman all the time.
Don’t get me wrong, Ironman is very, very hard. But 17 hours is a random number that lives in your head. Aim higher and don’t let 30 minutes put so much pressure on you that it ruins your race. Train with a goal to finish in 15 hours and see how that works out for you.
