Ironman – Page 38

May 4, 2014

This is a Pain in the Calves

A few days ago I was relishing in glory of my newly found calf pain after running in my old shoes. I rallied on and on about how excited I was to have triggered my fast twitch muscles for the first time in years. It was glorious!

Well, the masochist in me is rejoicing louder than before because my calves feel like I have two squirrels nesting in my flesh. I haven’t been this sore since my first day of Pop Warner football practice. It reminds me of a cramp I got jumping out of the pool after 4,000 meters one night. I’m nearly immobile!

The Zen Master inside of me is whispering, “A life without pain is a life un-lived” while the practical priest is imploring me to get my dumb ass on a massage table. The life of direct apprehension is never a picnic.

But we press on because difficult decisions seem to be the backbone of life. If Ironman was easy, everyone would do it. Come to think of it, if life were easy, everyone would do it.

May 3, 2014

Unusual Mental Habits of a Triathlete

Since I started training for triathlon, I’ve developed an unusual obsession of assigning real life events values that are equivalent to my workouts. Today was a prime example.

I had to return an HDMI cable for my Apple TV to Kmart (Yes, they are still around) and I’m not sure I can explain the physiological toll it took on me. The mere thought of wading through this challenge was so stressful I contemplated whether or not even needed Apple TV in the first place.

Simply going to Kmart is about as heart wrenching as organizing your bike gear, filling water bottles, and driving 30 minutes to Natchez Trace to ride. The difference being, the scenery at Kmart doesn’t take your mind off the pain.

Kmart’s are so run down that chaos pours into the parking lot and any sort of flow or order is thrown to the wolves. I played the game by driving up the wrong lane and backing into my stall for a quick exit.

I stormed straight to the counter and delivered a romantic eye to the overweight lady wearing an untucked pink polo. She responded to my advance by turning around to lean on the back shelf. I was perplexed.

Normally my charm can sweep away a customer service representative, but today I was struggling. After 30 seconds, she turned to face me with deep breaths that were more in line with the last minutes of life than pre-orgasm. Her eyes turned inward as she fought to remain calm. I asked if she was alright.

“Yes, forgive me. I just walked up here from the back of the store and I’m out of breath.”

Now, Kmart’s are decent sized stores, but they’re no Walmart. She was out of breath from walking across the store? I mean, my calves are killing me, but her plight was certainly more urgent.

I said, “No worries,” though I was extremely concerned as she directed me to the back of the store to get the cable I wanted in exchange. I playfully asked, “if she would mind getting it for me?” and let me tell you, that did not go over well.

When I returned to my breathless love, she was helping a fragile old lady while simultaneously yelling at a guy on a scooter. Then she cursed her cash register, “Oh, don’t do this to me or I’ll throw you into the parking lot!”

All of this felt like the equivalent of the first 12 miles on Natchez Trace. A challenging warm up to my day. Still tight, but starting to come alive.

In all seriousness, I did feel for her. I just can’t imagine how difficult it must be to turn around your health so late in life, especially when you’ve spent the last 30 years neglecting yourself. But the body is a remarkable machine and some short term pain goes a long ways.

After an enlightening wait I secured my exchange and left through the in-door, where I almost got run over by another scooter guy having a conversation with the two newspaper-selling Shriners. (What is it with these newspapers??)

“That’s quite a scooter,” said Shriner guy 1.

“Pretty slick,” said the other in a mildly creepy manner.

“Yeah, but it’s so damn slow I can walk faster. I probably don’t need it,” said the man riding the scooter.

Exchanges like this do two things to me: They excite me beyond belief because of their absurdity, and they really make me wonder what the hell is going on in this world.

By the time I got back to the car I had mentally logged 10 more hilly miles on the Trace. It was a rough ride with a couple tempo explosions that raised my pulse. In all, I think my work for the day is done — and there will be little to no more guilt about my general level of exercise.

May 2, 2014

Another Great Open Water Swim Lesson

“My breath gets short, my stroke gets short, and my brain turns into a toy monkey wildly clapping his cymbals.”

I have to give myself a little credit. I’m two-for-two with 6 am lake swims and today was a cold Spring morning begging me to listen to birds from my own little nest. Thankfully I ignored the the voices in my head because I gained a valuable pearl of triathlon wisdom.

The team squeezed into our wetsuits in chilly 48 degree weather before plunging into 62 degree water. We took a nice 400 yard warm up, then a 200 yard easy swim with a couple “pick ups” before settling on the receding beach for an early season time-trial.

Jim went first, followed by Melissa, Annapurna, and me in 10 second spacing. Our goal was to see how fast we could swim the estimated 300 yards, so we could check our improvement later in the summer.

I immediately went into “race mode.”

The first hundred or so I “sensed” I was moving faster (or at least more aggressively than my warm up) but I could also feel myself getting short of breath. As I cornered toward the second buoy I consciously tried to relax, but my arms wouldn’t slow down, I was being TIMED for god sakes, and I’m a competitor.

The last 100 into shore, I did my best to keep a steady groove, but was clearly off my game. I stumbled into the sand and fell down in exhaustion. I felt awful, which is exactly opposite of the reason I want to swim.

Everyone else did another trial, but I passed. I was a weary and knew another round wouldn’t be good for my soul.

I talked through my issues with coach, and as usual he came up with the perfect answer. He said I always look strong and fluid in warm ups, but when I get into a racing mode I start wasting tons of energy by “trying” to go fast, especially when I’m next to another swimmer in the water. I start flailing and lose all rhythm, which is counter productive.

He was 100% right and I immediately felt better about my future.

In all my Ironman swims I have gone out of my way to stay under control. Even to the point of looking back at the sky when I breathe to make sure I’m not rushing my stroke. I have had 3 solid swims because of it.

But, I have also had huge fails in the water. Serious bouts with anxiety and in every case, I have shot out like a canon. My breath gets short, my stroke gets short, and my brain turns into a toy monkey wildly clapping his cymbals. Any speed I may have gained by going out fast is always negated because I’ll eventually tread water or breast stroke in an effort to lower my heart rate.

It makes no sense for me to go out fast. Even in a short time trial.

My time today was 5:19 and I’m pretty sure I could have “cruised” to a 5:29. That’s 10 seconds, or about a minute over the course of a half Ironman. One minute.

It’s a super fine line in the water and I have to be firm on my plan to negative split. In all of my good swims I have gotten stronger (and certainly faster) at the end. This happened naturally and simply because I was more relaxed.

I guess this is another great example in the cycle of wisdom. You learn by doing.

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Sore Calves Update: They are SUPER sore today and it made for tough beach entries and exits today. In fact, on my time trial start I did a face plant while running into the water because I couldn’t get my legs up. I’m still optimistic, however and look forward to a nice run this weekend.

May 1, 2014

The Beauty of Sore Running Muscles

Last night I ran in my Pearl Izumi Streaks for the first time since Goosepond and it was an eye opener. Almost instinctively I was on my mid-foot more than I’d been in months. Felt like I was actually “running” again.

It was a 7.5 mile run and by mile 5 my calves were burning! I threw in a couple tempo-sections and had more natural speed . . . not to mention a general feeling of explosiveness and love in my stride.

I haven’t felt that kind of calf stimulation since I started endurance running. It’s not a “bad” sore, but clearly one of those good workout feelings you get when you’re actually working your muscles. I’ve been routinely running 5-11 miles for the last several months and not once did I have this pulsating burn in my calves.

The Streaks are more of a shorter distance shoe with less padding and “rise.” I have been training in the Pearl Izumi N1’s and for some reason they’ve always felt like a padded boat. It didn’t “hurt” as much, but I never felt that light/explosive feeling I get from my Streaks.

The only reasoning I have for this muscle soreness is that I was running more naturally . . . aka like I should. I have a weird feeling I was trouncing along passively in my N1s and not with form you need to get faster. More of a jogger than a runner. So this is good news and makes me optimistic about Rev 3 Knoxville.

I’m excited to be back with my bread and butter, but the bad news is, Pearl doesn’t make this model anymore. So, if you have some old Streaks in your closet or know about a backroom stash somewhere at the Pearl Izumi headquarters, please get in touch.

Long Live The Streak!! She’s a beauty!!

May 1, 2014

Remembering the Fab 5 from Ironman Wisconsin

This is actually a re-post of a little addition I tacked on at the end of a story the other guys wrote about me before Ironman Wisconsin. I have been looking for inspiration triggers tonight and many times they end up being the people closest to you. Yeah, I’ve already posted this, but it was fun for me to read and I’m guessing millions of people from around the world haven’t seen it yet. Besides, it’s my blog.

THE FAB FIVE

I spent a TON of time with these guys over the last year and every minute was inspirational. Each of them connected with me in different ways and it was truly a blessing to meet them and train together for a goal I thought was impossible.

I’ve said it many times before, but Jim is the reason I am in triathlon . . . and for that matter, not a whale laying around on the couch. He patiently led by example until I figured out that I should probably follow in his footsteps. Jim made many sacrifices to make sure I stayed engaged with endurance sports, and I will forever be indebted to his efforts. Maybe one day I too will be getting up at 3:45 every morning.

Kevin’s gutsy performance at IM Louisville 2012 was the final straw that lured me into Ironman. Watching my first IM was an emotional and motivating experience. I barely knew Kevin at the time, but I was so moved by his effort that day, I knew I would sign up to race sooner than later. We didn’t bike or run together often, but our lake battles were undeniably the catalyst to me becoming a confident swimmer and rejuvenating my competitive nature.

Daniel is one of the most positive and compassionate people I know. He overcame a lot to get where he is today. His passion for triathlon shined bright all year and his results proved it. He embraced every experience like it was his last and smiled before, during, and after each competition or workout. Ironman was a first for both of us and we loved to speculate about how it would feel to compete, then finish. We dove into every detail along the way and I think it made us both better racers and people.

Mark showed more guts than just about anyone I’ve ever known as a competitor. It seemed like he was injured the entire training season, but he kept pushing on. And I’m not talking about hang nails. He had a double hernia and a torn bicep, but didn’t let either get in his way. Despite these setbacks, having a family, and owning a business that was exploding, he kept his eye on the prize and peaked with a great performance at Wisconsin. He showed a lot of confidence in me and that became a big source of motivation.

It was, is, and always will be the Fab 5 I think of first. We committed to a journey and each other. We followed through with a major challenge and came away with far more than medals. We are great friends who shared deep and meaningful experiences that no one can ever take away.

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Post script.

Jim has just signed up for Ironman Maryland this year.

Daniel is closing in on Ironman Texas.

Kevin will be getting married soon in Florida.

Mark just did the Country Music 1/2 Marathon and seems on the fence about what’s next, but I sense something is coming.

Me . . . well, you know. Just plugging along and trying to figure out what’s next.

May 1, 2014

Ironman Wisconsin Official Video

“It’s like a tailgate party for a triathlon.”

I will always be biased, but I can’t imagine there’s a better Ironman race than Wisconsin. Tonight I happened to stumble upon the official video from our race and, once again, it gave me chills.

The mass swim start is one of the most memorable experiences of my life. The sea of humanity was a sensory overload. Then running up a helix lined with screaming fans was the perfect transition.

The bike course was the favorite ride of my training year. It was impossibly well supported. The three “Tour de France” climbs (twice) with people in costumes running next to you turned pain into pleasure.

I truly can’t imagine a better marathon run course for an Ironman. State Street was a massive party and we got to run up and down it eight times. The rest of the run was on or near the University of Wisconsin campus and spectators gave you energy on nearly every block.

And for a local boy, the finish was perfectly planted right beneath the majestic Wisconsin State Capitol. A day I will never forget and would someday like to live again.

April 30, 2014

Open Water Swim Sighting

Ironman New Orleans 70.3 has a “Z” pattern swim course and before we started a local coach gave me this advice: Swim toward the levy, swim toward the boathouse, then swim back toward the levy. It “sounded” good on the surface, but I kept asking “to which part of the levy?” and “to which part of the boathouse?” To which he responded, “Just swim to the levy and the boathouse.”

This was ringing in my ears yesterday for our first Open Water Swim practice but obviously not loud enough. Our lake-sky started with a dark tint before parting to a beautiful sunrise and it was symbolic of the lesson I needed to remember.

We swam a bit to warm up in the cool water, which was nearly the orgasmic temperature for a wetsuit. Then we lined up to analyzed each others strokes. It was an enlightening process.

Coach imitated my form and my first thought was he looked tense, which I believe is the biggest reason people struggle with swimming. My stroke was right-hand-dominant and I had a tendency to come too far out of the water when sighting (which I was also probably doing too often). Having a “high head” isn’t necessarily bad, but mine was lifting to ridiculous levels and I quickly figured out why . . . obsession with sighting the buoy.

That’s when I remembered my swim in New Orleans (which was pretty good by my standards). I DID just swim toward the levy and the boathouse. It was a “general sighting” that “guided me” in the right direction. I didn’t pick a certain place or a buoy at all. I just went in the right direction and trusted the flow of the world around me.

I don’t wear contacts when I practice swim, so my vision is definitely hampered. This makes sighting more stressful, and is a likely explanation for why I “spaz” and lift my head so far out of the water. I always want to swim at ONE OBJECT when I should be swimming at a GROUP OF OBJECTS.

When you’re doing IRONMAN distance races, you are so damn far away from your target that you just need a general area to attack for the first part of your leg. It’s better to swim straight than continually over-correct. Then as you get closer, and can actually see that one object without effort, zone in more specifically.

It takes a lot of faith to swim toward a a group of trees, but it works. The more I practiced the more I relaxed and kept my head down in the water. I was sighting with alligator eyes, rather than a Tarzan torso.

You don’t need to SEE your target, you just need a glimpse. A reminder. A general guide. And that’s sort of like doing little things in life that lead you in the right direction as opposed to “expecting” a specific outcome. Trust the process.

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Post script: This lesson also applies to my swim at Wisconsin. I was largely disappointed in my sighting and it had a lot to do with my inability to get a grip on the buoys, of which there were many.

I found myself self-correcting every time I saw one which probably led to a bunch of zig-zagging rather than a general straight line. This is bad for distance and energy.

I remember thinking I needed to aim at a bridge on the first leg, which would have set me right at the first turn buoy. But I couldn’t always see that bridge and in retrospect think it would have been much more efficient to just go “toward” the bridge with an eye on the shoreline.

The second leg was short and really more about untangling the mass of humanity than sighting, but once I got to the third leg (around 1,700 yards) I should have just trusted the flow of the swimmers instead of trying to sight a specific smoke stack in the distance. I was disorienting myself by trying to stay close to the buoy line and it caused a lot of confusion. Honestly, sometimes I feel like I was taking a 45 degree angle toward the buoy just to stay on course. But, I was ALREADY on course (even though I may have been 20 yards off course . . . if that makes any sense?

The short of it is, I think I thought about sighting way too much instead of just swimming. That’s easy to say now because it was very choppy and I was afraid to end up in no-man’s land. But the truth is, I should have relaxed and swam in the general direction of the that 3rd turn buoy and thought about it more when I was in range.

These are the little things that are so huge in triathlon and why I ultimately love the sport. I wouldn’t say I had a “bad” swim at Wisconsin (1:20) but I could have saved some energy and a few minutes if I had just relaxed a little bit more and trusted the flow.

April 28, 2014

Enjoy the Lifestyle of Triathlon #IML

If you want to wear those sweet-ass high-riding orange shorts at Hooters, you’d better be prepared to serve your share of rowdy patrons.

In the middle of our daily triathlon-group-text today, Wasky slid in a very simple, yet powerful zinger, “Just enjoy the lifestyle.”

That wisdom materialized as we were discussing which (if any) Ironman Jim and I will be doing this year. Maryland and Louisville are both on the table, and Jim is leaning toward taking the plunge with an attitude of not chasing times and simply . . . enjoying the lifestyle.

So enjoy the lifestyle, huh? Getting up at 5:30 to ride five hours on hilly terrain? Hmm . . . that’s at tough one, but there is so much about triathlon that is awesome.

Like wearing race shirts and other cool gear, for example. I was sporting my Ironman New Orleans 70.3 shirt while raking cups at a water stop on Saturday and received some genuine props from several runners. “Ironman, so cool. I ‘respect’ that, man.” They respect that, and I feel the love, but on some level that makes me feel weird.

Speaking of respect, it sorta reminded me of an awkward incident as I was flying back into Nashville on 4th of July last year. I was jostling in my seat as the flight attendant said something I couldn’t quite hear over the speaker. As we made our descent, I reached up to turn on my overhead light and suddenly everyone around me was clamoring to shake my hand and saying “Thank you” with heart felt looks of respect. I uncomfortably responded with “You’re welcomes,” but had no idea why. Later I found out she said, “Will anyone who has served this great country please turn on your overhead light so we can thank you on this day of independence.”

Man, did I feel like a jack-ass.

Anyway, yeah, triathlon does bring joy to my life. Cool people, with passion and drive. I’m a dreamer, so it’s nice to be around freaks who push the limits.

And there’s no denying that training forces you to be a better steward of your body. You just can’t abuse yourself, or workouts and races become nightmares.

But, do I enjoy the lifestyle enough to suffer the pain of 140.6 miles under a hot Louisville sun?

That is the question . . . and the answer lies somewhere in my desire to train, and whether the lifestyle means wearing cool clothes or actually hitting the pavement. Do I love it enough to reduce the pain of the race by training harder?

We’ll see. Ironman New Orleans was not fun, but I wasn’t ready. The next few weeks will go a long ways in determining my answer on Louisville. My decision to enjoy the lifestyle is approaching a deadline.

April 27, 2014

Nashville's Country Music Marathon

Today was the two year anniversary of my first half marathon and I celebrated by watching valiant efforts and fighting back tears. Well, I actually stood behind the finish line and watched a slow herd of battered souls chomp on cookies and chips while rejoicing that I chose not to run, but still . . .

Thousands limped by with huge smiles it took me back back to that painful day two years earlier when I embraced what may have been the proudest moment of my endurance life, including Ironman. I’d only been running about 4 months when I took the half marathon challenge, and it sparked a fuse that burned out of control.

That race hurt so badly I started laughing at mile 10, and getting delirious at mile 12. Somehow I crossed the finish line in 2:14 without walking. It was a major victory and I proved it by wearing my medal all day . . . then deep into a major-league afternoon/night of celebratory drinking. I could barley walk the next day, or week. Battle scars reminding me where I’d been.

But, enough about me . . .

Today’s weather was perfect and tons of East Nasties were on the course. I saw most of them and graciously took this group photo with my personal flip phone.

Admittedly I didn’t see much running until I left the finish line and walked along Woodland Street to witness the misery that is Mile 18 of a marathon.

My final destination was the Nashville Running Company water stop where I volunteered to rake paper cups out of the street for an hour. Tons of runners thanked me for the hard work, and while that never gets old, they had no idea how much I love grounds keeping.

The encouragement flowed from my lips as well, but it’s hard to seem convincing when someone stumbles by in a stupor and you’re screaming, “You got this!” For many, it was getting dicey, and considering mile 18 is often called the marathon wall, I’m sure the fact that it was all up hill didn’t help.

It was inspiring and I can’t say enough about how good it made me feel to see all of these runners pushing themselves to the limit. Throwing it on the line to be better people and create an endless stream of positive energy in my city.

That said, I do have a small beef that I need to get off my chest.

I get that people like to run with music, but I feel like it steals from your experience. Especially when the entire route is lined with live bands and tons of crowd support shouting inspirational bible verses or Michael Scott quotes. I mean, I’m raking my ass off and spewing goodness to all these wonderful people but half of them can’t hear me because they’re listening to Eye of the Tiger on their iPod. Talk about sucking the wind out of your cup raking.

Yet, here they were, 30,000 people, exhibiting countless hours of preparation and sacrifice. A truly moving scene, and I can honestly say I felt the same way long before I was a runner and was merely shooting emotional marathon videos that made people cry their eyes out.

There can never be enough inspiration in this world and few events showcase human spirit better than a major marathon. Every year it reminds me that life is for living and there’s no better time to pursue that freedom than today. I just wish the cranky drivers that complain about “their street” being closed for a few hours would figure that out.

I mean, look at these happy Nasties:

April 25, 2014

Ironman and the Human Condition

This was written nearly a year before I did my Ironman, but I never posted. I’m not sure why, but I thought I would put it out there for all of you training for Ironman. It’s really interesting to reflect on how I was thinking with the race hanging over my head and I think I would have probably written it the same today.

We all want attention. We all want to be understood. We all want to be loved.

When I signed up for Ironman Wisconsin, somewhere inside I was shouting those concepts to everyone in my life. But that doesn’t mean it’s wrong. There is nothing like preparing for an Ironman to both give you strength and make you feel extremely fragile. And somewhere inside of all that is the meaning of spirituality.

For me, having an Ironman in the distance is omnipresent. The process of attacking a clear, life-changing goal affects the way I think about everything I do, even though my target is thousands of miles away. The way I react, eat and explore is enhanced. Good and bad are more vibrant. Decision making is more centered and concrete. But, there is a lot of time between now and next September, and today’s finish line is just as important.

Doesn’t it sometimes feel like life is as simple as being around people that understand and compliment our thoughts? Is this why millions of people dress up every Sunday morning and go to church? So they are safely surrounded by others with the same beliefs? Is this why some feel more comfortable with gangsters or republicans or yoga practitioners that flow naturally with who they are? Or prospective Ironmen who have committed to chase the same goal?

There is genuine comfort in communion. Last night three of the Fab Five gathered to watch Ironman Kona and it just felt right. We were meant to be in the same room digging for inspiration to be our best, not only at Ironman Wisconsin, but in everything we do. We will each take our own road, but the ultimate goal is the same.

Nothing will be perfect, but it still feels like perfection.