Ironman – Page 41

February 20, 2014

Positive Attitude Goes A Long Way

The Fourth of July, 2009. I bounced through downtown Nashville on my mountain bike on my way to a friend’s annual pool party. I knew there would be tons of laughing and positive energy. My friend attracted that vibe.

As I pulled up his street, 10 emergency vehicles surrounded me. Police cars, unmarked vans, ambulances, sirens, and flashing lights. I picked up my pace in fear that something had happened at the pool.

By the time I got into the alley behind the condo complex, cops were rolling yellow crime tape and my mind was reeling. No one stopped me, so I slid between the gate and saw my friends standing around drinking beer as police scurried with indecision.

The action wasn’t at the pool, but across the alley at a duplex. It was Independence Day, the sun was shining, and Michael Jackson pumped from the speakers. We tried with all our might to celebrate, but an ominous scene lingered at arm’s length.

We didn’t know what happened, but my friend said it was Steve McNair’s condo. The party showed bursts of energy, but mostly the mood was sullen. A bizarre combination of freedom meets doom.

The cops wouldn’t say what was going on, but eventually one confided, “This will be national news.”

Our pool party was closed off by crime tape. No one was allowed to come or go for the next four hours and eventually word got out. The former quarterback for the Tennessee Titans, and arguably the most popular man in Nashville, Steve McNair, was shot and killed.

Each end of the alley was blocked, and soon populated by hundreds of somber fans and news crews. The party was officially over and, after four hours, I quietly hopped on my bike and peddled away in disbelief.

The guy throwing the party that day was Justin Levenson. He is truly one of the greatest guys I’ve ever known. Talented, caring, and always looking at life from the bright side. He welcomes everyone without judgement and you can stay as long as you’d like.

Every time I saw him I’d ask, “How’s it going, man?”

His response was always, “Life is good, bro.”

And he meant it.

One night I happened to be playing drums for a local media talent show at the famous Wildhorse Saloon and looked out to see Justin on the panel of judges. I told our “band” we were in good shape because my buddy would hook us up. But as it turned out our final score landed us outside of the top 3 in the contest.

I walked up to Justin, shook his hand while he smiled and told me, “Life is good.”

I said, “That’s fine, but what’s up with the judging, man? How come we didn’t place in the money?”

Without missing a beat Justin smiled and said, “Gotta keep it real, bro. You guys weren’t that tight.”

Justin is honest, too.

We laughed together and hung out for a while sharing old stories his compassion and great attitude astounding me once again.

I haven’t seen Justin in quite a while, but like most I keep up with friends on Facebook. A couple weeks ago I saw him post a link to his new blog. I was happy to see him writing, but then looked closer at the title, “It IS Brain Surgery.”

It was more than a little wake up call and I hesitantly clicked the link. I feared the worst, but should have known Justin would spin it into a positive. I read through his blog posts with pride and admiration. He unveiled that he has a large tumor in the the left frontal lobe of his brain, then followed it with this line, “This tumor has apparently been there for quite some time which may explain why my head is so damn big…haha…kidding! :)”

He has written several posts and they are laced with positivity. He is facing this challenge straight on and wants everyone to know he will be a better person in the end. He admits it’s challenging, but he will not let it bring him down. I feel so fortunate to have met such an incredibly passionate and optimistic person.

It really makes you think. Here’s a guy facing brain surgery with endless hope and optimism, but half the time I am deflated by something silly like a sore ankle. I definitely need to channel more of my inner Justin.

I stopped by his Facebook page and the outpouring of love is endless. An streaming and diverse list of friends thankful to know him spreading love up and down his page. Even though I haven’t seen him much lately his attitude and love of life has left an undeniable impression on my soul.

Justin is 35 years old and is having brain surgery today. I am sending all the positive energy I can muster in his direction. Justin never sweats the small stuff, and as it turns out, the big stuff, either. Here’s to ya, bro. Thanks for everything and I’ll see you soon.

UPDATE: Just over an hour after I posted, I noticed this awesome update from Justin’s dad on Facebook:

“This is Justin’s dad. He’s out of surgery and joking with the nurses. Surgeon says it went superb, actually routine.”

February 19, 2014

Big Diet Changes

“Food is for the body, not the mouth.” – Unknown

From the very beginning of Ironman training, I knew something was missing. I was working out more than ever and arguably in the best shape of my life, but most of the time . . . I felt “off.” Basically worn out, craving naps, or whatever. This has been at the crux of my delayed decision about IM Louisville. Sure, I know I can pull it together and do it, but why would I want to feel like ass for the next 7 months?

I have been a staunch supporter of a solid diet for as long as I can remember. I always “tried” to eat healthy, but could never stick with a regimen, and frankly, I’m not sure if I really understood what healthy eating really meant.

Because most of us are suckers.

It is really almost comical that at least half the people I know who are overweight will defend their idea of a good diet to the grave. They swear by low-fat, low-cholesterol, or Diet Coke. But the marketing tricks usually have us backwards.

The more I learn about food, the more I am just blown away by our grocery stores. It’s pretty safe to say that 90% of what’s on the shelves is absolute crap. It’s unbelievable, really.

The first 5 days of this diet were not pretty, but the last three have had me in that “I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt this good,” mode. I’m taking it cautiously, but can also add, “I can’t remember the last time I felt this good after two workouts in a day” to that list of things I’m thinking.

I have been struggling getting back into swim shape, but this afternoon over lunch I went in and belted out a strong 30 minutes. I didn’t count laps, but can almost guarantee it was at least 30. I felt great getting out of the water and all afternoon at work. That is so rare I cannot even begin to explain.

Tonight I ran a relatively hilly loop in my neighborhood 5 times (four miles) at a pretty good clip and felt energized when I was done. Not wiped, but energized. It is a huge difference and something I rarely felt last year.

And even though I used the “food is for the body” quote, my new diet has definitely been for the mouth as well. I am looking forward to eating good food. I’m taking the time to chop and add extra vegetables to my salads and it has kinda been enjoyable.

So, we’ll see how this goes. I’m keeping a diary and will eventually release it when I’m feeling like this diet is legit, but until then, don’t worry about “cutting things out,” start by piling on the good and let the bad fade away.

February 18, 2014

The Toughest Triathlons

I thought it only fitting that I follow up my Color Run post with a list of the hardest triathlons in the world. It’s not my compilation, but I have included my version of the toughest triathlons I’ve ever completed at the bottom of this list.

Top 7 Toughest Triathlons – According to Wegner (Maker of the Genuine Swiss Army Knife)

1. Savage Man – Deep Creek Lake, Maryland
2. Ironman Norseman – Norway
3. Altriman – France (I think)
4. Ironman World Championship – Hawaii
5. Aurlandsfjellet Xtreme – Norway
6. Ironman 70.3 Silverman – Mojave Desert
7. Escape from Alcatraz – San Francisco, CA

As I look through this list one really jumps out at me and it’s Ironman Norsman, namely because of this photo:Everything about that shot has me riveted! The font on the ship, the four meter plunge, the hazy mountains in the background, the darkness, the feel of cold. The website describes the water as cold, clean, and lightly salted. And the kicker is, they only let 200 people in this bad boy. I can dream.

There’s something ridiculously compelling about these kinds of races, which is kind of ironic because I rarely even want to test my will on a bike trainer half the time. I would really like to hear what your toughest race was.

My Top 7 Toughest Triathlons (which are also the only ones I’ve done)

1. Ironman Wisconsin – Choppy swim, relentless hills, body hurt every step of the run
2. Goosepond 1/2 Triathlon – Anxiety riddled swim, cooked bike, tough run
3. Nashvegas Olympic – Almost drowned, twice, extreme panic
4. Rev 3 Olympic – Knoxville – Brutal cold, constant rain, challenging bike
5. Ironman Muncie 70.3 – Technical swim, bumpy bike, burning feet
6. ADPi Sprint – Murfreesboro – Cold, rainy, lots of sorority girls
7. Music City Sprint – My first tri, perfect weather, home turf

February 17, 2014

Stressing About Your Color Run?

I remember my first 5K and it was no laughing matter. It can be a very stressful, yet proud time for a beginning runner. BUT, I couldn’t help but get a chuckle from this post on Ben Greenfield’s website. It’s a detailed list of what you can do to get ready for your Color Run, including number one, which is “sign up.”

In all seriousness, I have based my new diet on Ben’s nutrition planning for Ironman athletes and it’s going great, so I will probably be giving him a lot of praise soon. But, before that glowing endorsement, a little fun with a featured article on his website.

10 Tips to Get Ready for a Color Run – Ben Greenfield

Yes, those are practical training tips, but we all know that racing is 90% half mental, so I’ve taken the liberty of creating my own list of psychological tips for the Color Run.

10 Ways to Mentally Prepare for Color Run – Mike Tarrolly

1. Squirt your dog with a garden hose until he bites you.
2. Change into a white t-shirt WHILE you’re drinking a glass of grape juice.
3. Check your temperature often with a rectal thermometer
4. Walk across gravel while reciting key passages from the Bible.
5. Go to Walmart and ask the “greeter” a lot of performance running shoe questions.
6. Sniff old paint cans in the garage.
7. Eat Snow Cones like they’re going out of style.
8. Watch re-runs of Laverne and Shirley.
9. Lay on your back and stare into the sun.
10. Wear bandanas tighter than normal leading up to the race.

February 17, 2014

How I Went Sub-12 In My 1st Ironman (at 50) #IMWI

Train with People – This was crucial to me, especially in the beginning. I wasn’t fast, nor did I have the endurance, but swimming, biking, and running with people was a major motivator. It helped me get out of bed and it helped me keep going once I was there. After a few months of this I knew I could keep up, that’s when I started fading into my own world.

Train Harder by Yourself – I think training alone is critical. The internal dialogue you create on long swims, bikes, and runs can either make or break you. When it comes to racing, the more often you talk yourself out of stopping, the better. The more you get used to pushing mileage without the distraction of others, the better. The more you can face aches and pains by yourself, the better.

Practice in Open Water – I’m convinced that 90% of swimming is feeling comfortable in the water, and open water is WAY different than the pool. A lot of people I talk with are kinda weirded out by lakes in general, so there’s that factor . . . but for me the ultimate key was swimming with other people in open water. You get used to the bumping and it really lowers your freak-out quotient, especially in a mass start. In retrospect, the one thing I wish I would have worked on more was sighting. We trained a lot with the same buoy and I simply got comfortable with my direction. But it would have been very wise to work harder on sighting different trees or whatever around the lake. Nothing will screw your swim time like going off line.

Work on Your Weakness – Cycling was by far my strength. Swimming and running, were a different story. I knew from the start that swimming was going to be my key event and I worked on it harder than the rest. For me it was a confidence thing. I HAD to come out of that water strong or the rest of my race would be a nightmare. I swam a lot early, but the last 8 weeks of training I was in the water (most times the lake) 3-4 times a week, swimming HARD. I also stayed true to building my running base and getting faster. It was very hard some nights, but I kept pounding the roads with regularity. I didn’t blow off the bike, but I did fewer (yet intense) rides to make sure I was keeping my muscles familiar with the motion.

Work on Your Speed – Let’s face it, after you build your endurance to a certain point, you can “coast” forever. But running a “lazy” 22 miles is not going to help your marathon time. You have to build in speed work. I was doing “shorter” hour-long runs most of the time, then would add an hour and a half “long” run on the weekends. The short runs were always laced with sprinting intervals or tempo sections. I knew I would never build to traditional marathon training distances, so I set my sights on one thing: Making a 9 minute pace feel like a walk. That was my ultimate IM pace goal, which I didn’t hit, but I did average 10 minute miles and never ran more than 14 miles before that marathon.

Take the Hilliest Way Home – I can’t tell you how many times I was at a crossroads on a run and willed myself toward “one more” hill. I ran a ton of hills during training for two reasons, one, they force you to have better form, and two, they are harder! I honestly love to run hills now. Hills make you focus and their the easiest way to push your limits.

Embrace Bad Weather – Nobody wants to swim, bike, or run on a cold and rainy day, but if you can handle bad weather, you are miles ahead of the game. Hell, a lot of people don’t even show up for a race if in bad weather. I was “lucky” to have three races on three awful 50 degree and rainy days. I really thought I was cursed. In the end, Wisconsin was perfect racing weather, but I was ready if it wouldn’t have been.

Hydrate – This seems so damn obvious I almost didn’t put it in here, but I’m convinced it is far more critical than nutrition. I’ve been in races where I could literally feel my chest drying out from breathing so hard. You have to teach your body how to burn fat stores and using only water for a lot of your training is a good way to do it. If your body isn’t working right, you’re screwed — and I just really believe, that while nutrition plays a big role, if you’re not hydrating well leading up to and during the race, you’re sunk. I drank ridiculous amounts during the race (and yes, pee’d a lot on the bike) including slowing to a walk through every aid station to drink with purpose.

Meditate – I suppose this could be titled “visualize” too but either way it’s about getting your mind straight. I crossed the finish line at Ironman a hundred times in my mind before I got onto the course. Many times on hard training runs I started imagining I was on the marathon at Wisconsin. I would be in incredible pain and tell myself, “This is how it’s going to feel, practice getting through it.” And I would. I just wouldn’t stop no matter how bad I thought it hurt. See the finish line.

Write About It – Out of all of this stuff, I almost believe my journaling the entire process could have been the biggest factor. I often put myself on public display as an idiot, but it helped me work through so many things I didn’t understand. Not only that, the feedback and encouragement you get cannot be understated. Don’t fool yourself, Ironman is a daunting physical challenge, but the more I learn about it, the more I believe it’s more in the mind.

——————–

This is how the race broke down for me:

Swim: 1:20:02
T1: 7:28
Bike: 6:03:35
T2: 4:43
Run: 4:23:10
Total: 11:58:58

February 16, 2014

What IRONMAN Wisconsin "Felt" Like #IMWI

I’ve been looking through some old blog posts leading up to Ironman Wisconsin last September and came across this one that I wrote 8 months before the race about how I imagined IMWI would “feel.” I thought I’d go back and write short post-script-actualities (in italics) on each of these projections.

What Ironman Wisconsin “Feels Like” (originally written January 25, 2013)

Sometimes I’ll sit here watching Ironman Wisconsin videos and get chills. It’s surreal to think I will be on that course in seven months.

Post Script: I still get chills when I think about the morning of the race, but mainly just because it was so cool. The energy was off the charts and you just can’t explain what it feels like standing with nearly 3,000 people in wetsuits. They say preparation is the key and I was very calm and confident standing on the edge of Lake Monona.

I can already see the eyes of the Fab Five as we enter the water, a symbolic beginning to the end of training. Five guys focused on the same goal for over 8 months – and it all comes down to this. Once the swim starts, I may not see them for the next 10 – 12 hours, but in many ways we’ll be connected as one.

In reality I saw the eyes of Kevin for a few minutes on shore, then floated with Jim and Mark before the race, but I didn’t see Daniel that morning. It was a little more splintered than I envisioned. I was hoping to reenact the “Pearl Jam 10” cover photo in our wetsuit, but the reality of our individual challenges took precedent We’d tossed around the idea of drafting each other during the swim, but after seeing the conditions, it would have been impossible. Just too much congestion, not to mention very choppy water.

Tonight, I am there. I hear the screams from hundreds perched on balconies overlooking the water. I hear the encouraging words of athletes floating around me. I hear the cannon explode, sending me into mystery.

We found our place about 20 minutes before the race and tread water. You don’t really hear the fans, but the music is cranked and Mike Riley is doing his thing. Everyone in the water was very respectful of each other. This was a long road and everyone knew how the other felt. I heard Riley say, “One minute to the start,” and that is when it felt most real. Jim, Mark and I exchanged hi-fives, then found our places. I wouldn’t see them again for 10 hours.

I feel the water splashing in Lake Monona. . . the mass of humanity pounding me with no regard . . . the serenity of a place humans weren’t meant to go.

The swim was almost exactly what I imagined, but a bit more difficult. The water was very choppy and sighting was a major challenge. I was amazed at the amount of people who swam in front of me at a 90 degree angle. Many people had problems with direction and I had very few stretches of clean water. On a swim this long it’s best not to think too much, so I just kept churning. My neck was chaffed and I by the time I reached shore I was more than ready to be on my bike.

I feel the slippery shore as I exit the water . . . my bare feet slapping concrete as I climb the winding road to the top of the transition helix.

I could never quite grasp the concept of the helix and whether or not running up a ramp would be difficult after swimming 2.4 miles. Now I know the answer. The energy from the fans literally carries you up to transition. The encouragement and electricity is off the charts. Make sure to slap a few hi-fives and random drums along the way.

My ass hits the seat for the first of many times that day. My thighs burn as I roll through picturesque farmland. Cheering fans slap my back while they hug the narrow climb in Verona like a Tour de France.

The Wisconsin bike course is legendary in Ironman lore and I couldn’t wait. I drove the course with Rebekah two days before and on one hand wished I hadn’t because it seemed very intimidating in a car. I rode a ton of hills in preparation, but can honestly say I think the course was tougher than I imagined. They say relentless hills and that is not an understatement. You must be prepared for gearing lots of up and downs. The “Tour de France” talk is legit and trust me you will need the energy of those spectators on your second loop.

The loop through Camp Randall stadium, home of my favorite football team, takes me back to players I idolized as a child. A gauntlet of familiar faces wave signs and give high fives as I recall college memories from State Street.

By the time I hit Camp Randall I wasn’t thinking much about my favorite football team. I didn’t have that giddy feeling or look around in the stands for ghosts of Badger days gone by. I was just trying to hold it together. The State Street thing was amazing, though. You can’t help but feel like part of the party. It’s definitely rock star time as people line up 5 deep on one of the greatest streets there is to celebrate your hard work while they get plowed.

My ankles ache as I turn the final corner and feel the rush of the finish line. I glance at the majestic state capitol, embrace the tunnel of fans, and culminate the biggest physical accomplishment of my life.

This is exactly how it happened. It was still light, but by the time I got to the capitol it loomed in an ominous way. It “felt” dark, and I still had two and a half blocks left. It literally felt like I was a kid running home to beat the street lights, and as luck would have it my family and friends were waiting at the front door. The Ironman finish was extreme relief replaced by jubilation. My work was “done” and now it was time to let it sink into my bones.

It’s in my bones and won’t release me.

I grew up in Wisconsin, so this Ironman was extra special to me. I will forever be jaded by that, but I can honestly say I doubt there is a more enjoyable Ironman in this country. The mass start swim is epic, the bike course was my favorite ride of the year, and the run could stand alone as a great marathon. But the major selling point is the crowd. The people in Wisconsin embrace this race and turn it into a party. There is very little “dead space” anywhere on the course. There’s always someone there to give you a boost when you need it most, and believe me, I needed a lot of them.

February 16, 2014

IRONMAN: "You Think About It Everyday"

“You think about it at some point during the day . . . almost everyday. If not every day . . . maybe every couple hours.” — DH in reference to IRONMAN from the Crushing Iron Trailer

It’s that time of the year when prospective “Ironmen” are obsessing about their upcoming date with destiny, so I thought I would share a little bit about my background what it “felt like” training for my first (and only) Ironman. It was not easy getting from point A to point B, but I really believe, that with the right attitude, commitment and patience, anyone can tackle this beast.

My Swim History

I was probably 12 when I passed the swim test at the “Big Pool” in Beloit, Wisconsin. Across the pool and back for deep end privileges, and that was probably the most “swimming” I did that summer, or for the next 20 years. My pool time was focused on girls.

I liked water. I could tread water. But I couldn’t really swim that well. Maybe 8 or 10 laps, mostly breast stroke, on my best days. The thought of freestyle swimming 80 “down and backs” seemed impossible.

My Bike History

I always loved biking, and it was by far my best sport going into triathlon. But the furthest I’d ever ridden was around 40 miles.

I’m convinced most people can ride 40 miles, but the difference between riding 40 and racing 112 is a bloody big one. It’s not in proportion at all. I would contend 112 is at least 4 times harder than 40. Ironically, even though biking was my best sport, it became my least favorite of the three and proved the hardest.

My Run History

I lived on the Country Music Marathon course for 5 years and without fail I would be inspired to “start running” the next morning. I’d put on a cool t-shirt, dusty running shoes, and tear out of the complex onto Music Row.

Each time I would run 3-5 blocks before turning around to my walk of shame. I just couldn’t understand how people ran that far and put away the shoes till next year. In January of 2012, I committed to starting and sticking with a Couch to 5k program. My distance climbed slowly, but on the morning of my IRONMAN, I still had never run more than 14 miles.

The Power of the Mind

It took an incredible suspension of belief just to enter the realm of IRONMAN training. I had to let go of everything I knew and trust the process. I had to build fast, but retain a seemingly unreasonable amount of patience.

I literally remember how hard ONE lap of freestyle was in the beginning. I continue to fight swimming panic to this day, but I am getting much better at relaxing in the water. Letting go and swimming as opposed to trying to stay afloat.

Biking was the biggest test of my patience. My legs could handle it, but my ass and back revolted. I was a mountain biker at heart and somehow had to fall in love with long, boring road rides on a tri-bike. It wasn’t easy and I never fully enjoyed cycling. But I trusted the process and can honestly say race day was probably my favorite bike ride of the year.

My running limit in the beginning (a year and 8 months before Ironman) was probably 3 or 4 blocks . My Couch to 5K program was based on it. Run 3 blocks, walk 3 blocks, repeat. And build. Don’t try to grab it in one swoop. Run with others, take yourself just a little further each time.

How I Got Over The Hump

I suffered continuously in the water until I figured out how to “jog in the pool” and not get so winded. It was a major breakthrough and confidence builder. Learning to “coast” while swimming is one of the hardest things to do because the thought of sinking scares the shit out of you. But the more I swam, the more I relaxed, and the more I settled into my stroke. Practice fast, race under control.

I put in 2, 3, and 4 hours on a bike trainer and thought to myself, “Hell, add a little scenery and I can do 6 hours.” I just stuck with it and kept showing up. I put in a ton of two hour trainer and 3-4 hour outside rides. I was comfortable with 80 miles, but wasn’t sure I wanted to go much further before the race, mainly because I hated being on a bike that long. Then one day I discovered pace lining and it changed my perspective. That day I rode my first “Century Ride” and most of it was in the rain. I started to “sort of” like cycling again.

I’m not sure I ever got over the running hump in training. I thought about the marathon portion of the race every day. I just was not going to come close to the distance in training. I’d built from a 5k to 5 mile to a 1/2 marathon and had no choice but to leave the rest to my imagination. I never felt great about my running base and didn’t want to risk it, but had no choice but to trust the biking mileage was building my base and the short, sprint and hill run workouts were enough to get me through 26.2 miles.

How Long It Took

In essence I trained for about 8 months to do an IRONMAN.

Progress was slow, but one thing was constant. I kept showing up and those breakthrough moments kept surfacing when I needed them most.

In July, I waded into the water for a 1/2 Ironman in Muncie, IN. All of my previous swims were met with some kind of panic attack, but that day in Muncie, I swam strong and under control the entire way. When my hand scraped against the beach, I felt strong and knew I was on track to finish a full in two months.

It took a while to build up, but one day as Ironman neared I was scheduled for a 5 hour ride on Natchez Trace. Halfway through agreed with my coach’s suggestion to make it 6. We rode 110 miles of brutal hills that day, all in the rain. Nothing would stop me now.

One training run stands out more than most. It was the first time I ran the treacherous 11.2 mile loop in Percy Warner Park. I battled the tough climbs and steep downhills before finishing with a sprint. It was that day that I started to think of myself as a runner.

Trust the Process

I know all too well how training for an Ironman can get into your head. You can’t get enough information on the race and search for hours on end for that one tip that will put you over the edge. But it really comes down to working hard, patience, and embracing pain. I really believe my race was made on those long solo swims, trainer rides, and runs in the rain. It is in those moments that you confirm to yourself that you are tough enough to make it to the finish line. You’re forced to find something extra that refuses to let you quit. Build those moments throughout the year and the incredible energy of the spectators and race day will carry you into the finisher’s chute.

February 14, 2014

Caffeine and Training Follow Up

As usual, I went overboard. I made a fairly drastic change to my diet starting on Tuesday and decided I would try to stop drinking caffeine for a while as well. The latter lasted about one day.

The brain is a complicated place and I dove in over my head. When you drink a lot of coffee, then stop, it’s the equivalent of some mean-ass-man stopping by your house and telling you, “The fun is over punk, no more being happy.”

Man, the feeling you get when you stop drinking coffee is f-ng ridiculous. You can’t have a clean thought if your life depended on it . . . and oddly you feel like your life DOES depend on it because you are genuinely concerned you may die.

Well, maybe it’s not that bad, but it is certainly not a the plan to follow if you enjoy being in a good mood.

So, after about 30 hours of that nonsense, I caved and had a coffee. Today I’ve had a couple and feel like I’m ready to conquer the world again. But don’t think I don’t understand how jacked up that is.

I do not want my happiness tied to any chemical, period. I don’t take prescription drugs and pretty much refuse to go to the doctor. But, like most things in life, you need to be reminded about fifty times before something like this sinks into your thick skull.

So, here’s what I’m committed to from this point forward: moderation.

My natural tendency is to chase the highest of highs. 5k, sure. Half marathon, I’m in. Ironman? F-yeah!

My dietary change is hard enough, and even with that I have to be careful. Going from eating crap half the time to an overload of green vegetables has caused a few problems in its own right. I ate a full Pizza on Sunday, then decided to be gluten free on Tuesday. That shit doesn’t happen without pain. So, from here on, I’m easing into everything I do, including Ironman.

I haven’t yet signed up for Louisville and really don’t know if I will. It’s about 50/50 right now because there are a lot of things going on that feel out of my control. With all this broccoli falling from my steamer, I can’t justify putting another burden like 140.6 on my plate.

But, if you’re a betting person, you might be wise to put your money on my masochistic tendencies.

February 12, 2014

Caffeine and Ironman Training #IMLOU

Well, now that Jodie Swallow has retweeted and responded to this post, don’t be surprised if I get a bit cocky for a while. Then again, I’m having a dietary meltdown and still can’t swim for ass, so you’re probably safe.

Speaking of, I had an interesting pool session last night, replete with a light head and dizzy spells. It didn’t take me long to realize these aren’t the most enjoyable states to be juggling in water.

But, before you get alarmed, I’m pretty sure I know the source . . . caffeine. Or more accurately, too much.

I used to drink pop (soda for you weirdos) as a kid in Wisconsin. I would run around the Boy’s Club for hours, then eventually hydrate with a Mountain Dew. It was heaven on my lips and the ultimate endurance drink for a 12-year-old playing air hockey and building ridiculous coat racks in the creepy basement work shop.

But somewhere along the line I decided not to drink pop, or coffee, or caffeine at all and this lasted throughout my college years — with the exception of all-night studying for finals, but even then I didn’t enjoy it and was mainly because I liked hanging in the union acting like a serious student.

And that non-caffeine lifestyle lasted, oh, um, well, until I started working for a living and looking for ways to lift me out of the unconscionable emptiness that comes from many jobs. I was more of a Coke guy at this time, and was for many years to come.

I’ve had streaks where I’ve dumped caffeine for a few weeks and it’s always damn good stuff, but eventually work and lack of sleep or late night parties suck you back to the world of liquid crack. And when I do something, I tend to go balls out.

Fast forward to yesterday and this bizarre, over-stimulated feeling I had after trying to fill a void by pounding coffee for four days. I knew it was catching up and altering my moods, but it’s a drug man, and if you’re gonna be an addict, take the high higher!

It may sound glamorous, but it’s actually kinda jacked up.

My caffeine of choice has been coffee for about a year and I always drink too much. That’s just what I do. And I’ve always known that habit is making me weaker. I can feel it in my bones and mind. It’s a wispy and fragile feeling . . . definitely not how an Ironman-in-the-making wants to feel.

So, after last night’s the swim, I went home, made a healthy meal, and relaxed. I woke up today with remnants of that haziness, but by mid-morning and a few peppermint teas, it had subsided. The rest of my day has felt pretty solid and I think I may try another round in the pool in hopes I don’t feel like a blindfolded pinata player.

More than anything I feel too much caffeine reeks havoc on my muscles, veins, and brain. I don’t feel alive or lucid.

I’m not saying I’m giving up caffeine, but I definitely need to take a step back and moderate my intake. It’s a crazy stupid cycle of keeping you up at night, wrecking your sleep, then jolting your tired bones. It’s one thing to give yourself a little caffeine boost, but quite another to shoot it intravenously into your tongue.

It’s not you, it’s me.

February 10, 2014

How Elton John's Lyrics Impacted My Training

*Note: I wrote this sometime last Summer and have no idea why I didn’t post it. Probably over- thinking as usual. Which is ironic considering the message here.

I moved to Nashville in 2003 and have (by accident) met a lot of people in the music business. I’ve run into Keith Urban and Nicole Kidman at breakfast, met Marty Stuart in a dark alley, and even got to hang out with Lou Reed in his dressing room. Everywhere you turn in this town you’re liable to run into someone, but I kept waiting for a chance meeting with the one person that genuinely impacted my passions in life.

Bernie Taupin is Elton John’s lyricist, and legitimately one of the few people (living or dead) I would want to join for dinner. His words have moved me since I was 10 years old. Back in college, my good friend Tim and I would would listen to Elton John until 5 in the morning while exchanging off-balanced high fives and screaming, “Taupin!” after a great lyric.

I’ve never technically pursued writing as a career, but it’s deep in my bones. I’m quite sure lyrics like these have a lot to do with that:

He was born a pauper to a pawn on a Christmas day
When the New York Times said God is dead
And the wars begun
Alvin Tostig has a son today
(from Levon)

and from Don’t Let the Sun Go Down On Me . . .

I can’t light no more of your darkness
All my pictures seem to fade to black and white
I’m growing tired and time stands still before me
Frozen here on the ladder of my life

Taupin paints a picture. He creates a feeling. And somehow his words are universal. He is a brilliant example of someone who understands the human condition and I think there is a lesson there for athletes.

Connect with your mind and body, then let it flow.

So many athletes I know, including me, get trapped in the past, or the potential pain of the future instead of embracing the energy in the moment. It’s one thing to have a target, quite another to be consumed with the end and forget what it takes to get there.

Yesterday, I finally met Bernie Taupin and I was a bumbling idiot. He was in town in support of his painting exhibit and I had a zillion questions, but couldn’t come up with one. He was thinking about today and I was consumed with the past. It made for a rather awkward exchange and I feel like my confusion was symbolic of what often happens during training . . . or life for that matter.

I’m sure Bernie’s best lyrics (and paintings) come when he is in a zone. Writing without letting his mind get in the way of progress. He was probably the guy scribbling in his notepad while the teacher rambled on about stuff that didn’t matter. To Taupin, what mattered was writing, so he wrote.

The best artists don’t get caught in premature optimization, they get to work. They spend countless hours on their craft and trust that preparation will pay off when it matters. Athletes should look at training the same way. You can only do so much “planning” for the actual race. What happens on race day, is a direct result of what you do today.

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Here I am on the right with our reporter Stephanie Langston in the middle and the legendary Bernie Taupin with his art.