How Chris McCormack Woke My Ass Up

It’s crazy how narrow minded we can get.  Twenty two months ago (when I started running for the first time in my life) I thought the St. Patrick’s Day 5K was the biggest thing since Minnesota Fats.  A month later, the Country Music Half Marathon seduced me for all she was worth.

Then, I did my first triathlon.

The Music City Triathlon felt bigger than life (especially since I was a grown man sporting head to toe lycra for the first time).  I felt completely out of place and shook like a beauty contestant answering world history questions.  But I was off-the-charts excited for my first sprint.

A few weeks later, I went to watch Ironman Louisville, and they had me at hello.

Holy shit.  This was the coolest thing I’d ever seen.  I was re-born.  Everything was new and smelled like flowers.  Nearly 3,000 maniacs busting their ass for up to 17 hours?  You gotta be kidding me.  These are my people!

About 3 weeks later I signed up for Ironman Wisconsin and haven’t looked back . . . much.

It’s been a wild ride and for much of the time I have been obsessed with the Ironman brand.  It’s easy to do.  She is rightly known as the Queen.

And twelve months later, I was king.

Six weeks after that, I took my new Ironman backpack down the road for a small town 1/2 triathlon called Goosepond.  I was so jaded I didn’t even train.  A little 1/2 in Alabama?  Ha… no big deal.

But it was a big deal and Goosepond kicked my ass.2013 Goosepond Tri (355 of 585)-X3

I was not only taking it lightly, I was looking down at it.  What the fuck?  Who was I to be disrespecting a 1/2 triathlon a year after I started in the sport?  I have done a total of 6 triathlons in my life with zero notable awards.  But one was an Ironman, and that gave me false importance.

I even wrote a somewhat snarky report about that race and I’m glad I didn’t go further with my childish humor.  The bottom line is, Goosepond was a good race, a tough race, and one that ate me alive.  I wasn’t ready and it punched me in the mouth.

A few days later I stumbled onto this article by Chris McCormack.  His focus is valuing the sport ahead of the brand.  He recounts a pre-race discussion he had with some novice triathletes who really believed that if it wasn’t an “Ironman” it didn’t really count.

Chris went on to list a bunch of non-Ironman races that he absolutely loved like The Challenge Roth, The Norseman, and Escape from Alcatraz.  The novices looked at him dumbfounded.  Chris dug for ways to plead his case, but it was hopeless.  They were Ironman’s bitch.

And I was Ironman’s bitch, too.

I was “this” close to stamping their logo on my body, but for some reason decided not to.* Probably because it’s turned into far more than a “one and done.”  It’s an ongoing competition with other athletes, myself, and the terrain — no matter whose logo is on my bib.

*  I have nothing against this and still may do it someday, but it doesn’t feel right at the moment.

Rude Awakening For An Ironman

Wow, did this morning open my eyes.  I don’t know how to sugar coat this, so I’m just gonna say it — I am a 60 lb weakling!

I have just spent the better part of the year swimming, biking, and running (often twice a day) –and after a morning of lunges, squats, and leg machines, I feel like I trained for Ironman on the couch.  I mean, I’m shuffling around like I’ve been in casts and am learning how to walk again.

It’s a tad deflating, but also encouraging considering my “no run December” decision.

I feel like my theory is right.  It’s time for a deeper dive into cross training, which is exactly why I like triathlon so much in the first place.  Now I cross train the cross training.

Swimming laps till you’re wrinkled, biking till you’re raw, or running till you drop is fine, but truly substantial gains come from well-rounded strength.

Think about pitchers in baseball.  Most people believe it’s all about the arm, but the best pitchers get extra velocity from their legs and core.  The arm needs to be strong, but also flexible and loose.  It’s the vehicle.

The same goes for running.

Everyone talks about strong legs, but I the best way to speed is through the core.  The core is what propels you, the legs are the vehicle.  And, while you need a strong core to run, running doesn’t do much to build that core.

So, what does being fit or strong really mean?  It means limber, explosive, and resilient muscles.

Triathlon is built on a straight line.  Go from “here” to “there” as fast as you can.  And I realize that’s the point.  Go straight.  Go fast.  But if we use the same exact muscle groups for the entire year of training, our swims, bikes, and runs break down faster.  You have to mix it up . . . you need muscle variance because they support each other.

It’s all about creating balanced strength.  Balance on each side of your body, but also balance within the muscle groups of the core, along with each leg and arm.  That’s building the base.

That’s why, aside from weight training,  I’ve been adding more breast and back stroke in my swims.  Challenging myself on the bike by moving focus to my glutes, quads, hamstrings, etc.   And on the run, I go out of my way to get off the flats, including more trails.

Muscle structure is incredibly complicated and all interdependent.   One weak link can cause a ton of problems.  Simply plowing after mileage isn’t gonna cut it, and my weight training session this morning was a huge reminder of just how weak you can get by training for an Ironman.

To Run or Not To Run?

Just because you love cookies doesn’t mean you have to eat the whole package.

But, I really I love running.xrunning

I love strapping on the shoes, setting the watch, and the first step to nowhere.  I love the ache of the first mile and the disappearing pain in mile 3.  I love the internal debate of when I’ll turn around, knowing that each step is taking me further from home.  I love the decision to do a “180” and the re-emergence of pain as I close in on the finish.  And I especially love the satisfaction of being done.

How much is too much?  How and when do you draw the line?

Running is always hard for me, and in the early days of this blog I called running “the King.”  It was the catalyst for my decision to eventually ink a contract with Ironman.  I knew that, if I could run, I could do anything.

But running hurts.  Especially if I run too far or too fast.  And often those pains linger.

A sore knee, a tender heel, a weak ankle.

There is a lot to say about running through the pain, but when the pain doesn’t go away, you have to let your body recover.

I’m not convinced this isn’t mental on some level, but mental or not, I do not want to face a year of Ironman training in my current state.  I’ve decided it will be swim, bike, and yoga or other forms of balance and strengthening for the rest of the month.  And that is difficult because running is the only real outside option when it’s this cold.

And I love running!

So, this is the drill.  Rebuild, restore, recover.

It’s so hard to decide what kind of shape I’m in right now because I feel beaten up.  I just ran an 8 miler in Dallas at a moderate pace, and it was pretty hard.  How much of this is real right now?  How much of this is an illusion?  Am I in better or worse shape than I was a year ago?

*  That picture is from the 8 miler I ran over Thanksgiving in Dallas.  We ran the same section where Kennedy was shot and that “X” marks the spot of his assassination.

More Flying Monkey Pics – 2013 Race

UPDATE:  All the “hundreds” of Flying Monkey Pics have been moved here:  Crushing Iron on Flickr

Here’s the second installment of pictures I shot at the 2013 Flying Monkey Marathon.  Sure, some may be repeats, but they will be better the second time!  Feel free to re-post them to your pages, but please credit crushingiron.com.  Also, if you would like the hi-res version, email me at [email protected].  Put “Monkey” in the subject line and file name in the body.  While you’re here, please feel free to read and share my post on why I think RUNNING IS KING, then sign up to follow me on Twitter (@miketarrolly) so you don’t miss any of this half-baked insight in the future.

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Flying Monkey Marathon Pictures 2013

UPDATE:  All the “hundreds” of Flying Monkey Pics have been moved here:  Crushing Iron on Flickr

I will upload more over the next few days, but for now, enjoy a few pics from the 2013 Flying Monkey Marathon. Feel free to re-post them, but please credit crushingiron.com. Also, if you would like the hi-res version, email me at [email protected]. Put “Monkey” in the subject line and file name in the body. While you’re here, please enjoy my critically acclaimed post about how awesome runners are, then sign up to follow my blog for loads of ridiculous and fascinating insight about a bunch of nothing that may come in handy at some point.

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My 2014 Race Schedule

I’ve never been a big planner, but putting things “out there” keeps me motivated.  Ironman Wisconsin lurked in the distance for 364 days and it was something I couldn’t ignore.  I feel pretty good about how things worked out, but my hat’s been hanging there long enough.  Time to move on to 2014, so, as you’re reading this imagine it’s like the unveiling of March Madness brackets.1477363_10201532389004193_2142897409_nLouisville is the sight for my National Championship, but I’ll have to get through some tough races before then.  The road starts in Tennessee with the Dry Creek 1/2 Marathon in Nashville.  It will be a trail run, and I will be doing a lot of off- road training for the next couple months.

After Dry Creek, I’m heading to New Orleans for the Ironman 70.3.  I’ve already been approached by JW Marriott on Twitter about staying in their awesome hotel for that week, but I think $450/night is a little much for this struggling triathlete.  I would happily be their Ironman NOLA blogging correspondent and steer my dozens of readers to the French Quarter.  But, even if I end up staying in a brothel, my 2013 started with the New Orleans Half Marathon and I’m excited about my return.

In May, I will return to Knoxville and revenge at the Rev 3 Olympic.  It was an absolutely brutal race, but none have been so rewarding.  I’m hoping to see a lot of my new Knoxville training partners, along with find the podium after coming in 4th in my age group in 2013.

Then comes the big debate, that appears to be landing on the side of my home state.  My road to Louisville will likely go through Racine instead of Muncie.  I did Muncie last year and while it will always be my first, but it’s time to explore the bowels of one of Wisconsin’s most under appreciated gems.

Then, of course, Ironman Louisville.  This is the race that’s been on my mind for over two years.  I’ve watched it twice, now I cannot wait to run down that ramp and take off into the Ohio River.

sunset-1280I’ve stood and peered over that temporary fence in Lagrange until my legs wanted to melt — now I’ll take the easy route of riding 112 miles.

And now I will run by that infamous downtown corner near the end of the first 13.1 mile loop, where many have met their match.  I will have the advantage of support from aspiring Ironman Chattanooga friends watching as I fight cramps and heat rash.

It should be great because I know at least 20 triathletes doing Ironman Chattanooga and I fully expect them to treat me like a king in the Bluegrass State.  I’ve seen a lot of pain in Louisville, but that’s exactly why I want to race it.

After my “one shining moment” in Louisville?  Well, I have a distant gaze on a Hawaiian beach.

My Clandestine Affair With Ironman

“The two most powerful warriors are patience and time.” — Leo Tolstoy

I grew up in little Midwestern town called Beloit, Wisconsin with a tenacious group of friends. We played until the sun went down, and often thrived under the moon.  Endurance junkies that didn’t know shit about hydration or nutrition — we just played until we dropped.

My knees throbbed, my ankles ached, and my hands . . . wrinkled like prunes.  I was too young to understand, but somewhere deep inside all of this toil, was a hidden love for Ironman.mike capitol

When I went to college, it was more of the same, but I quickly added drinking to my list of endurance routines.  An Irish Boy with a training base built over hundreds of years and I did my best to uphold tradition.

Competitive softball replaced college and took me all over the Midwest on a fancy tour bus.  Sometimes we played 6 or 7 games a day, all for the right to carry home a trophy nobody else cared about.

After softball, I went back to endurance drinking because it was easy.  The first step is always “take action” and for some reason pouring a drink is infinitely easier than tying a pair of running shoes or filling two water bottles.

Alcohol is patient and it prevailed for the next 15 years, but the “easy way” certainly wasn’t making life easy.  I wish I would have realized all of this waste, but time was the only thing that could heal my wounds.

Somehow I found the strength to change priorities.  My decline was imperceptible to the naked eye, but I was falling apart.  Not much was making sense and the deeper I went, the more confusing it became.  It all started to change when I discovered and accepted running.

And run I did.

For the next eight months, I found a new muse.  “One more beer” started morphing into “one more lap” and that simple substitution may have saved my life.

Eventually it rekindled my fascination with the Ironman I first saw as a child.  Who were those crazy bastards doing insane amounts of endurance from sunrise till sunset?  Their behavior was so unusual that it never occurred to me I could be one.  But I didn’t have a choice.

I signed up for Wisconsin on a whim.  It was my home state, and in some ways I looked at it as another chance to go back and showcase for the locals.  I’d left a mark in baseball, now I would leave one in triathlon.

The day after I signed up, I started writing about the quest.  Years of endurance drinking buried emotions and now they flowed like an all night keg stand.

Ironman branded my brain and I searched my soul for its meaning.  The frightening swim, the daunting bike, and the run I never really believed I could do, ever . . . let alone at the end.

The blog became a daily dose of convincing myself I could be an Ironman.  I served my thoughts on a platter for the world to chew and spit out.  I praised the race for setting a new bar, a new standard for a new person.

I shredded my body in a masochistic experiment just to prove I belonged.  Long, torturous swims, rides and runs that left me exhausted, yet inspired to grab that elusive feeling I couldn’t quite explain.

I’d raced Ironman Wisconsin countless times before I jumped into Lake Monona.  I’d finished the race in my mind, I just needed to deliver the proof.

The 11:58:58 next to my name in the Ironman annals proves we are officially “an item,” but the honeymoon is over.  Now, I must seduce her again.

The first thing I noticed after the race was a feeling of  extreme relief.  But that is what Steven Pressfield (The War of Art) would call “Resistance” tricking me into believing the job is finished.  A persistent voice in my head telling me, “You have nothing to prove, now go back to your comfortable ways of drinking late into the night, sleeping in, and making excuses.”

That is a battle I will likely fight to my grave.  That temptation to take the easy route.  The temptation to put it off to tomorrow.  The temptation to squash the pain with a drink, a nap, or an eating binge.

Life is never easy, but I have other plans.  I have seen how discipline, focus, and hard work can take me to a new place.  Now it’s about finding the time and patience to court Ironman again in 2014.  I look forward to the challenge, I just wish she wasn’t such a bitch.

I'm Number One!

Well, I’m actually number One . . . Hundred and Eighty Nine. . . but it’s a start.

I think these rankings for Ironman are a new thing, and for the U.S. in my age group I show up at 189 out of 2907, which I am both happy with and quite motivated by.

Here’s an explanation of the Ironman point system.

I’m planning to do a little more damage next year.  For one, I’ll be adding an additional race.  For two, I know what it takes and have already started working on the little things that will make a big difference.

I went to a physical therapist yesterday for a check up and he confirmed everything I suspected, which is . . . I’m out of balance.

I’ve had a bum knee, a weak achilles, a sore heel, and wank shoulder.  The shoulder has been screwed up for years thanks to a football game at work.  It really only limits my swim range.  The other stuff came from running.

My left leg and ankle are much weaker than my right side counterparts, so I over compensate and the result is more weakness . . . and pain.  This off season will be about symmetry.  Strengthening my left leg so I don’t have to baby it on the long runs while forcing my right leg to pick up the slack.  This is not going to be easy, however, because I’m kind of impatient with this stuff.  It took me an entire lifetime to build this ghastly inequity and it won’t correct itself overnight.

I could give you a long list of plans for box-step-ups and yoga moves, but it’s not the actual process as much as the mental motivation to do things that “feel” insignificant.  It’s hard enough to psych yourself up for workouts . . . but adding another 15 minutes before and after for shit that seems straight out of a senior citizen post-lunch/pre-nap conditioning hour?

“Grab those soup cans and hold ’em high!”

Anyway, now is the toughest time of the year for triathletes and it’s more important than ever to keep your head straight.  For me it starts with diet, hydration, and rest.  And while I do mean recovery/rest, I’m more concerned with actual sleep after strategic workouts because I’m still convinced a good attitude starts with sleep.

I was just talking with my coach, Robbie, over lunch and the last thing we covered was Malcolm Gladwell’s “10,000 hour theory,” which exerts that it takes 10,000 hours of practice to become an expert.  I think Robbie and I agreed that his theory is full of holes because you can do the same insignificant workouts for 20,000 hours and improve less than if you did intensely focused and more productive work for 5,000.  Hell, Navy SEALS claim they can master nearly anything in 24 hours.  There’s also David Epstein’s book, “The Sports Gene,” that questions Gladwell’s theory from an entirely different perspective.

So what’s my point?  (Besides the fact that I am 189th in the US in my age group?)  I have no idea.  Besides, it’s only a damn blog.

The Most Important Part of My Training

Sometimes we fly through life and forget the simplest solutions to nagging problems.

After writing about winter motivation earlier this morning it occurred to me that I had no carrot on my stick.  I’m just training to train.

My story is no different than most.  Did the 5k, 10k, 1/2 marathon, sprint tri, Oly, 1/2 progression at the start, but none of that would have happened if I didn’t put that 5k on the calendar.  I was quick to add another race after each one I completed until I jumped in the deep end with Ironman and that carried me for a year.

So, after lunch I sent a tentative 2014 race schedule to my coach, which he approved, and followed with, “Hurry up and sign up for NOLA.  Get your ass in gear.”  That’s all it took and 15 minutes later I was signed up for NOLA 70.3.

It’s human nature.  If we have something “out there” we subconsciously push towards that goal.  I’m sure there’s a big life lesson in here somewhere, but for now, I have a little more excitement about going home tonight and jumping on a hard bike seat. 9495223-standard ironmannola10jpg