Ironman – Page 56

July 2, 2013

Muncie 70.3 is Next – New Video

In eleven days, four of the Fab 5, our coach, along with +1 and +2 will head to Muncie for an Ironman 70.3. Everyone in that group has finished a Half, except me.

We’ve been training since January, so I feel like I’m ready, but every time I raise the bar I get a little anxious. Any of the three events, the 1.2 mile swim, the 56 mile bike, or the 13.1 mile run would be no problem on their own, but combining them for the first time at my level of expectation will be a challenge.

One of the things we’ve focused on in preparation is the likelihood of a very hot day. Last year they shortened the course, so the last workout I had before my week of debauchery in Las Vegas was a 13 mile run on a high school track.

Our coach’s goal was to simulate the time of our run (roughly 10 am) and the very sunny run course by offering no shade. We set up fluids and would stop every mile to rehydrate, but each mile we ran was faster than the last to practice negative splits. It was about 90 degrees at the time. Here’s a trippy little video I put together from that day.

Now, of course, we’re checking the forecast for the 13th in Muncie and it looks absolutely delicious from afar. We’ll see if this holds up. Hopefully it does, because it’s much different from my Olympic in Knoxville, which would be nice.

Knoxville forecast for my Rev 3 Olympic in May. The race was Sunday, and the forecast was dead on.

July 2, 2013

67 Days Until Ironman Wisconsin

I signed up 364 days before the race and nearly 300 have passed. I’m tied to the tracks and Ironman Wisconsin is pounding the rails in my direction.

For months it seemed like a mirage. I’d look at “swim start” pictures from Lake Monona and get goose bumps imagining the sound of the cannon. I still get excited, but it manifests in more of a reality because my feet are nearly wet.

I will be attempting a full Ironman in just over two months and I’ve yet to race a half. That will come in 12 days at the Muncie 70.3.

In some ways IMWI is the ultimate test of trust and patience. My training has certainly prepared me for a half, but doubling that output will take extreme faith and confidence. It’s especially crazy to me considering at this point last year I’d never even completed a sprint.

What I have learned in this relatively short period of time is that you should never doubt your potential. I have transformed from a couch potato into a spirit that believes he can complete 140.6 miles of swim, bike, and run in one day. If that’s possible, what isn’t?

And that’s what remains to be seen. Where can I take this momentum? Will I wake up that morning and Madison, Wisconsin a new man, or a nervous child? I hope it’s a little of both.

Throughout this process I have been chipping away layers of numb. I had been living in a shell, honestly dead to the world in many ways. The passion smoldered below, but I wanted a fire. I wanted to burn the masquerade. I wanted to ignite a flame that would force change.

Hitting “send” and transferring $650 into the hands of Ironman was a major step toward re-discovering myself, but this journey is just beginning. The intensity of our workouts and the relentless support of everyone training with me has pushed my limits further than I ever dreamed.

None of this has been comfortable, but that’s what I wanted. I wanted to feel the pain. The highs, the lows. I wanted to swing open the doors that were nailed shut. I wanted to push my boundaries off the map. I wanted to explore living by coming apart at the seams to find genuine purpose in this life. It’s still not clear, but I’m paying close attention and knowing that two of my close friends and training buddies just finished Ironman Coeur d’Alene inspires me to forget the bad swim I had tonight and go back for more in the morning.

July 2, 2013

The New "Crushing Iron" Trailer

I dropped this in the Dr. Oz post, but it was easy to miss.

July 1, 2013June 26, 2018

My 5K Face Off With Dr. Oz

Going to Las Vegas in the middle of Ironman training has its pitfalls. Asking for directions to the nearest lap pool gets a lot of strange reactions, and most suggested I opt for a lap dance.*

I was knee deep in debauchery. I was searching for a sign from above, guidance in the form of a supreme being . . . and on day 3 of the trip, my prayers were answered by Dr. Oz.

I was in Vegas for work as part of a television conference. Syndicated programming stars, like Oz, often show up to build a connection with marketing directors of local TV stations so we’ll drop loads of promotion for their shows. Some stand on a stage and talk, but our favorite TV doctor dove head-first in the murky mix by hosting a 5K. A rare opportunity fell to my lap in the form of a showdown with one of the most important television personalities of our time, and I was not about to lose.

A lot of people questioned whether or not Oz would actually “be” at his race, but those doubts were quickly erased when he emerged from the smoke of a fog machine on a custom massage table. This was more than a little intimidating, but I anticipated he’d face countless pre-race distractions to get him off his game . . . and I was right.I sat peacefully in lotus position near the “Wheel of Fortune” slot machines while he navigated countless interviews. Then, as the throng of runners (nearly 100) made their way down the escalator, I made my move. I was quite sure nothing would throw him off his game like a quick “selfy” with a strange man in black glasses.

But my tactic had zero effect on the unflappable purveyor of good health.

Oz shot off the starting line like a Vegas’ debtor running from the Mob. Suddenly I was out of my element. It was 90 degrees at 6 am and my late night did not mix well with the heat or the onslaught of television cameras. Oz defied the odds by setting a blistering pace while navigating the Las Vegas strip with the familiarity of an MGM concierge.

We darted up a flight of stairs, into a hotel, over a bridge, then down two stories of steps back to the boulevard. He was cooking with gas, but I kept him in my sights. When he reached the next corner, I saw confusion in his eyes as he contemplated the next move. There was a major obstacle right in the middle of the race course: A murder scene.

Oz gathered his bearings and swung the route to the right as naturally as baking an egg white omelet. I closed the gap, and by the time we hit a red light, I was right on his heels. We waited patiently while staring at the home stretch. For one brief moment we made eye contact. Sweat dripped from our brows, and we shared an undeniable reciprocation of tenacity. Only a tattered sidewalk and sweltering heat stood between me and a victory over Oz.

The light turned green and he left a trail of dust on fellow racers. The mood was now clear, Oz was here for one thing . . . victory.

Two other ambitious runners joined as the four of us crushed the final turn and headed toward the red tape. Oz made a hard right and turned on the jets. His arms pumped in flawless cadence and I was suddenly struck by the moment. All the fame, fortune, and accolades meant nothing. Oz was a competitor and was not going to lose to some hungover filmmaker from Nashville.

I chased with all I had, but it was not meant to be. Two other guys and Oz crossed the line while I staggered in defeated. But Oz was not there for prizes and deferred to officially declare me the 3rd Place winner. He was clearly intrigued by my unwavering passion and graciously offered this post-race interview.

AND . . . here is a video I put together that includes highlights from the race, including my internal struggle as I realized Dr. Oz meant business.

AND FINALLY . . . here is the trailer for the inspiring Crushing Iron documentary I’m working on that documents the quest of me and four other normal guys changing their lives by training for Ironman Wisconsin.

* Thanks to Frank Green for this line. And no, I did not partake . . . as far as you know.

Have you been thinking about an Ironman, half or any kind of triathlon, but don’t know how to start, please consider us for coaching. We’ve been through most every situation regarding this sport, including starting from scratch. We’ve also taken athletes from their “stuck point” and helped get them on the Ironman podium. We love working with beginners and athletes that want to push it to the next level. Check out our coaching page for more information, including philosophy and pricing.

All 170 podcast can be found on iTunes or on our podcast page.

You can always support The Crushing Iron podcast by making a small pledge here.

June 28, 2013

I've Been MIA

Sorry for the week off, but I’ve been in Vegas working, eating, and drinking. I’ll be back in full force with Vegas “Race Recap” of sorts and heavy posting tomorrow.

One note: Got to run in Red Rock Canyon with a recently relocated buddy, Mark Spencer.

June 23, 2013

We Need Your Help at Ironman Wisconsin

Some of you may know we’re documenting our road to Ironman Wisconsin on video. We’ve done a bunch of interviews and some training stuff along the way, but, since I do most of the shooting, I’m getting a little anxious about how we’re going to cover Ironman weekend.

This is really like a zero-budget process and I’m looking for ideas to help an organic ground swell of phone videographers on race day. Do you know anyone who will be at the race? Have any thoughts on how we can get the word out to people we may not know yet who’d want to help document this occasion?

I would like to set up a server so that anyone who shoots video at Ironman Wisconsin could upload it for use in the film. It would be amazing if a bunch of people actually capture footage of the Fab 5, but that’s not necessary.

We’re planning to rent GPS chips so that our tracking can be in real time with Athlete Tracker’s free app. This will allow people to know exactly where we are on the course and be ready to shoot. Also, we’ll make sure our numbers and pictures, etc are readily available.

This journey has been amazing and the people involved have been the best part. That goes well beyond the guys I’m training with. People that race triathlon, along with their families and friends are the most generous and supportive humans, so I really think this can literally be an organic film made by hundreds of people. Can you help spread the word?

Feel free to contact me with ideas and any questions. [email protected].

June 21, 2013

Remember Who You Are

I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to waking up at 5 am, but when I do, it changes my day for the better.

After a little warm up, Coach busted out the drills and my swim was feeling pretty good, but Wasky was the man of record. I spent most of my energy just trying to keep up.

Then, in the final relay, we were anchors of our respective teams. We waited for our teammates to circle the buoy and back. My crew was building a substantial lead, but Coach changed the plan. Wasky and I would go head to head for all the marbles.

Wasky and I stood shoulder to shoulder shaking gingerly like real swimmers. His eyes had that distant, yet focused gaze that says, “I’m glad you’re here, but I have no choice but to kick your ass.”

We crouched into starter’s pose like sprinters and coach hollered, “Go!” We dug into the sand, then water, and dove when it got too deep to run. When I came up for air, I realized my goggles were now around my neck and I contemplated swimming without them, but decided to pull them up. I lurched over the orange boom and promptly kicked the cable that holds it in place. It was not a good start.

But Wasky was still in range.

I quickly focused and got on his feet. It’s amazing how much easier it is to swim in someone’s draft, and by the time we got to the buoy I was literally swimming up his back. We made the always awkward 180 degree turn and headed for home.

That’s when I made a big mistake.

Wasky is a faster swimmer and at that moment, I forgot or refused to believe it. Instead of drafting him in, I decided to find my own lane and sprint to the finish. My heart was pounding and I couldn’t see him anywhere. I thought I’d passed him and was putting together an epic swim. I sighted off the beach and all I saw was small waves in front of me. Could I hold on?

I dug deeper and hammered toward the shore. My arms were baked and my legs felt the aftermath of last night’s Monogetti run. But, it felt like a breakthrough moment. I was head to head with Wasky, and it was my race to lose!

I knew a straight line to shore could be the difference, so I started sighting every stroke. On my third sight, I saw a bright yellow swim cap about 15 yards ahead of me and my heart sank. Wasky.

When I finally got to the orange pole and he was running out of the water. My Cinderella story was not to be, but it was a good race lesson.

99% of us doing triathlon should focus on racing against ourselves. It’s great to push the envelope and get better in practice, but race strategy should be set, and kept.

Every time I change my plans, I bomb. The most common mistake I make is going out too fast, then fighting to hold on. Not only does this make racing less enjoyable, it rarely works. Like today when I fell apart chasing Wasky.

I’m doing a sprint triathlon this weekend and my plan is to negative split each event . . . and I’ll have to do it by feel because I’m not wearing a Garmin. The more I train, the more I understand effort. I know if I’m pushing myself just enough or maybe pushing too hard and if I let someone else’s pace dictate pace, it’s difficult to regroup.

For me, it’s as simple as breath. If I’m breathing too hard, I would be wise to slow down. Settle into your swim, bike, or run meditation. Remember who you are . . . unless you’re on the home stretch of the run with a chance to topple Wasky.

It was a great morning and the only thing that would make today better would be if it was pint night at NRC.

June 18, 2013

Convenience Store Wisdom

June is an animated woman that works at the truck stop across the road and right around the time I entered my pin number she told me she was fifty two. Her hair is orange (but leans yellow), she’s missing some teeth, her glasses hang on a chain around her neck, and he always has a story . . .

“You know, I was just now thinking to myself about how good it was to be a kid. You never believe that then, because all you can think about when your 12 is to be 16 and when your 16 you want to be 18, then 21, then 25 . . . But when you get in your thirties, you start to think, hmm… maybe this ain’t all I hoped it would be. Cause, you know, when you’re an adult you start to realize all you do is work, and work, and work, and work . . . and pay bills, and pay bills, and pay bills. And it’s harder now than ever. When you’re a kid you don’t think about any of that stuff. I remember when I was 12, my parents sat around the table figuring out what bills they could pay and what ones would have to wait. They kept tellin me, “Enjoy bein a kid cuz bein an adult is hard.” I never believed them, but I do now. Only took me till I was 52,” she said with a big cackle.

June has figured out that being a kid is a pretty good gig.

The whole time she talked I juggled three thoughts:

1. She is really striking a chord with me right now.
2. Why does she open up with me so easily.
3. This has blog potential.

But, as I headed to my car, my thoughts changed to how much I dreaded going back to work. Then I wondered how she could stand behind that counter for 8 hours a day doing something she loathes. One third of her life and half her waking hours. That is a disastrous way to grow up.

“You know, I love my grand kids, but they are so loud. I couldn’t have kids around anymore. I cherish going home and being there in my silence.”

I am fascinated by how someone like June can end up in a lifestyle like hers. We are amazingly adaptive. We survive hell for a day, then hell becomes easier. Eventually, we become very content in hell and almost thrive on the low level pain. There’s a twisted comfort in the familiarity.

So, how do we get out? It takes:

1. A fearless leap.
2. Unwavering commitment and focus.
3. A clear goal.

I was (and still am on some level) living in that hell. It’s really pretty easy. You just figure out how to make it through the day, then numb it all with a lot of food, drugs, or alcohol.

The problem is, once you take that fearless leap, the pain grows more intense for a while.

It’s tough navigating murky waters and that’s why sighting is so important. You’re not in a pool anymore. It’s the damn wild west. No line on the bottom to guide or contain you. You can roam where ever you like, and that is a scary ass feeling at first, but once you adjust (just like you did in hell) you realize how fucking amazing life can be when you’re truly free.

June 14, 2013

Swimming in the Washing Machine

Yeah, I know it’s nothing close to what it will be like at Wisconsin, but we do what we can.

Today’s swim was a series of “out to the buoy and backs” that left some of us overly familiar. Racer K and I spent a large part of the morning beating the shit out of each other and, I think I can speak for him when I say, it was awesome.

The front line in this picture was given about a 20 second head start, then the back line of today’s stronger swimmers ran in to chase them. We did this several times and the net result was a nice little cluster-f*ck at and around the buoy.

Sighting is huge, as is dealing with currents and waves, but for my money, the most valuable part of our open water clinics is scraping flesh . . . or worse.

When someone is running next to you, you will likely talk, size them up, or dig a little deeper to hold them off, but swimming is another story. Especially in a lake.

You can’t see much of anything other than a horizon so whenever someone slinks up beside you or touches your feet, your first thought can range from simple “annoyance” to “holy fuck, there is a sea urchin trying to kill me right now at this moment.”

(side bar . . . I just extended that last sentence far more than I needed to by adding “right now at this moment. It’s super redundant and frankly clutter, but I thought it may make it funnier, which I suppose it would to some, but certainly not linguists).

Yeah, so now that I’m getting stronger, I actually get a kick out of running into people on the swim. Annoyance, yes, but it’s like solving a tactical mission, which doesn’t always go your way, but is still pretty cool.

Today alone I got punched in the ribs, kicked in the face, had my goggles ripped off and got dunked at the buoy, and that was all by Racer K.

On one of the “out and backs” I got pinned by two people as I tried to pass. I had two options. Go over the top or drop off and swim around them. I chose the second but noticed how much effort it took to bump around in there before falling back, then restarting. Clearly the best decision in the future is either veer off earlier or just dig in for all I’m worth and split the seam.

In the end we broke into two groups and had our customary session-end relay race. Most of the time they come right down to the wire and there is no time to relax. You are RACING with people all up in your grill and doing anything to beat you to the beach. It wears you down, is often brutal, and I am very glad I’m getting that experience.

June 13, 2013

Running in Nashville – The Nasty

Last night hundreds of East Nasties gathered on a sweltering evening to knock out the group’s signature run. If you live in Nashville, you’ve probably seen the black and white “East Nasty” bumper stickers, and all those people have earned it by finishing The Nasty.

The Nasty is a 5.9 mile run, laced with several rolling hills and 6 “big” climbs, including, Mount Nasty, which is a relatively short, but steep ascent at mile 4. The legend that surrounds this route has an intimidating aura and most expect the worst, but I’ve come to really enjoy the challenge and think it always makes me a better runner.

The mood after running The Nasty ranges from exhaustion to exhilaration. Mark or Duane stand around and reward everyone with their stickers. The big one for the first time runners, and the small circle Mount Nasty for repeat offenders.

I feel lucky to have started running in East Nashville. The Nasty, is basically a collection of the best climbs and descents my neighborhood has to offer. You start with a slow downhill, into a climb, then a couple blocks of flat followed by another long climb, then two short steep descents and climbs, etc… Then you get a long, very gradual decline to prepare you for Mount Nasty. After that, it’s down into Shelby Park, around the lake and back out with a gradual, snake climb back to Shelby Avenue. Then, it’s down into a big valley, followed by a final climb before you turn and head home to 11th and Holly.

While Nashville is no Boulder, I think we have a great hilly/urban environments for training. If I’m looking for a flat/fast course, the Greenway is about a half mile from my front door, but if I go any other direction, I’m bound to collide with a bunch of hills. And the more I run hills, the more I crave them.

Last night I ran the course with John Wasky (+2) who is training for Louisville and typically ready to crush the road in front of him. We talked a lot about the fatigue of Ironman training and ran most of the route (plus 3.25 extra miles) with heavy legs. What amazed me about last nights run wasn’t that I was able to plow through tired legs, but how the cross training of triathlon is making my body so resilient. Normally my feet, hips, and knees ache after a run (and especially in the morning) but last night and today I remain cautiously optimistic that I’m turning a corner with nickle and dime pains.

I told Wasky early in the day I wasn’t putting up with any of his “Sub-7 pace BS” and for 8 miles he seemed to agree. But as we turned onto Shelby for the second time of the night and began a long descent that transformed into a longer climb, he turned on the jets and didn’t look back. It was all I could do to stay on his heels as he seemed to pick up speed on the hill. We crested, and I expected a deep breath or two to turn into a jog, but he rounded the corner hard on his way home. I tried to relax as we belted our way past a porch party full of women for the 3rd time of the night, and he wasn’t letting up. It was a 6 block sprint to the finish and sure enough, I looked at my watch and we were dabbling in the sub-7 range. He casually lured me to sleep then tried to break my will, but I am schooled in his shenanigans.

Great run on a humid night in Nashville, TN. The only bad news was that it wasn’t Pint Night at Nashville Running Company.