Mike Tarrolly – Co-Host of the Crushing Iron Podcast
I think one of the most important things I discovered during this video was how we work through soreness or discomfort. I came to the conclusion while trying to start throwing a baseball again after many years of shoulder pain. What I discovered is that maybe the way through the pain is through the pain?
The more I threw the ball against this rebounder, the less my shoulder hurt. But I started really slow and stayed patient. I find this fascinating because I think many of us deal with this on a low level as we get older. Not just shoulders, but our back, knees, ankles, neck, whatever. Maybe that’s just part of the process and our real power lies in the action of working through it.
It’s true with most of my runs. The first mile or so can feel almost unbearable at times, but as I loosen up, I feel much better. Then at the end, I feel great. So, my new mantra (especially in the morning) is don’t believe it and get moving.
Here are some of the topics raised by my athletes in Training Peaks over the week that fuel this discussion:
Zone 2 and why I feel like it’s so important to be working on at this time of year.
Head colds and how to beat them before they get you down
Mike Tarrolly – Co-Host of the Crushing Iron Podcast
Mike explores new technology and goes back to his first Ironman at Wisconsin. He talks about the experience of a mass start and re-visits the idea of pursuing a documentary on the journey he took with 4 others that year.
I have long been a proponent of “under training” for Ironman and it’s mainly because of longevity. I’m over 60 now and dealing with multiple long rides and runs is just too hard on my body.
BUT, that said, I feel like I’m in a good spot. I stay very active in general and while I’m not doing a ton of traditional long stuff, I’m supplementing with little things like push ups, the rower, a hydro bike, and treadmill walking. This will actually be an interesting experiment.
The funny part is, despite being “undertrained” I was absolutely shellacked this week. More than once I said this would be my last Ironman. I was very short, and frankly kind of an asshole with people this week. That’s when I know I’m going down the wrong path.
How much is enough? That’s the question I ask myself over and over while scrolling through training peaks for positive reinforcement. The activity that shows up the most is SUP boarding and, while I think it’s awesome for the body, I’m not sure how well that will translate to the hills in Wisconsin. We can hope.
Sometimes I feel a lot of pressure to perform well because of the podcast. It’s just one of those things where you think athletes will judge your performance and question your coaching.
I’ll admit that I am a pretty non-traditional coach. I’ve been through 10 of these things and at least that many 70.3’s since I turned 50 and I ALWAYS put my well being above training. I did that with my corporate job as well.
I’ve seen people absolutely demolish training and flop in the race and I’ve seen the exact opposite. I just don’t believe there is one way to get this done.
We talk a lot about happy and healthy on the podcast and it’s a very murky area when it comes to training for Ironman. The doubt and anxiety quotient is usually very high with athletes. Either they don’t understand how they will finish or they have lofty goals. I really believe that if you’re “in the ballpark” physically, your mind is the ultimate weapon.
I rarely swim or bike the distance and don’t even come close to a marathon before Ironman. This year my long training run will be around 10 miles. That sounds like a recipe for disaster, but it’s about the same as usual and while I haven’t podium’d, I have raced multiple sub 12 hour fulls.
And here we go again. I’ve spent most of the last week or so focusing on sleep and eating like a horse. I have been staying active, but am leaning into the “be fresh” bucket more than anything. My ultimate goal is always to feel the best I have all year on race day.
I think it was Jan Frodeno who said, “If you’re feeling over confident on race day, you’re probably overtrained.”
Sure, I may take things a bit to the extreme the other way, but who am I to argue with a guy like Frodeno? It’s just one day and I know I have the fitness to get it done, I just hope I have the patience to pace it right and rebound from tough races at Wisconsin the last two years.
It never fails, the beginning of taper is laced with emotions. I am tired, uncertain, and frankly, unenthusiastic as I sit here 14 days from the race.
The Ironman taper is like painting your house the day before it rains. You want to throw in the towel, but know you can’t. The only option is to take a deep breath and keep painting.
In my last post I talked about Ironman as a spiritual quest, and as I think about how that can pertain to a “goal” for the race, I know I need to get right in my mind.
The questions about did I do enough, or too much or can I hold this pace or that, really need to be thrown out with the trash. The two weeks leading into Ironman are much more mental than physical.
The corn is in the silo and now we have to figure out what do do with it.
If I live in Iowa, my answer is lobby the government to get corn subsidies, then sit back and watch the Hawkeyes struggle to score 20 points a game at Kinnick Stadium. But that’s not us so we have a pressing question of, how will we deal with our stored energy?**
Doing an Ironman every year is kind of like going to the same diner every Sunday morning. It loses a little luster along the way and we tend to try ridiculous things to ignite the old flame.
My goal is to be excited about the race and it may take a few mind tricks to get me there.
I’m a regular at the Ironman Diner and these conversations tend to get a little old. I’ve doubled down on the strategy talks, argued with the locals about whether or not I should go by feel or power, I’ve even tried the latest and greatest rhubarb corn biscuits with no satisfaction. To me, the only actionable solution is to stop going for a while.
I have to create a hunger for mystery.
This is really simple to understand. You can be totally sick of something. Stop doing it for a while. And the palette is cleansed.
It’s easy to become obsessed with our race. There must be something NEW out there. The triathlon equivalent of rhubarb corn biscuits. Maybe it’s aero socks, or a new helmet or a consumer grade hyperbaric chamber that will flush our inflammation. Just one tip or trick that’s going to give me a PR.
And believe me . . . I fall for this shit like Manti te’o fell for a fake person.
But this time, I am driving my enthusiasm by omission.
Less is more.
And, of course that is the definition of taper, but it can’t be just physical. We have to unload our brain from the information seeking obsession as well.
I think the best way is to forget about ourselves for a while. Get interested in other people. Help them get through their issues. Release the silly burdens we put on Ironman results.
Get away from social media, especially triathlon groups. Use the energy to do projects around the house and balance your life.
Being a tri-calc scientist at 1:00 in the morning is not going to help your race.
There’s nothing better than going into race weekend with a genuine excitement to be on the course. It should be like a high end restaurant reward for the money you saved by taking a few weeks off at the diner.
**I’m just having fun with words. I’m sure some of my Wisconsin farmers do the same thing.
In two weeks I’ll be on the Ironman Wisconsin course for the sixth time — my 11th Ironman since I turned 50 years old. I feel pretty decent for feeling like shit.
As usual, I am technically undertrained for this race. Looking at my Training Peaks is quite hilarious considering a large portion of my work has been done on a SUP board and Hydro Bike.
I’m not exactly sure why I keep doing Ironman, but this week I came across a clue that may explain things.
I was listening to a podcast and the guys were talking about intermittent fasting and how essentially it’s putting the body in starvation mode. One of the points made was that fasting is much more reasonable for younger people. Their bodies are more equipped to handle the stress. But as you get older, it can really mess with your hormones, ability to heal, etc.
This is especially true for very active people.
Then he said it, “I think the biggest problem with fasting is that people do it for physical reasons, when it has much more power as a spiritual practice.”
That resonates with me on a deep level, and I immediately made the Ironman association.
If you pinned me down, even as someone who makes his living on . . . and races Ironman frequently, I would probably admit this probably isn’t the healthiest approach to life. It’s insane amounts of training, pounding, fatigue, sleep troubled nights, personal conflicts, etc. But, there’s also a lot of beauty in the suffering if you approach it as a spiritual practice.
I’ve often referred to my Ironman races as a “compass” and on a surface level that meant it “keeps me out of too much trouble.” But, when you look at it as a sacrifice of the easy things you might normally do, it really takes on deeper meaning.
I remember growing up and hearing about how religion had mandatory fasts at certain times of the year. I thought it was the craziest thing, but it fascinated me. Why would someone suffer on purpose? Now I understand.
David Goggins has talked about how there is multiple years of learning within an Ultra Marathon. He must go through so much pain and suffering that his mind experiences a master class on life.
Ironman is similar.
Every single time I’ve done one I have openly professed it will be my last. Sort of like someone saying I’ll never drink again after a long night of shots.
But eventually we come back. Is it an addiction to the pain and suffering? Is it the spiritual learning? Is it a search for love of self?
One of my favorite things about Ironman is the absolute power it has to bring you into the moment. It’s very difficult to think about silly life problems when you’re swimming for over an hour or 80 miles into the bike or 18 miles into the run. You are right in that moment with all the pain, suffering, and desire for it to be over. No one forces you to stay on the course, but there is a majestic power that won’t allow you to quit.
I’ve often referred to Ironman training as “breaking up the rocks” in my body. It’s like going through intense therapy that loosens the pent up tension we’ve held inside for years. It can be painful and certainly emotional, but nothing good ever comes easy.
Even though it can really suck and probably isn’t the best way to feel good on a daily basis, Ironman training, when kept in perspective, will build strong layers of armor for life. It’s not easy to see in the moment, but when I look back over the last 10 years I can see how I’ve changed.
The physical benefits of being able to do something like this at the age of 60 are obvious, especially when I look around the room at reunions. But it’s the mental change that may be the most powerful.
Not many things overwhelm me like they did back in the day. I look at pain, suffering, and illness totally different. They are now indicators not ultimatums. I accept them in the moment and move through them without giving them power.
I have also become more comfortable with the concept of death.
The thought of watching my dad die was something that would have made me run and hide in my younger days, but when he slowly left the world right before the world left us in 2020, I leaned into it. I was there with him in the moment. He showed me it was nothing to be afraid of.
It was right after Christmas and he finally gave me the gift I’d been wanting since a child, peace of mind with the biggest mystery.
None of us are immune to the anxiety of facing Ironman. It’s the elephant in the room of a house of horror that for some reason we have paid to tour. We are never at peace with the Ironman mystery until we actually show up and walk the plank.
We must go face to face with the challenge to see our potential. It is not about the time or the accolades, it is a spiritual laboratory that is building us into a stronger soul.
This weekend I drove down to race the Tri-Shark Sprint in Bloomington, Illinois, but didn’t get to start. One of the guys in the picture below told me he had signed me up, but I wasn’t on the registration list. I went to the race in full gear had a power meeting with the Race Director, but he didn’t let me in because of insurance reasons; and I totally get it. But, there was a lot to learn from watching.
Sprints have this reputation of “being easy” but as soon as I started shooting video on my phone, the first thing I noticed were the expressions on people’s faces. There weren’t many smiles, just deep breathing, eyes half shut, and groans as they came running out of the water. You have to get after it in a Sprint!
And there’s no time for high fives or conversations or resting in transition . . . seconds could lose you the podium.
I was actually doing more short and hard stuff in preparation for this race, but as I watched, I knew that it wasn’t hard enough. It’s a different animal, but it’s a good animal that I think more long-course athletes should tackle.
After doing 10 Ironman, the distance no longer intimidates me and I think I’ve rested on that laurel. What does intimidate me is burning legs and lungs. I need more of that so I can get my ceiling back to a place where I can go faster in Ironman.
When I was racing my best at Ironman, my “easy” run pace was between 8:30-9:00/miles. Over the last few years my easy pace has slipped to around a 10:00/mile, which is what I used to run in the race. Now the race pace has dipped to around a 12:00/mile. Seems logical. I mean, how can I expect to train at a 10:00/mile pace and hope to do that in a race? I can’t.
So, it’s back to taking the interval efforts more seriously. Swimming harder, biking harder, and running more hard hills and “stride-like” work. To me, Ironman is all about making it feel as easy as possible. If I’m comfortable running an 8:30-9:00 pace, that will make 10:00 seem much easier in the race. It’s all relative, but you get the idea.
This all boils down to “what are you doing when nobody is looking?” If I give my athletes intervals or tell them to work hills and strides, that’s on them. Training should make you uncomfortable at times so the race doesn’t sneak up on you. You’ve been there and put yourself in challenging situations. The more you practice “getting through something” the easier it will be on race day.
So, I may just drop into a Sprint or Olympic here and there this summer. No taper, no expectation, just for the feeling and experience of remembering what it’s like to dig deep and go fast. I think they’re much more valuable for a long course athlete than we think.
Mike Tarrolly – Co-Host, The Crushing Iron Podcast
Whenever I’m in a funk I do my best to get moving. Lately, that’s just been as simple as a walk. I’m amazed at the power of walking to set off a chain reaction and pull me into a different mental state.
Today, that walk led to a short set of hill repeats on the sand, and a nice refreshing plunge at the end. Most importantly, it gave me energy rather than taking it away, which I believe is the key to successful training.
I think this all stemmed from getting a little too excited about the warm weather this weekend and running a little further than I should have, especially while not thinking about hydrating.
When I talk about dehydration, I don’t mean just carrying enough liquid for the workout. I mean, that my travel and excess coffee the two or three days before put me behind the eight ball. I felt pretty good during the run on Saturday, but woke up the next day listless.
I didn’t do much yesterday, other than nap, watch basketball and meander around trying to find something that would give me a spark.
Today, I woke up and immediately thought about coffee, which is another one of my warning signs. I had about half a cup before I could really feel that jacked up sensation of your body telling you you’re way too acidic. I went to water. Then to a walk.
By the end of the walk, I felt like doing a little workout. I chose 20 hill repeats in the sand. The entire workout took about 20 minutes, but it felt awesome. Not too much and just enough to get my blood moving. Then, it was to the 38 degree plunge, and that was truly the icing on the cake.
I was a different person after that rather simple sequence of walk, hills, and cold water. So wild and it will always be a mystery as to why it’s so hard to remember, or more importantly BELIEVE that that is what we need. We need movement. Movement is the medicine. Frankly, I believe it is the BEST medicine.
Mike Tarrolly – Co-Host of the Crushing Iron Podcast
Yoga instructors often say “stay with it” while students are in the pose. Or even, find your spot and lean into it. I love using analogy, and finding relevant moments to practice things like that and tonight’s plunge offered an opportunity.
When racing Ironman, I truly believe self-talk can be a massive advantage if you have your mind right. There’s something powerful about “one more mile” or “one more buoy.”
That approach helps keep you in the moment and if you can do that, the next moment might shift to your advantage.
While plunging tonight, out of nowhere, it started to pour. The rain was cold, the wind was loud and I saw a few lightning flashes in the distance. My first impulse was to run out of the water, but I stayed, and leaned into it. Putting extra emphasis on my breath and finding comfort as the cold rain pelted my neck and face.
When racing, it’s easy to react to impulses but it’s usually better to let things play out. Be deeply in the moment and know that in the end it’s going to be okay. There’s a reason people say, “take a deep breath.”
Mike Tarrolly – Co-Host of the Crushing Iron podcast
This is an abbreviated version of the breathing. This was a 4 minute plunge with 37 degree water and about a 0 degree windchill.
Do We Get Sick Too Much?
I think the answer is yes. For the last several years I have been using deep breathing to reduce the impact of sore throats, colds, and even upset stomachs. It’s pretty simple, but there is a lot of healing power inside our own body.
I’m a coach and see it all the time. People get a cold and are sick for weeks. Phlegm production at seemingly impossible volumes. I know the feeling, I used to be there and would follow the “drink plenty of fluid” routine, but it just seemed to create more and more mucus that would never end. It’s was always the worst feeling, but I have truly shifted my perspective.
When Something Really Clicks With Your Intuition
About 7 years ago I heard a guy named Wim Hof on a podcast. He was talking about the healing power of oxygen and the mind. The timing couldn’t have been better. I was depressed and completely lethargic at the time. What he was saying resonated with me on a primal level and honestly gave me hope.
He described his breathing method, which was basically 40 deep inhales, with natural, unforced exhales. Then on the 40th breath, you push all of the air out of your lungs and hold your breath for as long as you can. When you need to breathe, take a deep inhale and hold your breath for 40 seconds. (This is my interpretation and may not be exactly what he said).
The Body Gives Us Signals
Whenever I feel like I’m getting sick I go HARD on this breathing pattern for 30 minutes to an hour. Over and over. Holding breath longer and longer. And, while I’m holding breath, I focus on the area that doesn’t feel right. The throat, the sinuses, the stomach, I’ve even used this practice to reduce shoulder pain. It’s all about creating an alkaline atmosphere in the body.
When you do it right your head and body tingle. It’s really pretty awesome and I love the feeling. I always do it on the floor or in my bed, and honestly, it feels like a pretty solid workout on top of the health benefits.
Colds and Plunging
It seems counterintuitive, but for the last 5 months, I’ve been doing the opposite of what moms warn their sons about . . . going into the cold underdressed. During this time I have been thinking about what “colds” really are. If they are a virus, it would seem like the cold would help kill it. For whatever reason I now think that tying “colds” to the cold seems kind of weird.
Wim has a line that he repeats often, “Go to the cold so the cold doesn’t come to you.” To the layman, that sounds completely ridiculous, but after months of plunging it makes total sense. If nothing else it feels like it makes me tougher and more of a fighter. I don’t just give in to every little pain or fear of sickness. I kinda tackle the challenge head on, and I look at going outside in a completely different way.
I really believe a tense body doesn’t function as well and is more susceptible to getting sick. Especially if it is a paranoia in your mind.
These days I don’t even think in terms of “getting sick.” If something feels off I just believe I am either adapting or healing. The body is working to flush out the system. Thinking we’re sick is a weak position and can wear us down mentally. If you can come at it from a place of feeling strong and your body is doing what it needs to do, it’s a much better perspective.
There is so much power inside of us if we know how to access that strength.
