1.  I rarely run on Tuesdays, but today called for an easy gallop with a few race-pace-efforts.  Along the way, I was exposed to endless open garbage bins in my neighborhood that reminded me to appreciate the finer smells in life.  For some reason (maybe the stench got me) I ran the first mile or so slower than I have all summer.  Hopefully there will be a lot of garbage coming out of T2 to slow me down.

2.  A friend recently told me he got a massage a few days before his recent Half and thought it was a bad idea because it made him sore.  Not me!  I went straight from my run to straight down in a face cradle.  This was not, however, my first massage this season.  I’ve had a few leading up to this week and told her to back off the pressure.  Restore, only.  Move the blood.  Make me believe.  I fell asleep, so it must have worked.

3.  If you can’t get enough paranoia or tomfoolery in your diet, just stop by an Ironman Facebook group the week before a race.

4.  This will be my 3rd Ironman and I can’t wait to get down there to hang with everyone.  There’s just a great energy around this sport and everyone has that anxious, yet humble look in their eyes. There’s really nothing like getting your bracelet and bib to make it real.  We’ve been working for this all year and the energy is palpable.

5.  I was happy to see optimistic pictures of the Ironman Louisville swim course this morning.  It looks like that section of the Ohio River is in pretty good shape regarding the “algae scare.”  And while I’m not racing Louisville, I’m not the kind of guy to take chances, so I thought I would play it safe with a little algae-immunity treatment in my above ground pool this afternoon.

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1.  I started my early morning routine today.  Up at 6:30 to walk the dog.  A little breakfast, a little writing, and a lot of wanting to take a nap!  This could literally be harder than the race for me.  Goal is to avoid the nap at all costs and be tired at bed time.  How important is sleep?  Frankly I’m tired of doing races on 3 hours.

2.  Don’t cook the bike.  Don’t cook the bike.  Okay . . . but what does that even mean?  Some think that (for most people) the more likely story is that we aren’t fit enough in the first place and the 112 mile bike by itself is what crushes the run.  I can kind of buy into that, but in general I think not cooking the bike means hitting the 80 mile marker without thinking, “Oh shit.”

3.  Don’t go out too hard on the run.  Don’t go out too hard on the run.  Okay, who among us has the willpower to resist tearing out of T2 and blasting past thousands of fans?  Hmm… not me, that’s why I think I may actually stop and take a few pictures with friends and family as a deterrent.  Well, probably not, but you never know.  Depends if I think I’m pulling in the reigns.

4.  Looking forward to hashing things out with pro triathlete, Jim Lubinski in Chattanooga.  We “met” through Twitter last year and he’s a super cool guy who has helped me plan out my last month going into the race.  He’s not only a triathlete (12th at Chattanooga last year and 9th at this year’s Mont Tremblant), he’s a coach who has presented a lot of unique and mindful ideas that I look forward to executing.

5.  What to eat?  Well, Jim had just finished eating a banana in this picture, so that might be a good place to start.  But I’m really referring to this week.  My diet has been a little suspect and part of me feels like the body is saying, “You aren’t replenishing enough calories so I need you to gorge!”  Nature tells me this is not the time to “build” as in weight and muscle, so hopefully the reduced efforts this week will taper my appetite a little bit.

6.  Six days away from a treacherous and glorious day.  My instinct is to improve and do better each time I race.  But, as I found out at Louisville last year, that doesn’t always happen.  I have several goals this time, but think number one is to relax and enjoy the entire day (and weekend).  That’s one of the cool things about a full Ironman, really.  The distance demands patience, so there’s really no reason to get yourself in a tizzy by “racing” too hard.  I mean, “crushing” and Ironman is a relative term.  It’s more like crushing a consistent effort, but it amazes me how we can all be lured into thinking it’s a sprint.  So, I’m trying to lock one thought in my brain right now . . . “If I think I’m going too fast . . . I probably am.”

Much more about Ironman Chattanooga right here:  18 Stories About Chattanooga

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1.  Stayed up late watching the Ole Miss v. Alabama game last night . . . what a slugfest!  I am neutral on these teams, but it reminded me of Rocky I.  Ole Miss was throwing haymakers and Bama kept getting back up.  Both teams responded to seemingly insurmountable challenges by digging deeper when you thought they were toast.  The Tide was down 20 at the start of the 4th quarter and chipping away against an Ole Miss team that seemed exhausted.  An Ole Miss receiver was overheard in the huddle telling his team “It’s all mental now, dig deep!”  Bama had the ball with 3 minutes left and a chance to win, but Ole Miss intercepted a pass to seal the victory.  A great Ironman metaphor for not giving in too early in the race.

2.  I’m trying my best to keep Chattanooga out of my mind when my head hits the pillow . . . but it’s tough.  I have a habit of trying to visualize the race step by step, but it’s not good when you’re trying to sleep.  Next thing you know, it’s 12 hours later and you’re up feeding the dog with bags under your eyes.

3.  I’m not sure how serious the algae situation is in Louisville, but this could be a major bummer for people doing that race.  I’ve talked about it before, but I just can’t imagine having the swim cancelled.  While I realize its impact on the race time is small, for me, the swim is the coolest part of the race.  It’s the heart and soul of the anxiety.  Not having it changes the entire complexion.  My first Ironman was at Wisconsin and I’m not kidding when I say I thought that swim every single day of the year.  It is easily my strongest memory in triathlon.  I really hope the river clears up for Louisville.  Maybe they should move it back to August.

4. Tapering is a funny thing.  Our instinct is to go balls-out for 6 months, then shut it off for a couple weeks and hope for the best.  Believe me, that’s what I’m thinking. It’s taking every ounce of energy I have to remain focused for one more week.  It’s kind of like when I cut a video and am done with the basic structure.  There’s always relief at that point, but I know I still have to “master the project by adding graphics, mixing the sound, and tweaking the color.  These are the little things that “tune-up” the video and it takes another surge of mental energy to go there.  You’re “done,” but not finished.

5.  Sometimes I can’t get over the fact of how fortunate I am to even be able to DO an Ironman.  Pretty cool when I think back to where I was just four years ago.  This will be my THIRD Ironman.  A true testament to the power of the human body and spirit, and it honestly doesn’t take that long if you put your mind to it.

6.  There really is something about the atmosphere of Ironman.  Literally thousands of optimistic people together in the same “room.”  And this goes far beyond the people racing.  Everyone who spectates and supports these events have great attitudes and understand that life is about pushing limits. Everyone has hope, and hope goes a long way in this world.

7.  Crushing Iron t-shirts already a big hit in Chattanooga!  Check out these fans crushing it at Stump Jump!  We may have some at a tent on the lawn on Saturday and Sunday during the race.  Indigo Blue, same shirt used by Ironman, and only $20!  If you want to get your own, send me an email at [email protected] and we’ll coordinate logistics.

 

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1.  My bike’s been making a strange knocking sound for the last week or so and I’ve been hanging out at the shop more than my Grandpa used to linger at the used car dealership.  I pulled out a few of his old jokes, but they bombed.

2.  You know Ironman is a big deal when it nearly made me forget about the Badger game today.

3.  Race Forecast Note:  Just to prove my last point about it being stupid paying attention to long range forecasts (and proving I am stupid by checking it anyway) yesterday they called for sunny and a high of 80.  Today, the forecast for Ironman Chattanooga is 78 and showers.  Okay . . . I’m not going to look until 3 days before the race.

4.  I just took an “ice bath” in my above ground pool.  It’s not freezing, but it will wake you up.  And, there’s no doubt it helps with muscle recovery.  I’m still shivering as I write this.

5.  I wish everyone racing Chattanooga could hang around for a week and just chill together.  I’ve never been a big fan of the “it’s over, see you later,” thing.

6.  It’s crazy to think about the unknowns going into an Ironman.  What’s even crazier are the thoughts that you have “forgotten” how to swim, bike, or run after a day or two of not doing them.

7.  Last year I ran about 5 miles the month before Ironman Louisville due to achilles pain.  I’m in much better shape this time and in a strange way excited to run.  I’m sure that attitude will change after about 5 miles.

8.  Ironman really is kind of like a wedding.  For most of us it’s the biggest day of the year.  The nerves, anticipation, and desire for perfection all clank around for months.  Hopefully everything goes as planned, but whatever happens, happens and has to be accepted.  At least with Ironman, we can do it again next year (without guilt) if it doesn’t turn out like we planned.

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A friend of mine once told me, “The thing I always try to remember during an Ironman is, never put too much stake in how you feel because it will change every 20 minutes or so.”  Easy to say . . . tough to remember.

This is actually one of my favorite topics because, on many levels, I think it’s the only thing that ultimately matters when it comes to Ironman.  Pain, and more specifically, managing that pain is the key to hitting your goal.

I was talking with a different friend tonight who is getting back into cycling and he was telling me about all of the pain he feels.  Saddle pain, calf pain, knee pain, ankle pain, etc.  He asked what he should do about it and, after thinking for a minute, my only advice was, “Ride through it.”

I don’t know how else to say this, but that is exactly my plan for Ironman Chattanooga.  I am fully prepared for the pain and only hope my mind can talk me into riding and running through it.

Last night I watched “4 Minute Mile,” and while I think it’s a bit on the cheesy side, there was some really good running stuff in there.  Coach Coleman told his protege:

“You gotta face that fear. You GOT to, because if you don’t, you’re gonna be me, and, buddy, you don’t want that. But if you do – and I don’t care if you never run another race in your life – because if you DO face that fear, it’ll change your life. I promise you. It’s the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do, but you gotta do it. Oh, you gotta do it. And then you’ll be able to push right through the pain. You’ll go right through the door. And when you’re about ready to pass out and your legs can’t move and your lungs can’t breathe and your eyes can’t see, you’ll know that it’s just the beginning, and it’s so beautiful. It’s beautiful.”

So, I ask myself, “What is that fear?”  What is it that I have to overcome on race day?  And the only answer I can come up with, is doubt.  I fear that I won’t believe in myself when I start to feel the pain.  I fear that it will seem easier to give up then push through the pain.  Move the pain.  Manage the pain.

That is my fear.

But, we’ve all done it.  We’ve all run through that fear.  We’ve all pushed ourselves past places we believed were possible.  So, why not on race day?

The more I train for these races, the more I blown away I am by the mental perspective.  On some levels, it’s really simple.  Don’t let that obsessive, crazed personality take over your mind on race day.  Go out at your pace and keep a little in the tank until you really need it . . . then, understand.

Understand that your body will recover.  Understand that you are capable of doing much more than you believe in that moment.  Understand that the way you feel will change.

Hydrate, fuel, and embrace the beauty.

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Once again I am staring at an Ironman registration screen before I’ve completed the next one on my list.  Chattanooga is in twelve days and Ironman Wisconsin 2016 is baiting me with all its glory.  Unfortunately my competitive and sign-up windows are both closing quickly.

I think most of us go through this phase.  The last couple months before your race you make a lot of claims about taking the next year off.  I almost actually did this last year, but caved in to Louisville 3 months before the race.  Louisville was slow to sell out in August, but Wisconsin will likely be gone in a day or two.  So, what should I do?

IF I was set on doing an Ironman next year, I would pull the trigger in a second.  Wisconsin is the race I want to do.  It’s a great course, the atmosphere is incredible, and it’s home.  The swim alone is almost worth the entry fee.

The “transfer” option isn’t really a question.  It’s whether or not I want to race.

I think my competitive nature makes this decision so hard.  I’m just not the kind of guy to sign up and do it “for fun.”  I mean, obviously I love this stuff or I wouldn’t keep racing or writing about it all the time, but . . . it’s hard!

I’ve tried to compartmentalize my training, but Ironman has a way of taking over your life.  And, that’s the second catch . . . in the big perspective, that’s not such a bad thing.

Ironman training is the big-picture-guide for my life.  It deters me from falling off the rails and sauntering into the murky marsh.

But, it also saps my energy for other things.  And, frankly, I should probably get on with my life as an entrepreneur one of these days.

So, I sit here in contemplation with a peaceful monk on my left shoulder and a lycra-clad competitor on my right.  Each urging me to be myself and make the right decision.  That, of course, is the always the dilemma.

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This is such an interesting thought to me.  How exactly DO you make an Ironman race fun?

As I think back to my first two, I can remember four fun things about the races.  The time before and after each.  During the race?  Not so much.

But maybe that’s a lie.

There were moments, I’m sure.  The swim, for example.  Wisconsin was fun in a “going to battle” sort of way.  Louisville was fun from a “relax and enjoy the outdoors” angle.

The bike at Wisconsin was kind of fun at the time, but really fun in retrospect.  Till this day it’s my favorite bike ride of all time.  Louisville’s bike was more of a consistent effort sort of thing that I don’t recall being “fun” but it was sort of okay.

The run at Wisconsin was my first marathon, so it was fun in a new and exciting kind of way. There were tons of people and great memories as I “ran” in and around the University of Wisconsin campus.  That was my stomping grounds back in the day and I’d rarely seen those places sober, so it was definitely exciting (other than the pain).  The Louisville run, on the other hand.  Not fun.  I wasn’t ready and the heat destroyed me.  One question kept piercing my mind was . . . why?  Why would I do an Ironman?

Now, I’m facing my third, Ironman Chattanooga, and you know what?  I think I’m going to try and have more fun.

I think a big part of that solution is simply keeping your head up a little more.  Soaking in the beauty of the bike course and looking into people’s eyes as you run.  It makes the race a more connected experience, and really, that’s the key to life in general.

The other big, big, key to having fun during an Ironman (at least for me) is staying within your limits, especially early in each discipline.

I have ruined many a swim, bike, and run by starting too fast.  It becomes survival and surviving really isn’t that fun.

There is a very fine line between giving your all and pushing yourself over the edge.  I fall for this a lot and hope that writing it down might actually convince me to live in the space just below the edge more often on race day.

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I just looked at the watch on my wrist and it’s set to 00:00.  That can only mean one thing . . . another workout is looming.

At the moment I am sitting in a coffee shop, writing on my computer.  It is a casual, comfortable, and easy experience.  But soon I will have to get into the water and push myself.

 

I’ve been putting a lot of effort into a “new” training philosophy.  Not new in the revolutionary sense, but new in a “in the moment” sort of way.

Thinking about an Ironman Race Day can steal your soul.  It will consume you to the point where everything before it is a blur.  The best way to separate from a future event is doing something today that will make that future more pleasant.

It’s like preparing for a final exam.

I used to be the all-night crammer kind of guy.  Ignoring the lessons months in advance, trusting an immense, short-term immersion of information the week before my test. Sometimes this worked, but one thing was always constant.  That cramming experience threw me out of balance.

I’m learning.

I’m learning that consistent effort and preparation pays off.

I’m learning that repetition is the best learning vehicle.

I’m learning not to obsess over things that aren’t here now.

But it’s hard.

It’s hard because the lure of that shiny medal at the finish line has a way of validating our efforts.

It’s hard because in a strange way it doesn’t seem like the little recovery runs really matter.

It’s hard because having faith is hard.

Setting goals has always been weird to me because I typically focus on the goal instead of what it takes to get there.  With Ironman, for example, I tend to compare my training efforts to my race goal.  That can be dangerous territory.

The worst strategy in the world is racing an Ironman like it’s a race.  It’s a brick by brick build.  Stroke by stroke, pedal by pedal, stride by stride.  You can’t put up the walls until the foundation is laid.

The same holds for training.  I have 17 days left until Ironman Chattanooga, and while that doesn’t seem like much time, there’s a lot of things I can do to improve my race.  Little things.  Adding a few more bricks to the foundation.  Making my weaknesses a little stronger.

The race is coming fast, but there’s really only one thing I need to think about . . . what I’m doing now.

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