I have a ton of thoughts about this weekend at the Rev3 Race in Knoxville, but have been a little tired. Until I hunt and gather my opinions on Knoxville, the Pros, the Holiday Inn, and the race, here are a few pictures (including the group custom finisher shots) as a visual guide. 
The moment that Ironman bracelet clamps shut on your wrist, you known it is real. The door is closed and you are locked outside with the beast.
The day before Ironman Wisconsin, I walked around Madison fighting to suppress the rumble in my gut. It’s hard to relax when you know your body is about to check into hell.
I suppose it’s different if you have one under your belt, but I’m not convinced that’s an advantage. Ironman is not to be taken lightly.
You must respectfully acknowledge your opponent, which happens to be yourself. You must accept, then ignore every twinge in your body. You are strong, confident, and trained — yet fragile like a child.
Every step is calculated and while you are about to cover 140.6 miles, that extra trip to the hotel lobby becomes noteworthy. Fifty four unnecessary paces for resting legs.
Sipping water and electrolytes, hoping for the perfect balance. The optimum level of pre-race hydration that will be your last minute base for the next day.
Light stretching to ease tension that is mostly in your head. Meditating in the middle of an air-attack while bombs explode around you.
How do you contain the fire? How do you balance ferociousness?
The anticipation will crush you. Your mind does back flips as it plays through everything yet to happen. It’s senseless to obsess, but impossible to let go. You are mere feet from walking onto the plank.
And oddly, once your bare feet hit that cold wood, you look over the edge and the nerves wash away. You accept your fate and focus on why you came. You no longer have to imagine how it will look and feel. It’s right in front of you, familiar, and waiting for you to join the fun.
This is where you exist. This is where you belong.
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Best of luck on Saturday to everyone racing Ironman Texas. This is for you, and especially Rodney and Daniel who I have watched prepare for this monster. We’ll all be watching and pulling you toward the finish.
Well, the girls are heading to Knoxville . . . Me, Corey, Jim, and Wasky will soon hit I-40 East to tangle with Rocky Top. For most of the ride, I reckon I’ll be trying to figure out the “Rocky Top” lyrics, which will be good to get my mind off the race.
http://youtu.be/77hneLgt33k
For years the first two lines alone have been enough to throw me into a mental straight jacket. I could never figure out how they would go up to Rocky Top down in the hills, but clearly they were in Kentucky or something longing to be back home, which I’m guessing will be how the four of us will feel about Nashville after riding our bikes up into those mountains on Sunday.
According to Wikipedia, “Rocky Top” was written by married songwriting duo Boudleaux Bryant (1920–1987) and Felice Bryant (1925–2003) in 1967, which took about 10 minutes (Corey’s average transition time) to write, served as a temporary diversion for them (and clearly for me as well).
I’ve posted the lyrics below, but here is a short summary of what someone thinks each verse means, along with my interpretation of how I think the mystery inside this legendary song will apply to us at Rev3 this weekend.
Wiki: Despite its fast and upbeat tempo, the song is actually a lament over the loss of a way of life.
Crushing Iron: Fast and upbeat will be a stretch, but the “loss of a way of life” part certainly applies to us considering we spent most of last year together and now all we do is text.
Wiki: In the song’s opening verse, the singer longs for a place called “Rocky Top,” where there is no “smoggy smoke” and there are no “telephone bills.” The singer reminisces about a love affair he once had on Rocky Top with a woman “wild as a mink.”
CI: I’m almost positive there is no cell service in those hills, so at the very least our phone bills will be reduced. While it definitely won’t be a love affair, I’m pretty sure Corey will get a tad bit sentimental about the fun he had on the bike last year. And I wouldn’t put it past Jim to know a few wild minks in those hills from his time as a rock star UT.
Wiki: The song’s second verse recalls a story about two “strangers” (apparently revenue agents) climbing Rocky Top “looking for a moonshine still,” but never returning (conflict between moonshiners and “revenuers” is a common theme in Appalachian culture).
CI: This is the part that scares me. Wasky and I are both from the north, which could easily put us in the “stranger” category. On top of that, Corey and Wasky are both finance guys, which immediately lumps them into a “revenuers” category. Our only hope is Jim, who will likely have a few connections, but I’m not sure his new aero helmet will be a hit with his moonshiner buddies.
Wiki: In the third and final verse (which consists of just four lines), the singer again longs for the “simple” life, likening life in the city to being “trapped like a duck in a pen.”
CI: These four strangers, invading Rocky Top to spread their “cramped up city life ideals,” may indeed wind up “trapped like a duck in a pen” if they’re not careful. And somehow, despite the fact that texting really isn’t that complicated, we may need to convince some of these half bear-half cats that we’re sweet as soda pop. The lycra should help.
Here is my 3 part race summary from a cold and rainy Rev3 Knoxville 2013:
The Swim – My first real venture into ice cold water
The Bike – Including quotes from the great Ernest Shackleton
The Run – This could have nearly doubled as the swim
Rocky Top Lyrics
Wish that I was on ole Rocky Top
Down in the Tennessee Hills.
Ain’t no smoggy smoke on Rocky Top,
Ain’t no telephone bills.
Once I had a girl on Rocky Top,
Half bear the other half cat;
Wild as a mink as sweet as soda pop,
I still dream about that.
CHORUS
Rocky Top, you’ll always be,
Home sweet home to me.
Good ole Rocky Top,
Rocky Top Tennessee.
Once two strangers climbed ole Rocky Top,
Lookin’ for a moonshine still.
Strangers ain’t come down from Rocky Top,
Reckon they never will.
Corn won’t grow at all on Rocky Top,
Dirt’s too rocky by far.
That’s why all the folks on Rocky Top,
get their corn from a jar.
CHORUS
I’ve had years of cramped up city life;
Trapped like a duck in a pen.
All I know is it’s a pity life,
Can’t be simple again.
CHORUS
The only thing better than running six miles on a beautiful day is . . . knowing that you can.
I was just back in my hometown for a few days and woke up to mid-70’s with a partly sunny sky. I sat on the back patio with dad for a while before contemplating what I would do next. That’s when I remembered, “Hey, I could run.”
It sounds simple, but as recent as two years ago, the words that would have likely popped into my head were, “Hey, I could take a nap!” Instead, I went into route-planning-mode and my body was a race horse anxious to get out of the gate.
I could go anywhere I wanted. A buddy’s house across town, Big Hill Park, my old grade school. So many options and each of those seemingly benign treks became electrifying because I had never explored Beloit, Wisconsin by run.
The thought was new. It was fresh. And I couldn’t wait to see all of the simplest little things I’d experienced a thousand times before, but from the window of a car.
I cruised by the Boy’s Club on the bike path next to our vividly green neighborhood golf course. I fearlessly dove into “the hood” and discovered progress in the form of yet another new bike path. I crossed the bridge to the east side and ran along the immaculate riverfront into downtown. I was amazed by the run and bike luxuries that never existed when I was a kid.
I chugged past my childhood church, the sight of my first Little League practice, and the middle school that is no longer there. The memories flourished as I passed Tommy Johnson’s childhood home then lumbered up Lincoln Heights to my parent’s driveway.
Before I knew it, I was back on my patio, sitting in peaceful meditation as sweat dried from the backyard breeze. It was one of the simplest, yet most gratifying hometown tours I’d taken in my life.
Running is freedom. Just grab your shoes and go. It’s an expression that reminds me of how I felt tearing through local fields on my dirt bike as a child. Nothing is off limits, and more than ever, I understand how running is an art of being one with the soul of a city.
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A friend sent this list of Zen ways for triathlon training and has given me permission to re-post it on Crushing Iron.
1. Simplicity leads to happiness and happiness keeps you consistent.
2. Train hard when needed, train soft when needed. Do not train moderately hard all the time.
3. Nutrition is the fuel; your body is the engine. You would not put bad gas in your car, so why put junk food in your mouth?
4. Incorporate family into your triathlon life.
5. Resting and sleeping is when the body rebuilds and gets stronger.
6. There is a right amount of training and a right racing distance for you right now. That can and will change, which is good. Do not let your ego convince you otherwise. 
7. Volunteering makes you a better triathlete and person.
8. Triathlon training is not only for the sport, it’s for your life. The fitness gained improves your health, work, and family relationships.
9. What you learn about yourself during grueling training will change your life.
10. Do everything skillfully and with focus.
11. Engage, learn, improve . . . then repeat.
12. You can easily train for triathlons during the time most people waste watching TV.
13. Use the energy of a like-minded team to enhance and magnify your Zen on good days, and lean on the energy of others on your poor days.
14. Don’t compare this year to another. Each year is its own. Stay present and enjoy the ride.
1. I didn’t get enough sleep again – Waking up at 5 am would be more like Christmas morning if I could fall asleep before 1:00. I mean, I am a terrible sleeper, unless I’m not supposed to be sleeping, then I’m a rock star. But honestly, this is a significant source of frustration and I know it probably boils down to me being a self absorbed ass that isn’t spiritually evolved or something. So, as I drove away from the wonderful scenery I once again promised (and craved) being a solid citizen that will attain his goal of getting used to early morning workouts. I took a deep breath, looked at myself in the rear view mirror, then realized I have no chance. 
2. Coach does not take open water training lightly – You would think swimming is just swimming, but our coach is constantly focused on making us better and more comfortable in the water. Today he challenged our sighting with a new “moving target” drill that made us find him on the beach after we cornered the buoy. And in an exercise he “discovered in a dream,” we did a staggered start, then swam single file and parallel to the boom (see above photo) for about 300 yards. if you passed, you had to go by on the right, then drop back in front of the person who was then supposed to draft you. It was race mode with a rising sun to our right and a curved boom to the left which created sighting havoc that would have leveled the playing field for Hellen Keller.
3. I forget techniques from one swim to the next – A week ago I wrote this post about sighting and today I completely ignored my own theory. My eyes were squeezing every ounce of reflection from the buoy for the first half of our workout. BUOY OR BUST! I mean, I was sucking the texture out of that floating latex through my foggy goggles. Eventually I calmed down and looked for bigger and general-direction targets that helped alleviate anxiety that comes from trying to spot a tiny white speckle each time I sight. It also helped me resist lifting my whole damn head out of the water.
4. Your mental state shapes your workout – I had a conversation with coach the other day about, what he said, was “the best swim workout he’s had in a very long time.” Then he added, “But I felt like that would be the case, even before I got into the water.” His mind was right. I wouldn’t say I was expecting the worst today, but I was probably only about 50% convinced I would crush the lake. 90% of that 50% can likely be directed at my lack of sleep, so as with most things in life, it comes down to recovery and energy, which is probably why I workout alone at 10PM most days.
5. I like swimming on Friday more than Thursday – As I drove away from the beautiful scene, I felt a tingle of joy creep over me knowing that the weekend was here. Then I hit a literal and figurative speed bump. It’s only Thursday! This is obviously a deep seeded issue because, frankly, what’s wrong with Thursdays? Nothing. Thursdays are pretty awesome really. Used to love them back in college because it was the big party night and Fridays were pretty much a blow-off. To make matters worse, one of the guys (who will remain nameless) has the day off today, ie . . . “is working from home.” Anyway, it’s never a bad morning at the lake, but some are better than others.
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“You paid $650 to do a race? What do you get for that?”
I heard those questions a hundred times when I was training for Ironman and always responded meekly with something like, “Well, a t-shirt, a medal, and the right to say I’m an Ironman.” I knew I’d get a lot more, but it was hard to express in the beginning.
As I sit here today without a race on the calendar, it becomes a lot clearer. It’s the first time since I started running in January 2013 that I have not had a firm goal on the horizon, and I can already tell how easy it would be to fall out of pattern.
Signing up for Ironman felt like the epitome. I would do many races along the way, but that big gorilla was always hanging out in the corner. I couldn’t escape him, and in a twisted way, I didn’t want to.
He was my nemesis and my guiding light. He was the one I feared and craved at once. It was a love/hate relationship for the ages.
There were many days I hoped it was a nightmare and others when it was my only dream. Ironman is living on the edge. It is exciting, painful, alive.
It’s a strange paradox because I believe humans were built to move, but we are also becoming lazy creatures. We don’t have to write letters, we just roll over in our bed and type notes on our phone. We don’t go to the bank or the library or the football games. We make them come to us.
So what did I get for my 650 bucks?
Motivation
Ironman doesn’t budge. It just waits for you show up. And you’d better be ready when you get there or it will eat you alive.
What did I get for my $650?
Great friends with positive attitudes
I can’t tell you how amazing it is to see the same people lining up on the beach at 6 am, three days a week to “practice” swimming. We are not professionals, we pay to do this! And we don’t get paid to ride 6 hours on a brutally hilly road in the rain or run hill repeats past aging couples holding hands on the Greenway. We embrace the challenges because they are there.
What did that 650 dollar investment get me?
A better connection with the people that matter most
Like most, my Ironman declaration didn’t initially resonate with my friends and family. I’m sure it was an afterthought, or at the most, “Mike’s got another crazy idea.” But as time went on, they saw the dedication Ironman demands. They saw changes in me. Positive changes, physically and mentally. They saw passion, determination, and commitment. And it was contagious.
My Ironman training piqued curiosities and inspired change in others. I can’t tell you how many people told me, yes ME, that what I was doing inspired THEM. More proof that what you do really does matter. People really do care. And when you break it down, isn’t that what we really want from our relationships?
What did I get for $650?
A memory of a lifetime
The first day of school, high school graduation, going to college, getting your diploma, your team winning the World Series, your wedding . . . then most start the cycle over by re-living those memorable moments vicariously through their own children. We need those sparks to keep us going. And, for me, the one without children, that’s probably why Ironman was so important. It was a big, juicy reminder that life doesn’t have to fade away without memorable moments that seize every fiber of your being.
A couple hours after the race I finally got around to reading my text messages. The first one I read said, “Congratulations! You must feel dead!” I replied with this simple line, “Actually I feel more alive than I have in 10 years.”
And that’s what I got for my $650.
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For some reason, sponsors have not been lining up to get behind a marginal mid-life triathlete who blogs from his mother’s basement, so I’ve decided to turn the tables and openly endorse Kiwami by wearing this beautiful kit at Rev3 Knoxville. There’s nothing like putting on a new outfit to pump up your day, and here’s hoping this bad boy feels like a million bucks while I’m touring Rocky Top. 
Now, this post should in no way signify that I am closing the door to future sponsors. In fact, I continue to seduce Pearl Izumi shoes and Swiftwick socks on a daily basis. So if you know anyone at their Headquarters, let them know I am not beyond stocking shelves to secure the privilege of wearing their logo. Hell, as Kiwami just found out, I may even pay to do it.
I have even turned to video to prove to Swiftwick that I have the guts to stand tall for their mighty sock in the face of a questionable swimming injury. (Start at the :50 mark if you simply want the good stuff).
I guess it’s time to start talking about Rev3 Knoxville. My buddy Jim and I will be doing the Olympic with Katherine (along with a few Knox girls) while Corey, Marc, and Wasky are gearing up for the Half. Should be a good ole’ fashion showdown on both fronts.
They’ve made a couple changes to the race this year, including moving the location for transition. It used to be about a .66 mile run (according to Corey’s Garmin) from the water to your bike, but it looks like that distance will now be cut in half. The other change escapes me . . . but maybe it’s the weather?
Last year it was 56 degrees and rained the entire race. Portions of the run were literally through knee-deep-water. Frankly, I kinda thought it was awesome, but unfortunately it doesn’t look like we’ll be that lucky again. Here’s a finish line shot from that glorious day, which made my list of favorite photos from last year. 
My buddy Corey was there for the fun last year and I think he still has scars. The water temp was 53 degrees and it made for a dicey start to his long-distance triathlon career. But racing in terrible weather can only make you better. He took the hard-nock-Knoxville and turned it into a sub-12 Ironman at Louisville. You can read about Corey’s heroics here.
I had a good race in Knoxville last time and don’t really think I can beat that time. I’m sure I’d be more confident if I was actually training, but doing New Orleans took a little bit of steam out of the little bit of steam I had going. I think knowing that I’m doing the Olympic is a bit of a relief. Which . . . is pretty damn funny when you think of it.
Less than two years ago an Olympic triathlon seemed, not only unreasonable, but unthinkable. Now I’m approaching it like a stroll in the park. No matter how you slice it, that’s a really good feeling.
I’m pretty comfortable with the swim (though I missed this morning’s workout). I’m still a mystery on the bike (I tend to view the bike as a strength but New Orleans put a big seed of doubt in my brain). The run is . . . well, likely dependent on my bike (but I do feel pretty confident I’ll actually be able to stand up after my ride this time).
I will be in Knoxville on Friday night anxiously awaiting the opening of the Expo and the mandatory athlete meeting. Considering the conditions last year (and the fact that they rejected my application to be a team ambassador) I thought Rev3 put on an awesome race and I’m looking forward to seeing how they do when it’s 95 degrees and sunny.
The Ironman Train never stops.
As I write these words, my team is toweling off after a beautiful morning swim at the lake. I overslept.
This has been a fairly common theme in my training, but I am getting much better at dealing with the guilt. In the not-so-distant past I would have looked at the clock, eased into a mildly depressed state, and went back to sleep. Today, I instinctively viewed waking up at 5:50 am as a win.
Anyone who knows me well understands my struggles with waking up. My childhood bedroom was in the basement of my parents home. It was my cave and sleeping was a sport.
In high school, my best friend was quarterback for the football team and he desperately wanted me to be his go-to receiver. We had an unspoken connection and I could catch anything he threw my way. Every summer, as we neared the start of two-a-day football practice, his lobbying became more intense because he knew he was fighting my disdain for early mornings. Our football connection wasn’t meant to be.
He always stopped by after his morning practice and by noon I was usually wishing I would have gone. I was lathered in guilt because I really did want to play, but my body just couldn’t respond to the idea of getting my ass kicked that early.
I heard it all. “The morning is the best time to get things done,” and “We do more before 9 am than most people do all day,” but it never registered. I was always great at getting things done at night, but it was typically watching TV or drinking.
A history of waking up late lays a great foundation for Ironman training because you’re always trying to catch up. That guilt is familiar.
Slowly but surely I have been reversing that trend. I have learned to trust my body and take advantage of the moment, regardless of whether or not that means working out. This morning it meant walking the dog, taking out trash, cleaning the kitchen and writing a half-assed blog post by 7:30.
Winning at Ironman (or life) doesn’t happen overnight. It’s comes with a consistent focus on “right effort.” Moving toward the prize and accepting that you won’t always hit your mark.
Evolving is hard and often makes no sense. The pay off from frustration and pain is hard to see. We get stuck in the moment, put life on hold, and wallow in our underachievement.
Like you, I have put tons of effort and hours into training. I have clipped and dove in on frigid mornings. I have sweltered through painful runs and battled exhaustion.
There have been many low points, but we keep bouncing back. Moving toward the seemingly elusive goal of an actualized body, mind, and spirit. Pushing our limits each to become capable of doing things we never dreamed we could do. Taking right action, even in the smallest ways.
There should be no guilt in that.
