I used to have a black Camaro with over-sized rear tires and a crazy loud stereo. The Clarion power booster and Pioneer triaxial speakers made me the most hated kid on the block.
Old men and woman would swing their rakes in disgust as I blew through the neighborhood cranking Boston’s “Don’t Look Back.” And it kinda made sense because I was too young to have anything to look back at. But now, as I turn into an old man with a rake, it’s almost impossible to ignore the past, and frankly, I think it can be a healthy reminder of what we’ve accomplished.
Last week my neighborhood running store asked if they could interview me for a massive blog feature story. Owner, and former University of Oregon track team runner guy, Lee Wilson, thought I would be a good testimonial for their Couch to 5K program. I thought, “Hell, I’ve spent a ton of money there and they’ve given me free water and use of their bathroom a few times, why not?”
So, I stopped by the store and sat in front of a young woman named Jenna who peppered me like Barbara Walters. I mean, tough questions that make you squirm and blush. She didn’t use a recorder and occasionally wrote a note or two, but let me tell you, she nailed the story. Frankly, I don’t even remember what I said, but somehow she captured the essence of how I grateful I am that my buddy Jim tricked into signing up for Nashville Running Company’s Couch to 5K.
The three-year-anniversary of “my starting to run” is this January. Since that day I have done many things I never dreamed of. Two full Ironman, three 70.3’s and many 5 hour bike rides. It’s not really that big of a deal to me now, but I am genuinely amazed at what the human body and spirit can accomplish.
So, today, I am looking back at that January day in 2012 when running 60 seconds seemed like climbing Everest. Just yesterday I lopped down the trails for an hour and five minutes while making bird calls.
It’s quite a transformation, but I think more than anything, I’m just grateful to be able to do that. When you can just get up and go, it is an insane feeling of freedom, and there aren’t many things better than independence.
And I can’t help but wonder where this will go next. I have no interest in doing anything more extreme than an Ironman. I just want to find that place that feels right and gives me energy. That makes me the strongest, happiest, and best person I can be.
Is that a steady diet of Ironman, Xterras, or leisurely runs? I’m not really sure, but for some reason all of this makes me want to get another Camaro.
As I looked around Corral #1 at my fellow racers, I kind of chuckled inside. Three hundred and sixty five days ago I was swaying nervously in Corral #16, having only started running three months earlier. But Saturday, on a cold rainy morning, amazingly, I felt like I belonged.
Courtesy of The Tennessean
I exchanged chit chat with other runners, people just like me, who were cool and confident about the road ahead. I looked down at my bib #1805 and knew that meant I had predicted a finish around 1:30 for the half marathon. I’m not sure how many corrals there were, but the throng of people went backwards as far as I could see. I was literally starting 5 rows behind the elite runners.
I had been sick all week and the only exercise I mustered was a 2 mile run on Wednesday night that left me weak. Sometimes being a little under the weather can help calm the nerves and it definitely did as the horn sounded and my feet started paddling their way down a water logged West End Avenue.
Everyone I talked to before the race said, “Don’t start too fast,” and I clearly didn’t listen. I was floating along at my 10K PR pace for the first mile and downtown Nashville lingered like a carrot at the end of my stick. I promised myself to regroup and slow down, but the second mile was even faster! I was raging out of control, and by the time I reached the top of the long hill and hit mile 3, I had basically set my new best for a 5K at 22:54.
The good news is, I used to live on the course and knew I had a nice long downhill before climbing to the top of Music Row. Mile 4 was a little more under control, clocking in at 7:32.
The end of that hill nearly nailed me to the cross, but I forged into the Belmont campus where another long and steady decline awaited. I was humming nicely when I felt my shoelace flopping, and my mother screaming, “Tie your shoe, Michael,” so I stopped to do just that. My hands were cold and suddenly I forgot how to tie a double bow knot! It was full in-race spaz mode and must have tied 5 knots into that lace which I’m guessing took about 20 seconds, accounting for my slowest mile (7:49) of the race. The worst part the feeling you get standing out of a crouch, but I quickly found the groove and nearly ran over some animated kid raking water stop cups in the middle of the street.
We turned left at the bottom of Belmont and snaked through a nice little neighborhood that is normally packed with people, but this time I saw a lot of abandoned signs staked in the yard that said, “Good luck, Jim” or “This water is for Felix.” Really, that was the most unfortunate part of the rain, it kept the fans inside or on their porches. And even the ones who were out there were kinda cheering from inside their ponchos. The band support was a little sketchy, too, but I totally get why musicians wouldn’t want to fish their gear through the middle of a monsoon.
Coming up 12 South was a bit of a bitch. There are about 6 rolling hills and the last two tested my limits. That’s about the time I started feeling my left IT Band get a little squirrely as well. From experience I knew it was the downhills that made it flare, and sure enough I was headed toward the longest one of the course, 16th Street, Music Row East. I did my best to hold back a little, but as I began my decent, the music and screaming fans jacked me through the roof. That was the most energizing part of the course for me and sent me down the hill like a rocket.
Cruising into the Gulch at mile 10 was my nemesis last year. I could hardly feel my legs, but Saturday I felt pretty strong as I passed on yet another water stop. It was really hard to drink water in the freezing rain, but I probably forced down three or four gulps during this race.
We turned the corner and ran through a shin deep water puddle on our way to the Farmer’s Market at Mile 12 and I was more or less in a daze by this point. I knew we had two annoying switch backs ahead and did my best to stay with the ever-increasing pace of the closing runners, but at mile 13 I hit a wall.
As we exited Farmer’s Market, we curled right then back left to climb the final hill. My knee was on the edge and I took it easy. I was running out of gas quickly and knew I had to focus. We swung around the block, then pushed another small hill before hitting the bridge and I heard sort of an inspirational run on sentence from fellow East Nasty, Geeky Gunjan, that gave me the jolt I needed. I was on the bridge, nearly at the “point one” finish and another East Nasty, who I didn’t recognize, gave me a verbal push as he blew by toward the finish. I turned the corner and sprinted home.
It seemed like it was over in a flash. I felt pretty good about the race, and happy with my effort, but know I still have room to grow. Ironman Wisconsin training has been unbelievable in my progress. Training with guys like Jim, Daniel, Mark, and Kevin has pushed my limits beyond anything I could have imagined. And coach Robbie’s inspiration and wisdom has opened my eyes to endless possibilities.
So, that was the race. I signed up on a whim 10 days before and crushed last year’s time by 32 minutes, while beating my February 1/2 PR from New Orleans by five minutes. The coolest part of all of this is that I wasn’t really sore this morning and knocked out 20 minutes in the pool and a short bike ride to keep it loose.
Oh, and I started all this business at age 48, did this half at 49, and got 19th out of 677 in the 45-49 age group. It’s not too late if you really want it.
Today was right around the one year point from when I started my Couch to 5K with the Nashville Running Company. I am honestly shocked by how far I have come and 90% of me is putting this out there in hopes of inspiring other people to push their limits.*
This is me culminating my Couch to 5K training
I have been in a serious contemplation mode for while now and something else happened today that reminded me that life moves fast and you should spend it doing the things you love. (Or as Charles Bukowski put it, “Find the thing you love and let it kill you.”)
Around 2:00 this afternoon I found out my best friend from childhood’s father died. I was very close to his dad when I was young, but hadn’t seen him for years. I immediately felt guilty that I didn’t stop by when I was home for Christmas. Another missed opportunity in life and all the more reason to “just do it.”
I tend to beat myself up for stuff like that, but we are human and can’t do everything. That said, most of us can certainly do more than we do. Death is a powerful motivator and as you grow older the reminder comes far too often.
In reality, I have made huge strides in the last year and am following through more often. I immersed myself in becoming a healthier and better person. The catch is, often we are too close to the process and don’t realize the progress. Yes, one year ago today I couldn’t run a mile. Today I did a tempo run (with Jim pushing my ass again!) of 5 x 5 minute splits with a one minute jog between, plus a 20 minute warm up and a 30 minute cool down. Here’s the breakout:
Warm Up – 20 mins at around 9:30
1st 5 minute split pace – 7:37
2nd 5 minute split pace – 7:26
3rd 5 minute split pace – 7:18
4th 5 minute split pace – 7:25
5th 5 minute split pace – 7:47
30 Minute cool down at 8:44
Total running time around 1 hour 20 minutes.
I feel really good about that performance, especially considering we did a bike/run brick yesterday and at least two of those splits were on a legitimate hill. Next month I will be running the New Orleans Half Marathon and am pretty confident I will hit my goal of 1:45. That would be a 1/2 hour faster than I did the Country Music 1/2 last April.
As my legs burned during the cool down today, I was talking with a woman in our group about how a lot of people tell her she’s “lucky” she likes to run. And how she’s “lucky” she’s good at running. I completely understood her point because a year ago I would have told her the same thing. Not only did I hate running, I didn’t think I could do it.
The truth is, we can do almost anything we set our minds to and my mind is now set on an Ironman. I haven’t come close to swimming 2.4 miles, the most I’ve ever biked is half the distance, and I’ve never ran a marathon. But now is the time to live and push the limits of what life has to offer. It’s free and anyone can join.
I hated running and could fake a cry with the best of them if it would help me avoid jogging in gym class or later in sports.
But I loved biking, and did a bunch of mountain bike races, including Chequamegon Fat Tire 40 in Hayward, Wisconsin. And while I have you, I’ll drop a reminder that I placed 1,500th out of 3,000 racers. Exactly in the middle and 1,499 places behind Greg Lemond.
I swam a little bit, too. My parent’s house was half a block away from the municipal pool in Beloit, Wisconsin and I spent loads of time hitting on girls and hiding boners in the shallow end. I love water, and while I was never a distance swimmer, I’ve always made time for a few laps at the local Y.
But running was a nemesis.
Frankly, it hurt. My ankles have always been fragile and anything more than a dash to first base or out to play shortstop was too much. In baseball we mainly ran sprints to loosen up and the teams I was on never overdid such tomfoolery.
Now, though, I realize that I missed the boat. A little bit of distance running would have made me a better athlete, especially late in the game when the legs go south. If I were ever a coach again, I would have to pull some hocus pocus out of my bag to convince the kids they need to run more.
Running is still hard. It still aches the most of the three sports, but it is without a doubt the reason I have started triathlons.
Once I erased the mental baggage of running, everything else fell into place. But I could have never done it without the Couch to 5K program. I always went too far too fast and quit.
If you hate running, but have a perverted desire to do it anyway, I suggest you take it very slow and follow a Couch to 5K program to the letter. No more. No less. Stay within yourself and let your muscles build naturally.
Without those seemingly inconsequential 60 second jogs back in January, Ironman Wisconsin never would have crossed my mind. Running can be a bitch, but in my triathlete world, it is the real work.
I just recorded my first video blog for this site and will put it up as soon as I make a cool open and close that energizes, inspires, and/or makes me look like a total egomaniac. In the meantime, here’s a little history on my couch to Ironman journey.
So, what’s my story? I am a forty something young gentleman who, with the help of a certified Ironman, started running on January 23, 2012. I’m sure we made some kind of bet, but the true reason was how I looked in a video last November (which I hope to find and post). I looked like a fucking whale as I sat next to my buddy Roger and sang the University of Wisconsin anthem, “Varsity.” We were absolutely rocked off our ass and waving our arms back and forth (feeling pretty cool I might add) acting like we were in college celebrating another Badger victory. But when I saw the iPhone video I could not get over the fact that I had a beer gut and my face was swollen like I’d been sitting in a bar for the last 5 years, which I was. I tried to downplay it, like it was the angle of the shot, but I made a serious mental note that day that I would not take my slobby ass lightly.
The start of my running was a “Couch to 5K” program that started with 60 second runs surrounded by 90 second walks. I shit you not, those 60 seconds were like climbing Mount Helena to me. I was winded like a bitch, but tried to play it cool because there were a bunch of women around me and, I’m not going to lie, that is motivation.
This went on and on and we slowly built to a 5K on St. Patrick’s Day which I ran in just under my goal of 28 minutes because my Ironman coach who ran with me lied the whole way. “We’re way behind, gotta pick it up.”
This was me and the coach
So, I lumbered onward completing a 5 mile, 10k, 1/2 Marathon, a Sprint triathlon, numerous other 5ks, then an Olympic triathlon, which was nearly the end of my quest for iron.
