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How Far Should I Run Before Ironman?

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The longest run of my life before Ironman Wisconsin was 14 miles.  Now that I’ve signed up for Louisville, I have to decide if that was a solid plan.

When I got off the bike at Wisconsin the Finisher’s medal was 26.2 miles away and step one would be just as painful as the last.  That run was 90% mental and my real goal is to bring that percentage down to 50.

I have to be confident

Having never run a marathon, I was skeptical and concerned about going that far.  But now I believe I can run an Ironman marathon at a 10 minute pace and that confidence is critical.

I made the decision not to run the distance while training because I thought it would hurt more than help, but in the back of my mind I was pretty sure I “could” do it when faced with the ultimate challenge.  Especially with the energy of the race and I’m putting a lot of stock in the crowd again (although the people that talked me into this are moving now).

I have to be patient

A guy I know absolutely crushed Ironman Louisville (tenth overall) last year and ran the marathon in 3:21 with an average pace of 7:40.  But what stood out was his first split.  Off the bike he averaged 9:17 for the first 2.5 miles.  That’s all confidence . . . and patience.

I think a lot of people get caught up in the “race” part of Ironman.  Sure, it’s timed and you’re racing, but I don’t want to confuse that with shooting out of the gate like a loose cannon.  The excitement can sweep you away and most of us should really ease into each event.

Our bodies are amazing, but we have to be patient with their design.  We are using different muscles for each discipline and it takes a while for our system to figure things out.  For me that means at least 500 yards in the swim, 15 or so miles on the bike, and at, oh, let’s say 2.5 miles on the run.

I must  have faith

I know a lot of really good runners who’ve been obliterated on the Ironman marathon.  I don’t care how good of a runner I am, if I don’t navigate the bike course at my desired time with a lot left in the tank, my run is “screwed.”

How much more can it hurt?  At some point the body just says, “Okay, as long as you keep it right here I’m good for unbelievable lengths.”

My gut is telling me to go crazy on the bike and skates for the next couple months and take my chances with the run.  When you’re training for Ironman there are a million questions, sometimes you just have to believe.

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Today You Have A Chance To Be Great

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A coaching friend of mine has always seemed to connect to endurance training on a different level.  It’s a more inclusive approach that goes beyond assigning workouts and mileage.  I’ve recently asked him to contribute to Crushing Iron with a regular voice that will surely motivate and inspire with simple, yet powerful concepts that resonate on a more integral level.  Below is the first edition of Crushing Iron Coach’s Corner. 

Coaches Corner: Today You Have A Chance To Be Great

In a world where we obsess and over-analyze our past races, or races a year away, the biggest casualty is today.  And today is your chance to be great.

Giving our best right now isn’t nearly as glamorous as “talking” about an event we haven’t completed, but it’s how we get there.  What is attractive is what happens when you put days, weeks and months of “today’s” together.

Do your best today.  Then forget about it and be your best tomorrow.  Repeat and stay present.  That’s where improvement lies.

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Day 5 – "10 Days of Rest"

Well, Friday was Day 4 and I didn’t do anything.  No stretches, strengthening, etc.  It was an essentially an off day during a resting period.

On Day 5, that’s when I noticed I could feel my plantar faciitis creeping back into my heel.  It wasn’t anything major, but the previous couple of days, it was gone.  Like gone, gone.

I first noticed it out of bed, but it became a little more prominent after I mowed the lawn in preparation for the soft launch of Tarrolly Hills (my above ground pool country club), which was a resoundingly mellow success story.

My first reaction was to get into some stretching poses and work it out, and while it helped a little, I was still feeling it later at Kevin and Christina’s wedding reception.  This, of course, meant no dancing, much to the chagrin of Wasky, who I learned is a huge fan of club music.

It’s kind of interesting because I’ve been to wedding receptions the last two weekends and both were packed with endurance athletes, so obviously that’s where the conversation goes.  Other than a short diversion to discuss the ridiculously tempting cupcakes, much of the night was spent discussing Wisconsin and the upcoming Ironman Chattanooga.

And that got my juices going.

So we’ll see how tomorrow goes.  I have a strange desire to mountain bike creeping into my head.  Maybe I can use it as a spin day just to get the stuff moving around in my legs a little.

In the meantime, here’s a picture of the Ironman groom, the club-music-loving Wasky, and the Tarrolly Hills Social Chairman, Jim who was sporting his outstanding leisure suit.  You really can’t ask for much more than this.

Kevin and Christina Wedding
Jim, Wasky, and Kevin. Photo by Marc Swain

 

 

 

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Ironman Pain and Recovery #IMNOLA

The morning after Ironman Wisconsin I laid in bed and took inventory.  I lifted my arms, circled my ankles, and stretched my legs.  I’d never done anything remotely close to 140.6 miles, and getting out of bed scared the shit out of me.

I sat on the edge looking down at the floor for about 5 minutes.  Should I try to walk, or just fall to my knees and crawl to the bathroom?  I decided to trust my legs, and what happened next was just short of remarkable.

Other than stabbing heel pain and a general tenderness, I felt fine.  Sure, I moved slowly, but that’s no different than most mornings.  I was physically drained, but the very next day I felt great swimming a 1,000 meters in Turtle Lake.  It’s just weird, and quite amazing, how much the body can handle.

This brings me back to Sunday in New Orleans.

From mile one of the run, I felt like my body was done, cooked, stewed in a Cajun goulash.  I just “couldn’t” run the entire 13.1 miles.  I was weak, battered, beaten.  But somehow, I completely ran the last 4 miles after intermittent walk/runs.  Then came the morning.

It felt exactly like Wisconsin.  I limped toward the bathroom, but after 10 minutes, I was fine.  I walked all over New Orleans that day and the only tough part was getting up after sitting a while.

On Tuesday I drove 8 hours back to Nashville and was full of energy that night.  I literally forgot I had just raced a Half Ironman.

All of this got me thinking.

Obviously my body was “ready” for 70.3 miles, but somewhere in there my mind convinced me it wasn’t.  I couldn’t find a “reason” to push through the pain.  I think a lot of it had to do with the fact that I hadn’t been writing about training much.  I hadn’t been thinking about how I would deal with the stress of the race, or why I wanted to do it in the first place.

I was also training alone.  I didn’t surround myself with like minded people to inspire and push me.  Group training is great for accountability, but I think its biggest advantage comes from keeping your head straight.  It creates mental momentum and helps you believe.  It’s very hard to live alone on an island.

Moving forward, I have two commitments to make.  One is writing more, the other is working out with friends and groups.  So much of this is mental and if you try tackling a full or half Ironman without being focused, you are sunk.

Don’t get me wrong, there are hundreds of variables regarding recovery that include nutrition, rest, training, etc, but I think most of us can get a huge advantage from simply being mentally prepared for what you’ll face before, during, and after the race.

The day after Ironman New Orleans, I joined my mom and her friends for a paddle boat ride.  I sat in peace, gazing at the swirling water, taking in the glory of the Mighty Mississippi.  But I kept having a strange thought, what would happen if the boat sank?

Hysteria.

Hundreds of people scrambling for their lives.  I calculated the distance to the shore, and plotted how I would save those around me.  Hauling one on each leg like a pull buoy, using the current to guide us to the nearest plot of land.  It gave me an eery confidence.  I had a plan and felt good about it.  I visualized what it would take, and I was ready.

We would not sink.

 

 

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Prelude to Ironman New Orleans – 6 Short Videos

Rare and raw footage of a triathlete in the days before a big race.  Follow Mike’s journey from the highways of Mississippi to downtown New Orleans as he prepares for his 3rd Half Ironman in less than a year.  These videos are loaded with reflection and undeterminable babbling that is sure to make you think, and confuse you at the same time.

Mike decides he really likes Mississippi.

Friday Night in Nola.  Mike settles into his digs for the weekend and exposes his bed head Saturday morning while contemplating his ability to remember how to run.

Ironman Athlete Check in.  Mike takes you behind the scenes of the mysterious race briefings and delivers several day before pointers for the aspiring Ironman.

Transition Set Up.  Anxious moments the day before the race.  This episode includes the now infamous barnacle cut on his toe and Swiftwick sock endorsement.

The Night Before the Race.  Mike contemplates last minute nutrition.

Race Morning.  New Orleans at 5 am and Mike is wide awake.  Rare footage inside the cage of race day transition, with a bonus look at Team Tabasco.

 

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How I Went Sub-12 In My 1st Ironman (at 50) #IMWI

Train with People – This was crucial to me, especially in the beginning.  I wasn’t fast, nor did I have the endurance, but swimming, biking, and running with people was a major motivator.  It helped me get out of bed and it helped me keep going once I was there.  After a few months of this I knew I could keep up, that’s when I started fading into my own world.

Train Harder by Yourself – I think training alone is critical.  The internal dialogue you create on long swims, bikes, and runs can either make or break you.  When it comes to racing, the more often you talk yourself out of stopping, the better.  The more you get used to pushing mileage without the distraction of others, the better.  The more you can face aches and pains by yourself, the better.

Practice in Open Water – I’m convinced that 90% of swimming is feeling comfortable in the water, and open water is WAY different than the pool.  A lot of people I talk with are kinda weirded out by lakes in general, so there’s that factor . . . but for me the ultimate key was swimming with other people in open water.  You get used to the bumping and it really lowers your freak-out quotient, especially in a mass start.  In retrospect, the one thing I wish I would have worked on more was sighting.  We trained a lot with the same buoy and I simply got comfortable with my direction.  But it would have been very wise to work harder on sighting different trees or whatever around the lake.  Nothing will screw your swim time like going off line.

Work on Your Weakness – Cycling was by far my strength.  Swimming and running, were a different story.  I knew from the start that swimming was going to be my key event and I worked on it harder than the rest.  For me it was a confidence thing.  I HAD to come out of that water strong or the rest of my race would be a nightmare.  I swam a lot early, but the last 8 weeks of training I was in the water (most times the lake) 3-4 times a week, swimming HARD.  I also stayed true to building my running base and getting faster.  It was very hard some nights, but I kept pounding the roads with regularity.  I didn’t blow off the bike, but I did fewer (yet intense) rides to make sure I was keeping my muscles familiar with the motion.

Work on Your Speed – Let’s face it, after you build your endurance to a certain point, you can “coast” forever.  But running a “lazy” 22 miles is not going to help your marathon time.  You have to build in speed work.  I was doing “shorter” hour-long runs most of the time, then would add an hour and a half “long” run on the weekends.  The short runs were always laced with sprinting intervals or tempo sections.  I knew I would never build to traditional marathon training distances, so I set my sights on one thing:  Making a 9 minute pace feel like a walk.  That was my ultimate IM pace goal, which I didn’t hit, but I did average 10 minute miles and never ran more than 14 miles before that marathon.

Take the Hilliest Way Home – I can’t tell you how many times I was at a crossroads on a run and willed myself toward “one more” hill.  I ran a ton of hills during training for two reasons, one, they force you to have better form, and two, they are harder!  I honestly love to run hills now.  Hills make you focus and their the easiest way to push your limits.

Embrace Bad Weather – Nobody wants to swim, bike, or run on a cold and rainy day, but if you can handle bad weather, you are miles ahead of the game.  Hell, a lot of people don’t even show up for a race if in bad weather.  I was “lucky” to have three races on three awful 50 degree and rainy days.  I really thought I was cursed.  In the end, Wisconsin was perfect racing weather, but I was ready if it wouldn’t have been.

Hydrate – This seems so damn obvious I almost didn’t put it in here, but I’m convinced it is far more critical than nutrition.  I’ve been in races where I could literally feel my chest drying out from breathing so hard.  You have to teach your body how to burn fat stores and using only water for a lot of your training is a good way to do it.  If your body isn’t working right, you’re screwed — and I just really believe, that while nutrition plays a big role, if you’re not hydrating well leading up to and during the race, you’re sunk.  I drank ridiculous amounts during the race (and yes, pee’d a lot on the bike) including slowing to a walk through every aid station to drink with purpose.

Meditate – I suppose this could be titled “visualize” too but either way it’s about getting your mind straight.  I crossed the finish line at Ironman a hundred times in my mind before I got onto the course.  Many times on hard training runs I started imagining I was on the marathon at Wisconsin.  I would be in incredible pain and tell myself, “This is how it’s going to feel, practice getting through it.”  And I would.  I just wouldn’t stop no matter how bad I thought it hurt.  See the finish line.

Write About It – Out of all of this stuff, I almost believe my journaling the entire process could have been the biggest factor.  I often put myself on public display as an idiot, but it helped me work through so many things I didn’t understand.  Not only that, the feedback and encouragement you get cannot be understated.  Don’t fool yourself, Ironman is a daunting physical challenge, but the more I learn about it, the more I believe it’s more in the mind.

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This is how the race broke down for me:

Swim: 1:20:02
T1: 7:28
Bike: 6:03:35
T2: 4:43
Run: 4:23:10
Total: 11:58:58

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My Clandestine Affair With Ironman

“The two most powerful warriors are patience and time.” — Leo Tolstoy

I grew up in little Midwestern town called Beloit, Wisconsin with a tenacious group of friends. We played until the sun went down, and often thrived under the moon.  Endurance junkies that didn’t know shit about hydration or nutrition — we just played until we dropped.

My knees throbbed, my ankles ached, and my hands . . . wrinkled like prunes.  I was too young to understand, but somewhere deep inside all of this toil, was a hidden love for Ironman.mike capitol

When I went to college, it was more of the same, but I quickly added drinking to my list of endurance routines.  An Irish Boy with a training base built over hundreds of years and I did my best to uphold tradition.

Competitive softball replaced college and took me all over the Midwest on a fancy tour bus.  Sometimes we played 6 or 7 games a day, all for the right to carry home a trophy nobody else cared about.

After softball, I went back to endurance drinking because it was easy.  The first step is always “take action” and for some reason pouring a drink is infinitely easier than tying a pair of running shoes or filling two water bottles.

Alcohol is patient and it prevailed for the next 15 years, but the “easy way” certainly wasn’t making life easy.  I wish I would have realized all of this waste, but time was the only thing that could heal my wounds.

Somehow I found the strength to change priorities.  My decline was imperceptible to the naked eye, but I was falling apart.  Not much was making sense and the deeper I went, the more confusing it became.  It all started to change when I discovered and accepted running.

And run I did.

For the next eight months, I found a new muse.  “One more beer” started morphing into “one more lap” and that simple substitution may have saved my life.

Eventually it rekindled my fascination with the Ironman I first saw as a child.  Who were those crazy bastards doing insane amounts of endurance from sunrise till sunset?  Their behavior was so unusual that it never occurred to me I could be one.  But I didn’t have a choice.

I signed up for Wisconsin on a whim.  It was my home state, and in some ways I looked at it as another chance to go back and showcase for the locals.  I’d left a mark in baseball, now I would leave one in triathlon.

The day after I signed up, I started writing about the quest.  Years of endurance drinking buried emotions and now they flowed like an all night keg stand.

Ironman branded my brain and I searched my soul for its meaning.  The frightening swim, the daunting bike, and the run I never really believed I could do, ever . . . let alone at the end.

The blog became a daily dose of convincing myself I could be an Ironman.  I served my thoughts on a platter for the world to chew and spit out.  I praised the race for setting a new bar, a new standard for a new person.

I shredded my body in a masochistic experiment just to prove I belonged.  Long, torturous swims, rides and runs that left me exhausted, yet inspired to grab that elusive feeling I couldn’t quite explain.

I’d raced Ironman Wisconsin countless times before I jumped into Lake Monona.  I’d finished the race in my mind, I just needed to deliver the proof.

The 11:58:58 next to my name in the Ironman annals proves we are officially “an item,” but the honeymoon is over.  Now, I must seduce her again.

The first thing I noticed after the race was a feeling of  extreme relief.  But that is what Steven Pressfield (The War of Art) would call “Resistance” tricking me into believing the job is finished.  A persistent voice in my head telling me, “You have nothing to prove, now go back to your comfortable ways of drinking late into the night, sleeping in, and making excuses.”

That is a battle I will likely fight to my grave.  That temptation to take the easy route.  The temptation to put it off to tomorrow.  The temptation to squash the pain with a drink, a nap, or an eating binge.

Life is never easy, but I have other plans.  I have seen how discipline, focus, and hard work can take me to a new place.  Now it’s about finding the time and patience to court Ironman again in 2014.  I look forward to the challenge, I just wish she wasn’t such a bitch.

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The Most Important Part of My Training

Sometimes we fly through life and forget the simplest solutions to nagging problems.

After writing about winter motivation earlier this morning it occurred to me that I had no carrot on my stick.  I’m just training to train.

My story is no different than most.  Did the 5k, 10k, 1/2 marathon, sprint tri, Oly, 1/2 progression at the start, but none of that would have happened if I didn’t put that 5k on the calendar.  I was quick to add another race after each one I completed until I jumped in the deep end with Ironman and that carried me for a year.

So, after lunch I sent a tentative 2014 race schedule to my coach, which he approved, and followed with, “Hurry up and sign up for NOLA.  Get your ass in gear.”  That’s all it took and 15 minutes later I was signed up for NOLA 70.3.

It’s human nature.  If we have something “out there” we subconsciously push towards that goal.  I’m sure there’s a big life lesson in here somewhere, but for now, I have a little more excitement about going home tonight and jumping on a hard bike seat. 9495223-standard ironmannola10jpg

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How Triathlon Changed My Life

Ten years ago I moved to Nashville and my goal was a new beginning.  I didn’t know anyone and wanted to change some harmful patterns I had created.  I wanted to “clean up” my act and actually do things, not sit around and talk about them.  It only took about three days for me to get derailed.

My new company put me up in the Marriott Vanderbilt for two weeks while I looked for a place to live.  The new job was stressful and every day felt like it could be my last.  I had jumped over 100 market sizes, which was  pretty rare in the television business, and most nights I needed a release.  Luckily the general manager of my temporary hotel residence had a key to the fast lane.

This guy was a bad ass.  He was dialed into everything and surrounded by the hottest women in town.  One night he asked me to join him and his friends at Happy Hour and I was hooked.  From knowing nobody to being connected with everyone overnight.

There is a major lure in being popular and I got sucked right in.  Suddenly I was going out 4 nights a week.  Women, wine, and song lathered me like a hot shower.  I couldn’t get enough.  My new friends were throwing huge parties and made me feel like the guest of honor.  The problem was, I wasn’t fully vested and couldn’t always fake that fact.

Some nights were great, others were rough.  I drank a lot and felt worse than ever.  I was even drinking on off nights at home while surfing the net looking for ways to escape the world.  It wasn’t a happy time, but I’ve always been good at projecting content.

While I would go on short stints of sobriety and even attended ACA meetings, the overall pattern continued.  I was in my 40’s, living in the heart of Music Row, and frolicking in dangerous territory on a nightly basis.

Eventually I moved to East Nashville and thought I might find another new beginning, but it was just a new world of isolation.  It was a quiet neighborhood and I was bored.  Fortunately there was a new bar gaining popularity just up the block and it became my “Cheers.”  I got to know more and more people.  A fresh start with new faces.  I was engaged and once again loved the excitement of building a new “life.”

It was a different vibe than West End.  East Nashville is loaded with creative people.  Artists, musicians, photographers.  The conversation was different.  My level of engagement rose, but I was tired.  Tired of using beer to lift my energy only to fall back into the cracks.  It was getting harder and harder to get up for work and exercise was an afterthought.  I was putting on weight and my energy level was non-existent without loads of caffeine.

Something had to change.

Jim and I had been friends for years, and I knew he was doing triathlons, but never thought much about it.  He’d even done Ironman, and as much of an athlete as I had been, and as much as I’d marvel while watching Kona on TV, his accomplishment didn’t click.  It was other-worldly-shit and I never let the reality settle in my mind.  Till this day I still feel bad about not going to watch him in Louisville.

One day he told me he was coaching a Couch to 5k program and challenged me to try.  Deep inside I craved being a runner.  I lived on the Country Music Marathon route for years and always went out for a jog after the race.  It never panned out.  So after reading about the walk/run strategy Jim’s plan included, I decided to give it a shot.

I made a pledge to myself to follow the program to the letter.  No more, no less.

On the first night we gathered at Nashville Running Company and set out to do a 5 minute walk warm up, 6 sixty second runs between ninety second walks, and a five minute walk cool down.  It was all I could do to run 60 seconds.

Eventually that 60 seconds built to 10 minutes, then 20, then 30.  I was ready for my first 5K and ran it in around 27 minutes.  That was just the beginning.

I signed up for a 5 miler, a 10K, then the 1/2 marathon.  I truly enjoyed my new challenge, but it was never easy.  I kept putting races on the calendar to make sure I stayed the course.  My muscles were in a constant state of ache, but I always felt great when a run was over.  I kept going and trusting the process to change my health, habits, and outlook on life.

By that summer Jim had convinced me to do a triathlon and that’s when everything fell in place.  I did the Music City Sprint and it was the first time in years that my body screamed, “Yes!”  I was on my way.

Next thing was to watch Kevin compete at Ironman Louisville and that’s when heart skipped a beat.  I knew I had found my next challenge.  I would sign up for Ironman, but not before struggling mightily in the NashVegas Olympic.

Shortly after NashVegas, the Fab Five agreed to sign up for Ironman Wisconsin and the rest is history.  Well, not quite, but the intensity of the training and team was the new beginning I had been searching for for 10 years.  I was now on a genuine path that would change my mind, body, and hopefully my meaning of life.  It has.

It’s hard to understand until you do it.  I’m sure it’s like jumping from a plane or scaling a mountain.  You’re not really sure why you’re doing it until it’s over.  But, Ironman training is real progress.  It isn’t the end, in fact, it’s always the beginning.  The new beginning I seem to crave.   Fresh, new starts that activate my enjoyment of life.  New people, friends, challenges.  New attitudes, new accomplishments, new love.

And while all of this is moving the right direction, it is far from complete.  My body will shiver, my thoughts will waiver, and my actions will be inconsistent.  But endurance training is a metaphor for life.  The perfect stroke, spin, or stride is rare.  You have to practice the motion thousands of times before it becomes natural.  Before it flows free and easy.  And it’s the same with life.  Bad habits don’t just stop, they are pushed out by better ones and it’s up to us to make sure that momentum continues.