open water swim

August 8, 2017

"100 Days to Ironman Louisville"

It’s far less than 100 days away, but Mike and Robbie have been recording video documentation of every training day on their way to Ironman Louisville this October. Videos can be found at the Crushing Iron page on YouTube. Here’s a sample of what’s been going on.

We also headed out to the River Bluff Triathlon in Ashland City this past weekend for an Olympic and had four C26 Athletes on the podium. Across the country we were 6 for 6. Great racing everyone!

Want to dial in your swimming before your next race? Check out the C26 Coach’s Eye, which has been helping people get remarkable short-term return on their swimming. Check out the video to see how easy it is to fix your swim stroke.

There’s a lot more going on, along with a new website coming soon. And the podcast is really taking off. Click picture below for a link to our latest podcast, or find us on iTunes under Crushing Iron Podcast

February 16, 2014

What IRONMAN Wisconsin "Felt" Like #IMWI

I’ve been looking through some old blog posts leading up to Ironman Wisconsin last September and came across this one that I wrote 8 months before the race about how I imagined IMWI would “feel.” I thought I’d go back and write short post-script-actualities (in italics) on each of these projections.

What Ironman Wisconsin “Feels Like” (originally written January 25, 2013)

Sometimes I’ll sit here watching Ironman Wisconsin videos and get chills. It’s surreal to think I will be on that course in seven months.

Post Script: I still get chills when I think about the morning of the race, but mainly just because it was so cool. The energy was off the charts and you just can’t explain what it feels like standing with nearly 3,000 people in wetsuits. They say preparation is the key and I was very calm and confident standing on the edge of Lake Monona.

I can already see the eyes of the Fab Five as we enter the water, a symbolic beginning to the end of training. Five guys focused on the same goal for over 8 months – and it all comes down to this. Once the swim starts, I may not see them for the next 10 – 12 hours, but in many ways we’ll be connected as one.

In reality I saw the eyes of Kevin for a few minutes on shore, then floated with Jim and Mark before the race, but I didn’t see Daniel that morning. It was a little more splintered than I envisioned. I was hoping to reenact the “Pearl Jam 10” cover photo in our wetsuit, but the reality of our individual challenges took precedent We’d tossed around the idea of drafting each other during the swim, but after seeing the conditions, it would have been impossible. Just too much congestion, not to mention very choppy water.

Tonight, I am there. I hear the screams from hundreds perched on balconies overlooking the water. I hear the encouraging words of athletes floating around me. I hear the cannon explode, sending me into mystery.

We found our place about 20 minutes before the race and tread water. You don’t really hear the fans, but the music is cranked and Mike Riley is doing his thing. Everyone in the water was very respectful of each other. This was a long road and everyone knew how the other felt. I heard Riley say, “One minute to the start,” and that is when it felt most real. Jim, Mark and I exchanged hi-fives, then found our places. I wouldn’t see them again for 10 hours.

I feel the water splashing in Lake Monona. . . the mass of humanity pounding me with no regard . . . the serenity of a place humans weren’t meant to go.

The swim was almost exactly what I imagined, but a bit more difficult. The water was very choppy and sighting was a major challenge. I was amazed at the amount of people who swam in front of me at a 90 degree angle. Many people had problems with direction and I had very few stretches of clean water. On a swim this long it’s best not to think too much, so I just kept churning. My neck was chaffed and I by the time I reached shore I was more than ready to be on my bike.

I feel the slippery shore as I exit the water . . . my bare feet slapping concrete as I climb the winding road to the top of the transition helix.

I could never quite grasp the concept of the helix and whether or not running up a ramp would be difficult after swimming 2.4 miles. Now I know the answer. The energy from the fans literally carries you up to transition. The encouragement and electricity is off the charts. Make sure to slap a few hi-fives and random drums along the way.

My ass hits the seat for the first of many times that day. My thighs burn as I roll through picturesque farmland. Cheering fans slap my back while they hug the narrow climb in Verona like a Tour de France.

The Wisconsin bike course is legendary in Ironman lore and I couldn’t wait. I drove the course with Rebekah two days before and on one hand wished I hadn’t because it seemed very intimidating in a car. I rode a ton of hills in preparation, but can honestly say I think the course was tougher than I imagined. They say relentless hills and that is not an understatement. You must be prepared for gearing lots of up and downs. The “Tour de France” talk is legit and trust me you will need the energy of those spectators on your second loop.

The loop through Camp Randall stadium, home of my favorite football team, takes me back to players I idolized as a child. A gauntlet of familiar faces wave signs and give high fives as I recall college memories from State Street.

By the time I hit Camp Randall I wasn’t thinking much about my favorite football team. I didn’t have that giddy feeling or look around in the stands for ghosts of Badger days gone by. I was just trying to hold it together. The State Street thing was amazing, though. You can’t help but feel like part of the party. It’s definitely rock star time as people line up 5 deep on one of the greatest streets there is to celebrate your hard work while they get plowed.

My ankles ache as I turn the final corner and feel the rush of the finish line. I glance at the majestic state capitol, embrace the tunnel of fans, and culminate the biggest physical accomplishment of my life.

This is exactly how it happened. It was still light, but by the time I got to the capitol it loomed in an ominous way. It “felt” dark, and I still had two and a half blocks left. It literally felt like I was a kid running home to beat the street lights, and as luck would have it my family and friends were waiting at the front door. The Ironman finish was extreme relief replaced by jubilation. My work was “done” and now it was time to let it sink into my bones.

It’s in my bones and won’t release me.

I grew up in Wisconsin, so this Ironman was extra special to me. I will forever be jaded by that, but I can honestly say I doubt there is a more enjoyable Ironman in this country. The mass start swim is epic, the bike course was my favorite ride of the year, and the run could stand alone as a great marathon. But the major selling point is the crowd. The people in Wisconsin embrace this race and turn it into a party. There is very little “dead space” anywhere on the course. There’s always someone there to give you a boost when you need it most, and believe me, I needed a lot of them.

February 7, 2014

A Swimming Breakthrough and Jodie Swallow #IMLOU

Yeah, so I was looking around at some YouTube videos on how to get faster and stumbled onto this one featuring the badassness of pro triathlete Jodie Swallow. Now, my disclaimer here is that Jodie could probably talk me into swimming with sponges on my feet, but this video was pretty simple and made perfect sense. Just move your arms faster.

I went to the pool, armed with my Swallow security blanket and took off like a bat out of hell for the promise land. And it worked . . . for about two laps.

I was totally gassed.

I realize you actually have to be in shape to swim like this, but is three laps asking too much? Apparently.

Five minutes into my session I was swallowing pride at the end of my lane and halfheartedly listening to the same damn stories from the same damn guy who keeps forgetting who I am.

“I shouldn’t say this,” he says, “But I’m secretly racing you in the next lane.”

“How’s that goin’ for ya?,” I say again.

“Well, I’m coming off surgery, so I need motivation.”

“I hear that, bro.”

Then, as the conversation hits that awkward lull and there’s nothing left, he always, every time, looks at me like a little kid and says, “Wanna race?”

And always, every time, I say, “Yes.”

I exploded from the wall in Jodie Swallow mode and promptly roasted my soar-shouldered-friend for 50 meters before collapsing onto the ledge. I’m simply out of shape.

But, the more I swam fast, the more I started to notice I was getting a nice extension and roll without hesitating in front. A fluid churn with a solid cadence. Much like you want from your bike and run.

I wasn’t thinking “fast” as much as I was thinking consistent. Trust the roll and don’t pause or extend your glide. Just circle the arms and keep your body from turning over too far. It was one of those moments when something clicked.

It felt much more like I was swimming instead of trying to stay afloat. A consistent, powerful, and controlled rotation that didn’t wear me out. Of course I was pretty beat up when I discovered this, so I’m not sure it’s really true. We’ll find out tomorrow.

Until then, if you’re reading, Jodie, feel free to tell me I’m wrong before I do something stupid in Louisville.

August 6, 2013

Ironman Louisville . . . tick . . . tick . . . tick

I remember Louisville 2012 like it was yesterday. My first peek behind the Ironman curtain.

Jim and I walked in street clothes along side thousands of hopefuls, all dressed in skin tight suits, ready to throw it on the line. We stopped next to Kevin and offered awkward verbal support, but I’m pretty sure just being there was enough.

It was before sunrise and most athletes stared into the darkness contemplating their race. A massive grouping of men and woman, yet each stood alone. Words were no longer important, it was simply time to show the work. In a nutshell, I am pumped for Ironman Louisville. I have three good friends racing and know the experience will blow me through the roof for Wisconsin. Last year was my first Ironman experience, this time I will be spectating from a completely different perspective.

Being in the same training trench with these guys for 6 months builds something that can’t be taken away. Whether it’s a grueling 110 mile ride in the rain or a slew of 6 am open water swims, the connection runs deep.

It starts with Robbie Bruce, who I met at Calypso Cafe last Fall where he agreed to be my coach for Ironman Wisconsin. I think he must have a sixth sense because taking me on as an endurance athlete seemed a stretch but he obviously knew something I didn’t. He has pushed, pulled, and backed away at the perfect times. I’ve done the work, but his style and insight has been the perfect combination to take me from the couch to an Ironman. Make no mistake, he’s done the work as well, and now I will be on the other side as coach unleashes the athlete.

It continues with John Wasky, who I met on a random Sunday Fun Day at 3 Crow Bar. Wasky shares many characteristics with me including bleeding Badger red and the ability to seem completely focused and scattered at once. His biggest challenge at Louisville will be pulling in the reigns. Wasky knocked out a 5:06 at Muncie 70.3 and he’s just warming up.

I told him he’s so pumped for Louisville he could likely swim halfway up the channel under water after diving off the pier. His answer, “You might be right.”

Wasky was the great addition to our group. He’s always willing to have a good time, but can instantly flip a switch and push our level of effort.

I just had a text conversation with them both and Robbie posted a screen shot of his bike and run times from last year at Louisville. To say it grates his ass is an understatement. He came out of the water 64th in the field, then fell apart halfway through the bike. He battled to finish the run, but Louisville is a painful memory.

I asked Robbie if he was pumped to go back this year and this is what he said:

Robbie: I was more pumped last year. This year, I’m just focused. Last year I attacked it like the Godfather with a Tommy gun. This year . . . like an Army Ranger sniper.

I pointed up at this as if to say it was a good lesson for Wasky, who replied,

Wasky: That’s the hope.

Robbie: Don’t hope.

Just great shit there.

Corey Coggins and I connected at Rev 3 in Knoxville. He was tackling his first half Iron distance and I was feeling his pain. The day was miserable. 56 degrees and rain the entire day. I had the Olympic in front of me, but Corey would still be on the course as I made my trek back to Nashville. And the whole ride I was checking for his splits and genuinely fired up when he finished. That’s the connection that can be made when you share conditions like that day at Rev 3. He spent over 6 hours in brutal weather chasing the finish line and it was a big moment for both of us.

A month or so later he made the decision to do Louisville and has been a mainstay at our open water swims. We’ve gotten a lot closer and Saturday he was rolling with me for most of that 110 miles in the pouring rain. Somewhere around mile 90 I was thinking it reminded me of Rev 3, and, about that same time, Corey said what I was thinking.

Last year Louisville was my awakening, this year will be more like confirmation. Training for and putting your hat into Ironman is a game changer and now I know what it really takes.

Months of training will funnel three good friends into the Ohio River for the test of a lifetime. They will take hot seat while I sit and watch, hoping my presence will somehow make a difference.

July 19, 2013

There's Something About Swimming

Swimming has produced some of the best and worst moments of my life.
Take the time in Indianapolis when I was 6 years old, for example. We were on a family vacation and I ventured off into the deep end of the apartment complex pool and vividly remember struggling to save my life. I suffered for what seemed like an eternity before looking up from the cement edge of the pool and no one even noticed.

Then, there was the 1.2 mile Half Ironman swim in Muncie last weekend. It also seemed like an eternity, but there was something inside me that didn’t want it to end. When my hand hit the sand just before the swim exit I remember a subtle wave of disappointment running through my veins.

Today was the first time back at open water swim in about 3 weeks. I almost forgot how amazing it is to watch the sun rise over the island as you casually approach the beach. I’m not sure, but I think we had a record turnout today, 16 swimmers, plus the coach. And it was a pretty tough workout, but one that gave me more confidence.

It’s amazing what a good swim will do for you. It started with Muncie where I kept a solid pace for the entire 1.2 miles. There were a lot of challenges, including a bright sun in your eyes and no good sighting targets, but not once was I anxious. It was comfortable the whole way, and I am giving most of the credit to our open water swim training.

Up until Muncie, I more or less freaked out in every swim. Music City sprint, NashVegas Olympic, AdPi sprint, and Rev 3 Olympic. It sounds crazy, but I am starting to remember that feeling I had as a child (not the Indianapolis feeling) when I used to swim freely in Turtle Lake near our summer home in Wisconsin. It was always such a joy to feel the warm water splashing your legs as you did a head first dive and swam out to the floating pontoon where we spent most of our day diving in and chasing girls. I never remember fear of water, only how great I felt when I saw and felt it around me. That feeling is back in my bones.

July 6, 2013

Swimming With the Pull Buoy

Since I’m a new-ish triathlete, I’m still digging around to answer a million little questions and this article couldn’t have come a moment too soon. It’s a piece from the Ironman website by Sergio Borges and the first paragraph summed up the feeling I’ve been having for a couple weeks.

The pull buoy—that funny little piece of foam you stick between your legs when swimming—is a common point of contention among triathletes. Have you ever been told that swimming with one is addictive and bad for your swim? I’ve heard this far too often, from both athletes and swim coaches.

I was actually getting very concerned about this because swimming with the pull buoy has been much easier for the last month or two. On several occasions I’d swim without it just to make sure I was on pace and I was gassed after two or three laps. What gives?

This is what I think was happening:

Many athletes feel addicted to the buoy because of the better body position it creates, which leads to better glide in the water. When you glide, however, you reduce your stroke rate. A reduced stroke rate combined with a poorly honed body position won’t help you much in a race.

So, Wednesday night, after 1,000 meters WITH the buoy, I said enough is enough. I’m swimming the next 1,000 without it.

I was actually kinda pissed in my competitive sort of way and fought through the first few hundred meters, then suddenly, I found the groove I needed. I settled into a meditative state and suddenly, it was felt right again.

Fast forward to tonight after work.

I was excited to get back in the water and test this stroke. Sure enough, it felt great (other than the fact that I’m a little fatigued). Then, I decided to reverse the test and swim the back side WITH the buoy after 1,000 without. That’s when it got interesting.

With the better body position created by the buoys, the athlete can experience a proper catch not pulling water down first and also reducing many shoulder injuries.

Now, swimming with the buoy seemed harder! I concentrated on using the long stroke, the catch, and the pull. I could really feel it in my arms and my laps felt slower. It was actually a huge relief because I think it tells me, I was getting into a bad stroke while using it so much.

All of this is new and my opinion could easily change tomorrow, but for now I’m gonna believe that things are going as they should. We don’t use pull buoys at open water swims and I don’t seem to have a problem there, so like most stages of this training, I am simply gonna trust the process . . . and the coach.

June 7, 2013

The Illusion of Happiness

Two life coaches (and life partners) with a radio show “designed to help foster and encourage your inner strengths,” and “put you confidently on the path to designing the life you’ve always wanted to live,” have committed suicide together.

Their landlord found a note from the man that said, “I can’t take it anymore, my wife is in too much pain.”

What kind of pain, I don’t know, but I truly feel for people who live with level of pain, whether it physical or emotional.

The name of their radio show was, “The Pursuit of Happiness.”

So many of us are searching for ways to be happy. And the pursuit of that goal is often transformed into a passionate lifestyle. That’s why I am always watching my behavior.

I think our society has is confused. In general, most think happy should be the norm. So, if you’re not happy, take this pill or do this and your problems will be solved. But often those prescriptions make the problem worse.

What most people don’t understand is that it’s NORMAL to be sad or unhappy sometimes. It’s NORMAL to be tired. It’s NORMAL to be angry, unsure, or afraid. If everyone was always happy, life would be ridiculously vanilla.

Anyone that really knows me, knows I can be very moody. And when I’m moody I do a lot of my best thinking and creating. I dig deeper and look for ways to “not” be moody. This is where the real discoveries are made. Diverse moods and mindsets are what make life interesting.

I am typically skeptical of people who are always happy. Maybe it’s not fair, but I always feel like there is something fishy going on under the surface. It’s one thing to be comfortable and content in your skin, but quite another to be overly excited about every little time your grocery store gets a new brand of pasta sauce.

So, as I continue to rebuild my body and mind through triathlon training, I keep a close eye on the state of my soul. Am I really “super happy guy” or is it more like I am happy to be moving in the direction of growth through experience? I’ll give you a hint . . . it’s typically the latter.

There were a couple times this morning at Open Water Swim that I was on the verge of being really pissed. I didn’t feel great at the start, I lost my breath and confidence a few times, and I could think of a half dozen things I would have preferred to being up at 5 am to swim in a lake.

But, the result was positive. I felt good about myself. I worked hard and walked away in a energized, yet calm state of mind. I didn’t win anything, I didn’t feel “cartwheel-happy,” I just felt grounded.

And isn’t that what we really want? To feel grounded? Being happy is part of the puzzle, not the ultimate prize.

June 7, 2013

I Think We Woke The Birds

Up at 6 am working on mass starts with the RX Endurance Team.

Edit: I’ve decided to write something about this swim rather than just post the picture.

Here’s how the Open Water Sessions go down. You should show up a little before 6 to get a little more warm up in. Me? I get there at six, swim a couple hundred yards, then suck gas for the next half hour because I’m barely awake and certainly not loose.

What you see above is from the middle of our practice. We all started back by that cup on the ledge and sprinted into the water, then swam out around that buoy and back. We did this at least twice.

Before that, we individually ran into the water, swam around that buoy, then ran down the beach about 50 yards, ran into the water, swam out and around a different buoy, then repeated it one more time. We were instructed to swim hard.

About halfway to the second buoy I felt very winded and had to chill for a minute. Sometimes swimming feels nice and easy, sometimes it’s very hard. At that moment, I was struggling big time. I gathered my bearings and finished all three loops, breathing far too hard at the end.

Then we did a couple relays out and around the buoy to end the day. Those were all out sprints and while tired, I was just then starting to feel right.

As I think about swimming 2.4 miles at Ironman Wisconsin, I am almost grateful for the floating start. It will be a cluster-f8ck, but that 10-15 minutes of treading water beforehand may be my saving grace. I should be fairly warm and acclimated to the water. After that, it’s a matter of containing myself for the first 15 minutes. My goal is to not feel out of breath at all, except for maybe a late push at the end when I’m nice and warm.

Swimming, biking, and running are all so meditative when you’re in the right place. Being relaxed while remaining powerful is what it’s all about to me. A solid effort without over-exerting and the key is to push my threshold in training so my comfort zone is a relatively fast one.

It was a hard workout, mainly filled with roughly 200 yard sprints and I didn’t like it much at the time. But, I like it now.

May 24, 2013

Toes In The Sand

Nothing like good friends and a little beach vacation to start your Memorial Day Weekend. Photo: Robbie Bruce

May 17, 2013

Friday Morning In The Lake

I just looked in the mirror and can’t be sure I recognize the person staring back at me. Just over a year ago (and for all of my life, really) I would have gone out of my way to avoid getting up at 5:30 in the morning. Today, although I did hit snooze and almost overslept, I was actually excited to grab my wet suit and drive 20 minutes to a lake in the middle of nowhere. What happened next, changed a little bit more of my fiber.

I was about 10 minutes late for open water swim (can’t change everything overnight) but I slid into my wet suit and joined the rest of the crew for a few mass floating starts and drafting. Fortunately, for me, I missed the in and out of the lake transition practice, which was probably the toughest, but I swam a little extra at the end.

Today was my 3rd time in open water in the two weeks and the progress is just remarkable. I “almost” felt like a little kid again back at Turtle Lake in Delavan, Wisconsin. I’d spend hours in that seaweed infested water, hoping to end the day with a kiss from one of the Chicago girls in for the weekend. Never really happened, but I did love me some water.

The swim was over at 7, but I had to make up being late, so I swam another 4 or 5 hundred by myself. I got to the last buoy and started walking out of the water. It was so gorgeous and peaceful, I didn’t want to leave. I just wanted to float around and swim the morning away. But this job thing can kinda cramp your style.

When I got back to my car, Ironman Louisville aspirant, Wasky, was dressed for a run and asked if I wanted to join. After some careful deliberation, I said, yes. We knocked out about 7 miles and I stood near my car smelling like a sweaty-lake-skank trying to decide if and where I could get a shower. It was about 8:30 and work was calling, so I put on some fresh shorts and hit the highway.

When I parked at work, the wind shifted and I got a big whiff of my own aroma and realized I smelled like a fish. This was confirmed when a pack of stray cats followed me to the front door.

The good news is, nobody is coming in my office.