swim

June 25, 2018June 25, 2018

The C26 Triathlon Camp Diaries – Day 1

By Mike Tarrolly for Crushing Iron

This is how we do it . . . it’s Wednesday night . . . Party people on the westside throw your hands in the air. Or however that song goes. . . we start camp on Wednesday night.

It’s always interesting meeting everyone at Robbie’s the first night because even though I’ve been there multiple times it is one of those new and really tricky neighborhoods that I cannot navigate on memory (which you will see later is extremely rare later in this report). There are usually about 15 or so people waiting when I walk through the door where a Facebook-meets-real-life explosion typically goes off in my head. It’s like I sorta know everyone but not really, and really do know some people but it’s been a while, so I’m not sure if I’ve said something dumb on the podcast they’ve been waiting to confront me about for months. Ahh, the perils of internet-street-level fame.

As I move deeper into Robbie and Allie’s inner sanctum, people are usually face first in what always seems to be the perfect dinner for everyone. It’s a simple, yet jazzy fare that could easily roll as a vegan delight, or be quickly hopped up with side chicken for meat eaters. The salad/meat combo does really well for gluten sensitive campers and if we’re lucky, someone will bring huge cookies or cake for dessert. Of course everyone drinks their personalized liquid direct from water bottles.

After dinner, Coach Robbie takes the stage as we sit around on every chair they can find and jam into his living room. As you can see to the left, I’ve yet to figure out a perfect angle for a group picture, but I’m getting close.

We then go around the room with simple introductions and everyone says what they’re hoping to get from camp. Robbie goes through the camp plan and potential changes with any looming weather. This is usually when Hayden gets a little unruly and wants to spend more time with daddy forcing Allie to scramble for toys or another toddler diversion, including a trip upstairs through 3 or 4 campers as she navigates the staircase.

This entire opening night takes about two hours and we’re are typically back at our lodging (home in my case) before 9.

THURSDAY

I have extreme pre-race sleep anxiety. Anytime my alarm is set with a “4” at the beginning, that pretty much means I will not be falling asleep that night; and typically the night before camp starts is no exception. The weather threatened our first morning at the lake, so we shifted gears and went to Boost Fitness for a pool session. Said session was to begin at 6 am. Said session is also 30 minutes from my house, so said alarm was set for 4:45.

Around midnight I was really regretting not pounding some type of melatonin. I “think” I dosed off for a while around 1:00 but was up at 2 and this process lasted until I heard one of my weekend roommates up making coffee around 4:15. It was over. I hit snooze once and put on my sleepless-morning-happy-face, but knew that I would not be swimming one stroke that morning. I’m not in the best swim shape and swimming without sleep could have ruined me for a couple days. Instead I focused on getting cool video of cool people swimming at 6 am.

After a couple hours in the pool and some awesome personal instruction, we went for a light breakfast at LePeep in Belle Meade, which is the old-Nashville-money part of town. We immediately snagged 5 prime tables, clearly frustrating several people in tassle loafers and shawls. Not to be distracted, the sweaty and famished triathletes went to town on their post-swim meals. I sat with Erika, Jessica and Katie, the Richmond Crew. I’ve known Erika for a while, but it was the first time to chat with the other girls and let me tell you, they are hilarious if not edgy sarcastic.

This is where I’m usually reminded of how cool the people are that come to camp. The first night is a little about nerves and meeting new people. The first workout is acclimating and getting over wearing tight clothes in front of said new people. The post breakfast is where the true triathlon athlete spirit and unabashed hunger comes out. People will plow down anything right in front of anyone (including little old ladies sipping tea) which, if you think about it, is a very personal moment. We seem to cross a threshold at this point and from there on, the guards are down.

The next session was at Percy Warner Park, easily one of the most beautiful, yet daunting running venues in Nashville. It’s nestled at the end of Belle Meade Boulevard (think Thurston Howell III and his wife Lovey) and retains a certain kind of elegance even when it’s muggy and drizzly like it was this morning. The assignment? Run for an hour and thirty minutes.

The route we take is called “The 5.8” and it’s 5.8 hilly ass miles. You start going straight up for about the first mile, before finding some relief on flats and downhills that eventually drop you into Deep Wells. It was foggy and misty and absolutely stunning in a cinematic sort of way and I was really regretting not shooting video instead of running. But, I’ve been on a little roll with the run and it’s very hard for me to pass on Percy Warner Park.

The problem with Deep Wells is “It Is Deep” ie… at the bottom, which can only mean one thing. It’s time to climb again. And we did. Mile 3 is an absolute torture device that never seems to end. Up straight, up right, up left, up right . . . and even though I’ve run this track dozens of times, for some reason I always think that’s the last hill. It never is.

There are about 5 more, in fact, most manageable, but one is kind of a bitch. By the time you get to mile 5 (these are all rough estimates so please do no put them in your Garmin and hold my feet to the fire after you run it at camp) it’s all down hill, but the first 1/2 of that mile is Quad Buster Central. Early in my running life, this was the section that gave me a not so pleasant, but firm introduction to my IT bands. The last half mile is also downhill, but at a perfect grade for running and a welcome way to bring it back to the car.

But wait . . . that was only about an hour. There’s still 30 minutes to go.

Instead of retracing the course, I opted for a few more miles on the flat-ish Belle Meade Boulevard. Aside from its pretentious nature, it is a great way to look at big houses and wonder why and the hell you didn’t end up living in a mansion like that, which I did wonder about and pin pointed the reason to the time when I had a nice mutual fun started out of college but decided to pull all the money out and travel around partying in Florida. But, anyway, that’s neither here nor there, just a point I thought I would get into the open for therapeutic benefit.

I think that, for some reason, not living in one of those mansions made me want to prove something, so as I re-entered the park, I ran directly at the stairs. As I did, I was saying strange things like, “uh oh,” and “look out!” to anyone who would listen. Instead of going back to the cars, I scaled the Roman-Ruin-Like staircase and ascended to the heavens. I felt surprisingly strong as I screamed back, “Who’s with me!” and “Let’s Do it!” I’m pretty sure no one even acknowledged me or thought I was losing my mind so I barreled up the steps alone, with no mansion to speak of, but possibly a greater reward waiting at the top.

Well, I can assure you there was no such award, and the ease of my glide turned into cement filled shoes about 100 steps from the top. But . . . I made it . . . and . . . I put my hands in the air and looked down upon those mansions like I was now in control. But I wasn’t. I was just a sweaty guy at the top of a staircase with no mansion.

Despite two tough challenges right out of the gate, spirits were high. We even had a few campers finish loop one, then turn around to run it in reverse. Let me tell you, that is no picnic. One loop is around 600 feet of elevation on its own, so logic would tell you that two loops would be around twice that, but only God and the two-loopers’-hamstrings know the real truth.

It was super humid and Coach Robbie gathered all the soaking wet runners for the next day’s instructions. “In the morning, we’ll hit the lake first, then . . . “The Lab.”

But before tomorrow, it was a short session on Strength and Mobility from our friends over at Innate Performance. Steven and Louisa have both run and coached Division I cross country. Steven ran through some great exercises to keep the hip flexors loose and said most endurance athletes aren’t over-trained, they are under-recovered. With that he went through ways to recover properly and gave us his top three: Sleep, mobility, and nutrition. That’s when Louisa gave campers some top line nutrition strategies to stay on top of this crazy game we call triathlon.

Great session, but now it’s around 3:30 and getting back to the East Side was going to be a nightmare. My roommates punched my address into Google Maps, but I calmly said, “I’ll take this one, boys,” and led them on a perfectly executed re-route that not only saved us time, it allowed for a concise exploration of the fascinating explosion we affectionately call downtown Nashville. The guys were very impressed with my navigation.

Around 5 o’clock, reminiscent of senior citizens, my house guests, Chuck, Ross, and Jason started getting cranky for food. I quickly put on my post-afternoon-nap-happy-face and we jumped in the car for a trendy little Mexican joint called RosePepper. I’d like to say we got wild and met a lot of crazy hipsters that showed us the nightlife around East Nashville, but instead we debated the reasons why Nashville is home for so many bachelorette parties why people don’t fall off the shelf more often at Top Golf.

We got home around 8:00 and I was ready to yuck it up with my new sorta college buddy roommates, but these guys were all business. After about 30 minutes of watching baseball, we all went to bed and I listened to old episodes of the Crushing Iron podcast to put me to sleep . . . but it didn’t work. In fact, I found them captivating, inspirational, and extremely motivating. I could not wait to get to the lake in the morning and shoot more video of people working their ass off!

To be continued . . .

Attitude is King – Camp ReCap Podcast

Have you been thinking about an Ironman, half or any kind of triathlon, but don’t know how to start, please consider us for coaching. We’ve been through most every situation regarding this sport, including starting from scratch. We’ve also taken athletes from their “stuck point” and helped get them on the Ironman podium. We love working with beginners and athletes that want to push it to the next level. Check out our coaching page for more information, including philosophy and pricing.

All 170 podcast can be found on iTunes or on our podcast page.

You can always support The Crushing Iron podcast by making a small pledge here.

April 30, 2018April 30, 2018

Solving Drafting On Ironman Bike Courses

After Ironman Texas, pictures like this started surfacing and created a fire storm of opinion. In a race that’s supposed to have no drafting, many parts of the course bunched up in pelotons.

But what can or should be done about it?

As luck would have it, we recorded our podcast today and started by discussing some of the more popular opinions:

Adding multiple cameras on the course (like traffic cams) that monitor where limited Moto Marshals cannot
Adding more timing mats and somehow determining if riders are too close too often
Putting “secret” marshals on the course in the form of actual participants
Voting with your money by not signing up for flat and fast course races where drafting is prevalent
Using peer pressure to shame our friends and fellow club athletes
Or placing more “standing” marshals on the course

All of these have merit on some level, but we think society (and Ironman) has enough rules. That’s why we dove around in the conversation in hopes of a better solution; and we think we found one.

OUR SOLUTION TO IRONMAN DRAFTING

It centers on the concept of All World Athlete (which we kind of have fun with in some podcasts) but more importantly athletes that are truly trying to qualify for Kona.

More and more Ironman races are going to a rolling start, which has its pitfalls, but we think a simple change to logistics can keep Ironman and others happy, while changing the entire game for people who want to race (and do it legally). Think of it as the inverse of the “wetsuit” category in non-legal races.

Ironman could add one more box on registration forms that asks, “Do you want to be eligible for awards and a Kona slot?” If you check yes, you are put into a different category that starts in one, two, three or four WAVES.

These waves go first (or right after pros) and will include only those who are racing for awards. Depending on the logistics of the water, you could have one big “Awards’ Wave” (say Wisconsin) or multiple awards waves (Louisville where pros currently start in a wave). We acknowledge places like Chattanooga might be more difficult, but where there’s a will there’s a wave.

If you decide you are NOT racing for awards, you simply start wherever you want in the rolling start line. This takes the fear and anxiety of a wave or mass start out of your life and you can happily race however you want and call yourself an Ironman at the end.

But we think there are a good chunk of people who really like to RACE. By grouping them all together at the front, this starts age groups at the same time and creates a smaller portion of the course for marshals to monitor.

This solution allows “awards racers” to plot their strategy and know exactly where they stand against others in their age group. It also creates a higher tier to strive for if you don’t feel you’re ready to actually compete but like the idea of moving up the ladder (not to mention it gives some of the elite age-groupers more of a semi-pro feel to their status).

We think starting elite age group athletes at the same time will create a self-policing of sorts out on the course. If someone is directly racing another, they will not stand for a front pack peloton, where as if it’s happening in multiple places all over the course it’s hard to contain.

Give the “awards age group” different color caps or something and start them first, in waves. Get them on the way and let the rest do whatever they want.

Those who want to race others can do so. Those who just want to race themselves can do that, too.

Here is the entire podcast. #159 Drafting: How We’d Solve The Problem

February 12, 2015

3 Triathlon Articles of the Day

Here are three quick articles (and a short video) about swim, bike, and run to get you in the mood for something other than sex.

SWIM – Here’s a sweet swim drill that would certainly build your confidence for the Ironman Wisconsin Swim Start.

BIKE – I hesitated to post this one because the title is “How to Become A Cyclist” and the first tip is “ride more frequently.” My first thought was, “Wow! That is great advice!” But, then I remembered that’s similar to the schlep I was doling out the other day.

RUN – This is an awesome article for 3 reasons. One, it’s offered as a way to heal/strengthen your achilles (my nemesis). Two, it’s run cross training, which I love. Three, it has me thinking about getting a heavy bag for my garage again.

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January 30, 2015

Creative Workouts For Triathlon

Our coaching staff is continually thinking about ways to make training more effective and enjoyable, so Crushing Iron will now be adding creative workout ideas if you feel like breaking up the monotony. We only have a couple now, but hope to add one or two a week for each discipline. They can be found under the “Workouts” tab at the top and broken out by sport. Here’s an example for the pool:

Band On The Swim

Warm Up
200 easy cruise
100 kick with board hard

Main set:
400 pull/paddles high tempo
3 x 100 BAND around ankles
200 t-shirt swim AND clenched fists high tempo
100 SPRINT

: 45 rest throughout

2 rounds – Beginner swimmer
3- rounds- intermediate swimmer
4 rounds total – advanced swimmer

200 Warm Down

October 6, 2014

The Ironman Announcement Nobody's Waiting For

As I left Ironman Chattanooga, four thoughts clanked in my brain:

1. “Rock City” was a great host and I loved the vibe.
2. The run course was legit and had great spectator support.
3. The bike times seemed out of whack.
4. The swim was disappointing.

Number four was a big one. It wasn’t as much the times as the effort (or lack of) the swim seemed to induce.

Triathlon is about the delicate balance of training for three sports, not two. The swim should have an impact on your bike and run. And when someone can literally float the course and make the cut off time, I’m not sure what to think.

Then, I thought, who the hell am I to criticize a 2.4 mile swim for being too easy? Some days it’s all I can do to walk my dog around the block.

It’s one race, on one day, and shouldn’t be compared to others.

I was 90% sure I wouldn’t race Chattanooga next year. But, as I drove to Nashville I couldn’t let go of how much I love Chattanooga, how great the crowds were, and how sweet it is to have an Ironman in your backyard.

So, after a night of pondering and numerous text discussions I decided to take the plunge. There will be no sitting around in a Badger hat . . . I will be racing Ironman Chattanooga.

Maybe they will make the swim a zig zag so you have to corner a few buoys or something. And, knowing my luck, it will be about 15 degrees hotter with no cloud cover, so the challenge will arise later in the day.

Either way, I am pumped to be racing an Ironman so close to home and hope my friends and family see the value in a Rock City vacation.

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October 4, 2014

Little Debbie Ironman Chattanooga Video

Little Debbie is getting serious about this Ironman business. I think it’s pretty shrewd, actually. They hired a film crew and shot all day at Ironman Chattanooga. Below is the excellent product.

I met one of their photographers on the bridge and he was a cool guy (who will also be in my video). It’s pretty wild to shoot a 12-15 hour race and edit it down into just over a minute, but I think they did a great job with this.

Scroll down to find a ton of raw video I shot while at Ironman Chattanooga.

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October 4, 2014

VIDEO: Last Swimmer Out of Water Ironman Chattanooga

This isn’t quite as riveting as watching the last person finish an IRONMAN, but it’s still pretty cool. Lots of encouragement from the fans and Voice of Ironman, Mike Reilly.

“You got it! You got it!,” he yells . . . he even tells her to doggy paddle!

You can see her at one point look up, mere feet from the finish and seemingly say, “I can’t make it.” I’ve been there early in my triathlon career and that is not a good feeling.

I believe her swim time was 1:47:45. Pretty amazing what the body and mind can get you through.

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October 2, 2014

VIDEO 2: Age Groupers at Ironman Chattanooga

Here’s the 2nd of three videos showing age groupers leaving the swim exit toward T2. Probably 2-300 people run by this camera.

Feel free to link this post in your groups, Facebook, etc. if you think they will be interested and be sure to follow Crushing Iron by email at the top right of this page. I will be posting a bunch more stuff from IM Chattanooga.

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April 16, 2014August 28, 2018

Ironman New Orleans 70.3 Crushed Me

I went into this race with guarded optimism. Training was going well, and I was especially excited to get to the run. I honestly thought I could lay down a 1:45 for the half marathon, but New Orleans was about to beat me like a rusty timpani drum.

My biggest fear was the effect a ton of driving would have on me (well, that and the wind and the sun and the humidity and the street swindlers). The Badgers making the Final Four in Dallas was a welcome surprise the weekend before, and I have zero regrets about going, but the travel shanked my mojo.

CHECK IN –

As usual I forgot my USAT card, so I had to pull it up on my phone, which pissed off about 10 people in line behind me. Then, after some wickedly lame small-talk with volunteers, I bought my third “name t-shirt” — which officially put me over one million dollars spent on the Ironman brand.

I ran into an nice old man (older than me) wearing a Wisconsin logo, so we talked Badgers for a while before he dragged me onto the veranda and pointed with joy at paddle boat he was spending the next week aboard. “There’s no gambling, or kids, which is nice,” he said.

I also spent a lot of time in here.

Then it was time for the Athlete’s Meeting where I sat next to Wells, who was doing his first half. He was all of 24-years-old and excited to get my expert advice — which he promptly used to kick my ass in the race. I was happy for him and it made me wonder how often that kind of thing happens. Some guy in a gangster TYR hat, who’s been around the block a couple times, starts talking about how great he is then gets dusted dusted by the student.

My immediate concern after the meeting was to figure out how I could get a practice swim. Luckily I ran into a woman who heard about an open-water-deal hosted by a local tri club. I got directions and drove about 20 minutes to jump in the cold and murky water of Lake Ponchartrain.

I was “wetsuit rusty” but felt great until I climbed the concrete stairs and had a bout with dizziness. I sat on the ledge collecting my bearings and this incident quickly turned into my number one fear for the next morning.

As I stripped my wetsuit I noticed a gash in my big toe and it quickly proved my blood was red, just like yours. The guy supervising, Coach Kevin, said it was probably from “those damn barnacles,” and the funny part of this story happened the next morning in the swim line with Rick, from Nashville, who I just met. We talked for a while, then he looked at my toe and said, “Did you cut your toe at that open water swim yesterday?” I was like, “Yeah, how the hell did you know?” He said, “Me too.” I took an awkward gaze at his bare big toe and it was sliced in exactly the same spot.

That night, I slept like a man expecting an earthquake, and netted about four hours sleep. I woke at 4:30, grabbed my gear and walked 8 blocks to the shuttle bus. The streets of New Orleans are quite the sight at 5 am. Drunks stagger by and look at you funny as you walk past them carrying a wetsuit. A very small part of me wished I was staggering back to bed, too, but I convinced myself to pursue the torture.

I do love the morning of an Ironman race. The energy is awesome. This race had a real international flavor and I salsa’d my way to transition-bike-rack number 1266 (the one near the milk jug, which wasn’t put on by me, but was easy to spot).

For the second day in a row I debated wheeling my bike to the tech so he could check the brakes. I had a small issue with my wider race wheels but convinced myself it would be cool. That said, I should note that I am likely the worst bike mechanic on the planet, so neither you, or me, should trust my opinion on bike health.

THE SWIM –

In the spirit of our “going out of the way to do a race” theme, the Swim Entrance was about a ½ mile away from my bike. Thankfully they had a gear-bag-shuttle to the finish line, so I wore sweats, and shoes over to the swim, then dropped them in the bag and put on the wetsuit.

The swim was an age group time-trial start. Fifteen age groups went off in order (6 at a time) starting with the Pros at 7am. I guessed I might jump in at 7:45, but it was more like 8:10. I was literally one of the last men to get into the water.

My plan was to take a leisurely glide. Start slow, stay slow, then speed up at the end. I swam it to perfection. But, as I neared the exit, I started thinking about my dizzy spell from the day before. Surely I would feel it again, so I came up with a strategy to stop about 10 yards from the staircase and tread water for 30 seconds so my body had a vertical head start. I think it helped.

Swim Time: 39:17 (1:52/100yds)

THE BIKE –

All of my bike workouts for this race had been inside on a trainer. I had a few opportunities to ride outside, but this is the time of year when my allergies can be brutal and nothing ignites an itchy nasal cavity like a free-wheeling jaunt through the pollen farm called Nashville, TN.

More than anything I was concerned about the wind in New Orleans and riding 56 miles in fresh air for the first time. As it turned out, my fears were well founded.

If you enjoy being in aero and riding directly into gusting winds, New Orleans is your race. I must have heard 20 people say, “Take it easy on the bike, or you’ll be screwed on the run.” And, for once, I listened . . . sorta.

The first ten miles weren’t too bad, but the combination of not riding outside along with lake got my attention. So did a guy trying to tame a horse.

I’m riding up on this scene in disbelief. The horse looked like a wild black stallion and this guy is holding onto it with a rope. The horse is bucking and shaking its mane and I’m literally riding right at it. I honestly thought I might get kicked in the face, but swerved just out of his range. It was probably the coolest part of the bike.

My plan was to stay in the small ring for the first hour and just spin. It was going pretty well and I was hovering around 18 miles an hour. Not ideal, but I was waiting for some wind assistance and thought I could jack that average closer to 20 mph. But, those moments were few and far between.

It felt like two-thirds of the race was either directly into the wind or hampered by a strong crosswind. I was a little frustrated, but feeling pretty good up until mile 30.

I made a mental note of the look on some of the pro’s faces as they passed by me going the other way. I’m pretty sure Andy Potts was puking and Ben Hoffman was falling asleep in aero, or . . . I may have been projecting.

My goal-pace was a greasy watermelon and a pinching brake pad was not helping my mood. Ever so slightly the right brake rubber would slide in against the wheel. I stopped a few times, but as I mentioned, I am a joke when it comes to bike maintenance. At one point I was in a panic because I tightened it so both sides were locked on my wheel. If I a had a wire cutter I would have sliced the cable. It was pretty ridiculous and I bet I spent 15-20% of the ride with my brake pad rubbing. This probably wasn’t good for my speed . . . or legs.

Around mile 35 there was a nice tail wind and I was solid at 26 mph for 3-4 miles. Then . . . there was a turnaround. For those same 3-4 miles on the way back I hovered around 13 mph. It was brutal and this was a common theme . . .

People always tell me they could never do an Ironman, but could do the bike, and to those people, I say, “You have no clue.” Racing a bike 56 or 112 miles is no joke. The strategy is immense and one bad section, or over zealousness, can screw up your race.

I was hell bent on taking it easy, but my average speed was dropping like Black Friday. I started pushing, and from mile 40-50 I was out of my comfort zone and bonked the last 6. It was just a brutal day . . . and far from over.

Bike Time – 3:12:39 (17.4 mph)

THE RUN –

The minute I got off the bike, I knew I was in trouble. I always have a little trouble walking, but this time my back was fried. I couldn’t run my bike into transition and my mental state plummeted.

I kept the faith and trusted that it was just a “feeling,” then followed the advice I gave Wells the day before, “Just start running and your legs will figure it out.” Eventually they may have, but my head wasn’t on board.

The course started flat, then climbed a substantial bridge at mile one. Everyone was walking, but if you’ve read my blog, you know I refuse to walk.

I slugged up the hill and was absolutely cooked. I kept the feet moving down the backside and at the aid station realized my initial mile was just under a 10 minute pace. That’s no way to run a 1:45.

Shortly after, we ran up our second hill which happened to be a draw bridge. By the time I got to the top I was really hoping it would just open and drop me into the river. I was in a bad place and soon thereafter . . . I was . . . walking.

I promised myself it was a re-charge and would pick it back up, but my feet were already burning and my body was crumbling. I started concocting walk/run strategies but my race was slipping away. The day before in the athlete’s meeting, the guy asked the room if anyone was trying to qualify for Ironman 70.3 World in Canada. I was “this close” to raising my hand. Now I was happy I didn’t. I felt like a fool, a sham, a fake.

The run continued along the shore of Lake Ponchartrain for . . . ever. When I hit mile five, I did my best to put the hammer down and may have lasted 2 minutes before I was walking again. I kept looking at the water thinking it would be a far better place to be and almost . . . quit.

I have really come to love running, but this day made me hate it. Hot black top, no shade, no scenery, no spectators, and serious doubt.

I knew my run was shot, but the clock would not stop ticking. At mile 9, after a haphazard slew of run/walk attempts, I spotted a guy dumping multiple cups of ice into his shorts. We seemed to be in the same boat. I looked at him and said, “What ya think man, you ready to run this home?” He said, “Let’s do it.”

His name is David and turns out he did IMWI the year before me. He also lives in Wisconsin, so I suppose we were destined to meet.

Somehow, someway, we trudged next to each other for four miles and ran it home without stopping (aside from the occasional ice dump). I’m typically not the guy who runs with anyone, but this opened my mind . . . and maybe even my heart. We enter these races with our optimal goal in mind, but truthfully, doing Ironman or Half Ironman’s are incredibly difficult feats and things often go wrong.

But I still believe this stuff is mostly mental. And that’s exactly what I was thinking about during those difficult moments. I was beaten. I didn’t see the need to push once my race goal had left reality. I couldn’t find the reason. It didn’t matter. I had “failed” and I could either wallow in it or accept it and bring it back another day.

So often endurance is about managing pain. Can you create a reason more powerful than the ache to push on? Can you justify the spears in your hip and daggers in your feet? Today, David and I both felt unified in our agony and leaned on each other to complete what we started. Neither of us were overly happy with our times, but I’m pretty sure we will reflect with pride as we understand what it took to cross under that white arch.

I guess that’s what they mean by Finisher.

Run time: 2:23:40
TRT: 6:21:58

December 5, 2013

Rude Awakening For An Ironman

Wow, did this morning open my eyes. I don’t know how to sugar coat this, so I’m just gonna say it — I am a 60 lb weakling!

I have just spent the better part of the year swimming, biking, and running (often twice a day) –and after a morning of lunges, squats, and leg machines, I feel like I trained for Ironman on the couch. I mean, I’m shuffling around like I’ve been in casts and am learning how to walk again.

It’s a tad deflating, but also encouraging considering my “no run December” decision.

I feel like my theory is right. It’s time for a deeper dive into cross training, which is exactly why I like triathlon so much in the first place. Now I cross train the cross training.

Swimming laps till you’re wrinkled, biking till you’re raw, or running till you drop is fine, but truly substantial gains come from well-rounded strength.

Think about pitchers in baseball. Most people believe it’s all about the arm, but the best pitchers get extra velocity from their legs and core. The arm needs to be strong, but also flexible and loose. It’s the vehicle.

The same goes for running.

Everyone talks about strong legs, but I the best way to speed is through the core. The core is what propels you, the legs are the vehicle. And, while you need a strong core to run, running doesn’t do much to build that core.

So, what does being fit or strong really mean? It means limber, explosive, and resilient muscles.

Triathlon is built on a straight line. Go from “here” to “there” as fast as you can. And I realize that’s the point. Go straight. Go fast. But if we use the same exact muscle groups for the entire year of training, our swims, bikes, and runs break down faster. You have to mix it up . . . you need muscle variance because they support each other.

It’s all about creating balanced strength. Balance on each side of your body, but also balance within the muscle groups of the core, along with each leg and arm. That’s building the base.

That’s why, aside from weight training, I’ve been adding more breast and back stroke in my swims. Challenging myself on the bike by moving focus to my glutes, quads, hamstrings, etc. And on the run, I go out of my way to get off the flats, including more trails.

Muscle structure is incredibly complicated and all interdependent. One weak link can cause a ton of problems. Simply plowing after mileage isn’t gonna cut it, and my weight training session this morning was a huge reminder of just how weak you can get by training for an Ironman.