Tag: triathlon blog

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6 Days Until Ironman Louisville #IMLOU

6daysOne week from this very moment I hope to be sitting at that Irish Pub next to the Ironman Louisville finish line, covered in salt, sharing war stories with my friends and family.  I haven’t been having the same bouts of anxiety I did with my first Ironman, but the tension is building fast.  This week I have one absolute goal:  relax.

It’s not going to be easy.

Every time I close my eyes, my mind drifts to one of three places.  That leap into the Ohio River, that first stretch of River Road, or mile one of that downtown run.  It’s like a broken record and it won’t stop.

Whether or not I’ve done all I can to prepare for this race is no longer the question, I have done all I can.  Now, my job is to rest and relax . . . not cut my hand again trying to install a dog door.

I’ve been here one other time and there is an insane desire to continually prove to yourself that you’re ready.  I went out on the bike today for an EASY hour ride and I was in a continual tug of war with my ego.

EGO:  Prove to yourself you have the speed and power, Mike!”
ME:  FU . . . I’m just moving my legs and recovering.
EGO:  Come on man, if you show me something now, I will let you rest easier tonight.
ME:  Hmm . . . tempting.
EGO:  For real, man.  Let’s get rid of ALL doubt, right now.  Stretch it out . . . blow this ride away!
ME:  (starts crying)

So I have to let go of the ego.  Never trust that SOB because he wants everything now.  Ego is what Steven Pressfield calls “Resistance.”  A very real and omnipresent force that continually tries to throw you off your game.

The race is in 6 Days and the only thing I can do now is make it harder by doing something stupid.  It’s going to be hard enough.

I will do a few very light swims and maybe a couple easy rides.  Other than that I will try to eat well, hydrate, rest. . . and take my chances.

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Is USAT Making Amends?

A few months ago my application to blog Nationals was rejected by USAT, and it seems they have noticed.  The other day I opened my mail and found not one, but TWO issues of their latest magazine.

Don’t ever underestimate the power of sharing your dreams with the world.

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My Biggest Concern About Ironman Louisville

Now that I’ve quit my job of 15 years, I anticipate quite a different lifestyle.  Days will now be at my pace.  I will go to bed and wake up when I please.

My natural tendency is to lean toward night owl.  On one hand I love that because there’s something cool about doing things while everyone else is sleeping.  On the other, I’m sliding into a bad sleep pattern.

Last year I slept 3 hours before Ironman Wisconsin and I would barely call it a solid nap.  I’m not sure what’s going to happen at Louisville, but I know I have to get at least six hours . . . and do it without oversleeping the race start!

I’ve had nightmares of running to the dock and screaming, “Don’t pull up the timing mat!”  I wait in my swimskin as they put it back in place, calibrate the computer, then scream at me to “get the fuck in the water!”

Yeah, so here’s to a good night sleep in the “Ville.”

 

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I Just Got Called "A Yankee"

I made small talk with a nice man at the coffee shop.  He was waiting for his first dose of thunder, I was poised for round two.

He wore a bright white v-neck t-shirt and even brighter white pants.  I assumed he was a painter.

“I’m guessing your outfit will be a lot dirtier by the end of the day,” I said with a hint of apprehension.

“Well, now, actually it’s gonna be a clean day,” he replied with a calculated drawl.

“Where ya from?,” I asked.

“Originally Texas.  Spent a lot of years in Virginia, but there’re a lot of Yankees there, so it don’t really count,” he said with a tinge of remorse.

“Not a big fan of Yankees?”

“Well, they just weren’t nice.”

“I’m from Wisconsin and we are some of the nicest people around,” I said trying to win him over.

“Well, I was born in Iowa, so I guess I’m a Yankee on some level.”

Ha!  So, that was a real conversation.  And it proves my point about life and humanity.  If you dig deep enough, we’re all the same.

———–

With that in mind, about 2,500 friends of mine will be tackling Ironman Louisville next Sunday in 90 degree heat.  We’ll come from a melting pot of backgrounds, geography, and philosophies.  But we’ll all be focused on one thing . . . ascending to a higher plane.

Of those 2,500 people, every one will have a different training philosophy.  Some will chase miles, some will race for fun, others will be energized by fear.

But we are all the same.

We all want to become better, stronger, and more consistent people.  It would take a while, maybe a lifetime, but I would love to sit with each one and drill down to our connective center.  Find our common fears, battles and dreams.  Feel the relief as hypocrisy falls from our bones.

Yankees, Southerners, Texans, Blacks, Whites, Asians, Jews, old, young, men, women.  All seeking the truth.  All not settling for a pre-definined place in life . . . or a label.

People from the SEC, the Big 10, Pac 10, ACC, and Big East.  All releasing their differences for a cause.  A cause that rises higher than logos and exists in a place we can’t define.

There will be an endless list of pretense, but for one day, 2,500 of us will dispose of trivial beliefs and focus on the real meaning of faith.  Faith in a higher and more meaningful quest.  A direct apprehension of something bigger than our collective selves.  We will experience the ultimate meditation.  Up to 17 hours of being in the moment.  And when we are in the moment there are no Yankees, Southerners, Texans, Blacks, Whites, Asians, Jews, old, young, men, or women.

There just is.

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Winning "The Battle of Ironman" #IMLOU

I quit my job two weeks ago and have an Ironman in nine days.  I have a million conflicts in my mind and for some reason, not many have been falling onto the page.  And that’s bad, because I truly believe writing about triathlon has helped me nearly as much as the blood and sweat.

I am infinitely more relaxed about this Ironman than I was my first.  Finishing doesn’t scare me.  But I’m not convinced that’s a good thing.

Last year I trained 9 solid months.  This year I have been in and out due to injuries and even took 10 Days of Rest in the middle of training.  I am calm, but that doesn’t mean I am confident.

I have swam 2.4 miles twice in my life.  Once in training last year and once at Ironman Wisconsin.  I haven’t come close this year, but feel frequent shorter swims have made me a better swimmer.  I’m excited and curious to see how that plays out.

I have ridden 112 miles twice in my life.  Both last year as well.

My longest in 2014 is 77 miles, but I also feel like I am a stronger cyclist now.  I’ve certainly been “on” the bike more in the last couple months and hope my intense focus on riding in aero pays off in Louisville.

And, if you like drama, intrigue, conflict, and mystery, keep an eye locked on Iron Trac during my run.  I’ve been fighting injuries for most of the summer and walking more than running.  Just as I was easing back to the pavement, I hurt my ribs so I shelved running until race day.  My longest training run of the year is 12 miles, and that was two months ago.  In 9 days I’ll run 26.2.

I fueled on fear for Wisconsin.  I chased the finish line and medal with reckless abandon.  It lifted me higher than I’d been in years.  I thought I had arrived.  But Ironman and life don’t go away.

I was overly confident at New Orleans 70.3 in March and it ate me alive.  I vowed never to take a race lightly again.

That said, I believe confidence is the most important thing in Ironman.  You have to believe or you’re setting yourself up to fail.

So, 9 days out, I’m drinking coffee with bruised ribs and thinking about the swim line up at Ironman Louisville.  I’ve been there as a spectator so I know how it feels.  It’s intimidating and breathless as you stand there offering support, but putting on the race gear gives me confidence.

You dial in to face a crafty enemy.  Silent, omnipresent, resiliant.  It’s a war of attrition.  There are no guarantees, but if you stay focused, respect the race, and believe in yourself, you will win the battle.  You will raise your hands high and celebrate victory, but the war is never over.

ultimatebattle

 

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Another Exciting Challenge

“I like to talk about managing pain, and now I have another grand opportunity.”  –Me

Have you ever quit your job, gone on your first freelance video shoot, slipped on a throw rug, and slammed your ribs into the corner of a hard wooden table two weeks before your Ironman?  If not, I’m about to tell you how that feels.

Ever since the injury I have mainly been dealing with the pain of . . . breathing, which is a great problem to have when you’re heading into a 12-hour endurance event.  The worst part is, it happened just as I was starting to feel good about the race.

I had been swimming every day (not long) and really dialing in my form.  For kicks I swam the next day and had to stop at 400 meters.

It’s not excruciating pain, but a nuisance for sure.  To make it worse, I tried a little jogging on Saturday and every time I landed it was irritating.  So, we can add bruised rib to the strained Achilles/Plantar Fasciitis questions revolving around my run.

The good news:  It happened at the start of my taper.  Maybe it’s a spiritual sign.  Maybe it’s a way for higher powers to hold me back and make sure I rest and recover.

I’ll take a little bike ride this afternoon and see how that goes, but find this to be an incredible test of patience.

On one hand I am sort of comfortable because I’ve always believed exercise should give you energy and not take it away.  On the other, I have typically been the “cram all night for an exam” kinda guy.

But I believe preparing for months is always better than jamming it all into a few days.  I have to trust the weeks, months, and last year have gotten me to a point where I am ready to cover 140.6.  And honestly, I do believe that, but the question is always, “How well will I cover it?”

We’ll find out soon.

 

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16 Days from Ironman Louisville #IMLOU

You know that feeling right before you go over the crest of a big hill on your bike?  That’s what this feels like.

It’s been a slow climb, but once I get through this weekend, I will be flying toward a head on collision with Ironman Louisville.

These last couple weeks are when your emotional shit really hits the fan, but I’m working hard on not letting that happen.  I’ve been consistent, though short, with my workouts, and have one remaining goal:  to feel good on race day.

Not having a job has helped (I’m still formulating how to write about leaving corporate America) because it has loosened my body and mind.  I always talk about being limber for my race and I think that could be the biggest benefit from not having stressful work environment.

So, how am I planning to tackle Louisville?

Swim my pace, bike under control, and manage pain on the run.

It sounds simple, but it will not be easy.

The energy of the race lures you like an ice cream truck.  That creepy music plays over and over in your head, tempting your patience as you scramble through the neighborhood chasing cravings.

It’s the finish line you can’t see, but know is there.  We have to remember the ice cream will eventually find us.  It wants to finds us . . . and needs us more than we need them.

The Ironman finish line is no different.  Eventually it drops in our lap . . . the key is to stay patient and have faith that they won’t run out of ice cream before you get there.

 

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Transitions in Triathlon and Life

This has been sitting in the cue for a while, but since I quit my job of 14 years on Friday, it’s probably the perfect time to release a post on transition.  

You’re running bare foot down a rough concrete path, soaking wet, and your heart is racing.  Next stop, your bike where you will fry your legs on relentless hills.  Often the quality of your ride will depend on how you handle the first two miles.

This all plays perfectly into a gem of an insight I found while reading “The Art of Learning” by Joshua Waitzkin.  He was talking about how he had trouble adapting to new cities because he traveled so much.  He missed his friends, family, home, etc.  But after a few days, he would always settle in and things would be better.

At some point he figured out that these were moments of “transition” and once he recognized that, he was able to turn up his focus and pay even more attention to being in the moment.  I thought this was a really cool insight that relates well to triathlon because, as we know, not much feels more awkward than getting off a bike to run.

Even biking after swimming takes a completely different mindset.  I can’t speak for everyone, but typically I’m breathing for dear life when I get on the bike and it’s everything I can do to slow my heart rate.

So, these transitions in life and triathlon are very similar.  It’s adapting, shifting your mind, and possibly more important, having faith.

I started thinking about this and one of my biggest transitional challenges happens every morning.  I wake up and feel completely unmotivated.  Somehow I have to shift gears and get into work mode.  That’s something that should, by nature, take time, but more often than not I go from zero to 50 in an hour.

It reminded me of something I noticed in the splits of my old neighbor’s race at Ironman Louisville last year.  He got tenth overall and first in his age group.  He swam solid, rocked the bike, then ran a 7:35 pace for the marathon.  But what I noticed was that his first two miles were extremely slow (for him).  Like over 9 minute pace.  He transitioned and let his body wake up for the run, then killed it.

This is the “patience part” of triathlon that I need to give more credibility.  In my last race at Rev3, I got up super early to do easy yoga and some meditation.  I felt like I was awake when it was time to swim.

But I got on the bike with my heart rate out of control.  My time was decent, but I can’t help wonder if I shouldn’t have taken it a little easier on the first couple miles, woke up, then hammered it.  The entire ride I was flirting with heavy breathing and I don’t think that’s my best play.

My legs were super tight off the bike, so I was forced to ease into the run and by the end was running my best.  Slow start, negative split.  That isn’t a term for nothing.  It works.

REv3 was an Olympic, and you can get away with little mistakes, but at Ironman, I will really need to carry that transition mindset into the next event.

Post Script:  Yes, I quit my job.  It was 100% my decision and long overdue.  I kept making a list of pros and cons, wants and needs, and the one thing that always came to the top for me was, freedom.  Freedom to do the things I want to do and spend time with people that inspire me.

It is now day 3 of freedom and couldn’t be going better.  I have some exciting opportunities in play and possibly more important, I feel substantially healthier.  I’m also more relaxed and in a better mood.  My genuine love for triathlon has resurfaced and that is another important side bar.  I love movement, sport, and challenge and am excited to jump into new waters.  I just have to remember to ease into the transition.

 

 

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Ironman Training Distances

My friend Corey just confirmed that he’ll be flying in to Louisville to watch me race.  He followed that text with, “So you better kick some ass.”

I told him all I could guarantee is good drama.

He asked what my longest swim, bike, and run of training have been.

I said, 2,800 meters in water, 77 on the bike and 12 miles of running.

There is no doubt I put in more mileage last year.  The fear of the unknown drove my training, and in Ironman Number One, I couldn’t take chances.

But, is 2,800, 77 and 12 enough for Ironman #2?

It’d better be, because that’s about as far as it’s going.

I love exploring this topic because my goal has always been to keep training time at the bare minimum.  I can’t tell you how many times I have stopped a workout early because I knew I could finish and didn’t want to waste another hour or jeopardize the next day.

But there is flip side to this coin.

For me, training all comes back to effort.  If I’m scheduled for a shorter workout and feel really strong, I often extend it to push my limits.

I know long workouts have their place, but I’ve never been a fan of riding 6 hours just to ride six hours.  I would much rather ride four hours hard and build.

And there’s another mental factor I bank on during a race . . . the energy.

I often train by myself because I put a lot of stock in fueling off the crowd.  If I can trudge through pain in isolation, running past a screaming group is icing on the cake.  I can literally be like a reset button to me.  You can be drifting off to sleep, then someone gives you a big jolt of adrenaline that lifts you over the next few miles.

This race is at least half mental and the half of that is simply faith.

I’m pretty sure nobody ever does the entire distance in one day of practice, so what’s too much?  What’s not enough?  People have been debating that one for years and I’m very curious to see if my low-end strategy plays out.

Until then, I’ll be looking for my sweet spot.  Using my final days to make me feel alive and restored rather than like I’ve been beaten over the head with a baseball bat.  I’ll have plenty of time for that the night of August 24th in the hometown of Louisville Slugger.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Is Trouble Lurking at Ironman Louisville?

I logged onto Facebook tonight and it seemed everyone in my feed was talking about their “long ride” today.  Not the best fuel for a rejected USAT blogger who is laying around in boxers after his 1:20 minute cycling meltdown.

My Ironman countdown meter shows 28 days.  I have plantar fasciitis in my right heel, a tender Achilles on my left, and I am battling a summer cold.  What’s Vegas showing as my over/under in Louisville?

photo-2

If I were a betting man, I’d be tempted to lay some huge scratch on the “over,” but, since I am not, I am cautiously optimistic about my chances.  But it has nothing to do with my mileage.

Ironman is a long damn ways and the furthest combination of any distances I’ve strung together in this training period is 77 miles on a bike.  In fact, I’ve rarely gone past 50.

My longest run has been 12 miles an it was relatively painful.

The upside to all of the injuries is that I have put in a little extra time in the water, but even those swims would be considered short by Ironman standards.

So, how will I pull this together?  Let’s add it up with 10 positives.

1.  I feel relatively good about the swim.

2.  I’m pretty sure I’ll be decent on the bike for at least 3 hours.

3.  My entire marathon at IM Wisconsin hurt, so I have experience battling the pain.

4.  I’ll have a lot of family and friends there to race for.

5.  Even though I am sick and have problems with both feet, I am pretty healthy.

6.  I love the energy at Louisville and usually perform better under pressure.

7.  By traditional standards, I will be undertrained, but should be well rested.

8.  All of these distractions have forced me to look inside and figure out solutions.

9.  Getting sick has put me on serious road to dialing in my diet.

10.  I will not go down without a fight.

If I know one thing about Ironman, it’s at least half mental.  I’ve been through the meat grinder and know how it feels.

I know the nervous energy of race morning.  I know the feel of an elbow to the face in the water.  The frustration of seeing the swim exit that seems to only get further away.

I know the pain in neck on a long windy roads.  The burn in your thighs as you climb a hill that never ends.  The unrelenting swell in your ass that eventually fades to numb.

I know the delirium of hobbling off your bike to do something that seems impossible.  The illusion of running forever before you see mile one.  The cruel Ironman joke of baiting you down the Finisher’s chute on your first lap.  I know the dark, lonely existence at Mile 18 when you forget who you are.

And I also know the taste of the finish line.  The unmistakeable energy that seems to be all for you.  I know the screaming strangers and the familiar faces that welcome you home from a journey you can’t put in words.  There are not many things sweeter.

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