Wisconsin – Page 3

July 25, 2013

Ironman Wisconsin Will Be My First Marathon #IMWI

As I inch closer to Ironman Wisconsin, I have one major question gnawing at my insides:

Will the fact that I probably won’t run more than 16 miles (ever) be a problem on the marathon?

I am trusting the hell out of this process and one reason is . . . I have no choice.

From Day 1 of Ironman Training (sometime around January 3rd) I have had to reel in my training. I simply wasn’t prepared for the intensity and made a few mistakes early on just to save face.

For example, we had early training rides (indoors) of 3 and 4 hours scheduled in February and I reluctantly suffered through them, even though my longest ride in many many years was an Olympic race (or thereabouts) of one hour and twenty minutes.

After several post-ride collapses that included long naps and limping around the house, I decided to implement a new strategy. I said to myself, “Self, if there are times when you feel you ‘could’ finish a long workout, but know it will put you down for a couple days, walk away on top.”

So, that’s what I started doing in the pool, on the bike, and on runs. If my workout was starting to feel like a detriment to my body, I would save myself. Four thousand meter swims became 2,500, four hour bikes turned into 2 1/2. Two hour runs, 1.5. But, the difference was, I always made the workouts count from an intensity perspective.

I had to remember that I literally just started running last year and other than some light biking and swimming over the last decade, the thought of doing Ironman Distance was laughable.

The other day I expressed concern to my coach about my running history, or more accurately lack of history. He simply said, “Stay the course.” And I trust that opinion.

Instead of panicking into long distances I have focused on a gradual, consistent build knowing that as I approach my first Ironman, I had to be at peace with patience. Trust the process and shine for one day.

Last night as I was running my planned 90 minutes (which turned out to be about 80), I added up the mileage. Sunday was an hour Monogetti run (sprint workout) of about 8 miles, Monday was around an 8 mile hill explosion, and last night was about 9 miles with some nice hills in the middle. Tomorrow I have another Monogetti waiting and Saturday is a 45 minute brick run after 4 hours on the bike. That’s will equate to around 30 miles of pretty intense running in 7 days.

I have already given in to the fact that (aside from passing a kidney stone) the marathon will likely be the biggest test of pain tolerance in my life. 26.2 miles of pounding after the swim and bike. I guess asking why I’d want to do it is a fair question and I think the answer lies somewhere in a quote I saw posted by Payge McMahon today:

July 22, 2013

The Importance of Training as a Group

A beastly one and a half hill ride Friday night. An always tough 3.5 hour ride on Natchez Trace less than 12 hours later. An open water swim this morning followed by multiple naps on a rainy day. The only problem was, somehow, someway, I had to summon the energy for the infamous Monogetti Run. One hour of splendid torture.

It was 6 pm on Sunday night and the odds of a “Mono” run were closing in on zero percent. I sat at my computer and (as I often do with this handy site) calculated how many days it is until Wisconsin and when the answer popped up, it had particular significance, it was my age . . . 49.

Forty nine days, one for each year of my life. I wonder if the days will pass as quickly as the years have? It’s really quite amazing and I literally feel like I was just in High School, but as a good friend often says to me, “There’s no such thing as time,” so I think I’m just gonna live in the moment.

Forty nine days to get ready for the biggest challenge of my life. 49 days to use wisely. Every missed workout is a missed opportunity and on day 49 I was dangerously close to missing the first opportunity of the rest of my training.

Jim had already knocked out his run. Kevin posted his Monogetti run was in the books. I didn’t hear from Mark, but with his dedication and intensity he likely climbed Mt. Everest or its equivalent.

So, yeah, it’s around 6 o’clock and I get a call from Daniel. We talked about a million things as usual, and after about 20 minutes, I finally got around to the question we all want to ask each other, “What was your workout today?” It took probing and prompting, but he casually said he swam in the afternoon after running 18 MILES this morning. I’m like, fuck-shit, damn. Talk about motivation. I swear, the minute he said that, my legs felt better and my mind shifted to Monogetti mode. It was closing in on 7 pm now and I’d basically slacked the whole day, but now, it was off to run in the dark.

I strapped on my new Mizuno running shoes (Pearl Izumi is close to losing their sponsorship opportunity with this aging rookie, but I have not closed the door completely) and hit the road. One week after the Muncie Half and some grueling biking, my legs were DEAD as I shuffled down Valley Park Drive in beautiful Inglewood, Tennessee. At this point, I wasn’t sure if I would even make one mile, but was making the effort.

That effort paid off, and an hour later I had officially knocked out my Monogetti and inked every scheduled workout for the week to the letter. This is the time that counts and it’s far too close to let 7 solid months of workouts go to waste.

As I was finishing the run, I thought about how fortunate I am to be training with the Fab 5 +1, +2 and coach, not to mention dozens of inspirational people that flow into my life on a daily basis. While we rarely train “together,” the sum of the parts is a powerful motivator that always seems to show up when you need it most.

July 15, 2013

Muncie 70.3 Race Report 2013

This was my first Half Ironman and my strategy played out almost perfectly. Coach has a mantra, swim to your ability, bike smart, and run like hell. That . . . is almost exactly what happened.

I spent quite a bit of time looking up information on Muncie. By all accounts the swim was fairly technical, the bike was fast, and the run was going to be hot. That too proved to be true.

Racer K and I pulled into town on Friday, registered at the convention center (why couldn’t this be at the race site?) then went out to the Prairie Creek Reservoir for a short swim, bike, run.

The water was right on the edge of being wetsuit legal, and felt a tad cold at first, but 200 yards into a warm up, it felt perfect. I definitely didn’t think we’d need a wetsuit, but would likely wear one for the advantage if legal.

Racer K and I had ridiculous challenges with directions all weekend and showed up late to the team meeting where about 12 athletes and coach were discussing strategy for the next day. Start as far left as you can on the swim and take a straight line to the red buoy. Same strategy on the return. It was counter-intuitive, but if we followed the buoy line, we would be swimming a longer distance.

We also talked about hopping other riders on the bike. Starting your 15 second pass by going right into their draft, then kicking out to pass them. This turned out to be a major part of my strategy, especially since my age group was one of the last to start the race (nearly one hour after the pros).

After that, we hit a pre-race meal at Olive Garden, which seemed a little questionable at the time, but turned out to be the perfect call for missing lunch and a state of famish. I ate three bowls of salad, salmon, broccoli, and maybe a half dozen bread sticks. I went back to the room and added a Powerbar for good measure. I fell asleep at 8 pm and woke up promptly at 10. It would be a predictably long night of tossing and turning, but all in all I felt rested when the alarm went off at 4:30.

Pre-Race

Nothing like walking around a hotel parking lot at 5 am that is full of triathletes strapping their bikes on cars. A year ago I thought this was crazy, now it’s kinda normal.

We had been holding our breath for a week as we looked at the extended forecast for Muncie. It was bordering on cool with lows in the 60’s and showers for much of the week before clearing and highs around 80. It seemed too good to be true. Even the water temperature was below normal, bordering on the possibility of making the race wetsuit legal.

I rode up with Racer K and we both hoped it would NOT be wetsuit legal, mainly because we didn’t want to make the decision. Obviously it would be an advantage, but we’ve been feeling good about our swim and thought it would level the field. We got a chance to swim the day before and it was perfectly fine without a wetsuit which also made us a little leery of overheating.

We pulled into the parking spot and the volunteers were all shouting, “The race is wetsuit legal.” It was still dark and a little cool, so I knew I would be joining nearly everyone else with a wetsuit that day.

The Swim –

It was an age group wave start and the pros launched at 7 am, but I would have plenty of time to relax before shoving off at 7:57. I actually heard the canon while I was sitting in a port-o-john.

I walked down to the swim exit and watched as the pros filed out of the water in around 30 minutes. Then I gazed at the throng of age groupers coming into shore at a ridiculous angle and promised myself I would take a different route by sighting off a tree about twenty yards LEFT of the swim exit.

The swim course at Muncie is basically an inverted triangle. I’ve added the red “x’s”, which are supposed to represent the location of the actual swim start and exits, along with red lines to show the proper angle to the first buoy and the swim exit. I’m estimating, but the distance from the red x to the first yellow buoy on the diagram is probably 50 yards, so logically you’d want to start at the red x and stay as straight as you can to the far red turn buoy. Well, this was my plan. About halfway to the turn I was rubbing shoulders with the yellow buoy line. I have no idea how it happened, but it did, and I’m sure it cost me at least 100 yards.

I had one major objective on this swim. Stay calm, and don’t over exert. By the time I reached the first turn (which seemed like an eternity) I was right on my game plan. I felt fresh and strong.

I took a perfect angle into the first turn and hit stride with no contact. In fact, I made very little contact the entire swim. The waves were spread about 3 minutes apart and the water was basically wide open. Especially on the outside where I pledged to stay.

The sun was in full force and sighting was a major challenge. When I circled the second red buoy for home I stopped briefly to pick out the tree I would be sighting on the way to shore, but there was a line of trees as far as the eye could see and they all looked the same height. The bright sun pierced my eyes like an interrogation lamp, and left me with only one option, stay as far away from the line of yellow buoys as possible until a kayaker swatted me back on course with their paddle.

This was the best strategy, but for some reason it was very hard to stay left. I kept drifting closer to the yellow line and would take hard left turns to correct my line. About halfway to shore I started to pick up the pace. I still didn’t have a clean line on my exit and it’s funny how your mind plays tricks on you. I KNEW the exit was 40 yards left of the line of buoys, but I saw nearly everyone hugging that line and thought, “Maybe they know something I don’t?”

I stayed strong on my line and about 300 yards from short picked up “my tree” and started hammering. I sighted every 3 or 4 strokes and finally even saw the archway for the exit. I was dead on it now! Tons of other people swam to my right and were doing much more work. I was pumped and put my head right on the target!

Three strokes, sight, three strokes, sight, three strokes, BAM! I swam right into a kayak! I looked up at that woman and said, “What the hell?” I was dead on the exit and she was right in my way. Maybe kayak interference is why coach said this was a technical course.

I tipped over her kayak (not really) and thrashed toward the shore. After what seemed like an entire day of swimming, I finally felt my hand scrape sand. I cautiously stood and jogged through the arch and up the hill where I was greeted by a group of three kids ready to strip my wetsuit. I laid back and they ripped it off in one big motion. I stood up to a little disorientation and staggered toward the bike. I was a bit delusional and seeing my coach Robbie leaning on the fence only made it worse.

“Good job, Mike, be smart on the bike!”

Robbie started about 40 minutes ahead of me and in the state of confusion my first thought was, “Is he already done?” I ran by him with a nod of the head, but it stayed on my brain as I got ready for the bike. Did I really just see him or was it a doppleganger?

Obviously it was something to do with an injury and for a couple minutes I was bummed. He had put in some serious work for this race and had a legit chance to qualify for Las Vegas. Later I’d learn that he came out of the water in 30 minutes and blew out his ankle on the run to his bike. That quickly, his day was over, but mine was not.

Swim time: 37:05

The Bike –

This would be my first real ride with a new bike fit, race wheels, and fancy new tires. Somewhere in my head all of that loomed large as I headed out of transition for a 56 mile ride around Prairie Creek neighborhood.

I didn’t wear a Garmin and had no speedometer on my bike. I was determined to go by feel and take my chances with a chrono watch.

I started a new lap when I got on the bike with a plan to ride each 5 mile segment of the first half at 20 mph (or 5 miles every 15 minutes). My first 5 mile split was something like 15:10 and felt like a breeze. That was a good sign.

I stayed within myself and constantly downshifted if I felt my legs pushing too hard. I wanted to spin more than push, especially on the way out. My ten mile split was around 30:10 and felt very natural. Till this point, the road was very tempting, but I held back with one goal. Stay consistent and save my legs for the run.

At mile 15 I was right on pace for 20 mph, then we hit a mile-long no-passing-zone, which slowed me way back. My first reaction was a tinge of anger, but I quickly decided everyone had to do it, so I might as well use it to recover. I loaded up on fluid and ate another chunk of my PowerBar.

The buzzword on the bike is nutrition. I kept hearing about all these crazy plans that take mad scientists to formulate, but I chose to keep mine very simple for this race. I had two PowerBars and I would take a bite every 5 miles. I did plan make a 50/50 water/Gatorade bottle, but forgot and stayed with water.

I “thought” two large bottles would be enough, but was very thirsty out of the swim and went through bottle number one before the 15 mile aid station. I made the decision to chuck one of my favorite water bottles and take a new one. I drank 3 bottles of water on the 56 mile ride, mainly out of paranoia and I think it was just a bit too much.

Anyway, once we left the no-pass zone we hit a ten-mile-ish out and back that was super bumpy and very congested. It was almost impossible to keep non-drafting zones and much of that section was coagulated by one bike coming at me, one in the middle and one on the right. Passing was difficult and a little nerve wracking at times.

But for my money, this was the difference in my bike time. The road sucked and it was easy to see that most racers were not crazy about this part and it challenged your mental toughness. I made a concerted effort to trust the road and not let up.

We hit the turn around and my split was almost exactly 20 mph (19:91). Now it was time to go to work.

I took the same approach, but upped my aggressiveness and passed a lot of people on that bumpy road. The bike felt great and my legs were strong. I started moving the needle to the other side of my 15 minute 5 mile splits and by the end was safely in the 21 mph average range.

A better time was definitely possible, but I was concerned for the run and frankly the congestion made you hold back often. It was probably a good thing.

Bike time: 2:43:39 (20.53 mph)

The Run –

As I hobbled out of T2, coach was there to remind me to “Keep the first two miles EASY!” I was happy to oblige, but as many of you will know, slowing your legs after the bike is a challenge.

About a half mile out of transition I realized I had to go to the bathroom, badly. As luck would have it, there was a port-o-let just across the road, through a ditch, and up on a hill. I looked at it, looked away, looked again, then darted across the road. It was a decision that didn’t sit well with me, but may have saved my run.

I’d reset my chrono lap when I left transition and when I got to mile one, it said 9:03. That included my run up a hill and going to the bathroom. Without that pit stop, my first mile would have likely been way too fast.

As I made my way through the first aid station I kept hearing coach’s advice, “Grab a ton of water, dump it on your head, grab ice when they have it, hold it in your hands, take sponges, put them in your tri top, get fuel, stock up. By the time I hit the end of the aid station my arms were full of merchandise. I was literally using my forearms to hold cups against my chest. Cups, sponges, ice, Bonk Breakers, you name it. Something had to give.

I started dumping water on my head, eating ice, and stuffing sponges everywhere. I was a mess and in my confusion I veered toward the center of the road and knocked over a trash barrel, sending cups flying all over the road. The volunteer looked at me like I was a maniac and all I could do was muster, “I’m sorry.”

The temperature wasn’t bad, but it was nearly noon and the road felt hot. At the mile two aid station I made a vow to train more often in my tri top because it was really bugging me at that point. Wearing a shirt that was tight and hot was not a feeling I was used to on runs.

From the start of the run I had a mild, sort of “on the verge” stomach cramp. It wasn’t that bad, but it lingered. I deduced it was from too much water, so I passed on fluids at mile 3 and four. By mile 5, I took a little more water and sucked on ice as I ran toward the turn around.

I never looked at my watch until I hit the mile markers and my goal was to keep at around an 8 minute mile pace. By the time I hit mile 6 I was at 49 minutes and some change. Almost perfect. My halfway split was an 8:10/mile pace. Now, to complete my plan, I’d have to pick it up a hair.

Mile 7 and 8 inched stayed near an 8:10 pace, but mile 9 proved to be the beginning of the end. The slight cramp remained and I tried the “Coca Cola trick” along with some Perform, but neither seemed to help.

Let’s make no mistake, the run will always be painful, but my biggest pain was an equipment issue. I love my shoes, but they were not cutting it now. The black top was very coarse and every step started to feel like hot spikes shooting through the sole of my Pearl Izumi Streaks. The soft and relatively thin rubber had me dreading each step. I was losing pace and knew my negative split was gone. Now, to finish strong and at least hit the prediction goal from my coach of 5:16 for the race.

Just after mile nine I quit looking at my watch. In fact, I quit looking at almost everything except the horizon. I purposely tried to miss the mile markers and hope I would magically look up expecting mile eleven and it would be twelve. I pulled out every mental trick in the book and focused on a very quick pick up so my feet wouldn’t hurt.

The course was surprisingly hilly, but none of the hills were that tough. The course in general was spread out around the reservoir and aside from the excellent aid stations I saw only a handful of supporters, which was about the only true gripe I can muster about this race.

There were several times during that run where my focus drifted and I thought I may crumble, but at mile 12 I finally believed I was going to hit my goal. One more 8 minute mile and I had it.

There was one point around mile 8 where you could hear the announcers voice teasing you from across the lake, but with a half mile left, I knew my name was soon to fill the air. What separates triathletes is often simply the will to fight through pain, and that the only thing on my mind as I turned off the road toward the finish. The minute I hit the Ironman carpet the pain drifted away. I glided toward the finish line with ease and finished my first 70.3 race in 5:16:49, exactly what my coach predicted.

Run time: 1:50:06 (53:39/56:27)

June 6, 2013

A Great Training Lesson from A Drunk Friend

It’s so tempting to look for external stimulation in this world. Waiting around for your muse, the perfect time or job, but all of that is an excuse. How do I know? I’ve spent half my life doing it.

Signing up for an Ironman has done many things for me, but most importantly, it has forced me to take action. There’s a big gorilla named Wisconsin sleeping in the corner, and if I don’t whip my ass in shape, he’s gonna have me for breakfast.

I’ll never forget a late night after a Brewer game in Milwaukee. My friend, Mac (who coaches different sports year round) was in a drunken state of repeating things, but his message was filled with passion and from the purest part of his heart. His face was turning red and he would not let the night end until his these words were firmly etched in our mushy brains, “It’s not what you say, it’s what you DO!”

He said it over and over to the point where we were all laughed and mocked his over-the-top delivery. One o’clock in the morning and he was hammering home one of the greatest coaching/life lessons anyone can deliver.

It’s not what you say, it’s what you do.

My friends and I have joked about that line and night for years because of the absurd circumstances, but the message was absolute truth. A lot of people talk a great game, but not many of us do the work.

It’s not what you say, it’s what you do.

Jump in the water, climb on the bike, tie your running shoes. Travel, catch up with old friends, plant your garden. Write the blog, take some pictures, start your own business.

What have you been saying you’ll do for years?

May 3, 2013

Crushing Iron – The Ironman Documentary

I’m documenting the training and mental anguish of our road to Ironman Wisconsin and along the way I’ll probably be posting short clips from each of the guys on what it means, why they do it, and what inspired them to get started. We’ll start with Jim, since he is the catalyst behind this craziness and has already completed two 140.6 races.

May 1, 2013

Ironman Fever is Catching On

So, I didn’t go to open water swim this morning, but saw a message from our coach, on one of our numerous email or Facebook chains, that said, “Wasky, don’t lose any sleep over today. It happens. And will most likely happen again.”

One thing about having a training bond with all of these people is that nothing is off limits, so my first thought was, “Erectile Dysfunction,” but he’s a young guy and a snazzy dresser so I ruled that out and asked what happened.

The first response was from Racer K and said, “Wasky almost died.” I didn’t find any Life Flight reports for Percy Priest lake this morning, so then I imagined group CPR and hoped Allie took the lead.

I guess he had a water swallow incident that must have been worthy of posting about, so I was just reaching out to console Wasky when I read his Facebook post:

“Ladies and Gents….. it is officially official. Registered for Ironman Louisville. See you all in a couple months…. and to my training buddies doing IMOO…. lets get it on.”

You gotta admire a guy who almost dies, gets out of the water, then signs up for an Ironman.

March 29, 2013

Why Do Ironman?

So, Racer K came out of nowhere and raised the bar for this blog and our training. Then Coach confessed he’s been slacking. It’s piercing honesty the world craves, and they delivered. It’s also a tough act to follow, but I certainly can’t ignore it.

I’ve never been able to come to grips with my age. No matter how hard I try, I’m always older than I think I am. Maybe that’s what keeps me young.

I started my quest for endurance last January at age 48. I couldn’t run a block. My swim was more or less a breast stroke. And my bike was hanging in the garage. Now, just over 12 months later, Ironman is looming.

I’ll racing my first Ironman in the 50-54 category. What the fuck? In 2012, the gentleman that won that age group at Wisconsin checked in at 10 hours, 17 minutes, and 19 seconds. I won’t win, but I will try, because that’s my nature.

I hear it all the time, “Wow, Ironman? That’s amazing, why would you do such a thing?” And normally, before I can formulate an answer, the person who asked has drifted back to their own problems. It’s natural, normal . . . very human. And, as silly as it sounds, I have had a real struggle with being human.

A lot of times I feel like I’ve wasted big chunks of my life chasing illusion. Something new to rub across my face while dreaming of the next conquest. And it’s easy to say Ironman is another in a long line of illusions, but it goes much deeper.

Ironman training tears at the very fiber of my being. It rips me apart and will slowly put me back together. When it’s done, I simply won’t be the same person, and that is very exciting because frankly it’s exhausting trying to be someone your not.

I played baseball for years, and every time I stepped on the field I lived in fear. Fear of failure, fear of not rising to the moment, fear of not being the best me.

In baseball you survive in isolation, even though you’re on a team. If the ball trickles through your legs or you strike out with the game on the line, you stand alone, with no one to blame. You instinctively pull your cap down to cover your eyes and drift far away from the beauty of the baseball diamond, which is now the ugliest place you can think of . . . and you never want to play again.

But it’s in your blood.

The team depends on you. You depend on you. Redemption awaits, and usually comes . . . if you show up.

The more you show up, the more people believe in you. The more you believe in yourself.

On Sunday, I showed up for my third triathlon. The fact that it was a “short” Sprint did not make it easy. Distance is relative, and my stomach churned. I fought back the only way I know . . . by pounding emotions deeper inside. Shoveling that fear into my psychological furnace and burning it for energy before the fire scalded my brain.

I filed around the edge of the pool and watched as other racers jumped into the water. I watched them swim into the snake pattern of the ropes and quietly told myself to relax. “Have fun” was the Fab 5 buzz phrase that morning and I quietly said it over and over to myself while the guy behind me rambled about some bike route he loves because it “seems like one of those roads where they would shoot car commercials.”

Shut the fuck up, man, I’m trying to have fun!

Of course, he was too, I just don’t quite know how to do it yet, but I will.

The swim was 300 meters, a fraction of my training distances, and for the first 100, I felt relaxed and alive. When I pushed off the wall toward my 5th length (of twelve), I lost my breath and sunk into swim anxiety.

I wasn’t tired, hungry for air. I pushed forward. I kept showing up. Then just before the tenth length, I decided to stop at the wall and stand on the edge to gather my bearings.

I’d never been happier to reach a swim wall and slowed to stand on the ledge. Hundreds of other athletes stood in line no more than two feet away and I wallowed in embarrassment. I worried what they would think, even though none of them knew who the fuck I was, or likely cared. But you know what? I didn’t want to be a post-race “story” that people laughed about at Cracker Barrel.

My chest felt like it might explode and I caved to the humiliation. I looked away from my fellow racers as I felt for the ledge with my foot. But I’ll be damned if there was no ledge and I sank like a ton of bricks straight to the bottom of the deep end! Now I was flailing like a baby bird trying to get my head above water, and surely the laughing stock of every triathlon party for years to come.

Somehow I sucked it up and pushed off to conquer length ten.

Eleven and twelve were no picnic. Form was gone and I slashed about like a wounded turtle. Somehow I made it to the end and found the energy to climb the ladder and run through the door into 40 degree rainy weather. What a fucking great time I was having!

I was dizzy, weak, and shivering. The trek from pool to my bike was about 40 seconds worth of running barefoot on frigid asphalt before crossing a rock garden covered with carpet.

This was a perfect example of a life situation when, in the past, I’d quickly decide to run to my car and get the hell out of there! It crossed my mind, but something inside this neural grid is changing. These are the things I want to face . . . I need to face.

While I may be getting clearer on commitments and decision making, that doesn’t mean I had a clear mind. I was absolutely flustered. I snapped my bike helmet tight, then tried putting on my Crushing Iron shirt, but it got stuck on the helmet! I tried pulling it over, but there was no chance and I was tangled inside like a monkey trying to escape a cargo net.

I took off the helmet, put on the shirt, then ran toward the bike exit hoping I was going the right direction. At least I was moving.

The bike was rather uneventful, but by mile 4 my feet were numb. Oddly, it didn’t seem to bother me and I found a comfortable groove in aero position. I was cruising at around 34 kilometers per hour (I can’t figure out how to get my speedometer language off of “Holland”) when I noticed blue hair and white knuckles as I approached a driveway. Two cyclists ahead of me whizzed by and sure enough, that big ole’ Ford LTD started pulling right into my lane. I reached for my breaks, swerved into the other lane and thought about how that little old lady was probably going to church –and how I don’t have a church– and potentially the next time she went to church I could be in a casket in front of her congregation as they dabbed her teary eyes and said it wasn’t her fault.

The roads were slick as ice from the onslaught of rain and she slammed on the breaks stopping just in time, so thankfully we didn’t have to meet in some ethereal world called “the ditch” in Murfreesboro, TN.

Ahh, so the bike ended with frozen feet and thighs, which is a great way to start a run. It was a legal shot of cortisone that took away any leg pain (real or imagined) I might have had. I labored through the run and crossed the finish line just about the time my I was warming up — which I suppose is a good sign considering I would have had about 11 more hours to go if it were an Ironman.

There is something about finishing a triathlon that does my body right. The dizziness from the pool is replaced by the sore butt on the bike and the ankle pain from the run makes you forget about your ass. It’s really a nice equation.

As usual, the race humbled me. There wasn’t much fanfare and the scenery was far from electric, but something about finishing is undeniably rewarding. You show up on a cold and rainy morning to put yourself to the test. You push yourself to the limits to see how far you can go. What you’re capable of. What life is capable of.

When people ask my why I would do Ironman, I never have a clear answer. It’s obviously the challenge and accomplishment, but I think it’s more about the journey. About how the training along the way brings out the parts of you that might normally stay buried. The confidence, the clarity, the humility. You become more comfortable with your beliefs. The commitment forces you to appreciate what’s really important and you begin to lose interest in petty distraction and “filler” that sucks energy from your true path.

About halfway through that run on Sunday, I was passing a guy wearing a beard, visor, and big toothy grin. He looked to be struggling a little and I asked him how he was doing. His smile grew even bigger and he said, “Well, if you’re gonna skip church, I can’t think of a better excuse.”

Right on, brother.

March 27, 2013

Ironman Competition and The Fab Five

No matter how you slice it, Ironman is a competition. First, with yourself, then against the field. Everyone sets their goals and hopes to surpass them, all while knowing it’s not wise to tempt fate in one of the toughest races on the planet. Many things can go wrong, even the pros are not immune.

The five of us have been training together since January 2nd. For many of those days, Allison has joined us and we’ve embraced her as our “plus one.” A couple weeks ago, our “plus two” emerged in the name of John Wasky. An aspiring Ironman, fast eater, and great guy. He’s also a Wisconsin boy, which gives him more points with me.

We’ve hung out, had a few beers and trained with him on several occasions. Sunday, he joined (and beat) us in our first sprint triathlon of the year and his observations of the day struck a chord with me.

It may have been expected, but on a very cold morning, the Fab 5 delivered its first race performance as a group and the collective results were very . . . similar. John took note and etched some intriguing possibilities. Following is the 3rd straight guest post on Crushing Iron.

Some Food for Thought – by John Wasky

The new guy… unofficial #2 you might say. Triathlon nut, recently relocated to Nashville who found the perfect group of guys (and girl) to hang around with, put in ridiculously early morning workouts while most (including our spouses or significant others) are still fast asleep… and then do it again at night. Lastly, and mostly for sanity, partake in a little more fun than should be had on those days off at the 3 Crow or any local watering hole.

Fab 5 . . .

Even with my relatively limited time with the Fab 5 as a whole . . . I think that I can reasonably say that I have found a group of very similar highly competitive, number over-analyzers, much like myself. Given these facts, I did a little analyzing; which then turned into theorizing today.

Some food for thought . . .

I know that last weekend’s race was only a sprint, and I know increasing distances can greatly effect overall performance in each and every discipline. Take these unknown variables out and just have fun with it.

Could there potentially be a Fab 5 Wisconsin version of the 1989 Kona Iron War? All running stride for stride, pushing each to their max potential through the streets of Madison in some sick, convoluted game of human-running-chess between best of friends, yet fierce competitors. Finally, with one mustering that extra gear to separate himself on the climb up Observatory Hill with only miles to go on the run course (a la Mark Allen in the Iron War on Ali’i Drive), or push it to the max even after 140+ miles on that gradual climb around the Wisconsin State Capital on Mifflin, State and Main to the finish line.

Given the time set forth by each of the Fab 5 during the ADPiathlon this past weekend, it might just happen.

The total variance between 1 and 5 in bike time extrapolated over the full 112 Ironman distance would be less than 34 minutes (and be reminded that this is very early in the training process for the time gap to shrink even more) . . . , or a dreaded flat on race day, back to even in a blink of an eye.

The swim variances applied to a 2.4 mile distance….. a little over three minutes (we know that can be made up if someone has to take piss in transition….. or if T0 just didn’t go as well as planned pre-race for someone like Jim and he might need to make a little extra stop.) Hell 3 minutes…. If some recent history at Kona serves me right, in 2010, my beloved American Andy Potts excited the water at the pier a full 3 minutes ahead of the next chase group and he was reeled in within the first 20-25 miles of the bike.

Even though each competitor started at very different times, all 5 were within 5 minutes or each other, 3 finishing in nearly sequential order…. Odd I must say for these friendly competitors so closely bonded toward one goal.

1989 Iron War you ask…. This article below refers at length to the battle between two of greatest of all time during the World Championship in Kona while setting the marathon record that year.

http://triathlon.competitor.com/2013/03/features/chasing-the-240-hawaii-ironman-marathon_72334

or the book…

http://www.amazon.com/Iron-War-Scott-Allen-Greatest/dp/1934030937

I pose the question to you all, who will break first? Gents, good luck crushing it. I look forward to seeing it all unfold.

March 14, 2013

Ironman Inspiration, Kona Style

Last night after swimming, I got on the trainer for an hour or so and watched Ironman Kona 2011. It’s always an inspiration, but no matter how good training is going, watching professional triathletes collapse can knock you back a bit.

Not only is 140.6 miles an enormous challenge, it’s all relative. The pros talk about keeping fuel in reserve and it may be one of the most difficult things to do, especially if you’re feeling great.

I am still around 6 months out and I’m already trying to slow down. The swim has me especially perplexed.

When I start running too fast, it’s easy to slow down. When you’re in a murky lake in the middle of 3,000 other swimmers, keeping my heart rate under control will be no picnic. I guess the only way to combat that is to swim a boatload before the race. And that’s what I plan to do.

I sometimes get a kick out of friends or family that sort of “write off” the bike as the easy part. I even used to do it a little, but when you think about 112 miles on the bike, and racing those miles, it’s a game changer. Not only that, you have to save fuel for the run, which is ultimately the stage that will make or break your race.

On September 8th at 7 am, when the cannon sounds to start Ironman Wisconsin, I will have never run a marathon. But later that day, after swimming 2.4 miles, and biking 112, I will run 26.2 miles. For some reason, this seems logical.

To be honest, running a marathon scares me a little. Not that I don’t think I can make it, but the risk of injury seems too great. I’m sure I’ll be trained up to 18 or so, but I hear those miles after 20 are the killers.

If you don’t feel like watching the entire video above, this truncated version takes you through the end of Ironman Kona. Joy and elation from some, but excruciating pain for others. The scene at 3:00 highlights a remarkable struggle to complete this daunting dream.

Tonight, I prepared for the inevitable pain by skipping the scheduled East Nasty run tackling the signature “Nasty” route on my own. Six miles of hills, and I had a side stitch from the moment I started.

I tried to talk myself into quitting a dozen times, but used the pain as a testing ground for that inevitable moment when I’ll need the practice. The pain was relentless, but so was I. I hammered each hill and tried to recover on the backside. Still a pain that would have knocked me over 5 months ago, gnawed at my gut. I knew it had to leave eventually, and just as I hit mile 5, it did. I picked up steam and finished the six miles, ready for more. The whole time, Kona played in my head.

December 10, 2012

Worst Training Blog Post Ever

I am having a dilemma over what to write. I mean, I started this blog to track my journey to Ironman Wisconsin, but does that mean it has to be a snorefest? I didn’t think so.

I’m not sure how to handle it, though. I could ramble on and on about my fragile knee and everything I was thinking during my last run, but does that make it interesting? Well, let’s try.

During my last run, my knee hurt a little bit, but then it got to be sort of okay, then at the end, it sort of hurt again.

While I was running I thought about all the trouble in the world, like people without food and sometimes I thought about people with no arms and legs that have trouble running or swimming or even golfing. This didn’t put me in a good mood because generally I am a compassionate person and like for everyone to be happy and have good workouts or rounds of golf.

Then THAT got me thinking about my dad, who is a pretty damn good golfer for being 70, but it kind of bummed me out too because it is snowing in Wisconsin and long winters aren’t good for your golf game. And, of course, I started feeling the pressure of being a son and not buying a beach house in Florida that would make it easier for my dad to golf in the winter and my mom to work on crafts year round. That would be the same house where I could visit anytime I wanted and take all of my triathlete friends down for training and open water swims in the ocean.

All of these things crossed my mind a like a machine gun fire and that helped me forget that my knee was kind of sore, but it didn’t help with the fact that I was starting to feel like a failure because I haven’t supplied all of these rich opportunities for my friends and family. So, I had no choice but to start feeling sorry for myself and using the knee pain to legitimize my feelings. It was great until I remembered that my brother and sister would dig a beach house too. My bro loves riding mountain bikes, and while there are no mountains in Florida, I’m sure he would be happy to pound his way down the beach in front of an ocean. And my sister, damn, she just finished her first 1/2 marathon in Dallas, so Florida would be a great place for her and her husband to run or bring the three little girls on Spring Break.

And of course, Spring Break reminded me of baseball and how much I miss college.

Our baseball team used to ride a bus for 30 hours from LaCrosse, Wisconsin just to get our ass kicked. We’d get off the bus all pasty and white only to run into a bunch of tanned South Florida boys with big gold chains hanging around their neck. It was so cold in Wisconsin we hadn’t practiced outside yet and these guys had 25 games under their belt.

Of course we didn’t care about any of that — we were on Spring Break to party. One year, after our last game, we all went to the Dog Track and I mistakenly put down $4 on a Quinella bet because I had no idea how to gamble, but the race paid me $182. I cashed it in and we all went drinking on my money.

I really wished I hadn’t spent all that money on drinking and suddenly I was having bad memories. My knee started hurting again and I couldn’t shake it. I started to walk. Then I remembered my mom loves to walk on the beach, so I started running and I’ll be damned if I forgot everything I was just thinking, including all the good ideas I had for tonight’s blog.