Michael Levin
Vibrant Life
As I look at the front tire on my racing bike, I discover that my twin 3-year-old sons have removed the bolt and spring that holds the wheel in place. In other words, I've trained for months, packed all my gear into my car, gotten up at 4:45 a.m. so that I could be here by 5:45, and it looks like I'm not going anywhere.
But the real question is: What's a slow, slightly overweight 46-year-old doing entering the Carlsbad (California) Triathlon?
When most people think of triathlons—events that combine swimming, bicycling, and running—they imagine Ironman contests of strength and endurance that originated in Hawaii and now take place all over the world. In an Ironman triathlon you swim 2.4 miles, bicycle 112 miles and then run a full 26.2-mile marathon.
Yet many may not be aware that shorter-distance triathlons take place throughout the year in many parts of the world. The shortest triathlons are called "sprint-distance triathlons" and cover about a quarter of the ground of their much larger cousins. Typically, such events involve an ocean, lake, or river swim of a half mile; a bicycle ride of 15 to 20 miles; followed by a run of three to four miles.
A triathlon actually consists of five events—the swim, T1 (transition from swimwear to bike gear), the bicycle component of the race, T2 (transition from hiking to running), and the run. Books, websites, and magazines are devoted to showing the novice triathlete how to prepare for each of the three athletic portions of the race and for the transitions as well.
The Possible Dream
When I started triathlons, I had just turned 44. My wife and I had gotten married three years earlier and had subsequently produced a honeymoon baby girl and twin boys. As I do now, I owned my own business, a ghostwriting and coaching service. This meant that my time was my own so I could schedule my race training around my family and work responsibilities.
I mention family and work because I want to make a point. It's possible—no matter how busy your life—to train for and compete in triathlons. This is true even if you're starting at a relatively advanced age as I did. You don't have to be Olympics-bound either.
I've got more body fat on me than any 20 other triathletes. I'm also speed-challenged and tend to finish way in the back of the pack. But that's not the point. The simple fact is that I found it possible to train for, enter, and complete triathlons—and a couple marathons along the way—despite the fact that at first glance (and second and third), I don't have the time or body for that type of racing.
Triathlon Training
If you can find an hour a day for exercise, you've got all the time you need to prepare for a triathlon. The simplest schedule, recommended by many triathlon experts, is to alternate your training: Run, bike, swim, run, bike, swim, then rest on the seventh day.
They say that the hardest thing for a triathlete to do is take a day off because with three sports to master, you feel like you should always be out there doing something. But giving your body some downtime is absolutely essential.
Much of competing in a triathlon has to do with conservation of strength. When swimming, you need to know the most efficient ways to pull yourself through the water with your arms so you can save your legs for the hiking and running. On your bike, you need to know how to pull up with your legs instead of pumping down so you can save your running muscles for the run. It's quite exciting to get coached and learn the latest techniques in each of the three sports.
Another important triathlon technique is called "bricking," which means combining one or more activities in a single workout. You hit the pool, get in your laps, then jump on your bike. Or you start off your exercise session hiking, then transition to running; either outdoors—if weather permits—or on the treadmill. Bricking gives your body a chance to get used to the physical transitions you'll make on race day.
The transitions themselves require preparation. First, you've got to have gear—goggles and wet suit (depending on your climate) for the swim; bicycle, bike shoes, helmet and sunglasses for the bike portion of the race; running shoes for the run.
Race Day
The weeks quickly tick by, and the big day approaches. So here I am in Carlsbad, primed for a new triathlon challenge. That's when I notice the missing part of my bicycle. Am I finished before I begin?
The answer is no. A mobile bike repair business, "Wheels on Wheels," has set up shop at the race site. Its owner, Dan, sees my plight, takes pity on me, and loans me the part I'm missing. He doesn't ask for a deposit or my driver's license or anything. He just hands me the part and tells me it would be great if I returned it when I'm done since it costs $30.
My Day is Saved
Dan's thoughtfulness typifies the triathlon community. It's a bunch of people who love the thrill of the race, the challenge of the multi-sport experience, and the camaraderie of likeminded, fit individuals.
It's inspiring for me to be a part of the whole thing. I'm thrilled by the sight of the incredibly fast 20-year-olds who are sprinting into the end of the run course even as I'm getting out of the water. I'm also excited to see individuals in their 60s, 70s, and even 80s lining up for the three-part event.
On Course
The horn sounds. You run down the beach to the ocean, dive into the waves, heart pounding. You round the first buoy, then the second, the third, fourth, and fifth. Suddenly you're headed for the shore. You run up the beach, strip out of your wet suit at the transition area, climb into your hiking gear, and hit the trail. Fifteen miles later, you head back to the transition area, dismount, take a swig of water or sports drink, slip into your running shoes, and start the run. Three miles later you see the sweetest word in the triathlete's vocabulary: FINISH.
Is it too much of a stretch, too corny, to say that life is a triathlon? After all, both are about body, mind and spirit. Neglect one and the others suffer. In life, as in triathlons, the race isn't always to the swiftest. It's to those who pray for balance, who show up prepared, who want to enjoy themselves, and who accept the grace that awaits us if we seek it, typified by Dan the bicycle man's open-handed kindness.
The race is on, whether we know it or not. Success is showing up and making a committed run as we move through life's events and transitions. At the end of the race comes the reward: a voice saying, "Well done, my good and faithful servant."
Thursday, June 16, 2011
4 Keys to Ironman Execution
By Rich Strauss
Endurance Nation
Execution, not Fitness
All you've done for 9 months is build a vehicle. Ironman racing is about how you DRIVE that vehicle, it is NOT about the vehicle. The majority of athletes on race day are fitness-focused (look at my T-shirt, look at my abs/veins/etc, look at how fast I can go in the first hour of the bike, etc.)
It's easy to get caught up in the buzz and energy of the day, but creating and sticking to the right plan for you is the only thing that will lead to the best possible day.
The Line
Nothing on race day really matters until you reach The Line on the run. The Line is the point at which continuing becomes very, very difficult. You define success as simply not slowing down at The Line. EVERYTHING before The Line is simply about creating conditions for success for when the Line comes to you. Additional Kool-Aid flavored thoughts we'd like to put in your head regarding this point are:
• A successful race = a good run. There is no such thing as a good bike followed by bad run, period. In our world, if you showed up with solid run fitness, had a "good" bike and a poor run, we will ALWAYS assume you messed up your bike pacing, until proven otherwise.
• If you think you can ride faster than we're telling you, prove it by running well off the bike.
• Ride your "should" bike split versus your "could" bike split. Your Could split is what you tell your friends you could ride on a good day, when you're out together for your Saturday ride. If you say you "could ride a 5:50," your Should split is likely 6:00 and is defined as the bike split that yields a good run (see above bullets).
• In our experience, 80-90 percent of the Ironman field doesn't know how to race. If you find yourself doing the opposite of everyone else, you're doing the right thing. If Jimmy is "king of this random hill" at mile 46 of the bike...don't join him! Lots of people passing you in the first 40 miles? That's good, don't join in. Going backwards through the field on a hill? Great!
• Think you made the mistake of riding too easy? You now have 26 miles to fix that mistake. Make the mistake of riding too hard? That mistake now has 26 miles to express itself, to the tune of X miles at 17-18′ walking pace vs X miles at 8-12′ running pace. Do the math. How great is that bike split going to look as you are walking/shuffling the last 10 miles of the run? The Ironman run course is littered with fit dudes walking and talking about what a great bike split they had. Don't join them.
• Every time you feel yourself about to roll the dice and race, look at where you are. Are you at The Line / Mile 18? If not, please stick to the plan!
The Box
All day long you are going to race inside a box defined by what you can control. Ask yourself "What do I need to do right NOW to create the conditions for success at The Line? Is what I'm doing right now counter to this goal? From what we've seen first hand on the Ironman courses, we believe you should ask yourself "Am I participating in some short-term tactical gratification?" If yes, STOP!!
On the swim, the Box is the space your body occupies in the water: focus on your form and the rest will come. On the bike, the box is probably about one aid station long. On the run, the box begins as 2-3 aid stations long but often diminishes to "from here to the next lampost/manhole cover/mail box."
Regardless:
• Keep the box as big as you can for as long as you can.
• Keep in the box only the things you can control. Let go of the rest.
• Exercise this decision-making process inside your box: Observe the situation, Orient yourself to a possible course of action, Decide on a course of action, Act (OODA Loop).
The One Thing
If you swallowed the Kool-Aid we're serving you here, you will show up at the Line, in your Box, ready to get 'er done and simply not slow down. But we're not done yet. There is still some psychological stuff you need to address. During the course of your race day, expect your body to have a conversation with your mind:
"Look, Mind, you've had me out here slogging away for 132 miles. This is really starting to get old and very painful. You need to give me a good reason to keep going forward. If you don't have one, I'm gonna slow down and you can't stop me!"
Before the race ask yourself "Why am I doing Ironman?" Your goal here is to determine what is the One Thing that put you in this race. To finish in the daylight with a smile on your face? To run a 4:10? To honor your family or a loved one?
Whatever your One Thing is, be absolutely clear and rehearse your mind/body debate beforehand. Be warned: your body can be a helluva good negotiator at mile 18, especially if your mind hasn't prepared its rebuttal arguments beforehand.
What have we not talked about so far? The things you are likely most torqued about: heart rate, pace, speed, watts, how to eat, what to drink, etc. We believe that if you can keep yourself focused on the Four Keys above, the rest of the day is relatively simple and you don't need to worry about these relatively small details. In other words, all the whizbang guidance in the world can't help you if don't have your mind right about the Four Keys above.
But because you're a Type A Triathlete and you want the details, here they are:
• The Swim: Swim only as fast as your ability to maintain form. When you feel your form go, slow down. Counting strokes is an excellent technique for bringing your mind out of the race and into the Box of maintaining your form.
• The Bike: JRA (Just Ride Along) for about 45-60 miles. Then shift from JRA to Easy (5:45+ should split) to Steady (sub 5:45 should split). Gauge how well you're doing by how well you're NOT doing what everyone else is doing.
• The Run: Jog for 4-6 miles, with a jogging, do-no-harm pace and heart rate cap. Jogging is defined as a pace you could sustain for hours if we kept feeding you. After 4-6 miles, shift from jogging to "running," running comfortably, getting what you need, and preparing yourself for the Line, where things become very uncomfortable. At the Line, just suck it up and get 'er done.
That's it, that's as complicated as racing Ironman needs to be and we can't say it any more simply. We've basically given you a Vegas betting strategy, having managed and observed many rolls of the dice through our experience as Ironman coaches leading a team of 400 long course athletes. If you can keep a macro-level focus, the little things will fall into place and you will have a good day. But as you stray towards the Ricky Racer side of the execution scale, you begin to rattle the dice.
Endurance Nation
Execution, not Fitness
All you've done for 9 months is build a vehicle. Ironman racing is about how you DRIVE that vehicle, it is NOT about the vehicle. The majority of athletes on race day are fitness-focused (look at my T-shirt, look at my abs/veins/etc, look at how fast I can go in the first hour of the bike, etc.)
It's easy to get caught up in the buzz and energy of the day, but creating and sticking to the right plan for you is the only thing that will lead to the best possible day.
The Line
Nothing on race day really matters until you reach The Line on the run. The Line is the point at which continuing becomes very, very difficult. You define success as simply not slowing down at The Line. EVERYTHING before The Line is simply about creating conditions for success for when the Line comes to you. Additional Kool-Aid flavored thoughts we'd like to put in your head regarding this point are:
• A successful race = a good run. There is no such thing as a good bike followed by bad run, period. In our world, if you showed up with solid run fitness, had a "good" bike and a poor run, we will ALWAYS assume you messed up your bike pacing, until proven otherwise.
• If you think you can ride faster than we're telling you, prove it by running well off the bike.
• Ride your "should" bike split versus your "could" bike split. Your Could split is what you tell your friends you could ride on a good day, when you're out together for your Saturday ride. If you say you "could ride a 5:50," your Should split is likely 6:00 and is defined as the bike split that yields a good run (see above bullets).
• In our experience, 80-90 percent of the Ironman field doesn't know how to race. If you find yourself doing the opposite of everyone else, you're doing the right thing. If Jimmy is "king of this random hill" at mile 46 of the bike...don't join him! Lots of people passing you in the first 40 miles? That's good, don't join in. Going backwards through the field on a hill? Great!
• Think you made the mistake of riding too easy? You now have 26 miles to fix that mistake. Make the mistake of riding too hard? That mistake now has 26 miles to express itself, to the tune of X miles at 17-18′ walking pace vs X miles at 8-12′ running pace. Do the math. How great is that bike split going to look as you are walking/shuffling the last 10 miles of the run? The Ironman run course is littered with fit dudes walking and talking about what a great bike split they had. Don't join them.
• Every time you feel yourself about to roll the dice and race, look at where you are. Are you at The Line / Mile 18? If not, please stick to the plan!
The Box
All day long you are going to race inside a box defined by what you can control. Ask yourself "What do I need to do right NOW to create the conditions for success at The Line? Is what I'm doing right now counter to this goal? From what we've seen first hand on the Ironman courses, we believe you should ask yourself "Am I participating in some short-term tactical gratification?" If yes, STOP!!
On the swim, the Box is the space your body occupies in the water: focus on your form and the rest will come. On the bike, the box is probably about one aid station long. On the run, the box begins as 2-3 aid stations long but often diminishes to "from here to the next lampost/manhole cover/mail box."
Regardless:
• Keep the box as big as you can for as long as you can.
• Keep in the box only the things you can control. Let go of the rest.
• Exercise this decision-making process inside your box: Observe the situation, Orient yourself to a possible course of action, Decide on a course of action, Act (OODA Loop).
The One Thing
If you swallowed the Kool-Aid we're serving you here, you will show up at the Line, in your Box, ready to get 'er done and simply not slow down. But we're not done yet. There is still some psychological stuff you need to address. During the course of your race day, expect your body to have a conversation with your mind:
"Look, Mind, you've had me out here slogging away for 132 miles. This is really starting to get old and very painful. You need to give me a good reason to keep going forward. If you don't have one, I'm gonna slow down and you can't stop me!"
Before the race ask yourself "Why am I doing Ironman?" Your goal here is to determine what is the One Thing that put you in this race. To finish in the daylight with a smile on your face? To run a 4:10? To honor your family or a loved one?
Whatever your One Thing is, be absolutely clear and rehearse your mind/body debate beforehand. Be warned: your body can be a helluva good negotiator at mile 18, especially if your mind hasn't prepared its rebuttal arguments beforehand.
What have we not talked about so far? The things you are likely most torqued about: heart rate, pace, speed, watts, how to eat, what to drink, etc. We believe that if you can keep yourself focused on the Four Keys above, the rest of the day is relatively simple and you don't need to worry about these relatively small details. In other words, all the whizbang guidance in the world can't help you if don't have your mind right about the Four Keys above.
But because you're a Type A Triathlete and you want the details, here they are:
• The Swim: Swim only as fast as your ability to maintain form. When you feel your form go, slow down. Counting strokes is an excellent technique for bringing your mind out of the race and into the Box of maintaining your form.
• The Bike: JRA (Just Ride Along) for about 45-60 miles. Then shift from JRA to Easy (5:45+ should split) to Steady (sub 5:45 should split). Gauge how well you're doing by how well you're NOT doing what everyone else is doing.
• The Run: Jog for 4-6 miles, with a jogging, do-no-harm pace and heart rate cap. Jogging is defined as a pace you could sustain for hours if we kept feeding you. After 4-6 miles, shift from jogging to "running," running comfortably, getting what you need, and preparing yourself for the Line, where things become very uncomfortable. At the Line, just suck it up and get 'er done.
That's it, that's as complicated as racing Ironman needs to be and we can't say it any more simply. We've basically given you a Vegas betting strategy, having managed and observed many rolls of the dice through our experience as Ironman coaches leading a team of 400 long course athletes. If you can keep a macro-level focus, the little things will fall into place and you will have a good day. But as you stray towards the Ricky Racer side of the execution scale, you begin to rattle the dice.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)