My last post talked about Ironman Louisville and how the race went in 2011. As I was typing up my race report, I started waxing nostalgic about the year in review, and how far the gang has come. We've had a great year of firsts, PR's, successes, and accomplishments interspersed with the occasional setback or niggle. 2011 wasn't all smiles and giggles, but I can honestly say that it was one of the best years athletically both for me and many of the athletes on the team.
While training throughout the year, I remember receiving several pointed questions from people that I've bumped into.
From an older lady at Kershaw: "You cyclists don't look healthy. You're too skinny. Are you sick?"
"Why thank you ma'am! I appreciate your thoughtful insights regarding my physical appearance!" I responded.
From a well-intentioned athlete after a training session: "Why do you ride the bike so hard? You really should throttle back a bit so you can run better". I reminded them that intensity is relative, and my "easy" might be your "hard" (or vice versa). I suggested that offering fitness advice using your own FTP as a reference point is not objective, and that you should always measure improvement against your own performance, not someone else's.
But quite possible the most probing question of 2011 is "Why do you do it?" "Why do you do Ironman?"
Some things are easy to understand internally, but more difficult to convey in a concise response that doesn't cause the listeners eyes to glaze over and their head to bob up and down as they nod off into a deep slumber.
Trying to explain the reason why we swim, bike and run as many as 40 hours per week to a non-athlete is like trying to explain atomic physics to my 8 year old nephew. It just doesn't sink in!
Endurance Nation teaches that part of preparing for long course triathlon is to figure out your "ONE THING". Why are you here pushing your body this way? If you don't have your reason to push through pain and discomfort during your Ironman marathon, you probably won't push yourself very hard and you may actually quit!
To some readers, my explanation of my "one thing" might elicit some glazed eyes, a few head bobs, or a statement like "I just don't get it". However, there are those of you right now that have either completed an Ironman or are training for that one, and this is for you.
I hope you will GET IT.
Ironman mirrors life. I think the journey of completing an Ironman is like a lifetime all crammed into one day. Let's look back on a life well-lived in Louisville Kentucky on August 28th, 2011.
The Early Years - Ironman starts with a clean slate. Two weeks of reduced training stress have left you feeling like a new person and ready to tackle anything! The soreness in the knees and the fatigue of the long training hours are all gone, and you start your journey with a bit of trepidation, excitement and uncertainty. It's like being a kid on your first day of school all over again! However, your childlike enthusiasm starts to feel more like a cramp in the arch of your foot, but you try rub it out while you hold onto each kayak and buoy you pass. Real-life forces you to grow up fast and conclude the swim with a time that is not what you were hoping for, but not enough to make you throw a temper tantrum.
Out of the water and on to the bike, your youth and enthusiasm quickly pass as you reach the mid-point of the bicycle, and you enter your first mid-life crisis.
Middle Age - You've reached a point of stability in your "career" that consists of eating, drinking and pedaling your bike but start to ask the question "Why? Why am I out here doing this? Maybe I should consider another line of work that has less pedaling and more eating. Did anyone just notice that stream of pee running down my leg?"
These are the types of questions that make Ironman so exciting and interesting. For most of us, Ironman will not reward us financially (quite the opposite) or land us a professional racing career. I think the reason that most of us do this distance is to find out what we're truly made of. What will we do when something goes wrong? Will I crack? Will I persist?
It's enjoyable to come face-to-face with these issues and deal with them as they come. Like I said, it's just like life! Our 10:30:00 finish time quickly slips into the eleven and then the twelve hour mark. Do we give up, or make the best of the circumstances with which we're faced?
The Golden Years (Finishing Well) - Twelve hours after we have started, we have become elderly. We find it difficult to walk, even more difficult to run and almost impossible to eat anything solid. We wonder if our farts really should have lumps, and we witness others on the course [of life] who have expired or given up. We want to make it back to where we started...to see our family and friends again and to celebrate our journey.
Ironman Louisville 2011 was different than 2010 for several reasons. For starters, it was cooler. This should have made the marathon easier.
It didn't.
I rode the bike on the easiest ride of 2011 which should have made the marathon easier.
It didn't.
The thing which made the marathon a success in 2011 wasn't just the training, or the nutrition, or the support that I received while racing that day. Although all of those things played a part, the thing that made the difference was one thing.
MY one thing.
I remembered how precious life is...how much of a gift good health is. The memories of watching the bodies of people I've loved grow weak with cancer and stop working...the battles they fought to try to live with a disease that was taking their lives.
My Ironman Louisville 2011 swim started 45 minutes later than my 2010 swim. I wanted to let the end of the line come to me and just waited until 2500 athletes walked by me to start their day. After about 10 minutes, the swim line stopped because an athlete had experienced a heart attack and died. They would remove his body from the water and try to revive it to no avail, and this day of celebration would become a day of mourning for one family and remind us of how brief life is.
But the most memorable experience of the day was coming into the finish. Due to the late start, it was dark outside during my finish, and the lights that illuminated the finish chute were blinding. I was startled by the outpouring of love and support that I was receiving from the onlookers - people that I had never met were screaming for me so loudly I couldn't hear the loudspeakers that must have been blaring at 110db. I was quite literally running into a bright white light at the finish!
I couldn't help but think of my loved ones at the end of life's finish line cheering for me and offering encouragement.
Family members and the true friends that made the journey to Ironman with me.
That's my "One Thing".
So to answer the question of "Why do you do it?"
For me, it boils down to that "One Thing".
And to those of you on your journey to Ironman or who have completed it, I'll bet you know exactly what I'm talking about.
