CrossFit Vs Peace, Love, Ironman

Over the course of the last 16 months life has had numerous ups and downs.  It has definitely been the continuation of the ever-cycling sine wave of love, happiness and fitness.  Actually, love and happiness has been pretty much the same, but fitness has been all over the place.  As I return to the life of the intermittent blogger and do my best to capture my thoughts on the above topics I will start with a look at the previous year of experimentation. 

It is no secret that I jumped into the CrossFit (CF) cult to help solve fitness issues.  I too was among the many who believed CF would cure all and all it takes is more work.  After coming off a decent Beach 2 Battleship 140.6 triathlon I felt pretty good about where I was in life, but knew I could definitely be better.  Now granted, my personality is one to shoot from the hip and ad lib programming.  So I committed myself to a gym and a methodology of programming.  To be honest with myself and the one or two people who will actually read this, I committed to a gym that had a triathlete/multi sport coach on staff and I was super excited about all the possibilities.   I figured I would do everything and anything I was told to do and this would turn me into super “old guy” triathlete.  [cue dramatic music]

Like any new devotee I threw myself into it with all the zeal I could muster.  My form was horrible, I was extremely weak (still can’t do more than a couple damn pull-ups), and I lacked the work capacity to keep up with the newest of initiates.  I tried my best and convinced myself that showing up would make it all better.  Square peg, round hole…bang!  Square peg, round hole…bang!  Square peg, round hole…bang!  Over and over and over again.  It started with elbow tendonitis, moved to low back strain, then over to hip flexor pain, and finally to quadriceps tendonitis….rinse and repeat.  Hurt, hurt, and hurt.  

My failed experiment came to a culminating point with being dropped during a century ride and ultimately my first DNF.  Yes…it is still embarrassing to think about and yes, my buddies still tease the hell out of me.   I couldn’t figure out why my endurance fitness stunk so bad and why I wasn’t getting any better at what I wanted to get better at.  I finished all the required front squats, thrusters, and ring rows.  I paid my expensive gym fees.  I even drank the required amount of pre and post workout shakes.  After following the programming to the best of “my” ability, in the end I failed to progress in the sport I was trying to get better at….swim, bike, and run. 

To be 100% clear…this is not a CF bash contest or even a veiled slight towards the gym I belonged too.  In fairness, the community is awesome, the gym owners are great, and I made some life long friendships.  This is “my” view of CF and how it relates to endurance training.  I still love the idea of CF and what it can do for the specific CF athlete and the everyday person who wants to get into shape.  I have seen folks do amazing things.  On a side note…yes, I have read the CF Endurance books…even used the methodology printed in those books.  There is a reason no CFE athletes are winning at Ironman or ultra running events…just sayin’

After signing up for the JFK 50 I knew that I needed to make a serious change.  I shifted to Mountain Athlete’s endurance plans and it made all the difference.  To be fair to the readers and the CF world, I hurt myself by ramping up the run mileage too quickly, but that was my own fault by not putting in the required run durability while holding on to my precious squats and GHD extensions.  In the end, I finished a 50-mile road race with fitness earned while doing specific endurance training. 

The point of all of this is that it is okay to step outside the box for a bit and experiment with other fitness methodologies, but if you really want to be better at a specific sport then you need to do that specific sport for the vast majority of your training.  The other point of this is that I needed to get this off my chest for quite some time and I believe writing is therapeutic.  I have struggled with moving on and held onto a mixed bag of emotions. I initially felt let down by CF, but in the end it is like dating.  You have to shop around until you find what works for you.  During that time you will try to make something that isn’t working for you work and when you break up it is hard at first but worth it in the long run. 

Peace, Love, Ironman

Epic!  The word for the JFK 50 is EPIC!  It is hard to imagine actually completing something that absolutely scares the hell out of you.  The JFK 50 was that event.  If your dreams don’t scare you then they are not big enough….I think Attila said that. (well…maybe not)  That is a good enough reason to jump in.

I came up with the idea of registering for the race over lunch after a local 5K.  You have to admit…that is kinda funny.  While sitting at lunch one of the other runners stated that the JFK 50 was a huge Team RWB event the previous year and despite the mandatory qualifying times active duty military could just sign up.  Since I am not fast…in fact, I am pathetically slow (but I have a big heart and a hairy chest) I figured I would count this as my Boston Marathon.  It was a race that not everyone could get into, but I had a “in.”  Sing with me…I’m so fancy… uh oho oh….

With most crazy, epic, and utterly stupid ideas I knew that my best buddy Josh would jump right in.  He always hates me at some point, but in the end he puts a smile on and signs up.  We ended up with four of us signing up (1 had to cancel due to a military commitment).  Josh, Steve, and I were going to tackle this beast.   I have to throw it out there…there were lots of folks talking a good game but in the end only 3.5 of us put our money where our mouths were. (I will give Quentin an out because he had to work…plus he is training for Boston and can outrun all three of us lined up back to back).  I will also say there are a bunch of chickens out there.  I feel better now that I got that off my chest. 

About two months out I started to get heel pain immediately after running that continued to flare up during the day.  After much research I self diagnosed myself with plantar fasciitis.   I tried everything and couldn’t shake it.  After fighting the scourge of ancient civilizations and root cause of the ebola epidemic I decided that I couldn’t continue to train and basically dropped out of the race.  Josh and Steve were sticking with it and I turned to super Sherpa.  Added to the stress was the move from Dover, DE to Lusby, MD. 

Josh flew in on Thursday prior to the race and we went for a quick run.  My heel felt pretty good!  After not training for well over a month I felt okay.  I thought to myself, “self, maybe we can do this.”  Hmmmmmmmm  That got the brain working.  I asked  Quentin what he thought and he said, “what is the worse thing that can happen.”  Of course, Penny replied with “you can get a stress fracture.”  Yes, I guess that would be the worse thing that could happen.  I mulled it over for the rest of the day and decided to throw my name back into the mix.  That night I grabbed all my running gear and threw it into bags to sort out at the hotel.

From racing Ironman I have learned that you get into registration, get your stuff and get out.  The weird race vibes always make things odd.  After packet pick up we met up with Steve at Benny’s brewpub for beers and food (excellent on both).  Then came the task of figuring out what the heck to wear.  It was going to be a touch chilly but not too cold.  We knew that we needed every single minute we could find to stay ahead of the relentless cutoffs.  I settled with shorts, long sleeve under armor, merino wool top, and my Team RWB shirt.  I also decided to stick with the same pair of shoes to simplify the race by eliminating the drop bag.  Josh was a lifesaver and full of great information.  He studied the race and just about had everything figured out.

Race morning we were up early and ready to go.  Oatmeal with applesauce and coffee got things moving.  Woot woot!  No pooping on the trails.  We arrived at the start ahead of the massive wave and were able to pee twice (nervous pees).  At 0645 we made the walk to the start line and promptly at 0700 the cannon went off.  The start was straight uphill for 2.5 miles.  This is where a month of no training shows itself.  But…It was all good in the hood.  The race itself is broken up into three distinct sections: 1) 15.5 miles on the Appalachian Trail , 2) 26.7 miles on the C & O Canal, and 3) 8 miles of rolling hills.  I have to say…each section posed different challenges.  The key to the race is to solve problems and stay ahead of the cutoffs which run all the way until the finish.  The hard cutoff of 1600 at mile 38.3 was my internal go/no-go 

The start was enough to bring the reality of my lack of preparedness to the surface and the AT exposed everything I had.  Here I was running a beautiful trail on the and all I could think about was taking the next step.  Sightseeing was not an option.  The AT portion was extremely rocky and ended with 1,000 feet of extremely steep switchbacks.  When we got to the bottom Josh and I high fived because we were a solid 55 minutes ahead of the cutoff and feeling pretty good.  Our top priority was to pad the cutoff as much as possible because we knew we would need it for the back half of the race. 

The tow-path along the canal was beautiful and flat.  We quickly went through the aid stations to keep ahead of the clock.  I would fill my shirt up with food and eat while running.  I was given the advice to eat as much as possible to make sure you don’t bonk.  Well, I ate too much at the beginning and spent hours feeling sick and throwing up in my mouth (chunky).   At aid station 38.3 is the infamous red velvet cake…it was worth 38.3 miles.  Like I said earlier this was my internal go/no-go point.  I was going to take a hard look at how I felt and most importantly how I was affecting both Josh and Steve.  While inhaling the cake, with 2 waters and 1 coke I decided that I was okay and we were still about 40 minutes to go the good.  Time to press.

Coming off the tow-path I had this thought process that the race would mellow out and it would be a ton more maneagble.  Well…that was a lie.  The giant hill that met us at the transition point brought things back to reality.  This race was by no means over.  It came down to running light pole to light pole and doing a ton of math to make sure we were still okay.  15-minute miles became a tough goal and with each mile we slowly got closer and closer.  Josh pushed us along until the absolute end.  At 11:40:57 (6:40:57 PM) we crossed the finish line.  It is hard to explain what it feels like to accomplish something that seemed so insurmountable.  Best of all…I was able to experience it with two great guys.  Josh and Steve…you guys rock (like Van Halen)!!!!  Motto for the race...there is no quit in these bones.

Party on!