Warning About "Heartland Endurance" or "Midwest Events" or Any Endurance Event Tied to T.J. Tryon

Last year, I completed my first triathlon: it was the Toughman Indiana-Noblesville, a half-Iron distance event featuring a 1.2-mile swim, a 56-mile bike ride, and a 13.1-mile run. I was DFL, but it was a lot of fun.

It was a joint effort of the Toughman franchise and Heartland Endurance Sports. A good time was had.

My wife appreciated the laid-back atmosphere of the non-IM-branded events. We decided we wanted to do this race again.

So, at the earliest chance, I registered for Toughman Indiana-Noblesville for 2017.

In the early part of this year, apparently Toughman dropped the event, and one of the business partners with Heartland Endurance dropped out, so T.J. Tryon--who had been part of last year's Toughman event--refashioned it as the Noblesville Moresman Triathlon. It was slated for May 20, 2017.

The race conditions this time, however, were tenuous, as the weather outlook called for severe thuderstorms, and they were apparently moving in right around the start of the race. The night before the race, T.J. cancelled the event due to weather.

While many folks were angry--the cancellation did seem premature--it was understandable: the weather outlook really WAS pretty bad. Even if you kill the swim due to lightning risks, lightning can also be a hazard on the bike and run as well. He said he would try to reschedule.

On June 30, I received an e-mail: the triathlon had been rescheduled for September 30. I was elated. I was going to get a chance to do a long race this year. After all I'd been through, this was going to be enjoyable.

In the first week of September, however, I found out that a good friend of mine--Col. Ronald D. Ray (USMCR), a decorated war veteran of Vietnam and former Deputy Secretary of Defense under President Reagan--was going to be inducted into the Kentucky Veterans Hall of Fame on September 30, with the ceremonial dinner on September 29.

I wouldn't miss that for the world. There will be other triathlons.

Still, I had friends who were racing the triathlon, and I was eager to follow their progress.

At 1:23AM, T.J. Tryon sent the following email:

Good morning,

This is the last thing you want to hear, and the last thing that I want to have to say, but I wanted to make sure that you were the first to know that, at 11:17PM tonight, we were forced to make the decision to cancel the Noblesville Triathlon. This race will not be rescheduled. We failed you, and we know an apology will not suffice at this moment. 

Please give me and my family give us a few days to get through this, gather our thoughts, and we will be in touch.

In spite of the conditions being perfect--excellent weather, no rain, low-moderate wind, and water temps at 72F--he cancelled.

People who had spent good money, driven or flown, checked into hotels, and packed their gear for a race, would wake up to a cancellation for no good reason.

Fellow triathletes: do not register for anything that has T.J. Tryon's name associated with it. If you want to race similar events, there are plenty of them in Indiana and Ohio if you wish to stick to that region. Indianapolis has an active triathlon community, as does the state of Ohio. They have plenty of races for every distance from sprint to Olympic to half-Iron. They have duathlons and aquabike (swim-bike). They have century rides.

And they have reputable organizations with years of race production experience to get it done right. On the high end, you have Ironman (Muncie and Ohio), but there are others such as America's Multisport and Racemaker Productions. And they, by all accounts, put on good events. In Kentucky, Headfirst Performance puts on some excellent triathlons.

Perhaps T.J. needs to work for some of these organizations and get a better feel for what it takes to pull off one of these events so he will be able to comprehend the organization required to do it. It is likely that he is in over his head (that would be a charitable assessment). But he has done enough damage to the racing community and needs to, at the bare minimum, re-assess his competencies in this area.

Finally, The Execution I Wanted: After-Action Report, Louisville Landsharks Triathlon 2017

I was originally planning on doing the half-Iron distance Morseman Triathlon in Noblesville, IN, on September 30. But due to a conflicting event--a friend of mine is getting inducted into the Kentucky Veterans Hall of Fame--I decided to pass and do a different event.

So I signed up for the Louisville Landsharks Triathlon (LLT), which was scheduled for September 17. (This made for a much better race than last year, when they had it in the dead of July.) Originally, I planned on doing the Olympic distance, as that is the distance I did last year at the LLT. But my church was having a special training event, and I didn't want to miss the start of it.

So I opted for the Sprint distance.

The LLT, held at Taylorsville Lake, offers a very challenging course.

The swim is fairly smooth and straightforward: there is very little current. The Sprint distance is basically a loop along the shoreline. (The Olympic distance does two loops.) The hardest part of the swim is the enrance and exit--it's easy to slip on the boat ramp. And the trek to transition (T1) is uphill.

The bike features a nasty climbout in the first half-mile, followed by mostly rolling hills--two significant climbs and descents, one going out and one coming back--before going down that steep climb on the way to transition (T2). The Olympic distance goes out for six and a half more miles of rolling hills before the turnaround.

The run features that same nasty climbout, followed by rolling hills, with a nice downhill finish on that steep climbout. The Olympic distance is the same, only it goes out farther.

The worst things about the run, other than the steep climbout: there is virtually no shade. On a sunny day, you're going to feel the heat.

--

My goal for this race was simple: good execution. I was in shape for this race; truth be told, I was in plenty good shape for the Olympic distance. While I had no expectations of an elite time, my goal was to swim, bike, and run at the levels I had achieved in practice. I knew that, with the swim, I should easily be able to get it inside 25 minutes, preferably around 22 or better. I knew that I was capable of at least a 15 mph pace on the hilly course. I also knew that, aside from the climbout, I should be able to get close to a 12-minute pace on the run. Even with a back brace, that should be doable.

While I tend to be methodical in transitions, I also aimed to keep my total transition time inside 10 minutes.

---

I had considered ditching the wetsuit for this swim, given that the water temperature was 74F. But I thought better of it; I had always done my open-water swims with wetsuits, so I would keep it for this one.

That turned out to be a wise move, as it helped me acclimate to the water much better.

The swim was very smooth and uneventful. The water was comfortable, and I felt like I could swim all day. I almost threw in a second loop for the heck of it, but--no, stupid, this is a RACE!

According to the Garmin, I finished the swim in 22:40. pretty much nailed my target.

Coming out of the swim, they had wetsuit strippers--this helped greatly. After getting the wetsuit off, I put on my flip-flops and jogged to T1. I filled up my Speedfil bottle, took a swig of Gatorade, got my jersey, bike shoes, and helmet on--I made a tactical move to go sockless--and went out.

T1 time was 5:13.

The half-mile climbout was as tough as I remembered from last year, but--surprisingly--my legs recovered quickly and I was going full aero. While I geared down on some of the longer hills, I made it a point to attack more on the rollers. That turned out to be a good move.

On the bike, only one person passed me, and I would pass several athletes.

According to the Garmin, I finished the bike in 48:43.

Going into T2, I felt really good. I dismounted, strapped on my back brace, put on my Hokas--remaining sockless--and headed out. I decided that, because they were serving water on the run course, that I would leave my water bottles.

That climbout, on the run, kicked my butt. I walked up that hill. But after that, I ran the rest of the way, even on the uphills. I was repeatedly passed by this one gal who was running a wise strategy. She was clearly a better runner, although I beat her on the swim-bike split. But I held my own with her until the end. I started developing a blister on my left foot--probably for going sockless and not using Body Glide--or I probably would have raced her at the end. But I still had a good clip going in my own right.

I finished the run in 34:42, an 11:21 pace. Not bad for running with a back brace on a very hilly course.

Overall, I finished in 1:54:13. Not an elite time, but definitely very respectable given my health issues and the course difficulty. It gives me a glimpse of what is possible and provides a good measure of where I stand in terms of my fitness.

On the positives:

(1) That was near-perfect execution. I hit every one of my goals for this race. I swam, biked, and ran what I was capable of running. That was a tough course, but I showed up to execute and get it done.

(2) My bike-run bricks and hill work is paying off. On the bike, I came just short of a 16 mph pace. I would not have been able to do that last year on that course.

(3) My swim is improving. This is a pleasant surprise, as I have not swam as much this year as I did last year. However, I HAVE made the most of my open-water swim opportunities, and that is paying off.

Where I need to improve:

(1) Power. I'm not there yet, but there are signs of good change. The last couple years, I've been all endurance but no power. But I've been experimenting with High Intensity Interval Training (HIIT) as a means to get power to go with my endurance. Today, I got some payoff from that.

(2) Power-to-weight ratio. The last couple years, I've been about 10 pounds above ideal. If I can drop those ten pounds, that will get me up those hills more efficiently and help me on the margins.

(3) Swimming. I lack coordination on my left side, and if I can get to where I can breathe bilaterally, that may give me the marginal speed I need on the swim.

But today was a very good day.

Here is the Garmin output.

After-Action Report: Bourbon and Bluegrass Ride 2017

This year, the Kentucky Century Challenge folks added a new--the Bourbon and Bluegrass Ride (BBR)--to a lineup that includes the Redbud Ride, The Horsey Hundred, Bike Morehead, and the Hub City Tour.

I had already completed the Redbud (at least the makeup ride), Horsey Hundred, and Bike Morehead. Morehead had been downright brutal: most of my group agreed that Morehead had been one of the hardest rides due to the heat, humidity, bad road quality, and one missing rest stop in the worst possible section, not to mention some really tough climbs that made the total elevation of under 5,000 feet seem deceptive.

In contrast, BBR was billed as a comparatively flat ride.

For the day, the weather was about as good as one could expect for an August day in Kentucky: morning temp was 57F, with highs getting into the low-80s. With a total elevation gain of roughly 1,700 feet, BBR is easily the flattest century course in Kentucky.

Not only that, the BBR is also the SAFEST of the century rides: with the entire course being on lightly-traveled roads. The only main road exposure are a few instances of crossing those roads, and even then those spots are marked well.

Not surprisngly, the turnout was pretty substantial. The ride begins and ends at O.Z. Tyler Distillery in Owensboro. The total course is 102 miles.

---

We started at 0700.

The first 20 miles was the easiest 20 miles ever. our pace group, once we got out of the city, was easily pulling 17-18 mph. I was barely sweating heading into the first rest stop. There were long port-a-potty lines, so we lingered a bit.

The next 15 miles were just as easy: we also pulled about the same pace--17-18 mph--and felt really good going into the mile 35 stop. My only complication: I got tied up in the port-a-potty line and my group left without me. The next 12 miles weren't bad, although there were some nasty headwinds that slowed me a bit. Still, going into the stop at mile 47, I felt really good.

The next 15 miles were a little tougher, although--checking my time at 56 miles (the half-Iron bike distance), I was under 3:30, better than a 16 mph pace. This was my best split for that distance to date, and it was on a course not unlike the triathlon I have next month. I was happy. But between mile 56 and 62, we had some significant climbing. Not as bad as Morehead, but it was significant.

Still, we all felt good going into the rest stop at mile 62.

The rest of the ride was tougher due to more hills and headwinds, but still wasn't as bad as the other rides. I did have one incident: at about mile 68, pulling out from a stop, my chain came off. Then my bike tipped over to the left. I couldn't get my left cleat unclicked in time. So I went down and got a nice scrape on my left knee.

'Twas just a flesh wound!

Complicating matters, I accidentally stopped my Garmin. As a result, I only got my ride through mile 68. So I re-started the Garmin to capture the rest of the ride. So my Ownesboro ride is actually TWO rides on my Garmin!

Heading into the mile 72 stop, we all felt really good. We wanted to be done, but we weren't hurting either.

The next 12 miles featured a little climbing, but mostly flats. It was getting warm, but not unbearable. We pulled into the rest stop at mile 84 feeling very good.

The last 18 miles featured three medium climbs, but other than that, it was flat. We had a couple riders who missed a turn, so we waited for them. But we were otherwise doing fine.

On the positive end:

• That was my best pace at any 100-mile ride. Even with the hills, my riding pace was slightly better than my Redbud makeup ride, the latter of which was flatter.
• I spent most of my ride in the big ring.
• Even late into the ride, I found myself able to pull at 17+ mph on the flats.
• I had my best 56-mile split. In fact, I met my goal of getting inside 3:30.
• Unlike my Redbud makeup ride, after which I was very sore, I was only mildly stiff after this one. In fact, I had no problem driving 2 hours home, and then driving 8 hours the next day.

My only negative: I must get better at climbing. I am all endurance but no power. Improving in that area will require more power work, and losing some weight. If I can get a little better at the climbing, I will be in better position to hold my target pace on a full-Iron bike course.

Here is the Garmin version:

First 68 miles 

Last 34 miles

Overall, this was by far the the most enjoyable of the century rides; it was well-organized, almost as well as the Horsey Hundred. The course was perfect. The weather was perfect. They did a wonderful job on the rest stops. And the road quality was as close to perfect as you can get.

If you are looking to get into centuries, this is an ideal ride. If you are an experienced rider, this is a ride to get a PR.

This needs to be a regular stop for the Kentucky Century Challenge. 

After-Action Report: Bike Morehead 2017

Going into this year's Bike Morehead (BM), I was optimistic.

(1) This year, they took out two of the three climbs that we faced in the first 30 miles of last year's BM. This cut the amount of climbing by about 1,000 feet. Total climbing would therefore be comparable to the Redbud Ride.

(2) The thunderstorm threat had pretty much gone away. It was going to be hot and humid, but--then again--any ride in the third week of June in Kentucky is going to be hot and humid.

(3) I was in better shape going into this ride than I was going into the Horsey Hundred. While I still was lacking in really long rides during the week, I had resumed my lunchtime stair-running and hill repeats, and was back to swimming 1.2 miles on alternating days. My strength training was also back to decent form.

In other words, while I certainly was not in the best shape of my life, my condition was on the up-and-up. Especially with two centuries (The Redbud Ride and the Horsey Hundred) completed.

But all that aside, BM was still going to be a challenge.

There are four really long climbs (mile 10, 60, 82, and 91), a lot of short-but-steep climbs to keep you honest, and some really nice, scenic flat rides. Of the Kentucky Century Challenge rides, BM is easily the most scenic of the five.

The night before, I installed two brand new tires, and exchanged my front tube--which had a valve stem that was rusty--with a new one. I decided to keep my two old tires, and my old tube, in my spare bags as backups. Given that I already had two spare tubes, that meant I was carrying two extra tires and THREE spare tubes. (This would turn out to be overkill.)

My riding group--which aimed to go at a slow-medium pace--was very familiar, albeit larger than in previous rides. The leader, TM, was a seasoned rider who has led many century (100+ mile) group rides.

We departed at about 0702.

Barely two miles into the ride, one of our riders flatted out. This was unusual. Adding insult to injury, after he had swapped in a new tube, barely a half-mile later, he flatted out again. He dropped from the ride. Had my tires and tubes been the same size as his, I could have lended him one of each of mine. But, at 5-foot-3 and with short legs, I am one of the few people who ride on 650s instead of 700s.

Other than the double flat-out, the first 10 miles were pretty easy.

Then, the first big climb.

It was easily the toughest of the four big climbs, as my heart rate maxed out at 165. (My average HR throughout was 131, but that included rest stops.)

Here's the thing, though: after that first climb, it's not like the ride suddenly got easy. In fact, the next ten miles were mostly rollers, but with uphills that you could not simply use your downhill momentum to surmount.

The first rest stop, at about mile 17, had water and Gatorade, but no food items. I didn't think that was a big deal, though, as I wasn't hungry. I filled my water bottles and moved on.

The next part of the ride was the easiest part of the course: other than some areas that seem to have been carpet-bombed, it was mostly down-trending rollers, followed by a wonderful steep descent--I maxed out at 43 mph--and some nice, scenic paths into Cave Run Lake. The rest stop at mile 36 was very nice.

From there, it was 17 miles to the next stop, at mile 53. That included some nice climbing as we started feeling the heat and humidity.

At mile 53, a couple of our riders were starting to feel exhausted. I felt pretty good, but was sweating profusely. I made sure to eat throughly but modestly, and hydrate well. I also filled all three of my water bottles, as there was almost 21 miles until the next rest stop.

That section was brutal. We had a short-but-steep climb followed by very long climb at mile 60. The two riders who were exhausted at mile 53 were now about TKOd. This was a first: one of those riders was a seasoned ride leader. He was reduced to walking his bike up that hill. And he wasn't the only one.

I started to realize how tough the conditions had become.

While I felt like I had plenty in the tank, I was determined to ensure that I stayed hydrated and maintained a conservative pace to finish.

As a new father whose wife was at home, I had two jobs:

(1) Finish.
(2) Don't crash.

I was doing well, but--with two guys dropping--I made extra sure to play safeball.

Going into mile 74, I had used up ALL THREE of my water bottles. THAT's how hot it was.

We lingered quite a bit at that stop. I made sure to eat and hydrate. I also downed some pickle juice to guard against cramping. I drank more than usual. I refilled my water bottles. I stood in the shade.

Then off we went, heading for the next rest stop, at mile 89.

In that stretch, the riding wasn't bad, minus one tough climb at 82. I rode with TM, who was a regular in our group. He had dropped from a faster group to ride with us. I told him, "I'm slow as molasses; you can ride with me."

Going into mile 89, we were all elated and tired.

We knew we were going to finish. There was one tough climb remaining--at mile 91--but it was going to be easy-peasy after that.

We took our time, ate, hydrated, filled water bottles, cooled off.

Then we all decided to go slow and finish together.

Going into that last climb, I uttered the old Animal House line: "Assume the position!" During the climb, I yelled, "THANK YOU, SIR, MAY I HAVE ANOTHER!" It was tough, but I had fun with it.

I took that climb easy, and my body thanked me for it. My HR maxed out at 142 on that one. At the top, everyone congregated in the shade, got some fluids down, and then headed down the hill.

Once we got to the last main road--U.S. 60--we decided to ride together as a pace group. It was relatively flat the rest of the remaining ~4 miles.

It was by far the toughest of the 18 century rides I've ever done, although I was pleasantly surprised at my Garmin numbers.

It's not because of the climbing--I've had rides with harder climbs. In terms of total climbing, every Horsey Hundred I've ever done has had more climbing than yesterday's Bike Morehead.

It was the combination of what I call the 4 Hs: Heat, Humidity, Hills, and Headwind.

Those four elements--combined--made it really challenging. This is the first time I've ever seen a seasoned rider--two of them--drop due to heat. This is the first time I've seen someone drop early in the ride (due to tire/wheel issues).

Overall, this was a wonderful course. A very scenic route. Every seasoned rider should consider this ride.

A note of caution: I DO NOT recommend it for less-seasoned riders. DO NOT do this ride if you do not have significant endurance experience. I recommend some long bike rides, preferably in the heat, before trying this one. Otherwise, stick to the short distance options.

My only criticism for the organizers: they should have had an extra rest stop between mile 53 and 74. That 20.5-mile stretch was very brutal, and, in spite of having THREE water bottles, I went through all of them on that stretch. Almost everyone I spoke with had run out of water.

I honestly believe that, had there been an extra rest stop on that stretch, those two riders we lost would have been able to finish.

Still, I would do this ride again.

Next stop: The Bourbon and Bluegrass Ride, in Owensboro, KY, on August 5.

Horsey Hundred 2017

In 2013, Pam, my spin instructor, talked me into riding the Horsey Hundred, a 100+ mile ride through the heart of Kentucky horse country. I had never been on an organized bike ride, and had never ridden a distance longer than 20 miles. The bike I had was a low-end triathlon bike that I bought off Craigslist for $500. I would go on to have a tough but enjoyable ride, finishing that 104-mile trek.

I was hooked on "century" rides from that point on.

In 2014, 2015, and 2016, I completed the Kentucky Century Challenge, which consisted of four rides (The Redbud Ride, the Horsey Hundred, the Preservation Pedal/Bike Morehead, and the Hub City Tour).

This year, I entered the Horsey Hundred feeling unprepared. The birth of our adopted daughter, Abigail, was complicated: she spent 49 days in the NICU, including five days on the ECMO* machine.

That blew a 2-month hole in my training schedule.

Still, I had no doubt that I could finish this ride. In fact, I had done a 100-mile ride 4 weeks before: it was my Redbud "makeup" ride. I had also put in some strength work, including squats, in the weeks leading to the HH. I wasn't in the shape I wanted to be, but I was in decent shape, better than I was going into my first HH.

I was able to connect with Dan, a fellow rider who sometimes rides in our Slow Ride Group (SRG) on the century routes. He seemed to have the same goal I had: finish it comfortably. I figured I would hang out with him. We departed at 0630 with another group.

Our biggest concern was the weather: there had been forecasts of thunderstorms all week. But it seemed that we were going to get a break. Our hope was that the storms would hold off until evening.

This year, they changed the HH route, taking us around Midway whereas in previous years we stopped in Midway. On the front 40 miles, the climbs were more brutal than in previous years.

Still, going into the Frankfort stop, at mile 40, I felt good. My wife was able to meet up with me at that point. I got to kiss Abigail before heading out.

Coming into mile 50 (Millville), I was feeling good. The sun was coming out, and there were some nasty climbs in the next section, but this was doable.

The climbs on the back 50--before and after Clifton--were long but not particularly steep. In a sinister way, I enjoyed those.

Coming into the Versailles rest stop (mile 63), things looked good. It was warm and humid, the sun was out. But there were no storms. The rest stops were well-stocked with goodies, including pickle juice, which protects from cramps.

The stretch from mile 63 to 75, which included the infamous "Dry Ridge Rollers", was easier for me than it had been in previous years. That strength work was paying off. I felt pretty good--albeit slightly tired--at mile 75, but I still had plenty in the tank.

From mile 75 to 92, I noticed that my legs were getting tired. While I was doing fine on flat roads, I found that I had little power on uphills. I was plodding on the uphills. Still felt better than I did at that point last year.

At Bethel Church (mile 92), I enjoyed a root beer float before heading in for the last 9 miles.

That final stretch was uneventful. There were storm clouds behind us, but we were going to make it before they arrived. My wife and baby were waiting for me at the finish.

In all, a nice ride. I'm still not in the shape I want to be, but my performance at the HH tells me I'm not that far off the mark.

Here are the stats from my Garmin.

--- *ECMO is an acronym for ExtraCorporeal Membrane Oxygenation. In layman's terms, it's the "heart-lung machine". It is last-ditch life support.

Endurance Sports and the Christian Life

In a time not so long ago in a world not too far away, I embarked on a dimension of my fitness journey that I had not considered before.

Up until 2000, my idea of exercise had always been playing sports such as tennis and basketball. (During my high school days, I played tennis, golf, and wrestling. Wrestling taught me mathematics with all that time I spent on my back counting the lights!)

But in 2000, I decided to take up endurance sports. At the time, I was enjoying running 5 miles a day–I had dropped a lot of weight and felt the best I had since high school–and, out of curiosity, stumbled into the ultra-distance community while researching some ideas about running.

In April that year, I completed my first half-marathon, a distance of 13.1 miles. I hadn’t trained for it, but enjoyed the heck out of it.

Then I signed up for the Air Force Marathon. It was 26.2 miles, and it was at a place I loved to frequent in my childhood: the National Museum of the U.S. Air Force at Wright-Patterson AFB in Dayton, OH.

After the half-marathon, I realized that a full marathon was a whole different ballgame.

Anyone can do a half-marathon, most venues give you 4 or even 5 hours to do it. Most people can WALK that distance without too much of a problem. Sure, if you haven’t trained for that you’ll be sore for a couple days, but–unless you have a disastrous health situation–you can do it.

But a full marathon is a different beast. 26.2 miles.

To successfully complete that without hurting yourself, you actually have to TRAIN for it. You need to develop a running “base”. You have to do long runs–progressively increasing your distance and time–once a week. In the marathon world, 20 miles is the magic number: if you get comfortable doing 20 miles in your long runs, you’re ready for the marathon: it’s a 20 mile run with a 10K at the end.

But the preparation, the training, that requires discipline.

That year, I would do two of those–the Air Force Marathon and the Indianapolis Marathon–and then top it off with a 50K (31 miles) race, the Quivering Quads 50K at Cuivre River State Park in Missouri.

Admittedly, the first of those–the Air Force Marathon–hurt. A lot. I was in pain for 3 days afterward. But the second wasn’t bad at all. And after the 50K, I was tired but not sore.

The training had paid off. I was in the best shape of my life.

After a hiatus–from 2002 to 20012–in which I struggled with back issues, I returned to the game. I did the Air Force Half-Marathon in 2009, 2010, and 2011, but decided to take the plunge and help my wife do the full marathon, as that was one of her goals. (She did it twice: 2012 and 2013. She’s also done the half marathon with me three times, and had a solo half-marathon finish last year.)

Now, I’m doing “centuries” (100+ mile bike rides), triathlons, long-distance swimming, and the occasional marathon. Since 2012, I’ve done a half-Iron triathlon, two marathons, and 14 century-distance rides. (I DNFd at Ironman Louisville last year, as I got pulled by officials at mile 17 of the run, due to my missing the cutoff time for the final turnaround.)

If my back and knees hold up, I’ve got my sights on an Iron-distance triathlon next year.

After that first race, I had someone in my church question the value of those kinds of events. “It’s just torture!” I told her. “Life is an endurance event.”

Paul, writing to the Corinthians, admonishes them about running the race–living out the Christian life:

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it. Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. So I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air. But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.

In distance running, as with the Christian life, success requires discipline.

In the Christian life, you are going to face all kinds of temptation to cut corners: from gluttony to dishonesty to various forms of sexual immorality, it’s easy to cave to those. It requires discipline to fight against the lusts of the flesh and eyes, and the pride of life.

But what does that have to do with endurance sports in particular? After all, other sports–tennis, basketball, weightlifiting, etc.–require discipline, too. What does endurance sports teach that other sports do not?

I can sum that up in one word: perseverance.

In the West, particularly in the U.S. of A, we have a Christian culture that is drowning in various forms of the Prosperity gospel, which is a profoundly heretical teaching.

In modern culture, these are the variations of Christian teaching that are pervasive:

• God doesn’t want His people to suffer.
• If you are a Christian, you won’t struggle with lusts. If you do, it’s because you aren’t spiritual enough.
• If you are a Christian, you will never struggle with material things. If you do, it is because you are living in sin.
• If you are a Christian, you will never struggle with health issues. If you do, it’s because of sin. Or you are demon-possessed.

In reality, it’s the other way around:

If you are a Christian, you are going to suffer in this world. Some Christians will suffer more than others, but this world is not a playground.

If you are a Christian, you are going to struggle with sins that, at their root level, involve lust and pride. That is true if you are a teenager with hormones blazing at Mach 9; it also holds true if you are 50 years old and happily-married. Temptations will come from angles you never thought possible, and it takes years to learn to fight and maintain vigilance.

If you are a Christian, you will likely have your share of setbacks. Those may not be your fault. You may lose a job though no wrongdoing; you may be falsely-accused of something evil; you may experience health issues–including terminal conditions (cancer, congestive heart failure)–that are common in this broken, cursed, dying world. Hardships CAN be a result of sin, but they are not necessarily a consequence of sin.

In Scripture, Jesus and the Apostles stress the value of endurance. In Mark 13:13 and Matthew 24:13, Jesus said it flatly: he who endures to the end will be saved.

(And no, I am not going to go on a tangential sidebar about the question “are you saved because of your works?” The answer to that question is no, but a more complete discourse on that is beyond the scope of this post.)

Paul, in 1 Corinthians 4, says, “When reviled, we bless; when persecuted, we endure.”

In his second letter to the Thessalonians, Paul assures them:

Therefore we ourselves boast about you in the churches of God for your steadfastness and faith in all your persecutions and in the afflictions that you are enduring.

This is evidence of the righteous judgment of God, that you may be considered worthy of the kingdom of God, for which you are also suffering— since indeed God considers it just to repay with affliction those who afflict you, and to grant relief to you who are afflicted as well as to us, when the Lord Jesus is revealed from heaven with his mighty angels in flaming fire, inflicting vengeance on those who do not know God and on those who do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus. They will suffer the punishment of eternal destruction, away from the presence of the Lord and from the glory of his might, when he comes on that day to be glorified in his saints, and to be marveled at among all who have believed, because our testimony to you was believed. To this end we always pray for you, that our God may make you worthy of his calling and may fulfill every resolve for good and every work of faith by his power, so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you, and you in him, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ

In this case, he commends their endurance of persecution and reminds them of the endgame.

In the world of endurance sports, you are going to have setbacks. You might get cramps even if you’re well-trained. The conditions might make your race more challenging. If you’re swimming, the water might be colder than you are used to, or might be choppy. You might get kicked and have your wind knocked out. You might have a bike crash. Your back might be stiff.

Some days will be uneventful, but you are going to have days that are very challenging.

As you age, your body breaks down. That is normal, as we all are going to die one day. Once you hit 30, your cardiovascular fitness, ceteris paribus (all things being equal), begins to decline. Flexibility starts declining. Your back and knees aren’t going to be as good as they were in your teens. This is why you don’t see very many over-30 (or even over-40) athletes in the Olympics.

But here’s the thing: it’s common to see old fogeys–and I’m talking 50 and older–in endurance events. They remain active, even though their bodies aren’t what they once were.

On the extreme end of the spectrum is Madonna Buder, the “Iron Nun”. She is the oldest person to have completed an Ironman triathlon. At 86, she has done 45 Ironmans, and she recently won her age group in the USA Triathlon National Championships. I have dubbed her “Sister Badass”. I hope to live that long, and do what she does now when I am that age.

But what is the value in that?

I can answer quite simply: endurance teaches you the value of fighting through pain while keeping your eye on the finish line.

While every race has a finish line–you finish, you get your medal, and you might even have some goodies (even a beer)–endurance events, marathons and beyond, are a whole different ballgame. Every endurance athlete I know has some routine they do after they finish. Some wear their medals to work. Some frame their finisher certificates. Some collect their race bibs. Every race presents different challenges, different memories.

(I wear my t-shirts for that season’s events to work.)

For me, every t-shirt tells a story.

When I look at my 2013 Horsey Hundred shirt, I remember that first century ride: no prior cycling experience, no cycling shoes, had no idea what I was getting into. But finished smiling. It was after that race that I decided that an Ironman event was, in spite of my back issues, within the realm of possibilities.

My 2014 Redbud Ride shirt reminds me of the nasty crash at mile 16. I got up and rode 84 miles–with a concussion, a jarred back, and a black eye–to finish.

My 2015 Redbud Ride shirt reminds me of the cold and rain for 33 miles. Rider after rider dropped out. But I stayed the course.

My 2015 Horsey Hundred shirt reminds me of the drunken jackass who killed a rider 3 miles behind me–at mile 99–as I was crossing the finish line.

My 2001 Air force Marathon shirt reminds me of 9/11: that race was cancelled due to security concerns, as it was on the heels of the September 11 attacks. (The race organizers sent us our shirts and patches as commemorative of 9/11, even though the race was not held. I usually wear that shirt on September 11. I have that patch on my flight jacket for the same reason.)

My 2000 Quivering Quads 50K shirt reminds me of the hills, the branches I tripped over quite often, and the nice chili I enjoyed at the rest stops. The fatigue of “the wall” was not enough to surmount the enjoyment.

My 2016 Toughman Indiana shirt reminds me of a number of things: coming back from an asthma attack in the water to beat the cutoff time, my first triathlon finish, my first ultra-endurance finish since 2000.

In life, we also have varying challenges, and–as we fight through them–we have a story to tell. And that is an integral part of your witness if you are a Christian.

You are going to have challenges in your marriage if you are married. Even if you are HAPPILY married. (No, seriously.) If you’re doing it right, you will learn more about your own sin–and God’s grace–than you ever thought possible.

If you are single, you’re always going to have sniveling naysayers questioning everything form your spiritual fitness to your sexual orientation, or–if you’re lucky–you’ll just get relegated to a “singles” class pretty much segregated from the rest of the church. You will have the challenge of living among God’s people without developing a chip on your shoulder. Some days, that will be easy. Until Debbie Maken shows up and wrecks the party…

You may have challenges–with which you were born–that make your life harder than the average bear experiences. You may be wheelchair-bound; you may be autistic; you may be more prone to depression or anxiety; you may be predisposed to bipolarity; you may have various traumas–from car accidents to combat experience to abuses that may include physical or sexual–for which you didn’t ask. Life is not fair in that regard.

(Endurance sports teaches you not to worry about others who are running better times. Some folks are more athletic; some have better genetics than others. They run their races; you must focus on racing your race.)

Living out the Christian life in the midst of all of that requires perseverance, allowing God to create in us hearts of flesh where our hearts would otherwise gravitate toward various forms of hardness.

Endurance sports teaches exactly that perseverance. It is what separates endurance sports from other sports. In triathlon, you will get challenges from many different angles on the same day, due to the multi-sport nature of the event.

Preparing for such events requires discipline and perseverance. Being willing to swim in cold water, or run or bike in hot and humid conditions, being smart enough to hydrate and maintain nutrition while working out. And on those hot, humid, sucky days, maintaining your training often requires thinking about the finish of the event for which you are training.

In the Christian life, it is the same dynamic: the hardships can be severe: from the depths of the hell of depression to the worst anti-Christian persecution (think ISIS). This requires calling attention to the endgame, the finish line.

This is what Jesus says to the church at Smyrna: “Be faithful unto death, and I will give you the crown of life.”

To the church in Pergamum: “To the one who conquers I will give some of the hidden manna, and I will give him a white stone, with a new name wri

tten on the stone that no one knows except the one who receives it.”

To the church in Thyatira: “The one who conquers and who keeps my works until the end, to him I will give authority over the nations, and he will rule them with a rod of iron, as when earthen pots are broken in pieces, even as I myself have received authority from my Father. And I will give him the morning star.”

To the church in Sardis: “The one who conquers will be clothed thus in white garments, and I will never blot his name out of the book of life. I will confess his name before my Father and before his angels.”

To the church in Philadelphia: “The one who conquers, I will make him a pillar in the temple of my God. Never shall he go out of it, and I will write on him the name of my God, and the name of the city of my God, the new Jerusalem, which comes down from my God out of heaven, and my own new name.”

Endurance sports are an object lesson in this.

Triathlon Glossary

Triathlon = An event for people who wish to suck at three sports on the same day.

Sprint Triathlon = a triathlon featuring a 750-meter swim, a 20K (~12.5 mile) bike, and a 5K (3.1-mile) run.

Olympic Triathlon = a triathlon featuring a 1500-meter swim, a 40K (~25 mile) bike, and a 10K (6.2-mile) run.

Half-Iron Triathlon (also called "half-distance" triathlon) = a triathlon featuring a 2K (1.2-mile) swim, a 90K (~56 mile) bike, and a 21K (13.1-mile) run.

Ironman Triathlon (also called "full-distance" or "Iron-distance" triathlon) = a triathlon featuring a 4K (2.4-mile) swim, a 180K (~112-mile) bike, and a 42K (26.2-mile) run.

"Double-Anvil" Triathlon = Iron distance x 2 (4.8-mile swim/224-mile bike/52.4-mile run). People who do these races need such anvils dropped on their heads.

P1 = Peeing before the race. Often done in the wetsuit, although many athletes deny doing this. While we're on this issue, there are only two types of triathletes: those who pee in their wetsuit, and those who lie and say they don't. Just sayin'...

P2 = Poop stop before the race. If you don't do this before the race, Murphy's Law guarantees that you'll have to do this during the race, and--when this happens--your distance to the nearest port-a-potty will be directly proportional to the square of the urgency of your need to go, and the probability of it being unoccupied when you reach it will be inversely-proportional to the square of your need.

T1 = Swim-bike transition area.

T2 = Bike-run transition area.

Brick Workout = a workout involving a multisport combination--usually a bike-run combination--in order to prepare your body for transitions during race day. Otherwise known as a masochistic workout done by people who are just nuts.

Mass Start = swim start where everyone starts together. This is also called a "washing machine".

Rolling start = swim start where people stand in line to enter the water. Your time begins only when you start. This method is prominent in some Iron-distance events where athletes swim in a river and the start area is a set of boat docks. Examples of this include Ironman Louisville.

Wave start = swim start where people go out in groups (called "waves"). Your time begins when your wave starts.

DNS = Did Not Start. Athletes who were registered but otherwise skipped out due to injury, illness, sharks in the water, alligators in the water, jellyfish in the water, algae blooms in the water, human feces in the water, etc.

DNF = Did Not Finish. Athletes who started the race but, for whatever reason, did not complete the race. Reasons include quitting (rare), getting pulled for medical reasons, missing designated cutoff times, or dying during the race. On a serious note, the latter DOES happen a couple times per year, usually during the swim, and usually due to undiagnosed heart problems and/or swimming-induced pulmonary edema (SIPE).

DQ = Disqualification. Athletes who started the race but, due to rules violations, were disqualified.

Draft zone = that distance--usually 10 meters--behind a bike that, in USAT races, athletes must remain outside in order to avoid a drafting penalty, assuming the officials are enforcing draft zones, which they usually don't.

Drafting = On the bike, that means following another athlete closely enough in order to take aerodynamic advantage of the slipstream, which minimizes the drag forces you encounter, therefore making your work on the bike easier.

This practice is actually very common in cycling events and is actually an integral part of the strategy. In ITU (International Triathlon Union) events, it is also a common practice.

But in USAT (USA Triathlon) events, which is what most triathlons in the US are, it's a big no-no. If you get caught doing this, you get penalized.

This is often a sore spot among American triathletes, because while drafting is illegal, the rule rarely gets enforced, and many of the elites will draft with near-impunity.

It's like federal laws against mishandling classified information: they only apply to little people.

Sucking Wheel = synonym for drafting, usually a perjorative term.

"That cheater is sucking wheel!"

Penalty tent = a prison where athletes guilty of various offenses hang out for a designated time and kvetch about the officials. I've never been in one myself, but I've heard stories from folks who've worked them in Ironman events.

Special Needs = In Iron-distance races, a designated point (usually during the halfway point of the bike, and the first loop of the run) where athletes keep items that they may need during the race. This could include an extra clothing item, a food item, a bottle of beer or vodka or bourbon.

(Well, not really, but--trust me--when you're starting the back half of the marathon portion of an Ironman, bourbon sounds like a wonderful idea.)

HTHU = Harden The Heck Up. More common variations of this include HTFU, and--since we're adults--we all know what the F stands for. This is a common admonition to embrace toughness, and is popular among the ultra-distance community, which includes ultra-marathoners, long-distance swimmers and cyclists, and triathletes who go out at distances from the half-Iron and beyond.

Athlete #1: "I am dehydrated, I've hit the wall, my legs are killing me. And I still have 20 miles left on the run."

Athlete #2: "HTHU! You got this!"

RTFM = Read The Flippin' Manual. (OK, that's the clean version anyway.) The response when athletes on Facebook groups ask the same question over and over, and the answer is in the athlete manual.

Body Glide = one of the greatest inventions of the last 50 years. Helps prevent chafing. Failure to use it often results in bloody nipples.

Chamois Butter = another great anti-chafing aid. Often used to prevent saddle sores and chafing in the crotch and buttocks.

Modesty = Forget it.

Gatorade = sports drink that royally sucks but, due to universal availability, is very standard at endurance events.

Infinit = high-end sports drink that is popular among Ironman triathletes.

Tri bike = a road bike that is specially-designed to accommodate the aerodynamic position and includes aero bars. Also called a "time trial" or TT bike.

Aero bars = special handlebars that allow the rider to pedal while resting in an aerodynamic crouch. These are a hallmark of TT bikes, but also can be installed on standard road bikes.

Podium: If you place overall, or place in your age group, or place in any group that receives awards, you get to stand on the podium for a photo op. Example: "I made podium; I got second in my age group."

DFL: Dead Flippin' Last. Again, that's the clean version. In triathlon, this is often a badge of honor, as finishing always beats the heck out of a DNF or a DNS. A crappy finish is better than no finish. And if you manage to finish in spite of severe setbacks, it can be a "Peacock Moment".

Peacock moment = a major accomplishment. Whether it's your first triathlon finish, your first open-water swim, your first century ride, your first "podium", a first-place finish, or even a DFL. If it matters to you, then it's a Peacock Moment.