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.
Monday, May 29, 2017
Sunday, May 14, 2017
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:
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:
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:
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.
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.
Friday, May 12, 2017
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.
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.
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.
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.
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