So I thought I’d do a post about what a typical Ironman training plan looks like. I must give full credit to the source of this plan to trifuel.com, which makes it available for free. There are hundreds of other Ironman training plans out there for a price, but I’ve always used this one as guide.

In the heart of the season, a typical week looks like the below (again, this is from the trifuel site). Each week, you usually have one complete rest day and 12 prescribed workouts. I was usually lucky to get in 8-10 training session in a week.

• Monday:

• Swim – moderate intensity & duration
• Bike – low intensity & duration
• Tuesday:

• Bike – moderate-to-high intensity, moderate duration
• Run – moderate intensity, lower duration
• Wednesday:

• Swim – moderate-to-high intensity, moderate duration
• Bike – moderate intensity, low-to-moderate duration
• Thursday:

• Swim – low intensity, long duration
• Run – high intensity, moderate duration
• Friday:

• Complete recovery day
• Saturday:

• Bike – longest duration, moderate-to-high intensity
• Run – moderate intensity & low-to-medium duration
• Sunday:

• Run – longest duration, lowest intensity
• Bike – short duration, low intensity

Sounds like fun, right? Strangely, it is.

The trifuel schedule is a little hard to follow, so I’ve rearranged it my own way, just breaking it down by weeks remaining til the Ironman.

I say that, but I really did get a pretty good start the last 4-5 weeks of 2011. I finally committed to going to some computrainer classes and got there every Sunday for the Taste of VQ classes and most Tuesdays to ride with my beloved monsters. The first few classes were pretty discouraging. My first class was a test and I have to say it didn’t go so well. Having a modicum of pride, I just can’t bring myself to coming out and saying what my actual wattage was, but let’s say I barely made it into the triple digits. And that’s with pushing myself to the point of vomiting two minutes after the ride finished.

I found it strange that I was exactly 5 watts higher than the very, very first time I tested 2 years ago. It just goes to show that no matter how hard you train for something, if you sit on the couch for a year, you’re going to be right back where you started.

But after that first, heartbreaking class, I went in 100%. Some of the workouts we did nearly killed me, especially since I was doing them twice a week and always knew what torture was waiting for me on Tuesdays. 70 minutes is a long time for a bootie that hasn’t been in the saddle for a while. Here’s the visual of the one that nearly killed me.

All that pain paid off though! I saw the biggest increase between week one and week five I’ve yet to see! I gained 29 watts with is a 28% increase in five weeks. If I can see a 10% increase each month, I may be seeing numbers up on the screen that I’m not embarrassed about come June/July!

And now here we are. First things first though. I had to figure out where I was going to do a bulk of my training this year. My first Ironman (x2), I cobbled together sessions from Trimonsters, Infinity, Taste of VQ, a private swim coach, a personal coach, an early season Well-fit swim class, a CES open water swim class, CARA, VQ Madison rides, multiple self-organized long rides with bribed friends, and probably a few others I can’t remember off the top of my head. The amount of logistical planning and figuring out how to get everything I needed to was exhausting and expensive. I think I spent 5-7 hours a week just on logistics alone. That’s time I could have been training, recovering, or just catching up on laundry or social obligations. (Note – bonus points for any friends this year who are willing to come catch up over some wine and folding laundry).

This time though, I’m definitely not taking that approach. Having been in the tri community for awhile, I know there are a lot of great Chicago triathlon training programs. I’ve got friends in all of them…Trimonsters, Well-fit, Infinity, CES,, and Visionquest. And I’ve shared many a beer in the past (and hopefully the future) with the amazing coaches in these programs. Of course, my heart will forever be with my Trimonster alum.  Logistics, programming, experienced coaching, and proximity all were key factors on finally making a committment to train with VisionQuest Chicago for this season. I think it is going to be a good year and I look forward to placing the “thinking” in someone else’s hands and just focus on the “doing. ”

So, it is the beginning of January and time to start “pre-season” training and move from a couple of classes a week to six workouts a week (3 bike sessions, 2 swims, and 1 strength).  Notice how you don’t see any running mentioned? Well, I’m going to significantly cut back on the running this year and focus largely on the bike. A few reasons for that…

1. Injury prevention – After so many years of running, I know that I inevitably get injured while doing it. One of my top goals for this Ironman is to try and remain injury free and keep myself out of the sports medicine and physical therapist offices as much as I can. Plus, despite multiple MRIs, doctors, physical therapy, deep massage, accupuncture, and rest (lots and lots of rest) the hip injury I incurred the first time around is still undiagnosed and gives me some trouble from time to time and is the worst after a run. So I’m going to ease off the running and focus on the other disciplines.

2. Biggest gains – My bike time in IMKY 2010 was 8:25. Yep, eight hours and twenty-five minutes. That’s a loooonnnggg time to be on a bike. This year, I’d like to take 1+ hours off my bike time. And I think I can do it if I stay focused and dedicated to really working in the saddle this year.

3. I just really like riding my bike (except in Madison, WI) and want to enjoy it even more this year. Being stronger and more confident will help.

I’m not giving up running altogether, since, well, there is a marathon at the end of the race. But I’m just being smart about aligning my goals with my training and am going to hold off integrating much running until the spring.

One of best things about doing this the second time around is that some of the logistical things that took me a year to nail down I can do in an afternoon before the season gets really started. For instance, since I don’t have a definitive training schedule right now, I like to know what all my options are each week so I can easily figure out how/where/when I can get all my workouts in each week. So with some mad google calendaring skillz, I put together this weekly calendar so I can so I can pick and choose which workouts work with my upcoming schedule.  So awesome in the nerdiest possible way:-)

And then each week I just copy the workout into my actual training calendar and voila…I have a plan. You can now see it at the top of the column on the left side.

I have to admit, this might be the most boring post I’ve yet written. No stories of self-embarrassment, nothing that will even come close to inspiring,  and plenty of blah, blah, blah about watts, whining and workouts.

Sorry about that. No doubt that with six planned workouts this week, I’ll embarrass myself enough to find something more entertaining to write about next week.

Since yesterday was the airing of the Ironman World Championships 2011, it seems appropro that I finally publish my Kona experience recap!

Where to start? It was one of the most fun-packed, inspiring, and out-of-body experiences of my life.

There was no way I could get this all on facebook, so I thought my old Ironman blog was an appropriate place to post my Kona recap! And instead of writing 87 long paragraphs, I thought I’d do this post in sort of a play by play style.

• Aug. 25, 2011, 1:30ish in the afternoon – Ros calls me and says “Okay, I know it is a long shot, but I’m officially going to Kona to officiate and I’ve been asked if I know anyone who would be willing to work in the penalty tents…”

• Aug. 25, 2011, 1:37ish in the afternoon – I book a flight for Kona.

Then six LOOOOOOOONG weeks drag by.

Wednesday, Oct. 5

I finally fly out and have a 7 hour layover in Seattle. My mom picks me up at the airport; we stay at a nearby hotel, and get to spend a little quality time hanging out. Moms are awesome!

Thursday, oct.6

After almost 24 hours of traveling, I get to the Big Island. Once I get to the hotel, I text my buddy Greg Close who has already been in Kona a couple of weeks. Greg is a super nice guy I met in airport last spring who was racing Kona for the last time as an amateur since he is going pro this year. (Note: Greg finished 6^th in his age group with a 9:11.) Really cool to see the race from a serious competitor’s perspective and learn what it really takes to go pro.

While I’m checking out all the bike porn at the expo, Ros gets in, so I go back to the hotel and we lunch by the pool, pinching ourselves the whole time. We can’t believe we’re in KONA!! We check in, drop our stuff in the room, and then head back out to Splashers to have some island drinks.

Ros heads to the welcome dinner and gets stormed on, but holds out to enjoy every last minute of the dinnerJ

Hootie gets in and is ready to go! We all head out to celebrate that we’re really here.

Meet “the girls” Michelle and Stacey, friends of Hootie from the Austin marathon. It was about time we all met since it was obviously destiny that we were all supposed to be life-long friends anyway.

Friday – October 6

Up early – go get coffee, see more posters everywhere of my brother’s doppelganger

Swim to coffee boat – Indescribable experience. The coffee boat is a catamaran that is anchored about a half a mile out on the ironman swim course and serves coffee. So you swim out there and they give you coffee. I was pretty nervous about swimming out there since I haven’t been in the open water in a year and we all know that my swim isn’t that great to start with anyway. But it was great! I felt really, really good in the water and couldn’t have enjoyed it more. The swim is beautiful since the water is so clear and you can see fish and coral the whole way. Oh yeah. Hootie put together a little recap – Kona coffee boat video The coffee is…well…salty. Salty because you’re treading water and inevitably, a little sea water gets in your cup. But you really don’t care.

Breakfast – terrible, terrible service. Hootie meets his future flat mate and baby mama (Buy in to this arrangement: 100% from our waitress, 0% from Hootie). The “officials” have to take theirs to go.

Hoot and I check in at volunteer tent

While Ros is at her officials meeting, we all head to the pool. It is during this think-tank pool session, fueled by cocktails, that we redefine the race theme “Keep your love.”

After some intense poolside drinking, we clean-up and all head to the Kona brewing company for dinner. On the way, I have a quick rendezvous with my bf Mike Reilly. I really wonder if there is a nicer guy on the planet? I finally get to thank him for the voicemail he left me a year ago and take a quick picture. After I’m stop being giddy, we keep moving towards the Kona brewing company, and of course we take the most jungle route conceivable and I see the world’s largest rat, aka mongoose, as we bushwhack our way through the jungle.  Dinner is a blast.

I decide to call it a night “early” while everyone else goes out for more drinking. I think they might have made it another hour before the realized the alarms were set for 4:30!

Saturday – October 7 – Race day!!!

The hardest part about watching an Ironman race is that you can only physically be in one place at time. Unlike a football, basketball, soccer, hockey, baseball, etc. game where you can stand in one place and see everything, an Ironman takes place over 140.6 miles, so no matter where you are, there are 140.5 other miles of amazing places to be simultaneously. You want to be the start, volunteering in 20 different places, in the transition area to root for the first and last athletes to enter, cheering at every lonely part of the course for the first AND last place racer, in front of a TV watching the pro coverage, AND at the finish line. You don’t want to miss a moment of the race, but you have to come to grips with the fact that it impossible to really take it all in and just learn to be present in the moment and place you are right now. And realize that watching an Ironman from start to finish is 80% as hard as actually doing one.

4:30 – Alarm goes off and we all literally jump out of bed we’re so excited for the day.

5:00 – Get coffee and make our way to the wall, crowded at 5:00 am, grumpy guy next to us

7:00 – Amazing to watch swim start

7:30 – Head back to room, get signs, grab food at ABC store, walk a million miles to Queen K

9:00 – Hang out on the Queen K sort of naked for a couple of hours

11:00 – Head back to hotel

11:30 – Work in penalty tents

Saw all the pros come in

Andy Potts almost runs into tent, but does it with a smile and a laugh

Hear Craig Alexander win race

2:45 – Headed over to watch Chrissie finish. Amazing. Opportunty to see her take the title for the fourth time and after coming from so far behind was priceless.

3:30 – Back to hotel for a few minutes

4:30 – Headed back to queen K, cheer for about 5 hours with the wrong sign

10:00 – left my corner on the queen k, stopped at Wendy’s (funny to see ironmen with their medals in line ordering)

10:30 – make to finish area – Wonderful, energetic chaos. Mike Reilly sees my signs and calls them out! Being at the end with Ros and Hootie is amazing experience.

12:00:04 – Watch the last woman cross the finish line 4 seconds after midnight. I get goose bumps writing about it.

12:30 – we all continue to try and be rockstars and head over to kokonuts for a couple of beers

. We try, but we’re all spent.

1:30 – head to bed, happier then kids who have just had the Christmas beyond their wildest imagination.

Sunday – October 8, 2011

Head over to Lava Java for breakfast. THEE place to be. World’s most delicious cinnamon pull-aparts

Nap a while back at hotel

Say good-bye to Ros

Head down to join Michelle, Stacey, Hootie at pool

Hootie and I rent a kayak and snorkel

More pool time

Hootie heads to awards, I nap again in room

After awards, Hootie talks me into “just dinner and 1 drink.” We all try and get a jump start with some 5-hour energy

Dinner with girls at LuLu’s – we’re all still dragging

Head over to K Swiss party – can’t get in and on the precipice of calling it a night

K Swiss party – Michelle and Stacy’s friend, Wit, gets us into the party

At first, Hoot and I are bit bored in a corner, but as soon as we join the crowd, things really pick.

Michelle and I decide it is the single most target rich environment for a single ironwoman in the history of the world. Ironmen (with Alcohol + training season and race over + chiseled bodies) =Happy Michelles. It’s too loud to get names, so I’m left with pleasant memories of Dallas guy, Fabio from Brazil, and CDA guy.

Dance our asses off in the sand with the world’s greatest Ironmen – Crowie, Carfrae (who was getting down!!), and a couple of dozen other pros.  One of the funnest moments of my life!

Sadly, party ended way too early.

Happy, slightly drunken walk in the wee hours back to the King K.

Monday, October 9, 2011

Too early wake-up call to surf

Hootie and I head to the harbor for our surf lesson, neither of us had our head in the game really

Head down to Keauhou to surf – terrible conditions, very few waves and I never get up:-(

Breakfast at Lava Java again

Say good-bye to girls

“pack” and hit ironman store

Head home sad as it was the most packed, fun, hilarious time with friends I love and adore.

Ko Aloha La Ea

 And for your viewing pleasure!

“WHAT?????” you say. You distinctly remember me saying never, ever, never again? You must be have heard me wrong.

So I spent the last year putting a dent in my couch (coincidentally shaped exactly like me) and packing on 10+ pounds, traveling (I had some great trips to London, Barcelona, Paris, Yosemite, Seattle, Colorado, and Kona), dating the approx. 4 last eligible great guys in Chicago (actually dated a lot more, but I would hardly call them all great),  doing fun races (Tough Mudder CO and WI) and watching friends train and complete their respective Ironman races (Woo0Hoooo).

It was mostly a good year.

But the whole time I felt like something was missing. Some part of me was not right. This girl with “what’s next syndrome” didn’t have a “what’s next.”

Yet I wasn’t quite ready for another Ironman. The challenge I had was just not wanting it badly enough. When I trained for my first one, I would constantly ask myself, mostly around 5 am when I didn’t want to get out of bed, “how badly do you want to be an Ironman.” And I wanted it badly enough with my whole mind, body, and spirit that I’d get out of bed and do what I had to do.

But where does your motivation come from once you have it? I think that is a struggle all Ironmen and women have. I’m already an Ironman, so I no longer seek the title with such intensity. I’ve already proved to myself I can do it. Mike Reilly has already called my name (actually, he left me a voicemail which is even better). And I already have the ink.  So, where am I going to pull the motivation from at 5 am this year?

To be honest, I don’t really know. But I have a sort of “Field of Dreams” faith about it. If I commit, it will come. I expect the the motivation will transform through the next 10 months and take many shapes, but I do have faith I’ll find it when I need it, even if I have to dig very, very deep.

I do know that I’ve really started to love the intensity of training. Last time around I mostly just showed up and did what I had to do – either just putting in the miles or the time in. This time, I’m already hearing myself say “You’re here, you better give it everything you’ve got RIGHT NOW.” This time around, I want to leave it all out on the course and see what my 101% looks like. I know that not one single person cares if I take 1 minute or two hours off my time, but I do. I want to see what it looks like when I stop getting in my own way and go for broke.

I also know that it is what I need to keep me, well, simply me. I’m going to be honest and share that I’ve had some tough times this year. There’s been a lot of soul searching, personal challenges, and disappointments. It’s probably not an ideal reason, but somehow doing Ironman give me a sense of control over my life. We all seek a way to do that in different ways. Mine is to commit to 140.6 mile race and take comfort in the routine and discipline of training.

I also know that my last race was a very public experience that I got to share with everyone. From raising money for GOTR to this blog to all the support I had after IMCDA, I loved sharing the whole experience with all of you. And I’ll be sharing this one too, but somehow the time around, the journey feels more personal and intimate. Like I’m racing myself and proving to myself that it wasn’t an accident.

And there you go. I’m ready to take on the beast that is Ironman again.

Hi Mike-

I’m sure you get emails like this all the time, but I had to reach out and give it a shot.

I just finished Ironman Louisville on Sunday. I couldn’t possibly describe to YOU, who has seen more Ironman finishers than anyone in the world, what it meant for me to cross that finish line. As background on how meaningful it was, I have seen two IM start lines, but that was my first finish line.

Almost 2 years ago the first seed of Ironman started to take root in my mind and I every single session in the weight room, pool, studio or on the road, I’d hear you calling out “Michelle Alexander YOU ARE AN IRONMAN” and I would keep going.

And I am. It wasn’t a pretty time (16:40) but looks as good to me as an 8:30 in Kona. My only regret is that my chip didn’t register before crossing the finish line and my name never got called at all. Silly to care after such an amazing day? Absolutely. But I would love the final touch to the whole journey.

So, if you ever find yourself sitting in an airport or waiting around and have an extra 30 seconds, it would be indescribably meaningful to hear the official proclamation.

A voicemail, a phone call, or maybe even a live conversation (I’ll be spectating at IMWI).

And maybe it would even make the whole thing feel real; because at the moment, I’m still afraid that I’m dreaming the 16:40 day but am really going to wake up and have to toe the start line in a few hours.

Thanks for you time-
Michelle Alexander

So, through a little  connection leveraging (Thanks Hootie), I was somehow able to get that email to Mike Reilly, THE voice of Ironman.

The result? Withing a couple of hours, I was listening to this…

What an extraordinary guy that he would take his own personal time to call me, one of thousands of athletes, to put the final touches on making my Ironman dream a reality. Thank you Mr. Reilly, you’ve put the icing on the world’s most gratifying cake.

Really, does life get any better than this?

And the notes, posts, and calls I received after Couer d’Alene provided enough compassion and pure, genuine consolation to last anyone a lifetime. I’ve reread many of the them many times over the last 9 weeks. I don’t know if I responded to each one with the appreciation it deserved, but I’ve cherished them all.

So, enough with the mushy stuff Alexander! Let’s move on to the good stuff! Ironman Louisville.

WOOHOOOOO! I’m excited and ready.  I’ve worked my ass off the last 8 weeks and feel strong. I know that what I lack in brute strength I make up in mite and pure determination. This time around, instead of feeling intimidated by all of the peacocking that happens around the race hotel, I’m simply humored by it.  And as I write this and look out the window, I can see so many athletes out there having a “taper tantrum” (just heard that expression a couple minutes ago:-) and trying to burn off the extra energy. No thank you  – I’m going to need all the energy I can get tomorrow.

It would be impossible to consolidate all the thoughts and emotions I have had over the last year, month, or day without boring you to death.  If I had a dollar for every thought I had of what I should put in this pre-race post, I’d almost be able to pay myself back for all the money I’ve spent to do this thing. I’d like to be able to write some amazing piece of inspiration that really sticks to your bones, but the words just aren’t coming this morning. So as I sit here, very early Saturday morning, all of those genuis, wickedly witty things escape me. As do all the tidbits of inspiration I keep trying to put in my mental safety deposit box.

However, I trust the right words will come at the right time tomorrow. They always do.

The first time I wrote this letter 9 weeks ago, I called it “Are you ready?’ I think it’s appropriate to not only echo the gratitude I felt then and still feel now, but to answer that specific question.

And the answer? Yes. I feel calm. I feel focused. And although I still feel the nerves and excitement, they scream much less and are replaced with a quieter sense of confidence. Last time I talked about my trepidation. I feel only a healthy amount this time and can’t wait to see T1! I am really trusting that it was meant to be. And I’m starting to believe I deserve this.

I’m also stealing from a Nike commercial and believing “Everything you need is already inside.” I just keep saying that to myself over and over and it mutes the voice of fear.

So, I’m ready. I am going to have an awesome day tomorrow, and as my friend Ros said, a “day I’ll look back on more times than you can imagine.”

One more thing before I get you the details on how to track me.  A friend of a friend (who’ve I’ve never actually met face -to-face) not only sponsored me big for GOTR, but has encouraged me all along the way, and recently sent me this. I can’t describe how closely it mirrors my own thoughts about “failure” and what there is to gain from it.  After reading Debra’s word’s, I now think of my “failure” in Ironman CDA with almost a sense of pride because now I don’t look at that day as a test of my physical strength, but a test of my character.  And I think I passed, even without the medal.

Fail. Fail Big. Fail Better. by Dr. Debra Josephson Abrams

I’ll have a copy of it with me to read before I get in the water tomorrow.

Now, it’s time I shut down the computer, visualize my day tomorrow, and prepare for victory.

-Michelle

—-

How to track me on race day…

IM Louisville has a unique swim set-up. Instead of the mass swim start, all the athletes will line up, single-file. It’s first come first serve, so you bet I’ll be there by 5 am to get to the head of the queue.  The professionals go out at 6:50 and then the rest of start at 7 am…sort of.  The line splits and feeds two seperate docks and people just jump of the dock.  Since it takes about 45 minutes to get everyone through the water, the 2:20 cut-off starts when the last person jumps in. However, my personal time will start when I cross the timing mat right before jumping in. I know, a bit confusing.

Race plan (again, I add the caveat that Ironman has a way of laughing at plans):

WHAT TO EXPECT FROM ME ON RACE DAY
Estimated start – 7:15am     Race Starts (group start, 2.4 mile swim)
9:30am     I finish swim, head to transition area
9:40am     I start bike (112 miles)
2:20pm     Deadline for mile 61 of bike
5:30pm     I finish bike, head to transition area
5:35pm     I start run (26.2 miles)
8:25pm      Half-way part of marathon
11:30pm   I finish
Midnight:  Race course closes

HOW TO TRACK ME ON RACE DAY
Option A -Use the “MyAthlete” tracker I rented.

• Iphones and web: http://www.trackmyathlete.com/vemap.aspx?name=051628
• Blackberry and other phones: http://www.trackmyathlete.com/pda.aspx?name=051628

Option B – Go to www.ironmanlive.com on race day, and enter my race number (410). My status will be updated through several points in the race.  You can also call my mom.

Option C – I may even sneak my phone with me on the race and update Facebook when I need to take a bio break. TMI?

Mom (Jean). 253.209.2321

Fail.  Fail Again.  Fail Better.
©Dr. Debra Josephson Abrams
Presented to the Wayland Academy Chapter of the Cum Laude Society, Beaver Dam, WI
Saturday, May 22, 2010

Dr. Lake, distinguished honorees, and invited guests:
Thank you for the opportunity to share my perspective with you on this special day.  When Nick Kosewski asked me if I’d speak with you today, I was at once humbled and honored.  Over the decades, I’ve had the good fortune to give many presentations throughout the world, but none means more than this one because there is a remarkable history that Nick, his family, and I share.

Nearly 40 years ago, as I rode the bus on the way to my first day of high school, I timidly struck up a conversation with another student.  I was born and reared on a small barrier island on the Jersey shore, and I knew everyone, especially those who were in school with me.  But I didn’t know the girl to whom I spoke.  I learned that she and her family had recently moved to town.  We chatted a bit and eventually arrived at our destination, a regional high school that overwhelmed me with its size and with the number of students, most of whom were strangers.  But in one class after the next, there was the new girl.  The new girl was Nichol, Nick’s mom, and we were in five freshman classes together.  Soon, we were inseparable.  I probably ate more dinners with her and her family than I did with my own.  I remember the first birthday gift she ever gave me—as it turned out, we are nine days apart—Nichol is older.  And every Christmas Eve morning, her mom took from the freezer seemingly endless balls of dough, and Nichol and I made dozens upon dozens of Christmas cookies until we were giddy with exhaustion and too much sugar from the raw dough and broken cookies we ate.  And every Christmas Eve, my family would come over and would at once laugh at the colors and designs of our baked masterpieces while eating them heartily, and we’d decorate the Christmas tree and Nichol’s 7-foot-tall avocado plant named Cecelia, while in the background on the television was the Yule Log, a particularly regional oddity:  a low-budget cable channel mounted a camera in front of a fake fireplace in which a fake fire burned around a fake log while Christmas music played in the background.  My family is Jewish, so we do not celebrate Christmas.  What we celebrated with Nichol and her family was, for me, much greater than anything attached to religion:  We celebrated the wonders of friendship.  And nearly 40 years later, I have the pleasure to be here to celebrate Nick’s graduation.

When Nick asked me to speak, he put two restrictions on me:  Don’t speak too long and don’t say anything “too crazy.”  I’ll do my best to adhere to Nick’s requests, but I must admit that I’ve never been one to color within the lines.

Have any of you ever failed?  How many?  None of you?  I have:  I remember many of my failures, but many I do not remember because I was much too young to be aware of them.  I, as all of us, failed when I tried to walk; I, as all of us, failed when I tried to talk (though many would argue I eventually became a resounding success at talking); I, as all of us, failed when I tried to become toilet trained, to use a knife, a fork, a spoon.  As I grew and entered school, I failed tests and even blew some classes.  According to my GRE scores, I should have been largely unemployable, good for little more than working at a job that asked, “Do you want fries with that?”  Too many teachers found failure an abhorrent concept, a fact of life assigned only to those of us who, they believed, didn’t try hard enough or weren’t as bright as our overachieving older siblings.  Failure was to be avoided; failure was to be shunned, and those of us who failed were outcasts.

But there were some teachers—unfortunately, too few—who understood that learning—authentic learning—is not measured by grades, test scores, membership in honor societies, or admission to what others consider the “best” schools.  They understood the truth about authentic learning:   School is not the only place for learning; in fact, it may be the last place that authentic learning occurs.  Authentic learning can and does happen wherever we are, and it depends on failure.

If we’re afraid to fail, afraid to challenge the status quo—be it our teachers, our supervisors, our parents, or our ministers, or ideas and theories and dogma—especially dogma, regardless how sacrosanct—then we lull ourselves into a sense of comfort and achievement that keeps us from growing to our fullest.  If we’re afraid to challenge ourselves and the status quo, if we’re afraid to fail, then we become complacent in our successes and never learn of what we are really capable.  If we’re afraid to challenge and fail, then we do not live large; indeed, if we’re afraid to challenge and fail, then we do not live.  But don’t take my word for it.  Consider the observations of eminent and award-winning psychologist Dr. Albert Bandura, who has spent his nearly 60-year career developing the theory of self-efficacy, a theory that suggests that we rise or fall depending on how we perceive ourselves.  Dr. Bandura notes:
“If people experience only easy successes, they come to expect quick results and are easily discouraged by failure. A resilient sense of efficacy requires experience in overcoming obstacles through perseverant effort. Some setbacks and difficulties in human pursuits serve a useful purpose in teaching that success usually requires sustained effort. After people become convinced they have what it takes to succeed, they persevere in the face of adversity and quickly rebound from setbacks. By sticking it out through tough times, they emerge stronger from adversity.”   (http://www.des.emory.edu/mfp/BanEncy.html)
As one who has spent a life challenging and failing, I’ve learned valuable lessons about myself, about my place in the world, about others, about whatever subject or issue or relationship stymied me; I’ve learned far more from my failures than I have from my easy successes.  As a freshman in high school, I was struggling in algebra.  Although my parents hired a tutor to help me and though I sought help from the teacher who was far more interested in his job as the coach of the boys’ basketball team, I did not understand all the Xs and Ys and Ns that mingled with numbers.  I rightfully failed that class, but my teacher, I suppose thinking he was doing me a favor, gave me a C.  I did not earn a C.  He did me no favor.  I did not know a C’s worth of algebra, and I knew I had more math classes ahead of me.  So I went to summer school.  While my successful classmates were enjoying flirting with the bronzed, muscled lifeguards and the curvaceous bikini-clad bathing beauties, I sat in a hot classroom and studied all those Xs and Ys and Ns and numbers.  Only this time, the teacher was not more interested in coaching or distracted by the night’s game.  No:  Mr. Haack was interested in me and my classmates, the other “failures.”  And because of Mr. Haack, I couldn’t wait to do my homework, to figure out what X and Y and N should be, to get to class the next hot summer morning.  I’ve long forgotten how to solve for X, but the lesson I learned that summer was far more worthwhile and necessary than whatever X equaled.

There was one thing I was good at—or so I thought.  I fancied myself a great writer, but my high school freshman English teacher gave me short shrift, telling me my words were “verbiage,” and I earned a “D” on my first college English essay.  What, I panicked, would I do if writing were no longer an option for me?  It had to be an option because often it had been my only option.  So I put my tail between my legs and humbly met with my professor who took me through the labyrinthine corridors of the English language and taught me how to use it well.

Decades later, I was studying American Sign Language and easily succeeded in levels 1 and 2, but I did not earn the required grade to pass level 3.  If I were to continue my late-in-life pursuit of becoming a sign language interpreter, I had to acquire the skills in level three and far beyond.  So I hired a tutor and spent a year working with him, and when it came time the following year to have my skills assessed and be placed in a course appropriate for me, I fully expected to repeat level 3 only to learn that I placed in to level 4.

I learned to fail at relationships as well as at courses.  When one boyfriend or another—whichever one I was sure I was destined to be with, with whom I was desperately in love—pummeled my heart and left it in thousands of pieces like a romantic Humpty Dumpty, I learned not only what it felt like to be unloved and rejected, but to navigate through the smothering sadness, and more importantly, that I did not need a partner to love me, that my life was rich and meaningful not because of someone else but because of how I chose to live.  I was a slow learner, so it took many broken relationships before I learned my lesson, but each failed relationship yielded invaluable information, and I wouldn’t trade any of those failures for quick success in love.  Sure, quick success would have spared me years of pain, but that pain has been a gift:  It has brought precious insight and empathy that has allowed me to offer an understanding heart to others who are grieving or suffering.  And sure, I was frustrated and angry and sad with my academic failures, but those failures brought me to teaching:  Students do not need role models who seem perfect.  They need role models who are, like learning, authentic and therefore, flawed:  role models who know the value in failing and have learned to move through and beyond failure, and role models who can at once challenge and support and empathize with them as they grow and fail on the way to succeeding.  The lessons of the journey are far more profound than the journey’s end.
I’ve had many other failures in the years before and after the ones I’ve mentioned, and if I’m fortunate, there will be many more.  And I am in good company:
You know the French sculptor Auguste Rodin, the artist who created “The Thinker,” among many other breathtaking works of art. “Rodin’s father once said, ‘I have an idiot for a son.’ Described as the worst pupil in the school,” the younger Rodin was, on three occasions, rejected admission to the Ecole des Beaux-Arts. “His uncle called him uneducable.” (http://www.des.emory.edu/mfp/OnFailingG.html)
Louis Pasteur was an unexceptional student, prompting one of his professor’s to observe, “Louis Pasteur’s theory of germs is ridiculous fiction.” (http://www.des.emory.edu/mfp/OnFailingG.html)

In the early days of rock ‘n roll, the music company Decca Records chose not to offer a recording contract to the Beatles because executives asserted, ‘We don’t like their sound. Groups of guitars are on their way out.’” (http://www.des.emory.edu/mfp/efficacynotgiveup.html)
It’s now common knowledge that Albert Einstein did not speak until he was 4 and did not read until he was 7.  But did you know that his parents considered him “sub-normal,” and one of his teachers described him as “‘mentally slow, unsociable, and adrift forever in foolish dreams?’  He was expelled from school and was refused admittance to the Zurich Polytechnic School.’” (http://www.des.emory.edu/mfp/efficacynotgiveup.html)

Basketball great Michael Jordan was cut from his high school basketball team and did not thrive as a player in college.  Considered the greatest basketball player ever, Jordan has noted, “‘I’ve failed over and over again in my life. That is why I succeed.’” (http://www.des.emory.edu/mfp/efficacynotgiveup.html)

And as Einstein, Thomas Edison, who by many is considered the one responsible for moving society in to modernity, did not begin speaking until he was 4.  But when he did, his relentless questioning about the world around him spurred one of teachers to suggest that Edison’s brain was “addled,” (http://www.thomasedison.com/) while another said he was “too stupid to learn anything.” He was twice fired from jobs for being “non-productive.”  Eventually, “Edison made 1,000 unsuccessful attempts at inventing the light bulb.” When a reporter asked him how it felt to fail 1000 times, Edison responded, “‘I didn’t fail 1,000 times. The light bulb was an invention with 1,000 steps.’”  (http://www.des.emory.edu/mfp/OnFailingG.html)
And there is the message:  Life is about 1000 steps, 10,000 steps, 100,000 steps, a million steps.  It is about taking those steps even if, at times, those steps lead backward.  I ask you today to pledge to yourself that you will embrace failure and make it your friend, that you will cling tightly to the opportunities failure presents you.  I ask you to color outside the lines and pursue foolish dreams.  I ask you to hold dear the charge of brilliant Irish writer Samuel Beckett, “Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.”  Yes:  Try.  Risk.  Dream.  Fail.  Fail again.  Fail better.

Thank you.

I’ll be posting more in the next few days, but in the meantime, thought I’d copy and paste the article about IM Louisville from Ironman.com. Yes, this is plagiarism at it’s worst.

Looking forward to Louisville

Kevin Mackinnon previews Sunday’s Ford Ironman Louisville event

They don’t do anything “halfway” in Louisville, Kentucky – which becomes immediately apparent to the competitors almost as soon as they arrive for the Ironman. Now entering its fourth year, Ford Ironman Louisville has already become a unique stop in the Ironman series and this year promises more of the same.

From the second you walk down to the “Great Lawn” and see the huge transition area set up on the bank of the Ohio River, you realize this race is going to be pretty special. The race begins, for the age group athletes, anyway, with a unique time trial swim start that takes the competitors alongside Towhead Island before turning back down-stream for the last part of the swim. (The pros will head off en-mass just before the age group athletes take to the water.) The day continues with an impressive bike course that winds past some of the world’s most famous horse country, then ends with a run that passes by some of the classic city sites including Churchill Downs (home of the famed Kentucky Derby) and the Louisville Slugger factory. The day ends with an amazing finish line at Fourth Street Live!, one of the city’s most popular dining and partying stops.

Along with the more than 2,500 age group competitors expected to start on Sunday will be an interesting pro field. The women’s favorite heading into Sunday’s race will be Australian Rebekah Keat, who won Ironman Australia in 2007 and has a number of top finishes on her resume from around the world. She’ll take on defending women’s champion Nina Kraft, who has numerous Ironman wins on her resume including Florida, Brazil, Germany and, of course, Louisville.

It’s hardly a two-woman race, though, considering that Hillary Biscay (who finished third here two years ago and followed that performance up with a win at Ford Ironman Wisconsin a week later), Bree Wee, Kim Loeffler and Maki Nishiuchi are just a few of the other pro women in the field.

The men’s field features an interesting mixture of outstanding runners along with men who typically hammer through the opening two sports of the race. Hawaii’s John Flanagan is likely to lead the way out of the water, but will have the likes of Paul Ambrose, Hiroyuki Nishiuch and Tim Marr set to keep him company on the bike. The question will be whether or not that crew can hold off the fast running group likely to give chase that includes many-time Ironman winner Jason Shortis, 2008 Ford Ironman Louisville champion Max Longree and Sergio Marques.

Our coverage for Ford Ironman Louisville this weekend will include live athlete tracking and timing, live video hosted by Greg Welch and Lisa Bentley, text updates by Kevin Mackinnon and photos courtesy of Action Sports International. Our coverage will begin on Friday night.

After 14 months of field research, I’ve  made a little movie about the basic conversation I have when I tell someone I am doing an Ironman.

As much as it hurt (physically, mentally, and financially) to get back on the Ironman training plan, that’s what I did.  The toughest part was picking up the plan 8 weeks out, which is right in the middle of the toughest training, and getting my head back in the game after I was mentally prepared to have the rest of the summer to enjoy.

But I just kept telling myself “8 weeks, I can do anything for 8 weeks. 7 weeks, I can do anything for 7 weeks. 6 weeks…” And now, here I am, less than three weeks from Ironman Louisville on August 29.

The last 4-5 weeks have been some of the most intense training I’ve ever done…

A quick recap:

4 weeks ago: Over to Michigan to ride the Steelhead course.  Had a great ride despite the heat.

3 weeks ago: Down to KY to ride the Ironman Louisville ride.  Had I written the recap at the time, I’m sure that it would be full of funny little anecdotes and inspiring quips, but now all I can remember is that I loved the course and that it was hot! The course is rolling hills through horse farms and some very scenic areas which aren’t that bad. Of course, I now compare every course to Madison, WI which I describe as soul crushing.

2 weeks ago: Back to Michigan to race the Steelhead half-ironman race.  Wow – I had a great race.  I took 15 minutes off my swim time compared to my time at the halfway point of the Couer d’Alene swim. Now, although I have been working hard, I’d say that 75% that time improvement was due to conditions and 25% to me; but hey, I’ll take it. The swim was definitely a confidence builder. And I love that bike course. The first 32 miles were good, despite being passed by all the men. But around mile 32, I came into my own and starting to hear myself say “on your left” more than I was hearing it. I wrapped up the bike doing about 22-23 mph the last few miles thanks to an awesome tailwind. Then I hit the run. The run wasn’t as good as my triathlon runs usually are, but I did my best and mostly felt cheerful, so it wasn’t too bad. I realized that the more “you’re looking good” and “keep going, you’ve got this” and “thank you”s I say during the race, the better race I have.  Overall, a really good race and respectable time for myself – 6:53.

Last week – Madison. Not sure what else to say that I didn’t say on Facebook. I HATE this course. There – I said it. Hate me, try and sing its accolades, I don’t care. Verona and I will never be BFF. On the flip side, I did get a chance to join expletives together in never conceived ways.

This upcoming weekend – Barely crossing state lines to head up to the Kenosha area to do 2 loops of a course that I like to get in 60 miles.

So although it seems like all I’ve been doing is cycling on weekends, there has been plenty of time in the pool, in the lake, on the track, on the path, and on the Computrainer mixed in. And man, I’m tired. The taper couldn’t get here soon enough.

And then the taper starts. Still lots of hard work to be had in the next 17 days, but I’m starting to see the light.