Good morning.

‘We are made to persist. That is how we find out who we are.’ T. Wolff

I often watch the 2008 Ford Ironman Championships on DVD. I still get moved when the announcer talks about the swim start having a “slow, magnetic approach”. Having competed in a handful of tris now, I tend to agree with that poetic, astute description. The music makes my heart flutter, and I feel the rush when I watch them start the swim. Flash forward to Torbjorn Sindalle on the bike, shredding up the pavement en route to being the first bike finisher of the day. During all of this wonderful footage there are many shots of the racers’ faces. Some, like the face of Chrissie Wellington in this ephemeral DVD, are smiling; others…well, not so much. My curiosity is piqued when I think about what could be going on their heads during this race. If I could be a journalist I would, rather than be cliché and trite, ask about what motivates these people. Why does Belinda Granger push, what makes the legs chop for Crowie?

A run recently made me think of this. We 3 (OFP) went riding for a good clip and mileage counter, only to follow it up with a long (turned short) run. I had some issues (no excuses) this past week, and some of it reared its ugly head on the bike. When we finished the bike we threw on the Mizunos and I was smacked in the face with some serious doubt. This comes a week before I am planning on braving the course at Over the Mountain. Timing isn’t my strongpoint, obviously. When I entered the track my body was screaming no, but my mind kept up its soothing, reassuring mantra of yes. Unsurprisingly I was dropped by the other two in the first lap of the run. My only goal was comfort. I wanted comfort. I really wanted a couch and a fetal position, but that is irrelevant. After the first lap I just told myself to keep steady. A little time later I noticed the 2 swift runners weren’t gaining on me as much and my stride started to lengthen. What was changing, what prompted my improvement since I still felt like a donkey-punched lot-lizard?

It was the rhythm. Much like the Catholics, I was enlightened by the rhythm, however for much different reasons. It was as if my legs were behaving like I was on a bike. Tap-tap-tap-tap my feet went on the track. I kept my head level and concentrated on the tap-tap-tap-tap. Like a magic spell my body responded and started to calm down and get in that flighty state I call the “groove”. It was the eighth stage to Nirvana. Suddenly my body was in motion, musically attached to my rhythm. I could have gone for hours.

The humidity and heat cut our run short and the most amazing thing happened when I stopped: I felt like crap again. It was as if my body became biochemically dependent on the tap-tap-tap-tap. In the great words of Torbjorn, it was as if “you get hit in the head with a hammer”. As of this writing, however, my energy has returned to me.

Now I know a lot of you are saying the obvious “mind over matter”. But there is more to it then just that. I literally was controlling my bio-rhythms through my head. I had the pace preset in the upstairs matter and my body just responded as if being enslaved. To race smart, there must be this mental plan to the functions of your physiology. Detouring from this plan could have unexpected downfalls.

What do you do when you need to groove? Do you count road dashes? Do you listen to music, do you have a mantra? Whatever it is, make a replica and save it for race day. That rhythm is key to a great finish, practice, negative split, and all other things wonderful.

Until next time-lux aeterna.

Race smart.

OFP racing.

-The Mental-ist