Matt Fitzgerald's Iron War - the BIGgest race

Matt Fitzgerald’s Iron War is a terrific book, a great story, and a prologue of man all in one.

It’s the story of a BIG race in more ways than one.

Iron War is a book that Matt poured his heart and soul into to tell a story. In that sense it is a book by a man.  The story is about two men and a race - a storyline built over many years, thousands of kilometres, and countless emotions, and culminated in the Hawaii Ironman Triathlon Championship in 1989. In this sense it is a story of two competitors and one intuitive, defining moment. Ultimately, Iron War portrays the journey of man – in a world that is becoming smaller and smaller, yet less communicative – how collective and individual meaning can be sought through athletic and endurance endeavours.

Matt’s relationship with writing and his dad, and fitness, running and triathlons has a long and impressive history. Matt uses his skills and a variety of resources – personal interviews and conversations, magazine articles, books, and radio and television productions – to put you in the shoes of two of triathlon forefathers and champions as they develop as athletes and mature into men.

Iron War covers the history and development of triathlon – and it’s movers and shakers – in detail I’ve neither seen nor heard elsewhere. Matt put’s to rest some of the myths regarding the inaugural Ironman triathlon, highlights the evolution of the USTS through, firstly, San Diego, and how though these, the popularity, marketing and organization of triathlon events sowed the seeds for what is now a worldwide recreational and competitive phenomenon.

Matt artfully tells the story of Iron War’s two protagonists – Dave ‘The Man’ Scott, and Mark ‘Grip’ Allen. He dives into their history and their relationships. He highlights their sporting achievements and personal journeys, and how they bring each man to a single, defining moment 2 miles from the finish line. He follows Scott, through a childhood of racing buses to school by bike and on foot, through an adolescence of swimming, water-polo and weight training, on a continual quest to discover his physical, mental and emotional limits – limits tested at all extremes. Scott’s challenge was much about Nature, and the gifts given to us by Mother Nature and her brother, Time.

Allen’s upbringing is followed as closely, nearly draft-legal. Self-doubt, a crucifying painful inner-voice, and a father that had next to no interest in nor intimate relationship with, accompanied Allen through a journey of continually seeking approval (and proof to himself). From dog-paddling across a diving-board pool, to regularly choking as a competitive teenage swimmer the lad discovered that he could run. Lifeguard events, and a burgeoning interest into the spiritual side of life and living, proved to be Allen’s springboard into triathlon.  Allen’s journey was much to do with Nurture, and how attitudes, values and behaviors are inherited as strongly as slow twitch muscle fibres, efficient lungs and a huge heart.

The human heart is many things – an organ, a metaphor, a pump, a charm, a pin cushion, a house, a rose, a gift, and a start and finish line. It sinks, it flutters, it beats, it rocks, it grows, it bleeds, it hurts, it loves , it starts. And stops. It can be given away and accepted; it can be trained and rested, it can be transplanted and nurtured; and, it can be driven. And broken.

Matt Fitzgerald expertly and effortlessly takes us on the journey of  Scott and Allen as they compete against and with each other, compete against others and against themselves in what has been described as the greatest Triathlon (race) ever. He highlights the build-up to the race with grace and the excitable anxiety we competitors encounter pre-race.

And, beyond a start befuddled by the governor of Hawaii, Matt takes us stroke-by-stroke, mile-by-mile , and stride-by-stride  - in near-40C heat among the lava fields of Kona, up out of the town of Kailua-Kona and back, through a defining  moment of intuition and fortitude.

Matt superbly places you there, and in the race. You’re there as spectator and support crew. You’re there as an interested on-looker, and as a competitor. You’re there as reporter, and reader. You’re there as Scott. And you’re there as Allen. You’re wondering what they’re wondering; your wondering what he’s wondering; and you’re wondering what you may.

And, in an indescribable moment of  “feel” – that great human trait – one triathlete leaves the other behind. And leads him to the finish live. One journey to the finish-line is first, yet not finished. The other journey, second, is still unfulfilled.

For a decade Scott and Allen owned the Hawaii Ironman. Each owned his destiny on that day, and beyond. Matt Fitzgerald may not own the story of Iron War, yet he told it the way all good stories should be told: with adventure, and with heart.

Buy a copy of Matt Fitzgerald’s Iron War, take the adventure. And listen to your heart.  Challenging ourselves as people, and as (tri)athletes, in seeking clarity and understanding – even if through a ‘culture of pain’ - is everyman’s war, and perhaps, ultimately, the BIGgest race.

The BIG Race 3

Mornings in Melbourne deliver all sorts of things.
Particularly in Winter.

At 7 this morning, when the 10km and 21km Run Melbourne events started, it was crisp and a northerly wind detracted from any bonus warmth the approaching Sun may have promised. Yet, it didn't deter the many of thousands running, jogging and walking.

A handful of us (in2runners) had the pleasure of enjoying parts of our Sunday long run while running alongside the course.

Although few words were uttered, the faces of many told much of their journey. Particularly at the finish-line.

A race is often a BIG thing for athletes; for people that compete against others or themselves, and against the course and the clock. For some it's about participating and finishing.

Yet, what is it that can make a race BIG?

A BIG race can come in all shapes and sizes, obviously. More importantly, the 'big' is more pertinent as to why it is important to the people that enter, participate, race and finish.

Although the origin of the word BIG is a bit of a mystery, it's evolved from a meaning of powerful or strong. I like this idea. It's a different perspective on BIG as large. This sense creates the idea of BIG conviction, strength and determination.

A BIG race, then can be any of:

• a race that is longer or further than you've ever done, or dreamt possible
• a race distance you complete faster than before - an IWR, an Individual World Record (or PB)
• a race or course that only goes up - a mountain run
• a race or course with large changes in elevation
• a race you paid big entry, travel and accommodation fees to enter and attend
• a race with 5-, 10-, 50- or 70-thousand people in it
• a race in a big city: London, Tokyo, Berlin, Rotterdam, Paris
• a famous race: Comrades, Sydney's City to Surf
• one of USA's BIG four: Chicago, New York, Boston
• the only race you do, ever
• your first race, your first marathon; your first cross-country, trail-, mountain-, track-, parkour- or urban-run
• a race you enter and raise money for charity
• the key focus or priority race for your season or year
• your first team or relay race
• the only or first race you beat your training partner, spouse, child, parent, coach, boss
• the race that sends you off to a representative team
• the race that opens the eyes of selectors, recruiters and scholarship providers
• the race you beat your ultimate rival in: Coe vs Ovett, Tergat vs Gabrisellesie, *Scott vs Allen
• a race you need to finish or beat someone for a bet
• a race (event) that see you travel interstate or overseas
• a race set along one of the world's natural or built wonders: by the Nile, the Grand Canyon, the Great Wall of China
• a race at a championship level: school, region, province, state, national, international
• a race at the Commonwealth, European, World championship, or Olympic Games
• a podium finish
• a first place
• just finishing
• a race that provides proof
• a race that let's you know you are okay
•  a race that inspires you
• a race that reminds you of why you run
• an event that reminds you that you're of the human race

Races can deliver all sorts of things. Some are BIGger than others.

Their importance to individuals has the potential to deliver moer than a crisp Winter morning in Melbourne.

At least, they deliver a knowing and warm smile.

And something so small can be so big!

THE Big Race 2

I was impressed. Still am.

Melbourne (Australia) hosted the inaugural Asia Pacific Ironman championships late March this year.
I wrote to you about it.

I dabbled in Sprint and olympic distance triathlons through the late-80s and early-90s. Back in the day 80-85% of people who took up triathlons were ex-runners. Not so now. Triathletes often begin as themselves.

They, like runners and all athletes, compete and participate for their own reasons: it's the challenge, and the promise, and the rebuttal. And the commitment. Sometimes it's for the pain, the discomfort, and overcoming them. And, returning to do it all again.

Sometimes it's for proof. Proof that we can commit, and plan; proof that we can dream, and do; proof that we can start, and finish; proof that we can try, fail, learn and retry.

It's essence...proof that we're still alive.

In a world that has shrunk, and where human communication and interaction is more through emails, facebook, voicemail, tweets, blogs (hehe) and being linked-in, it's nice to know that we can still 'guts-it-out',  feel, be exhilerated, experience pleasure and pain at the same time, and achieve a very personal yet shared goal.

This is what racing and competing does. This is what being an athlete - competing for a prize - is all about. The Big Race highlights this.

THE big race can take one or a number of forms.   It's the one:

• the only (running) race you ever do
• the one athletic event you participate in
• the one key moment where, in primary/elementary or high/secondary school, you decided being an athlete was or wasn't for you
• the one thing remaining on your bucket list
• the only marathon or trail run or mountain run you'll ever do
• the only time as a 100m runner you will - for your Club's sake - run the 4x800m
• the one event or race you put work, family and friends on hold for a few months
• the race/event that ultimately defines or welcomes or presents or breaks you
• the one that turns or redirects you
• the one that deters you
• the one that inspires you
• the one that rattles you
• the one that really hurt(s)
• the one chance you've got at representing your school, club, state, country
• the last chance you've got to qualify
• the only chance you'll get to compete for Commonwealth or Olympic gold

The one and only last chance you've got for that proof...the proof that you're worthy, the proof that your capable, the proof that you dreamt and did. The proof that you are alive.

It's THE race. And regardless of all the Ironman races and marathons and ultras and adventure racing niches evolving and being marketed around our small globe, Ironman Hawaii, is the race for many triathletes.

It's Kona and it's history.

Oh, and it's "Dig Me" beach.
After all, as people we all want to be 'dug' or 'got' or 'understood'.

That impresses me too

Listening to your body 1 - change

I have just sat to write some recovery suggestions to some older athletes I coach (yes, coach; not train). 

Some are are a tad hard-of-hearing at times.

 "Listen To Your Body" is near the top of the list.

Coaches often tell athletes to listen to their bodies. Do we ever explain to them what they should listen for or listen to? 

And, what if they don't hear anything?

What if they ignore it? Well, we know the answers to that: illness, injury, over-training, staleness, burnout, plateau - to mention a few.

There are two general times in which to listen to your body. This blog deals with the first, your time in relation warming up for a session, once you've cooled down, and upon getting out of bed. The second deals with when training or during a training session - 'training by feel'

I'm not professing to a 'right-or-wrong' approach here as discovering a way that works best for you (or your athletes)  is most important. And I'm also respectful to the contexts in which many of you live, train/coach and compete. 

I'm sharin' wiff yah!

Firstly, as coaches we could and should avoid telling many athletes too much. Sure, there are times when a group of younger athletes may need to be 'told' in regards to organisation, behaviour and quality of movement, and even times when older athletes may need gentle and guided reminders. Besides, 'telling', to me, tends to contradict the notion of true coaching, and athletic development being seen as movement problem solving in context from the athlete's perspective, and 'creative coaching synergy' from the coach's perspective.

Both perspectives are about "change"; athlete's need to be able to change or alter or adapt their movement or skills to the context of training, and competition. Coaches need to ensure 'change' is built into AD, training and running programs: progression, specificity, overload, individuality etc are all about 'change'…albeit about change over time, not change all the time.  I will return to this point.

As us athletes or runners improve (and age, which isn't always about improvement) they change. As they learn and understand more, they change; as they adapt to training stimuli and loads, they change. As they become more efficient and skilful, they change. Of course, as they mature, and, later, age, they change too – their bodies, abilities, capacities, interests, motivations, performance, lifestyle.

In terms of "listen to or for" with their body, over time, I aim to coach athletes and runners to listen for change in their bodies…and then educate them with what they find or discover (and, later, measure). 

Early on I seek information about their day, school, family, friends, how they found the last session, their energy, their muscles. This of course, is a little different for each athlete, yet the process is the same: collecting information about their body's and the context of their day/s. In time, I give them a very simple measurement device or diary where they rank (scale 1-5) a number of things: training intensity; attitude to training, general energy or fatigue, specific energy or fatigue, sleep quality and quantity, diet, resting heart rate, muscle state/soreness. There is no rocket-science in these, nor are they original. 

After a few months of this simple graphing, I provide a more complex graph/table for them to complete.

Both graph forms take little more than 45 secs a day to complete!

Notably, after they've come to understand DOMS, they are encouraged (beyond an acute sprain or strain which requires RICER and, often, medical assessment) to assess/think about any sore spots in three contexts of time: 

(1) as they warm-up, 

(2) a few hours after the session, once their body temperature has dropped, and 

(3) in the morning when they get up to walk

A change (increase) in how long it takes to warm-up is not positive.

A change (increase in tenderness, stiffness) once (really) cooled-down (2-4 hours post session) is not positive.

A change (increase) in stiffness first thing in the morning – usually tendon, bursa or joint related – is not often positive.

A change in their manner, mood, form and/or body language (eg. stooping, face, a limp, extra stretching, extra resting). 

Video feedback can demonstrate this to them, especially young athletes as they are very visual now days.

In my experience, these changes are more-often-than-not indicative of (pending) injury and are warning signs of failure of their body to change or adapt (maladaptation) to their 'load' in the context of their life/style demands.

Of course, too, for serious/elite athletes…'these' are necessarily managed!

Yet, having the athletes (line) graph  them, I'm encouraging them to make some of their subjective feelings objective and, importantly, to pay attention to the contexts in which they wholistically and their bodies (more specifically) react or adapt or change over time in relation to training (load) and competition and life/style.

We sit down each week and look at the changes in their graphs: the peaks and troughs, the undulations. We talk about what happened in training and in their lives; we discuss how different things manifest themselves differently in their graphs and at different times; and, together, we learnt the factors that are best for each of them to monitor and then, if need be, change or adapt training/recovery accordingly.

It is rare that they don't hear 'anything'. No news is often good news, and silence often says much: you're improving and/or adapting, or things are too easy so let's take another step.

What do you hear?

The Big Race 1

Time goes so quickly.
It's a little after 6 on a Sunday morning. It's drizzling outside. I'm coaching runners at 8am. My sleep has been and gone. So fast.

I check the date.
It's been 3 months since I've been here with you. Not in spirit, because I visit running and running thoughts and running words every day. Just in blog form. Summer has been and gone. So fast.

The date tells me more.
Much of my last 3 months has been planning 2012 (and beyond) with others: with you, with runners, with coaches, with sports-medicine professionals. and with sports-scientists. amongst all that planning there are a few regular questions. One of those asks about your race/s. What is your Big Race for the year?

And, as I speak, one Big Race is about to get underway here in Melbourne. It's not a running race. It does have a run component. It's the inaugural Melbourne Ironman Triathlon. I think it may actually be the Asia-Pacific Championships.

Regardless, with the elite men finishing in a few-ticks around the 8-hour mark, the elite women close-by, and a cut-off time of 17-hours for 1,700 or so competitors. It is a Big Race, in many ways. A marathon is an achievement in itself. Completing a marathon after a 3.8km swim and a 180km cycle capitalises the "A" in achievement.

I dabbled in triathlons through the late-80s and early 90s. I liked to go fast. I liked to run fast. Sprint and Olympic distances were my preference. In fact, there existed only a handful of world Ironman events in those days. And the IM logo never existed. Personally, slugging out 6-, 7- or 8-minute kms is not my idea of racing or competing in an event. More importantly, I certainly get the allure of this for others: it's the challenge, and the promise, and the rebuttal. And the commitment

As Sascha Baren Cohen would have once said as Ali G, "Respect!". As Borat, "Very nice!"

Go you IMMrs.

What makes a race big though? We all have 'The Big Race'.
What's yours?
What's mine?

It's 7.15am, With pre-race nerves now gone, the IMMers are about to "be".

The Line...

It's that time of year.

It's Christmas. Christmas means different things to different people, for different reasons.

For some, it's the storm before the calm of a New Year; it can be the license to let your hair down and your stomach out before starting over; or, even the mayhem before drawing a line in the sand.




That line comes in different forms. It too means different things to different people.
It can be about:

• stating a point beyond which you will not go
• indicating a point where you've had enough (draw 'the line')
• highlighting a time when you're about to change direction, take a different tact; to change
• to highlight something new, bold and adventurous (to put in on 'the line')
• emphasising a point where any further effort is unproductive (end of 'the line')

Yet, I'm not sure if 'the line' really holds it's worth in gold, or sand. It's too easy to forego 'the line' as we frame it for ourselves, or others. While pausing from a cycle (sorry!) beachside this morning I saw a young boy, no more than 4 or 5 years old, drag a stick along the beach. He drew an impressive line: straight, and long. He called to his mum, "Mum, stop. Look!" He jumped from side-to-side over the line, then ran back to the start and did it all again. And again.

His line ended, yet was never-ending. Well, at least until mum got bored and needed her coffee. It was easy for him to make or profess his line in the sand. It was just as easy to step over it, and continue on his merry way.

As we come into the festive season, and the trimmings and trappings and turkeys of Christmas are bypassed for the resolutions of the New Year, what form will your line take?

      Will it be one of action, or of action stopped? 

Will it be one of drive or determination or passion?

Perhaps it will be another case of the never-ending line that fades into the distance, one defined by many and followed by many more? Will you do it because others have, or not do it because other's haven't? Will you follow this line and start again next year, and the year after? And the one after that, again?

Will your line in the sand truly mark a new beginning, or a new ending?

Or, will you - a day, a week, a minor set-back, a month, an injury later - step over your line and wander, walk or run on, back to your old path? And wonder why? 

You may not. But the running gods will.

Be wary, and toe that line!

All sorts...

Runners come in all shapes and sizes.

And speeds and styles.  And outfits and gadgets.

I got wondering about this while out and  about coaching this morning. The pleasure of coaching my in2running squad was magnified by the beautiful sunrise and early morning weather. The Botanical Gardens ('The Tan') in Melbourne attracts runners of all types: runners like you, runners like me, and runners like us.


Some speed by, others shuffle by; some stride past, many sigh past; some ease along, others pant-n-puff strong; yet, all move in their own way, and run along.


After our session I rewarded myself with a an hour-and-some of run/walk. I took my new Garmin Forerunner for a test run. Thank you to in2runners for this generous gift. It's nicknamed the Forderunner, hehe.

Then, I got to coach some speedy and agile football players, both Soccer and Australian Rules Football. More different shapes and sizes and speeds. And needs.

To this point, we've looked at some basics of program design. Let's take it a little further. As we do that let's be clear on the different types of running. Strangely enough their are different types of types of running. What the?

There are types defined by differences in gait, technique and mechanics: walk, jog, run, sprint.
There are types defined by distance: sprints, middle-distance, long distance, ultra-. Each of these have their own classifications and event names.
There are types defined by obstacles: hurdles or 'sticks', steeple-chase.
There are types defined by terrain: hill, trail, cross-country, even orienteering and rogaining.
There are types defined by outcomes: health-related, fitness-related running, performance-related running. Some even run for it's contribution to aesthetics.
There are types defined by relationship: individual, team, age-group.
There are types defined by no definition, yet for the exhileration and the experience.

Training effectively for each of these different types of running simply requires us to understanding running in context: who it's for, what they're training for, and the demands of their event.


A one-approach to training for running does not fit all people, nor does it fit all athletes or all events. It certainly doesn't fit all outcomes or goals, and nor should it remain the same for all people over time. This is Training Programs 101, 102 and 201.


Although sprints, middle-distance and endurance events all involve running...training for them requires different and individualised programs over time.  Yet, each effective program will be based upon sound athletic development principles of training.


In blogs to come I'll share my experiences with you about program design for endurance events.


Endurance runners come in all shapes and sizes.

What sort are you, and me?

The Running Gods...

We are blessed.

I used to think the running gods visited as people, as runners like you and me.


More accurately, that they anthrpomorphised as Steve Ovett, Steve Cram, Seb Coe, Mary Decker, Grete Waitze, Said Aouita, Steve Smith, Rob de Castella, and others. In other words, when it suited them, the running gods would take human form, and race. And run...oh so smoothly, and oh so fast.

Anthropomorphosis.  Ann-thro-po-morf-oh-sis...'tis a big word. And, long.

It means transforming into human form.

As one who leans more towards evolutionism than intelligent design, I now know better. 

As smooth, sleek and speedy elite runners are, they are not the running gods. Sure, although the, errr, 'parental interaction' that gave their genetic predisposition and 'will' to run may have been blessed by the running gods, these speedsters still needed to demonstrate the choice, courage and determination, and do the miles and repetitions, and suffer the aches and pains like the rest of us. No, great and good runners are not the running gods.

The running gods are our own. They sit in judgement and challenge our resolve, our commitment, our courage, and persistence, and consistency, our 'smarts' or 'common sense', and our application to achieving our self-confessed and self-imposed goals. They tick or check the columns that matter beside our names.

These running gods come in all shapes, sizes and forms: as injury, as fatigue, as the elements (heat, cold, wind, rain, hail, snow), as ill-health, as motivation loss, as temptation, as procrastination, as 'the battle', as the 'little voice', as the red-line, as 'the wall', as hills, as life and lifestyle, as family, as work or study, as the choices we make in humility, adversity and grace. And pace. 

These running gods want to know if we are worthy: worthy of the lofty goals we set ourselves;  worthy of the distances and times, and joy and pride of those who have run millenia before us; worthy of the true medals and podiums...self-fulfillment and achievement.

The running gods bless us with choice: the choice to run, the choice by which you and me become better people and runners.

Running can transform.

And, bless that.

The Battle...

You've had it.
I've had it.
We've all had it.

Some weeks, it's most days. Some weeks, it's absent. Sometimes, deserts us. Other times, it nags us.

No, no...it's not our partner in life, nor our mother-in-law.

It is 'the battle'. It's the internal dialogue we have while deciding between 'now' or 'later'. It's the conversation we have with ourself about putting the session/run off and getting changed and getting out the door and doing it now. It's the whisper of future guilt if we delay, and don't deliver. It's a measure of the call of the running gods, "go and run". 


The battle nestles comfortably with procrastination. For runners, procrastination is the art and science of delaying the inevitable - vigorous agitation of the body by placing one foot in front of the other, at speed, to bring pleasure, pain and pride. The battle is first-cousin to the 'little voice'.


I battled this morning. I coached. I coffee-d. I sat in my car for 20 mins. Procrastination visited. Guilt rang. I changed running shoes three times. In the end, I went. I ran.


As each of us know, each time we battle, each time we defeat the temptation of 'later', once we have our gear on and are a few minutes into our run (or jog) we wonder what all the fuss was about.


The battle is important. It's important you deal with it there and then. Each battle you win is a tick the running gods place beside your name. Persistence and consistency are key elements to becoming a better (and faster, and wiser) runner. Each battle you win is a check for you in the persistence and consistency columns.

I have this rule. If you begin to battle; begin to consider delaying; begin to re-schedule - simply shut up, and put up. Put your gear on. Get out there. And run. Then.

The battle then is done, and won.
And you did it.

What's in a name?

"Hey, where're you going?

Brad didn't really want to know. He didn't have his glasses so couldn't make out Steve getting changed.
He was trying to drag Steve and few other friends to the pub. It was beer o'clock!

"I'm about to train, dude!"
"Ah, you're going for a jog...?"
"No, hey, listen man! I've told you before I don't jog. I'm going for a run. I'm a runner!"
"Jog, run...what's the difference?" Brad naively asks.
"There's a big difference, dude!"

Is there? Really?
Many years ago I read we all start as joggers and at some stage, when we enter a race, we become known as racers. And only when we see and experience running for what it is do we become true runners. At the time, I was a racer, one who competed against others and times. The last decade or so, I've morphed to become one of those types - a true runner.  Oh, I'm still competitive though, just not against others; my racing days are done.
Which are you?

Brad likes to ride regularly, as transport to and from his workplace. He likes to be known as a cyclist, not a 'rider'. Steve is into triathlons, yet never refers to himself or other tris as 'paddlers', 'riders' and 'joggers'.

Brad found his way to a pre-pub cafe; one that overlooked the park where Al and Steve would run. Brad and a mate decided to sit and wait for them... http://youtu.be/F0BfcdPKw8E

If you run, where are you going?