Are you a FAT triathlete?
by Mauro Mongarli
F.A.T. - Full Accomplishment Triathlete. What's required to become one?
ACSM certification? Simon Lessing' style? At least a sub 8hour ironman race in career? A subscription to Transition Times Magazine?
No. Follow me.
One of the founders of the FAT Triathletes movement lives in Italy. His name is Dino.
In an oly race, Dino once repeated three times a bike lap he was supposed to repeat just two.
- Hey, it was nice!- But Dino, what about the cutoff!
-I didn't drive 5 hours to come here and be stressed, right?-
Cutoff... Times... what to say about a guy I know who just can't enjoy the moment on the finish line, when racing tris...
- You know, finishing is good, you can tell others and things... but to me, deeply, it's the end of the fun... Everyone tell me "good job, man!", and I appreciate it... but they make me feel like to start again - (once he did it... marshalls disqualified him, the staff gave him free entry forever).
Do you start to guess who's a FAT Triathlete?
During my first ironman I met another one. He was a French guy, who understimated the hills on the bike leg, and wasn't able to run, just walk.
But he was determined to finish, even if last.
I was walking, caught by terrible intestinal moments (every half mile a stop to evecuate).
- Are you Italian? Oh, we are football (soccer) World Champion! - And started fooling me... My biggest fear was: he's fooling me too much - he's going to run, while I still can't... After telling me 453 times that France was in that moment the soccer World Champion he gave me his very LAST toilet paper, and told me:
- I read on your face you think I have more breath than to just walk. But I told you the truth: I can't run. Here's my last paper, if you can run, just leave me alone, please.
He suffered a lot, finished last, and I was there to cheer such a FAT Triathlete.
Other details that reveals if you're a FAT Triathlete?
- your SO and family love to join you at races. They support you when it's training time, gladly giving you more time to have it: they know you will give them big quality time back;
- if you have sleep, or food or other typical "triathlete only" needs you know how to have them without being boring or imposing yourself to others. It's not that hard, in the end: "Hey, would you please quit smoking while eating? What about smoked salmon, instead?" or: "No wine for me, today. I recognized the grape that have been killed to obtain it..." More: "Oh, you spotted I had a number on my arm before having my tan... I admit it. I have been in prison, in Hawaii. Ever heard of Energy Lab penitentiary?"
- your 5yo kid play chess so well you can you take a sabbatic year from long distance tris to try and manage not to loose more than 500 times with him (but you're happy to loose, of course);
- you give away your huge collections of races's T-shirts - I mean not for Xmas presents to friends, but to a charity;
- overtraining is something you know it happens to strange people like Thomas Hellriegel;
- you deeply know that all your body fat is there for some precise reason (mostly good, tasty reason) but you don't mind if your training
make you loose some of it;
- you deeply know that there's ALWAYS another race to do, but just ONE life to share.
Do you match all or part of these descriptions? Yes? So, you're a FAT Triathlete!
Tell your dietist. He will be happy, too.
Mauro Mongarli try to be a FAT Triathlete because is the only way to have some flesh on his bones. It's virtual, but it's better than nothing...
The sign of silence
by Mauro Mongarli
Inner peace, balance, relaxed vision of yourself and of the world. Those doing endurance sports just for fun know what I'm talking about: it's the hypnotic power of training, with his healthy, continuos repetition. It's the energy that, like a miracle, take a stressed point of view on things to be more near our true being, our dreams, our needs. That's why these sensations are different for everyone - everyone is different!
To find something in common to all athletes, just a sign, you must enter the mechanism that make us equal-human. This sign is the silence.
As peace is not just absence of war, silence is not absence of noise: the one I'm talking about is a very active one, indeed. It delete all the noise-distractions that wouldn't allow to mind and soul to appreciate strokes, spins and strides rhythm.
It's a silence tasting like our deepest, truly ours thoughts, now popping up to attention in the clearest way, calling (and obtaining )importance and attention often denied. More or less after 40 minutes running, an hour riding or half a mile swimming, our ideas starts to rule in our heads.
Facts, stories, positive or negative thoughts, things to decide, things to do or to do not, but not the usual, stressing mess. Now it all fits our natural ability to handle them - we feel no more buried by our everyday life.
Thoughts flow freely, no need to zig zag among piles of stress, bad sensations, long chains of grudge (they're there, but they seem ridicolus and look transparent, now).
In our heads now everything is more clear, neat like a mountain morning.
Mountains... talking about silence, an obligatory stop.
Once there, where Nature still rules, the particular silence we find in ourselves practicing sport it's all over, asking for gentle rhythms, asking for (and inspiring) respect.
It makes think: See, in our city this silence doesn't exist. The silence of the night is full of buzzes and roars. The silence given by double windows sounds innatural: It's simple absence of noise.
So, triathlon races just in the Alps, or in Tibet? Well, clean air, fitness at its best, wonderful landscapes to fit soul, benefits even just walking...
But mountains can give more, if we can go over these - even if deeply true - common places. It can give more to us when we realize that those glorious places are tools for us, like sports, to take out our silence, to take out we from ourselves, and make us live.
Like Robert Pirsig said, the only Zen you find on the tops of mountains is the Zen you bring up there.
Once you catch this, even treadmill at the gym, or the windtrainer in your basement will give you the gift of your silence. Just live it.
Mauro Mongarli silently waits for blank email of "agree" at maurom@pol.it
Sign of times
by Mauro Mongarli
Time, for those who love endurance training, it's something different to, say, the ones that "hey, I'm already running like crazy everyday, at work!", "have no time for anything" or "listen - if you're a triathlete you definitely have heckovatime to loose". Sometimes even triathletes have similar thoughts about time - we live in the same planet, in the end! But when they train, time give them more attentions, making itself know better to them.
What does it do? Time plays, mostly. Sometimes smoothly, others the rude way, but always at our favour.
While you train time become more precious and ductile, just like gold. It happened to everyone, at last one time, to be surprised like "what the heck? Made a whole hour running? It looked more like the usual twenty minutes to ease a heavy day at work!" It's a moment of tension - the doubt of not being the boss of your own living time anymore, can scare anyone. But with this innocent joke, time tell us that the rolling by of our lives is NOT our lives...
But here, you don't fully realize the gift, because you realize that "oh... yes... to say the truth the sun is much more down than yesterday" and similar things telling you're just a little off of your run routine. Everything is in control. But a strange, little sensation still stay, and after a while it become a question: What happened during that time I used to go home, drink, have a little rest and a shower? "Well, I... I remember I started to think proudly to my daughty's great marks in the school report, and then to the 75 chilograms wall I finally broke - never so light since graduation! And then the air... it was not that stinking, tonight... All these things leaded to others..."
We're all "just-in-time" in so many moments of our lives, for whole parts of them. In these moments time is something to beat, to hate, to bend to our will, and its premused lack it's ok to justify almost everything not good happening in our day.
But when, in our case with training, we're more inclined to see/respect ourselves as persons and not as production/relation unit, time spreads itself, introducing us in a dimension we've always known, in the end, but often forget how to reach consciously.
I said time play rude, sometimes. Infact, when it spread itself as shown, it helps us also to understand our athletic improvements, it helps us to feel the good shape coming... but then the big slap. Time says it's time to show itself completely, not just with signs: all of a sudden you notice that the dog that used to bark at your bike and forced you to no-breath sprints is now grey and with almost no voice. All of a sudden you notice that your pull-buoy is no more brilliant blue colored, but you remember amazingly well how it was when you bought it. You notice how these and other things are noticed all of a sudden, even if you have it under your nose everyday, and you realize you don't notice them 'cause you think you have no time to do it...
We're lucky: Time wait for us at our next workout.
Let's not make it wait for us too much!
Mauro wish to thank all the beautiful people sending the blank email of "agree" he asked for at the end of the last article. No need to say that any other word of feedback is more than welcome - he's a writer, he lives with/for this!
I'd like to win a triathlon race
by Mauro Mongarli
Dear Santa,
I'm writing to you in late Spring because I'm a triathlete. You know, we like to plan our things.
As gift for Christmas, let me win a triathlon race.
I'd like to win a no drafting race, if possible. I mean a race where all triathletes don't mentally draft behind heart rate monitors, high profile wheels, aero and yummy bars or the fat, big luck of the next athlete.
I'd like to win a triathlon race where marshals know what comes after "third lap" and if they forget what ("fourth lap") everyone can have justice in sport, someway - preferably a way permitting everyone to sleep well the coming night.
I'd like to win a triathlon race where rules are rules, like:
- warning yellow card if you don't ALWAYS thanks volounteers;
- three minutes sin bin if you don't enjoy life costantly in the irregular rectangle formed by your body (not compulsory in transition area if raining);
- red card and getoutahere! shout by the marshal if you try not to be human and don't think at least once "Why am I doing here?"
Oh, I want also televisions to see my triumph! I want to be interviewed before the race, and asked "Ho do you feel?" to answer "Fine". I want them to ask me under a hammer sun, during the ride "How do you feel?" to answer "Fine".
And then, just after my win, I want all their microphones near my mouth, and everyone asking me "How do you feel?" to answer "Fine".
I'd like to win a triathlon race where the course is designed by nature: laps are welcome to see landscapes more times - so no problem to do one more...
I'd like to win a triathlon race where I can make some friends ON the course: I'm tired of just hear and say "On your left!"
So, do you think it's possible? I'm a good guy: don't invest in dotcoms, don't stress my brand new wife with training, always volounteer when not racing.
So, please?
Oh, and I'd like a titanium frame. Sorry? Oh, you're saying there's eBay for the frame? So, I can hope for the win?????? I have to ask who? MacDonald? The burger one? Why?
Mauro Mongarli, after his wedding, writes to Santa everyday - his wife telling him what to ask... except this letter you've just read.
Self Made IronMan (part one)
by Mauro Mongarli
We finally decided that waking up at 4am to prepare all the last things for an Ironman race was too much.
So we spotted a free area near the lake to put up our tent, and then went to sleep. No alarm, just the sun. When we woke up, first thing was to decide which road to follow after our swim, according to the weather forecast, impersoned locally by the Ol'Man of the Lake. He was already up, too, so we asked him:
"So, slept well? We'd like to ride towards the highlands, today... tell us it's a nice day, please!"
"Hmm. No way. If you stay out for a couple of hours since now, ok. But if stay out more, you'll be wet, today, on the highlands".
So we decided to ride across the highest peak - the nearest - and then head to the valley, in direction of the Big Town, and then... who knows?
"Would you like after our tent, Ol'Man of the Lake?" (Safety - first thing)
"Sure!" He answered, probably thinking "Strange people - they look very strange with that rubber on!"
The water was quite cold, but still enjoyable.
"So, your best swim split in an Ironman?"
"55 minutes and change"
"Mine 1 hour seven minutes... We could swim for an hour and one, two minutes, ok?"
"It sounds equal"
Splash! I went towards the boats of the little harbour - there were one similar to mine, and I wanted to see it better. My friend went in direction of the motorbikers camping on the other side of the lake - he always liked Harleys.
The lake was very small, so we crossed our path two or three times, playing the silly way like kids. Once we played the ITU Swim Game, trying to drown each other...
Well, 1 hour ten, and still in the water - and almost freezed.
On the telly they would say "an animated, demanding swim", but they couldn't know I've stolen a couple of great ideas for my boat (Clementine) and that my mate has finally some body mark (you fanatic!): the cell phone number of a gorgeous couple of Harley girls.
Went to our tent, soon transformed in a true transition area by our moves, who looked nervous like the ones in a sprint distance race - but we were just freezing!
Take our bikes, backpacks on, and off we go to conquer our Peak of the Day.
"Feeling good?"
"Yeah! We're doing the right thing not to ride the other way. Look at the clouds coming from the other little lake..."
But I wasn't aware of another cloud covering our shoulder from behind...
Want to know more?
Stay tuned next month: same tri-site, same-tri hour!
If you'd like to be a Self Made IronMan, too, don't worry: John Collins would agree. If you have had similar experiences, please send reports to maurom@pol.it - I'm preparing something...
This series of articles is for Rob and Cameron Walters, wishing they could share something like this, one day, and for Graham... you know why, and what to expect, now!
Self Made Ironman
(Part Two)
In the Part One, our friends had the great swim of their Self Made Ironman - having great time with boats and gourgeous Harley girls
Well, we were ready to go. We were not looking aero like Jurgen Zack, having a little backpack with the stuff for running, but hey: we were going!
" COWABUNGA!!!!" I screamed - the first two k were a steep downhill!
" KING KAMEHAMEHA!" Answered my friend, probably in need of more Hawaian warmness! In fact it was going to rain. Daylight wasn't able to be full grey: the green of the woods melted in the different green of the little lakes of the area, and Spring flowers spitted out all the sun they accumulated during the marvelous days before.
"Hey stop for a minute. Let's decide where to go, at least until bad weather has gone"
According to the map there were a village at 40k, and there were houses enough along the road to ask for hospitality, in case of bad, bad weather.
The road was flat, but the landscapes weren't annoying at all. Riding fast across the valley warmed us enough, and we easily reached the village we spotted on our map. The time to find a farmer house with someone smiling to us, and it started to rain cats and dogs.
"Where are you from?"
"From the big lake"
"Riding?"
"Just on the road. We swam, when in the lake. And thanks to your kindness we won't swim anymore, today!"
Those nice people never heard about triathlons. But they used to go riding to the lake, on their days off, and then have a little run in the woods.
"So, we were triathletes and we didn't know it!"
"Lucky you!"
Sun was out again. We asked our guests for a nice road towards the sea, possibly with great views and little traffic.
"Go on through the valley for 30 km again, and then go towards Blue Town. But before the city, follow for Tiny Bees. From there you can easily reach the sea on country roads"
More than we expected! To reach Tiny Bees we had to ride about 140 km... and then, country roads to run!
On the road again.
To leave the valley behind us there's a long uphill. 25 km, not so steep but not even regular. Tough stuff, and it's going to be hot, now.
Luckily we find good company: the Harley girls!
"Hey, you Navy Seals!" (One gear harder)
"Nice butt you have (Two gears harder)
"Hope you still have my number on your chest!" Big ring and my friend almost fall!
Those girls are very cool, and the fact their boyfriend reached them with the biggest motorcycles we ever seen don't ruin our good mood.
We're half the uphill when they leave us.
"Hey, do you know that all that silence really make me deaf, mate?"
"Shut up. It's the hill. Remember we're doing it for fun. Enjoy your essence"
It takes me two k more to leave the Zen Master dress in a bush.
"Oh, I can't make it. I cramp everywhere. I want a motorbike. No, a taxi"
"You're right. Stay here. See you"
And that a***ole go away!
With hate in my heart I jump on my bike and reach him Pantani style. He just look at me and say:
"Liar"
I squeeze my waterbottle on his head and start to laugh and scream. The fact that the end of the uphill is no more far than 300 meters has probably some influence on this.
Anyway: downhill again (even if not in due proportion, after all that up!)
and then easy rolling.
We decide to ride until the railway station of Blue Town, so we can send back to the lake our bikes via train. A detour that force us to meet some traffic, after all that peace... We barely talk. It's like to be downtown again, me in my office, my friend in the bank where he works... and then we realized that the sea is about 50 k, FAR MORE than 42.195...
Here we are.
Depressed, because all our intention of going over the Ironman concept are not as strong as we thought.
Tired, because it was supposed to be fun, but it was enough to see a city mess slice to put us back to our "downtown mood".
Full of doubts, too: will the bikes arrive safe? What if there's no train for us to get back, tonight? What if we reach happily the sea but then nobody will believe us?
We tried to figure what Mark Allen would do.
We tried to figure what Paula Newby Fraser would do.
We finally tried to figure what the hell WE would do, and the sun got back to shine on our day.
"Listen, I'll try to guess what I would do in this situation"
"But you ARE in this situation!"
"One reason more, don't you think?"
"Mhm"
We realize this was the "don't care" moment we reached in our past ironman races. It was just deeper. It was about us in the real world.
This lead to an explosion of motivation.
There was a lady, at the railway station, I thought I knew her.
"Sorry, Ma'am... Have we ever met?"
"You're a runner, probably you saw me on the telly..."
Enlightenement!
"Yes! You were singing the national anthem... In Moscow!"
"I still remember the words - please don't call me Madame! I still run for fun!"
She was the Moscow Olympic Champ of 1.500 meters. Our Glory. Our Heroin.
Autograph, explanations of our madness, and her blessing to our spirit.
Boy, such a pity there's just 50 km to the sea!
(See our guys reach the sea next month, and...if you'd like to be a Self Made IronMan, too, don't worry: John Collins would agree. If you have had similar experiences, please send reports to maurom@pol.it - I'm preparing something...)
Self Made Ironman - part III
by Mauro Mongarli
Meeting one of our favourite champ was considered a true blessing to our crazy project. We were already trying to smell the perfume of the sea... But the traffic, and 50 K between ourselves the sea itself, allowed only salty illusions.
After leaving downtown, the landscape was truly bad. The suburb was truly ugly, grey of asphalt and sadness. It was dinner time, and there were almost anybody around. We were target of stones and bad words from lots of people, caught by the typical boredom you can find in slums of bigger and bigger town... but why here?
"Globalization effect?" tried my friend. Too tired to argue, I put that bad moments away, thinking once again that a Self Made Ironman is a true travel.
After the slum, the wheat. Neverending. The road was good, with almost no traffic, but that straight across the wheat drove us mad in just 10 K. We had to stop just to take off our eyes from it, but the alternative was those terrible industrial zones... even more sad and grey than the suburbs we left behind us.
A pub. We need a new road, hopefully shorter, to reach the sea.
"Well, you can join the parallel road with the villas..." lots of cars, anyway"
We take it. Not that many cars, but hey: ancient villas at every step, wonderful gardens... We're near the Queen of the Sea, and that's the proof: the names of the villas are the same of the old dukes of ... ok. Time to tell you where we are - it's not a secret.
We started from the Garda Lake, North Italy. Touched a little bit of Alps and the reach the big North flat. We're heading to Venice, and actually are running where the old dukes of the town built their terrific country residence.
"You're on the course of the Venice Marathon!" a local runner tell us.
"Tell us how to continue!"
He's precise and gentle. Following his advice we pass through other industrial areas and finally, at the sunset, only a loooong bridge separate Venice from us.
We're smashed. We're in an area with nothing, just the sea. Luckily, a Russian family of tourist on a van share some hotdogs with us.
"Hey, hard to find hot dogs at the "official" aid stations, in an Ironman!" I said.
They probably understand something else, and start to show an unjustified pride... They forced us to taste their vodka! The effect is unbeliavable. Just consider that the oldest of the guy, more or less 18, decide to run with us until Venice. And the whole family will support all three, RAAM style!
We looked more than drunk , but we were happy.
We reached, after almost 6 hour, the ancient pavement of Venice, Italy.
There's a gentle breeze, an atmosphere truly unique, centuries of history kindly smiling to us.
I was in tears. My friend was singing. The Russian van kindly offered to us a shower: no hotel would have accepted two person in such a state!
We did it, in the end. In a day, we crossed a vaste region and saw so many differences, so many kind of people, towns, landscapes... Lots of bad things, too. But we had the luck to compare them to our problems, in that moment and not only, and had the chance to begin to build a true opinion, not filtered, not imposed. Just ours.
This is fun, friends. This is knowing. This is life.
The author wish to dedicate this triple effort (!) to the land he was born, where he lives, love, train, write. To Gabriella Dorio, Olympic Champion in Moscow, and to all the people that will try this Self Made Ironman.
Is it better to be triathlete or sorry?
by Mauro Mongarli
- Ready?-
- Don't know... Feel like I'm not!-
- Come on, it's a party! Have a look around: people having fun, nice sun...-
- I'm ready, I mean I did my homework for my debut, but... I'm not able to concentrate!-
- What? Concentrate?-
-You know: you think about your race, keeping out the noise, trying to focus on your splits...-
- Hey hey hey! What a language! What a confusion!-
- Sorry?-
- Concentration? Do you really want to exclude all this? Do you really think this is a noise? The father overthere, giving hints to his debuting son, is it noise? Those guys overthere, shaking because they have no wetsuits to wear but they'll try to race, deserve your exclusion? Look there: two fianceés hugging like it was the last time, and they're just divided by different start waves...-
- I know what you mean, but...-
- You already tell the solution: focusing, but you confuse it with concentration!-
- Sorry?-
- Be focused on fun, on what you are and feel when you share water, wind and ground with the others and with this area! Why just concentrate on your splits?-
- But if I'm not concentrate I can overdo!-
- If you focused on what I told, you will be truly in touch with yourself, don't you think?-
- Sorry?-
- AAAGH! Give me your watch-
- No!-
- Ok, now you can get it. More you can have something more to tell after your finish: no regrets, no "ifs", no "buts": just colours, smells, tastes, lights, shades...-
- But I'll talk just with myself, this way!-
- Sorry?-
- I mean: never heard this kind of stuff after a tri!-
- I don't believe you. You've just not been able to listen...-
- Oh, let's see it! Here's the finish line! Hey, I took no splits at all...-
- Any if? Any but?-
- Well...-
- What's in you?-
- A kid saying hello giving me the sponge... fishes looking at me with curiosity... my mum, screaming: "I'm not going to cure you if you fall, mind you!"-
- Good. Looks like you had a nice race!-
- Surely a new one! But hey, you took your splits!-
-Sorry?-
This is the result of me running my first marathon with no watch...And it's dedicated to everyone who's planning their year-round tri program.
Prova: scarpe salomon XA Series
Il fiato grosso e la sua coltivazione