Ironlife? Sure?
by Mauro Mongarli
Sport is something that, in many people's life, is there to stay.
There are some sports that frequently people stop after school, or other activities that see thir beginning after retirement. In Europe, to say, football/soccer is tied to millions' people life, but how many of these persons really played it one time per week at least three months?
Sport can be an affection, a drug – in both good and bad sense. But the only sports that someone carry with him/her as life mates are endurance ones – nothing new, here. Running, some kind of swimming, trekking, cycling... All of these very often see a lack in motivation, sometimes, but they will never be left apart. They'll be missed, if life take them away, and missed a lot.
Even the busiest CEO, when hit by the running virus, say, will find some times to have his relaxing, rewarding little run.
So, the question is: being an ironman race the hardest to train among these sports, under life's organisation aspects, why it's the one giving more addiction to those who love to do it (of course this is an impression of mine, different thoughts are welcome)?
I state this, anyway, because I simply notice that Ironman is not similar to life (you know all the retoric): it's similar to OUR life, intending Western World standards.
You have to struggle in your life, work hard, make plans, behave in definite ways, have goals and try to achieve theme. Similar to Ironman? Yes. Similar to other sports? Yes. So what?
Ironman is IN triathlete's lives.
To prepare for an Ironman you have to match your training schedule with your job, your family, your relations in a different way from other sports. You have to do this even to prepare a sub 2:45 marathon, ok, but the difference is that you have to do this if you want to JUST FINISH an Ironman and don't have a grain of agonism of clock addiction in yourself.
And then, there are the transition areas. If they were in life, too...
What's the point in being sick?
by Mauro Mongarli
I have the flu. Normal, you would say: Italy is not so sunny as tour operators usually paint it, especially during Winter. This is not the point. It's that I'm writing this on February 8th, and my main race of the season, Ironman Austria, is on July 6th.
I'm typing slowly, more than the usual, and guess that this article will be quite short. But the warm feeling coming from the fact that my race is so far away, that I'll recover and be stronger after this temperature so high, that my actual grey face will be tanned and healthy sooner than I can imagine now, it's... well... like a good workout.
I'm realizing deeply, now, in my bed, how useless is trying to be always at your best, not respecting your rhythms, your needs as a social person, your hunger for good, unhealthy salame... I'm a back of the pack racer, definitely, but sometimes even I go towards a "pro mode"... and usually it's the time I end up with a flu!
Oh, my. Not easy to accept to be grateful to this sickness making feel my bones like sponges. But I'm lucky, yes, I am. I have a body more clever than me, sometimes. And a mind able to spot what's good for it in sport, and it can also to talk with my body and tell me how to behave.
It's easy from this situation to start thinking to people I know not so lucky, sharing a body and a mind not so good in this hard work, and having problems form the fact they hardly are able to listen to themselves. And it's even easiest to think to people I'll never know, and that will never be in condition to have any kind of dialogue with a body forced to run, escape, hide, trying to stay alive.
Peace.
Mauro
A matter of respect
by Mauro Mongarli
There's always a moment, between Winter and Spring, that really makes me love triathlon. Here in Italy we still have a sweet transition between the two season, but between March and April there are always some days that, all of a sudden, goes back to almost full winter. Every year, it happens when my training starts to go "important", for intensity and quantity, too.
It happened yesterday, during the first serious rainy day since 2002. Rain, chilly wind, grey sky. After forty minutes running I was entering the Zone - not the Dr. Sears one, my own Zone.
Is when I realize that Winter training was ok , I didn't miss that many workout and my tri-season will be sustained by health. All this came through precise sensation (every year is different): the first sign was that my hip disappeared - I can notice that: I always have little pains or noisy joints downthere. Nothing. Is this meaning that my back is finally in good shape? A quick check and yes, I feel strong as swimmer, upthere, but for the first time the two parts seem to be in balance - no Hulk Hogan torso on Khannouci legs, like last year.
I only had a second sign, but it was damn good. It came from my chest. I felt lucky to be in health in a totally different way. I felt lucky to be able to make a sport so various like never before, but it took me a while to focus the sensation: I felt no guilty.
I didn't feel guilty for health, good shape, acquired skills and abilities in sports. No comparisons with people less lucky, on a wheelchair, on alcohol, or under a heavy bombing were made.
I felt the insanity of a comparison in itself: it's a matter of respect, maybe. From here, all my body sensations changed. No weight, no thoughts, no "me", no zen, too.
Just life, rough life.
I enjoied the moment, and will not work to have it again, or to remember it. I won't live to tell it. It's a matter of respect.
And good triathlon training, of course ;)
Point of no return
by Mauro Mongarli
There's a moment when you know with absolute precision that even this year you're going to have a triathlon season. It's different for everyone, it may change every year for the same person. But it comes: you know it, your SO can feel it, too. To me, this year, it has been a painful neck after my first 100Km ride: I hated it, until last year, this year it had a warm welcome – if you can guess why, please tell me!
Last year it was right after the absolute need to have my wife with me when I had my long runs, following me by bike. I was worried: where was the good feeling of me loosing in nature? But I wanted her, no way to run a 20 K alone. She fell ill, I went alone, once, and the point of no return came to visit, giving me the usual warm that follow me until the end of the season.
For a friend of mine it's always the same, every year: when his pool take off the tent and he swim "en plein air".
"I feel naked, I love it!" He's a maniac, no need to say anything else.
For others it's the first race of the season, others look for it and find it just at the LAST race...
I wonder why many of us have these feelings, why do we need this "click". Why can't we enjoy the moment? We look for it, so why can't we see it's ALWAYS there?
I don't think we're strange, for this, anyway. It's very human. It's strange when we finish a workout being late for the next and thinking we'll never make it to the third...
Training night
by Mauro Mongarli
I can't sleep.
I feel like this night has been prepared for a long time...
In a month I'll race an Ironman, in the same venue where I finished my other two. It's a place I love. I love the town, the atmosphere, the people. This is the problem, I guess. I wouldn't be here struggling for another race.
Cutting it short: I have no motivation left to do this race. Now. It has been a downhill until now. During the last week workouts have been soo heavy, for my spirit. Who knows why.
Friends and others asking me how my training is going received back routine answers, nothing felt deeply. Last night, a flash: what if I don't go? My heart made a jump, and then went in a strange defense mode... It was silent and still, while a river of positivity flew all over: my head, if I don't go, will be lighter. My mind, if I don't go, will be fresher. I'll probably enjoy more my training, if I don't go.
That made it.
I gave myself a whole day with Ironman-free mind, today. It was nice, and relaxed. Had an easy swim early in the morning, and hard run intervals before dinner. My job, in the middle, went easy. But now, I can't sleep.
It's clear that I love racing, that I love that race and that place, but something I can't understand say it's not a good idea to go. It happened something similar years ago: I went, finished that race, and had NO FUN AT ALL. It was like someone else did it. I don't remember almost anything of it. In few words, in that occasion, I didn't respect myself.
What the heck: two times the same mistake? No way. Up from my bed. With two email I cancel my bookings, and send a "not coming" message to the organizers, my friends. I'm off. I don't feel worse, I don't feel better. I don't feel heroic or rejected by the ironpeople community.
I just can sleep, now.
Side sight, or: Help!
by Mauro Mongarli
When I was younger, so much younger than today, I used to play basketball. I was not particularly talented (just tall), but was smart enough to train little tricks others didn't care much – I was looking to keep u with the gifted ones, tried to help my desire to play.
One of this trick was (is) what I call "side sight" – don't know the specific term even in Italian, sorry. It's the ability to distract some focus from what's in front of your eyes to be aware of what's happening on your left and on your right. That's useful if you're not faster than the average athlete and want to have have some chance to anticipate actions, or to steal a ball.
Well, I can say now that I'm a better basketball player than triathlete, but side sight still help!
– I don't get upset when someone scream ON YOUR LEFT! (if we're uphill chances are that I spot the other before he see me...);
– it's nice when your almost collapsing and see without turning your aching neck that the guy right behind you stopped one nanosecond before you do...;
– no advantages during swim, unluckily –unless you don't wear a Gucci mask instead of good goggles...;
– side sighting is excellent at pasta parties, when you can easily manage the traffic of what you steal and what it's not supposed to be stolen from your dish!
Have a nice tri-summer, and don't forget side sighting to look at local beauties when racing (slowing down usually helps, too)!
It's the beat
by Mauro Mongarli
A friend, Peter, has always been near to me, not only in triathlon. He's often an inspiration for my TT articles, especially when motivations are the topic.
Well, we have been discussing a lot about the future of triathlon for a lot of time, recently. I think that racing are still ok, because they're like songs: empty bottles you fill with your own feelings, no matter if you choose a sprint distance or an ironman one.
Peter agreed, and said that races have the power to get you in touch with deep parts of yourself, something different from meditation because it's a more "western way" to consider yourself without letting what surround you out of your doors of perception.
We often argue about what Zen is, and if it can be a substitute for interval training, but recently Peter seemed in crisis: no races seemed to fit his needs – sprints are too short, ironman too long, promo races are ok until you're relaxed, relays are boring... He tried the XTerra races, and that seemed the solution.
" The spirit we found when we begun, Mauro, THAT spirit!"
It lasted three races. Then, crisis was again fully displayed on his face.
"You know, I'm ok with the idea of leaving alone all this, if it's the case, but it's not how I feel..."
Fate solved Peter's problems, playing a nice?bad?who knows? trick to him.
I followed him in a mountain bike weekend – we both needed experience off road, and they FLY, in XTerra races.
"Ops! Sorry, Pete. I accidentally broke three spokes of your front wheel! I'm so sorry..."
"Grrr..."
"Mauro, did you see my bike computer? I was sure it was on..."
"AAAGH! Mauro, where's my hrm?!?!? How can I train well, now? A whole weekend like a granny!!!"
The rant went on for almost two hour.
Then we fixed some way his front wheel, and had a relaxing weekend, like two nice grannies. The first day Peter was telling every biker we were crossing: "Hey, we had some problems – we're just relaxing!" and grunting.
Cutting it short, at the end of the last ride, he was silent, and almost in tears. "What's wrong Pete?"
"It's the beat, it's the beat" and his finger indicated his heart.
We had no chance to add a day, so had a run in the evening, and when in the bush Peter went naked! "Still the beat, Pete?"
"Shut up. Let me listen!"
Well.
Now he wants to do the NYC Marathon dressed like a big red heart. He now thinks sport is too important to be managed by any brain. He also thinks that I have hidden his computer, his hrm and deliberately broke his wheel, because I love him.
I wish I did, but my middle name is not Fate, just Friend.
Prova: scarpe salomon XA Series
Il fiato grosso e la sua coltivazione