In our last episode, we discussed the training necessary to prepare for an ironman-distance triathlon in relation to a 100-mile ultramarathon. We compared triathlon to rock music, and ultrarunning to reggae. There was also a picture that generated some discussion, but that’s neither here nor there.
So today we’ll talk about the reason for all of that training: race day. In musical terms, think of it as the day your favorite band comes to town to play in concert. Whether you go to several concerts a year, or only attend on rare occasions, the concert is almost guaranteed to be memorable, and will hopefully justify your being a fan for all that time beforehand.
In high school and college, I frequented a lot of concerts. The best rock shows were typically held in smaller venues, where people cram like sardines while screaming and yelling and otherwise acting like complete lunatics, with loud music and darklights and pyrotechnic displays completely overwhelming your senses, when everybody feeds off the energy of everybody else until you start doing things that you never dreamed you’d allow yourself to do in public.
(and, um … before I incriminate myself further, I’d better stop there. Let’s just say that sometimes things got crazy.)
By contrast, the best reggae shows were usually long, slow-paced, mellow affairs. They often took place at large fairgrounds and had names like “Sunsplash” or “Reggaefest”, with several bands playing throughout the day, while people got themselves baked - both on ganja and by soaking up the warm sun. Most attendees were just looking to chill out for a while, taking in all the sights and sounds, with their primary goal simply to make it to the end of the day without ending up in an ambulance.
Short and intense versus long and mellow: does any of that sound familiar? With that in mind, let’s continue our comparison.
RACING
1. Time investment
This is the category where ironman devotees might feel like they’re being kicked in the teeth. After all, one of the reasons the ironman is so compelling is the huge intimidation factor involved with doing an activity that takes the better part of a day and night.
The duration of the ironman-distance race, and the corresponding length of training sessions needed to complete it, is frequently the greatest source of pride (and in more than a few cases, arrogance) when Ironman racers compare themselves to cyclists and runners and shorter-distance triathletes. At Kona, at least one vendor sold shirts saying “You ran a marathon? That’s cute.” Clearly, the duration of the event is the distinction upon which Ironmen and women stake their image and reputation.
And make no mistake, the Ironman is a long event. While the pros typically finish in 9 or 10 hours, most age-groupers are on the course for several hours afterward, fighting their bodies’ overwhelming instincts to cease and desist. As night falls, many athletes are still on the course, trying to beat a certain goal time, or as a last resort, the 17-hour milestone that denotes the end of the event.
Sure, that’s pretty daunting … but at 100-mile races, do you know what they call the 17-hour mark? The 50-mile cutoff.
Almost every single person who lines up at the start line of an ultra knows that he or she is going to pull an all-nighter (and in some insane cases, two) simply to finish the event. Some races see a handful of finishers under 20 hours, but even world-class ultrarunners typically need at least 16 or 17 hours to cover 100 miles. Races with relatively flat profiles generally set a finish cutoff of 30 hours, but more challenging races have cutoffs in excess of 40 hours. In that context, the question of which event is a greater test of endurance is a no-brainer: it’s ultras, hands down.
(I know that the instinctive reaction of IM folks is to say “but if you’re out there that long, you can’t really be racing.” As hard as it is to believe, some ultrarunners actually do straight-up race each other for 20 or more hours at a time. From my experience, the percentages are very similar in the two sports: a select number - probably less than 10% - of athletes are truly competing [responding to an opponent’s move, using surges at strategic times, etc] for overall or age-group spots, while the vast majority are just trying to reach the finish as quickly as possible on their own terms. You can’t use arguments like temperature extremes [e.g. Kona] or difficulty of terrain, either, because there are 100-mile races in all of those conditions, too. Sorry, Ironpeople. On the bright side, nobody is selling “You did an Ironman? That’s cute.” shirts yet - at least, not as far as I know.)
So this sounds like a big victory for ultrarunning, right? Not so fast. Remember, in Part 1, I awarded points based on which sport was a more practical endeavor for regular working schlubs to accomplish. Since the Ironman is a shorter event, that makes it more easily attainable – therefore the point for this round is awarded to triathlon. (That’s Ultra 3, IM 2, if you’re keeping track so far.)
2. Degree of difficulty
This is basically a recycled argument from what I said in Part 1 about the difficulty of training: for many triathletes, there’s one segment that comes less easily than the others, but you can’t avoid dealing with it on race day. For example, it seems like many triathletes dread the swim portion of the IM, even though it’s a disproportionately small percentage of the overall race in terms of duration. It makes sense, though - if you hate swimming, or you’re really slow or inefficient or prone to panic in the open water, the prospect of spending 90 minutes or more on that segment would pose an enormous challenge.
Triathlon also has the potential for mechanical issues on the bike, ranging in severity from minor annoyances to catastrophic problems that necessitate withdrawal from the race. This obviously varies with each person based both on the quality of his bike and his familiarity with making mechanical adjustments. And the pros aren't imune to this problem – as defending champion Chris McCormack can tell you after bike problems sabotaged his race at Kona this month.
By comparison, ultrarunning is pretty tame stuff; as we established earlier, people don’t get into this sport unless they really love trail running. And since we generally don’t have to worry about the soles of our shoes tearing loose, equipment malfunctions are pretty low on our list of worries. Score another point for ultrarunning.
3. Enjoyment
For most folks, this is the primary reason we get into the sport: to enjoy ourselves and have fun. (Healthy living and looking good in a swimsuit are a close second and third. Eating ice cream is probably on that list, too – but I’m getting off the subject.)
Think again of the rock concert/reggaefest analogy that introduced this post. This is one of those questions about which reasonable minds may differ: what type of experience do you prefer? Do you favor the rush of high-intensity, borderline dangerous experiences, or the Zen-like satisfaction of introspection and enlightenment?
I can honestly say that in my ultrarunning experience, I haven’t found anything nearly as exhilarating as bombing downhill on a bike at 45 mph, or getting thrashed in the washing machine at the start of the swim segment, or the panic of transitioning from swim to bike as quickly as possible without making some crucial error than will ruin the rest of your day. In many ways, those are the experiences I live for – even more so than the self-awareness of ultrarunning - so I’m scoring this round in favor of the Ironman; but feel free to overrule this one if you’re keeping score at home.
4. Injury potential
Here’s an experiment for you: ask anyone who’s finished a 100-miler to tell you about their race, then click your stopwatch. I’ll be shocked if you make it 30 seconds before the runner starts describing some kind of injury or another that impacted his or her race performance, and caused lasting problems for weeks or months afterward.
There are several reasons why a 100-miler grinds your body down much worse than an IM. First, as we’ve established, you’re out there for twice as long. Since you’re only doing one activity, the potential for developing soft tissue (muscle, tendon, ligament) injury or other crippling situations such as blistering or chafing is magnified significantly. Medical conditions are both more common and more threatening in 100-mile races than any other event (I’ve written a whole article about this), and the task itself becomes more dangerous as the miles grow longer.
If you’ve done an Ironman, think of the injury risk this way: imagine that your bike segment ended at midnight, and you still had to run your marathon completely in the dark, when your body would normally be sleeping. Now imagine that your run course still has several thousand feet of elevation change, and that it’s exclusively on narrow, rocky, root-strewn trails where slipping could blow out your knee or send you down a steep embankment. Those last 26.2 of the ironman seem pretty tame by comparison – and that’s why 100-milers are the more hazardous event.
But remember, points are awarded here for the relative ease of entry to the sport in question – so in the category, score another point for the Ironman. (And I’m one step closer to thinking those “Ironman? That's Cute.” shirts aren’t such a bad idea.)
Have you noticed that the score is all tied up? Which is fitting, because both the Ironman and 100-milers inspire the highest degree of competition imaginable. If only there were some completely subjective, idiotically intangible criteria by which I could declare a final winner …
(You can probably guess where this is headed … )
5. Sexiness
Remember the picture of Desiree Ficker from yesterday’s post? Of course you do. The crazy part is, that took me about 0.14 seconds to find in a basic image search. And I didn’t have to pick Desiree – I could have just as easily gone with her or her or her. (Or, in the interest of fairness to the ladies, him or him or him.)
Clearly, triathlon is a sport that’s just bursting at the seams with sex appeal. There’s something about seeing hot athletes wearing hot outfits using hot gear that’s unquestionably, … what’s the word I’m looking for? … hot. And while the men and women of ultrarunning are perfectly attractive in their own right, there’s really no question as to which sport has long since brought sexy back.
Whether that’s enough to justify scoring another point in favor of triathlon is really up to you. (It is, however, enough for me to justify including one more Desiree photo above.) It’s another question where people may reasonably differ: do you think of beauty as breathtaking and glamorous, or understated and inspirational? I guess it’s all in the eye of the beholder.
Finally, the fact that these events finished in a deadlock wasn’t merely coincidence; these two posts are my extremely long-winded way of saying that both the ironman and a 100-miler are fantastic accomplishments. Training and racing in them will impact your life in wonderful and extraordinary ways that you never imagined. Perhaps above all else, the most important characteristic they share is this: they each need to be experienced in order to be truly appreciated.
**
Click here to read Part 1
**
Read more...
Hakas were originally performed by Maori warriors prior to battle, and are absolutely mesmerizing in their intensity and aggression. The dance also made headlines on the Monterey Peninsula last year when a local high school football team was forbidden from performing it before games. The team had several players of Samoan descent who taught the ritual to their teammates as a form of cultural awareness (on a football field!); unfortunately, the grunting, shouting, and suggestive hand gestures were deemed offensive by opposing schools, and the school board eventually outlawed the pre-game routine. So much for culture.
