TriSports.com Blog

Ironman Arizona – a group effort

This weekend is the 9th edition of Ironman Arizona and for all 9 of these, the TriSports.com staff, family, friends and loyal customers have been on the course volunteering and racing.  This year will be no different.  Our great customers from around Tucson, Phoenix and beyond come out in droves to support the TriSports.com aid station that is nestled under the 202 and Mill Ave bridges.  This aid station serves as a safe haven for volunteers, racers and spectators because of the built in “roof” above.  Along with volunteering, we have four great staff members, representing four different departments (customer service, accounting, buying and management) stepping up to the line representing the red, white and blue of TriSports.com.  All combined, over 40% of our staff will be involved with the event in some way, shape or form.

Retail manager, Erik Jacobson, volunteers at the 2010 Ironman Arizona.

I have to say that we are very fortunate to work in our facility because it really does feel like the entire TriSports.com staff is behind you.  They understand when you had a hard day on the bike, a great run or a meeting in the Pain Cave.  Most of the time when you see someone dragging in this building, it is because they just tortured themselves on some epic workout.  Why?   Because we live the endurance lifestyle, it is what we do, it is who we are.  See you up in Tempe!

2011 Ironman Arizona finisher, and Team TriSports athlete Matt Grabau.

Fighting for Solar

There are three things in life I will fight for:

1)      My family and friends.

2)      My business.

3)      The environment.

This is a story relating to #3 on my list.

Earlier this year we made the decision to install solar on our building. By June we had selected a vendor (Technicians For Sustainability) and by early July we had started the permitting process. This also included submitting plans to our BOA (Business Owners Association – it’s like a Home Owners Association but for the area our facility is located – the Butterfield Business Park). Fast forward to October and all of the permits, structural drawings, etc. were completed, which included getting a variance from the city because one of the structures holding the solar will go a couple feet into the easement of our property. We were contacted by TFS that they were ready to begin, what an exciting time – STOP! The day before we were to start construction we were contacted by our BOA that the architectural review committee, headed up by a local architect here in Tucson, decided to decline the installation of our project.  Why? They stated a couple reasons, but mainly because you can see the solar panels from the road.

Yes, bureaucracy (and complete arrogance) at its best. Luckily the state of Arizona has a law that protects us – A.R.S. § 33-1816; however, it is a fight that I didn’t think we would have to address, especially considering the BOA had over 3 months to address the issue. Needless to say, we are proceeding with the project without the blessing of our BOA. This is for the environment, this is for my kids, this is for our future.

Good Luck…

By Tom Demerly

I’m not superstitious. I don’t believe in luck when racing. Not at all.

I’m also not a total idiot. So, I would never ride a green bike again.

Do a Google search on the key words “green race cars bad luck” and you get 5,570,000 results. That’s not luck, that’s data. I had a green racing bike once. I hit a concrete telephone pole at 37 M.P.H. on it. Broke my left arm in nine places, got a concussion and broke my tailbone. No green bikes. Green bikes aren’t a matter of luck. The data confirms they are dangerous. They should have a CPSC warning.

Never say “Good luck” to me on race morning.

Because I’m a pragmatist I don’t need luck. If you want to say something, say “Have a good race”, which is what I say to all my friends in a race. If I am racing a specific guy I want to beat I may tell him “Good luck” because, well, as I’ve mentioned saying “Good luck” is bad luck. But, because wishing any bad luck on your competitors by saying “Good luck” would be bad karma, I don’t do that either. It would be bad luck, which I don’t believe in anyway. Too much negative energy. So just say, “Have a good race”.

Never wear white sunglasses or a bright colored hat before your race on race morning.

Again, not being a believer in luck, this is a data-driven decision. Look at race car drivers. They always have their photo on the podium with white sunglasses and a cool sponsor hat. Before the race they wear dark framed glasses and keep a low profile. The data verifies that wearing white sunglasses and a light colored hat before a race quantifiably diminishes your performance. However, wearing white sunglasses in a race gives you power. It isn’t luck; I think it has something to do with your peripheral vision, or something…

Never shake hands before a race. It has nothing to do with luck. It, ah… messes with your aura. When a person shakes your hands or touches you before a race you can almost see the heebie-jeebies jumping off them and onto you. I know there is a scientific term for that, just can’t remember it. It is, however, steeped in physiology. Don’t shake hands before a race. Negative ions or something… bad. Nothing to do with luck.

Because my race decisions are data-driven I know that even numbered race numbers produce odd results. Not luck; math. If you get a race number like “682” something really odd is going to happen on race day. Now, if you get a race number with an “11” in it, like “511”, be ready for a PR and an age category win. That is a solid number- it’s all odd and there is an “11” in it. That is a strong numerical conversion. Nothing to do with luck, after all, numbers don’t lie.

Racing is about details, not luck or superstition. So, if you attend to the details you, ah, won’t have any bad luck.

Race Report: Thomas Gerlach @ Tinfoilman Triathlon

By Team TriSports athlete Thomas Gerlach

While most people were busy preparing their Halloween costumes, this week I got to work making myself into a real-life walking zombie.  I knew I hit the mark when I walked into TriSports on Saturday for the Tinfoilman packet pickup, and the staff actually commented on how much I looked like a zombie.  But that was the plan, and with both the Amica 19.7 Sprint Championship and Ironman Arizona fast approaching, I had little time for rest during my hardest training block ever.

The goal of the Tinfoilman was to get in a fast threshold workout and compare it to a race earlier this year on the same course.  Now to be fair, I had crashed 10 days prior to that race, but I thought it would be a wash with the extra fatigue for this one.

Swim (9:59) The Tinfoilman features an 825 yard swim in the University of Arizona pool. The race features 10 waves, with 30 athletes per wave, and 2 athletes per lane.I embraced the news as I planned for an even tougher threshold workout. My wave was up, the gun fired, and I took off down the lane. Surprisingly I had half a length gap on everyone - that is until I hit the wall - and then I found myself suddenly half a length behind. Now seeing as I don't believe in doing flip turns, and nor do I believe in pushing off the wall, I knew that I would sacrifice some time here. I can only imagine what it looks like from the pool deck, but based on the number of coaches that have watched me swim thru the years, I am pretty sure it is a horrid site - but hey it's Halloween!Bike (28:17) The bike is a relatively flat, 12-mile, 3-loop bike course around the U of A campus. The roads of this urban bike course go from smooth as glass to "hold on for dear life" rough, and they can be quite challenging with cars, dogs, and competitors to watch out for.The bike is where I expected my legs to be most fatigued and sadly they didn't disappoint. Nonetheless, I pedaled as fast as I could as I tried to close the gap on Ben. The power on the smoother sections was good at 330, but I couldn't put out any power on the bumpy sections and with all the turns the final power only came in at 279. In better news, as the laps rolled by the split differential was coming down. After the 1st lap it was at 1 minute, by the second lap it was down to 40 seconds, and when I rolled back into transition it was down to 20. This was all good, but I knew I needed a great run to win.

Run (17:17) I got back to transition, racked my bike, and swiftly put on my run shoes.  I had a GPS watch that I was going to use for data, but it served little purpose in trying to chase down a future Olympian.

I took off on the run with the mindset that I was only 20 seconds down – surprisingly the legs felt pretty good.  It always amazes me how much fresher legs feel after short races than the longer races that I am accustom to.  On the downside, fresh legs means there are no excuses but to run fast.

The run is a flat 2-loop course that offers multiple opportunities to grab splits. That first opportunity came at about 1K and I was roughly 250 meters down.  Ben looked strong, but the gap didn’t seem unreasonable so I pressed hard.  I was flying by other participants from earlier waves but my gap to Ben was growing and the signature smile was fading to a grimace.  I continued down the homestretch and could only muster a faint “on your left” as I flew by participants.  I left it all on the table, but in the end I would finish nearly a minute and a half down.

Overall (55:34) I had my best swim ever swimming 825y in 9:59.  That may not impress many – but it continues to show that my swim work is paying off, and a strong swim is key to my success at the next level.  The bike was lacking today but I knew it would be and the run was on par.  Overall my time was 55:34 and good for second place and was a good minute faster than my race back in May at 56:37.

Street Level

By Tom Demerly

He hollered through a broken smile that looked like his brown teeth had chomped down on rock.

“Hey- how much was ‘saht bike? I seen ‘em bikes ‘sat cost eight hunder dollars and weigh three pounds. You kin pick ‘em up with yer pinky finger…”

Every morning on the commute in, and again on the way home, I see the men at the corner. They live under the bridge and sell papers to people stopped at the traffic light. Most people sitting behind safety glass in temperature controlled distance ignore them. Some buy papers, mostly tan men in pick-up trucks with ladders and tool buckets.

On a bike you are connected to the world, the environment. You sit on a bike, not in it. There is a greater level of interaction, intimacy even- with your surroundings. The interaction is both beautiful and sobering.

So it was that one morning I decided to ask one of the paper men; “How did you start selling papers on the corner and living under the bridge?”

This would seem an inappropriate question. It’s none of our business. We turn up the radio, crank the air and look away. Mind our own business. How much are tinted windows? And the Nietzsche quote, “If you stare into the Abyss long enough, the Abyss stares back” came to mind just a second after I asked him the question.

“Awww…” He started. “I’s ridin’ the buses. You ‘kin stay on ‘em all night. But they threw me off. I had a bed up in Phoenix- they let ya keep it fer a month. You get all yer own stuff, a locker too…”

The light changed. I got up on the curb with him. “But ya gotta find a job, and I ain’t had a job in eight years.” Cars were turning left now, passing inches from us. No one looked at us. It was as if he and I didn’t exist.

“Where you goin?” He asked me. I told him, “work”, pointing up the street to about where TriSports.com is. “You make bombs?”

“No, no, we sell triathlon stuff- bikes and shoes- mail order.”

“Ahhh. Bikes. They make bombs over there for the Air Force Base.”

He didn’t answer my question. What I wanted to know was, “How did you wind up here? What led to this? Do you ever dream of getting out- getting a job, getting an apartment?” and perhaps most importantly, “Are you happy this way- have you made this ‘work’?”

The light turned green and I had to get to work. I told him, “Listen Man, have a good one…”

“OK Man,” he said through the broken tooth smile. “I’ll see you later buddy…”

It was unrealistic to believe I could gain an understanding of why people are homeless in one conversation between stoplights. Like most issues in society it’s more complex than a four minute, two traffic light conversation. But it is a start. And that start is reflective of how riding a bike can connect us to our surroundings.

The Road to Gibraltar by George Bradbury

A couple of weeks ago while passing through the retail store a co-worker stopped me and asked me to help answer some questions for a man who was about to traveling to a swim race. We chatted for a couple of minutes and I grew more and more intrigued by where this man was headed. Finally, I got it out of him that he was headed to Spain to swim the Strait of Gibraltar. As a swimmer myself I was ecstatic to hear that a local Tucsonan and customer of our’s was under taking such an adventure. I gave him my card, and told him I would love to hear about his swim. So, without further ado here is George Bradbury’s recap on his training and swimming of the Straight of Gibraltar.

The idea to swim the Strait of Gibraltar started circulating in my head after I finished Ironman Arizona in 2009. Actually, I think that while I was swimming that day I thought to myself, “what would it be like to swim twice this distance, or longer?” I had a great race that day, but after 5 ironman triathlons I needed something else. Geoff Glaser, my masters swim coach, suggested I try a marathon swim for variety. I was intrigued, and the mystique of swimming the Strait of Gibraltar, from one continent to another, sealed the deal. With the demands of my job I find it hard to train for big events more frequently than every other year, so I set my sights on 2011. This coincided with my 50th birthday, so that seemed fitting, too.

In January of this year I started ramping up my swimming. Initially, I was swimming 6 days a week, logging about 4000-5000 yards/day. I thought that I would keep track of weekly and monthly totals, but I just lost interest after 4-6 weeks. Each month the distance would increase 1000-2000 yards per workout. By the time I was swimming 7000-8000 yards/day, it was getting tough to find enough time to get in my workouts. Around March, Geoff changed it up and gave me short and long days. This helped a good bit, and I was swimming around 40,000 yards a week. That is a lot of yards, and a lot of flip turns, in a 25yd pool. Boring. SwimP3 helped, but Prince really began to get on my nerves.

In April I started open water swims one weekend a month in San Diego, each time for progressively longer periods. During the summer months, things really picked up and I was swimming 45,000-54,000 yards a week. Because of expenses and vacations, I did a high altitude swim in Flagstaff, nearly freezing to death after 5 hours. In July I swam in Lake Mead for 6 hours. That was much warmer, but I started during a lightning storm. Not smart, but you can’t be choosy about swimming venues when you live in the desert.   Final big open water swim was in San Diego over Labor Day. That was seven hours of fun in the San Diego bay. I had hoped to swim in the open ocean but the waves were 8-11 feet that weekend. No way! That swim was tough, but I thought if I could do that I ought to be ready for the Strait.

The two weeks leading up to the trip still had a fair amount of swimming, but I did taper some. I felt a bit over-trained, so I erred on the side of rest. It is difficult to know how to work the taper since you really don’t know what day the weather will permit a crossing. Additionally, I was behind two other swimmers in the queue, but they failed to materialize and I was bumped to the front of the line.

I was blessed with perfect conditions on the appointed day. The wind had dropped and the sea was calm. The minutes and hours flew by without much notice. There were dolphins swimming around me and a seagull spent a long time hovering over me trying to decide if I was edible. The water was cold and clear and I felt great. At the halfway point, two hours in, I decided to step on the gas to see what I could do. The ocean had gotten rougher closer to Africa, making it hard to know how far I had left to go. I was working pretty hard for the last 3 km and the Moroccan Coast Guard was not helping by creating turbulence as they circled me. Finally, I cut through the current that was sweeping me to the east and made landfall after covering 18.5 km in 3 hours and 57 minutes. Would I do it again? YES! Although often lonely, it was an awesome experience, peaceful in so many ways.

Kona-licious

By Tom Demerly

Why Kona? What’s the big deal?

If you designed a venue for a World Championship it would be tough to beat Kailua-Kona. The Romans have The Coliseum, Race car drivers have Indy, runners have Boston, cyclists have France. We have Kona.

No other triathlon course on earth is so purpose built to test toughness, straight line speed and heat tolerance. No other course forms as perfect an “amphitheater” for a grand spectacle.

Firstly, there is Dig Me Beach. This has everything to do with the experience of the race. You walk down narrow concrete steps- the same steps descended by every competitor and winner- to the little beach. Because this area is so small, too small really, it is a gathering place for people to watch athletes, do some conspicuous stretching and generally look buff. If you’re on the little beach in Kona you’ve arrived. People sit on the wall drinking Coffees of Kona in the morning to see who shows up. The Romans paraded their gladiators through town for people to place their bets.

The swim course has excellent visibility and is usually calm on race morning. There have been years with rollers, but this is mostly a swimmer’s course- one big rectangle in warm, crystal clear water. No wetsuits, best swimmer wins. In 1984 one of the most colorful men to race Kona did this swim course in 47:48 for 2.4 miles. Olympic swimmer Djan Madruga of Brazil was exactly what you’d expect for a man with that name, that passport and that time: A bronze statue of a lad. The day after he set the new swim course record in Kona he rescued a tourist from drowning in the Pacific. The day after…

Kailua-Kona is a safe little haven that houses the transition- or one of them depending on the race year- and the buzz of the race start. It’s the hub. Like most great dramatic venues there is mysticism and fear beyond its pretty confines. When you climb out of Kona and up to The Highway everything changes. It gets ugly. The Hawaii Belt Road or Mamalahoa Highway is made up of highways 11, 19 and 190. The Ironman uses Highway 19, the Queen Ka’ahumanu Highway. The road is exactly 100 miles long; Ironman uses around 35-40 miles of that road twice for the bulk of its bike course. It is bordered by hot, black lava rock, raked by trade winds and generally monotonous in appearance. No one lives out here. No water. Too hot. Too windy.

And there are the “blast furnaces”. Highway 19 is on loan from the cranky island Gods who vent their anger in the form of lava flows. Sometimes they take the road back by covering it with lava. When the lava dries road crews carve a notch through the flow and re-pave the Queen K creating a 6-20 foot high black lava wall on either side of the road. The sun gets in there, heats the lava, and creates a blast furnace. You ride through it, and bake…

Now you’re on the run and it starts to get very real. It isn’t pretty anymore. Forget Hawaii. Black rock, folding table aid stations, precious bits of ice and sports drink, and a baking sun. These next few hours will be what you tell people about for the next few decades. Graduation day and final exam day all in one. Best of luck, but it won’t do you any good. You’re going to suffer. The more you can suffer, the better you’ll do.

This year the sun will set in Kona at 6:06 PM local zone time. The UV index is “10+ Extreme”. Wind only 10 M.P.H. High 85 degrees. As you head back into town at about 6:00 PM with a beautiful sunset on the horizon and a lot of pain in your legs you will see something on the horizon, like another sunset- an artificial one. Those are the lights of the finish line. In about 20-30 minutes you’ll be there. You did it.

Elizabeth Waterstraat the IronMom

By Elizabeth Waterstraat

In just a few days, I’ll be heading out to Kona to compete for my third time there.  The difference this time is that I’m going as a mother.  A little over 14 months ago, I gave birth to our first child – Max.  He is perfect in every way and quite possibly the cutest child on the planet.  If speed goggles make all fast chicks look really hot, parent goggles make only your child look adorable.  Now the only challenge is to arrive in Kailua Bay wearing my swim goggles – pretty sure that parent goggles are rose-colored and cause the tendency to break out into song whenever you hear a child crying.

For this time in Kona, we’re packing up the entire family.  While Ironman training was difficult, traveling 9 hours by plane with a 14 month old might just prove more painful than doing 30 seconds at 170 percent of V02 max.  Not that I’ve ever done that but I would imagine that hurts really, really bad.  And while I can tolerate my child’s whining and crying for hours on end (parental survival mechanism), I’m not sure anyone else seated around 17C will have the same pain tolerance.

When I first planted the idea in my head that I wanted to qualify for Kona less than a year after giving birth, no part of me thought it was crazy.  After all, a little bit of crazy is what makes for a good dream.  If you’re going to dream – you might as well dream big.  Then put the foundation under it.  But I will admit that while it wasn’t crazy, it was a lot of work.  Sitting here, less than a week away from the Ironman World Championship, I sometimes think to myself – how did I do it?  Those nights I was woken up every 3 hours while nursing, how did I get up at 5 am for masters?  How did I find the energy to do two workouts a day?  How did I do all of this while not once getting sick, nor injured nor burnt out.  Miracles happen but this was not the result of anything magical.  It took a lot of little things to make this one big thing happen.

Support system:  All new parents need a support system.  When people ask us why we live in Chicago, with its long winter and limited roads for cycling, we knew the reason had nothing to do with our life style and everything to do with our future.  Simply put, here we are surrounded by our family.  And when we created our own family, having our family around to watch our child allowed us to then go and do the things we love to do (swim/bike/run) often together as a couple which was very important.  Whether it’s your family or a trustworthy babysitter, it helps to have the help.

Convenience Counts:  Years ago, we invested in a quality treadmill, a Computrainer and some basic strength equipment.  Our basement is like a mini-gym that is available 7 days a week, 24 hours a day no matter what the weather is.  As soon as our son is sleeping, I can pop into my basement for a workout.  My bike is always on the trainer and the baby monitor is nearby.  We also found a gym with unlimited child care for a small fee.  Spending some wise money up front has really paid off in terms of convenience to continue to pursue athletic goals.

Less Is More:  There’s a lot of talk about whether less really is more and as a parent, I can assure you that less is more.  Why?  Because I don’t have time for more.  And if I made the time, I would sacrifice my relationship with my child or husband or be so harried from making that more happen that I would just run myself down.  Rather than risk that, I make the most of what I’ve got.  When I’m training – I’m 100 percent focused on the task at hand and looking for the quality.  I’m organized – everything is ready to go – my stuff, my mind.  Not only that but I’m excited about each workout because it’s a small part of my day that I get to myself.

An Ounce of Perspective:  Part of staying healthy in sport is learning to never sweat the small stuff.  Endurance athletes can be very myopic.  A bad workout becomes an opportunity to doubt ourselves.  A missed workout makes us feel like a failure.  An off race result can be crushing.  While these can be disappointing, they have no effect on who I am or what really matters in life – taking care of that kid!  This perspective has helped me to do the work and when the work is done – let it be!  The best athletes learn to separate who they are from what they do in sport, this freedom allows them to perform at a high level.

People often ask me what I think about when I’m out there swimming, biking and running all of those long miles you need for Ironman preparation.  You want the truth?  I think about my kid.  I wonder what he’s doing.  I think about him smiling.  There’s something about that thought that is so pure and grounding that no matter where I’m at in the workout or what I’m feeling, it makes me feel strong, hopeful and positive.  No pain is too much (uh, labor anyone!?!) and no problem is too big (you want a real problem – forget the pacifier at home!).

So, how is this time in Kona different?  When I get to the starting line of Kona this year, I’ve got 14 months of awesome memories and smiles to fuel my 140.6 mile journey.  I get to see my family on the sidelines.  I get to see my son’s smile.  And when I cross that finish line – no matter what time I’ve done or how I place in my age group – I get to go back to them as #1 mommy.  Honestly, you can’t beat that!

That One in Hawaii

And so it begins for most of us. Ironman is the dream anyone can achieve, and that continues to capture our imagination. Anything Is Possible.

“The Senator said you were quite the athlete. That you were a tri-athalon-er.”

The sound of wine glasses clinking on one another over the drifting muzak distracted me. Was that really an electronic version of Girl from Ipanema?  Ipanema… Beaches, small bikinis…

“Have you ever done that one in Hawaii?” The lady asked. I was snapped back to the party.

“Why, as a matter of fact…”  I told her.

It is the first question regular people ask triathletes. “Have you ever done that one in Hawaii?” Until you have you are doomed to a diatribe of disclaimers and excuses. The Senator won’t be impressed. Neither will your next door neighbor. While this sport is not about impressing others… entirely, there is an intrinsic authenticity to The Big One.

Like it, love it, bemoan it or despise it, the Ford Ironman World Championships (registered trademark) is the most recognized event in the triathlon world. If it weren’t for Ironman Hawaii- before Ford, Gatorade and Bud Light- we would not have a sport. We wouldn’t be in the Olympics. Athletes wouldn’t have “M-Dot” tattoos. Envious newbs and grouchy tri-geezers wouldn’t talk trash about The Corporation on forums as though Ironman were the prom queen in the silver sequins dress and they were the alterna-teens in goth black. Ironman is about a lot of things. Envy is one. Respect is another. Ironman deserves both.

As The Ford Ironman Triathlon World Championships gets ready to contest its 35^th edition its worth looking at why this race is an icon in sport like no other.

Firstly: Access.

Whoever coined the Ironman motto “Anything is Possible” couldn’t have been more prophetic. Ironman is an icon because it is a dream anyone can achieve. Argue that it has lost its “roots” or “soul”. I say you’re wrong. Anything is still possible. If you are a fan of football you can try all you want, but the reality is you will never snap the ball on the 50-yard line at the Superbowl. You may be a huge Formula 1 fan but you will never race at Monaco. If you are dedicated and willing to chase a dream, you will be on that pier in Kona waiting for the cannon to go off with a number stenciled on your arm during the first full moon of October. Anything truly is possible at Ironman.

The prophetic thing about the Ironman motto is that it’s a double edged sword. Dreams come true on the course in Kona, and nightmares are made real. Imagine a nightmare of humiliation so grand you become an icon for pooping you pants. On international television. You know the story of Julie Moss in the 1982 Ironman. How she crawled, messed her shorts. Came in second. Wait, who won that race? What difference does it make? Moss made the race. Moss wound up on the ugly edge of Anything being Possible. People around the world somehow identified with that. For the first three years of our lives we try to unlearn that. It hit a visceral chord. She did what on network TV?

So you line up and take your chance, zero or hero. Pro athlete, Navy SEAL, Nun and paralyzed athlete. Same course. Same race. Same clock. Anything is Possible. It’s undeniably real, uniquely accessible. That’s the attraction.

And by the way, let the Senator know, I have done The One in Hawaii

That's me on the pier in Kona in 1986. Only moments before I had unwittingly locked myself in a porta-john. Anything really is possible.

Erasing Boundaries

What is the difference between a man and a woman? As far as the stopwatch goes: nothing. And there is opportunity in that.

Women’s participation has changed endurance sports. Within this change comes the potential for a tremendous achievement: Greater gender equality, not just in athletics, but in society. A new group of heroes that cross gender barriers are inspiring every person, male and female. The equality tendered by brute distance and the ruthless stopwatch does not discriminate. Only people do. In that is an opportunity for sport to drive social change and erase boundaries worldwide.

When women beat men boundaries and expectations are stretched.

Consider the Ironman. The person with the most Ironman wins and Ironman World Championships is a woman. Paula Newby-Fraser owns more than any man. A woman is the greatest Ironman in history. If someone had proposed that to the alcohol fortified Naval Officers who invented Ironman what kind of controversy would that have added to the mix?

But Newby Fraser won the women’s division you say- and the women’s times have always been slower than the overall men’s winner. Then consider the case of Kara Goucher at the 2009 Chicago Rock n’ Roll Half Marathon. This was a major, big city road race with thousands of participants including elite males. Goucher won the event overall, beating every man with a half marathon time that was only the 21^st fastest in women’s athletic history.  It may speak to a weak men’s field- but it also speaks to the ascent of women’s athletics. In 1998 Lori Bowden won Ironman Canada with the 3^rd fastest overall run split. One race analyst observed that, had the run been four miles longer and Bowden maintained her run pace while the slowing overall winner Christian Bustos continued losing time at the same rate he did over the final miles- Bowden would have won overall.

These frontiers are worth thinking about following the decision by the International Association of Athletic Federations to only allow women to claim a world record performance in a gender specific race. If there are men in a race the female performance cannot be a World Record, only a “World Best”. While there are technical arguments for this rule change it suggests a wider segregation between standards for men’s and women’s athletic performances. It infers women can’t compete on a level playing field with men at endurance sports. And most importantly- it doesn’t push the limits at the same rate.

It is a step backward.

Diana Nyad's three attempts at swimming from Cuba to Florida stretched the concept of human endurance- for men and women.

Women’s athletics is a greater opportunity than what the IAAF rule change panders to. If athletics are blurred across gender lines there is the potential to inspire across cultures and gender roles. It’s more than distances and times; it’s about expanding possibilities and erasing boundaries. Recognize a limitation and its real. Ignore it and sooner or later it disappears.

Paula Newby- Fraser’s 1992 Ironman winning time of 8:55:28 would have won the event overall only 9 years earlier in 1983 when Dave Scott went 9:05:57 to win overall. Chrissy Wellington’s 8:54:02 at Kona 2009 would have beat Dave Scott in 1984. Someday, somewhere, that gap will close- unless it keeps getting pushed open by the artificial boundaries of excessive rules.