2/25/04

Get Busy Livin’ or Get Busy Dyin’

By Stephen Davis

Drew Cargile was panting and pedaling laboriously. His cadence was well below the 90 rotations per minute he wished to achieve.

“The body will pass out before it dies,” said Pete Coleman as he and Raymond Boone opened a 100-yard gap on their riding partner.

“I know the way home; ya’ll don’t have to wait on me,” said Drew.

Drew felt horrible. He would later describe this 50-mile bike ride as his worst day of cycling ever. But, this was not a time to complain. They were nine miles into the ride, and the remaining 41 had much torture in store for the trio. Challenges like Vomit Hill and the infamous Flat Liner still loomed ahead. What sane person would choose to take the early exit on one of the county roads along the route and head back to Demopolis? Not Drew, nor Pete, nor Raymond. Suffering is expected and welcomed by these 30-somethings who call themselves the “Demopolis Mafia.” Besides, a 50-mile ride is only a small portion of the training that will go into this group’s preparation for one of the most grueling sporting events on earth, the Ironman Triathlon.

Pushing the Body to the Limit

It all began in February 1978 in Waikiki, Hawaii. San Souci Beach was the starting point. 15 daring individuals dove into the waters and swam 2.4 miles until they reached the designated shore. They trampled into the transition area where their bikes were located, put on their cycling gear and then set out on a 112-mile journey that would circle a large portion of the island of Oahu. If that wasn’t enough, their final task was to run the Honolulu Marathon, 26.2 miles.

This was the Ironman, and all of this activity was to be completed in one day. On that day, Gordon Haller became the first Ironman, finishing in 11 hours and 46 minutes.

Today, it’s not uncommon for the winner to finish in less than nine hours. Ironman fever caught on quickly after its introduction. ABC began covering the event in 1980, Sports Illustrated wrote articles on the athletes and Ironman races began to pop up all over the world. The race area in Waikiki was moved to the island of Kona, Hawaii, and it became the permanent spot for the Ironman Triathlon World Championship. Many Ironman distance triathlons are held every year as qualifiers for the World Championship. In 2004, one of the qualifiers, Ironman Florida, happens to be the Ironman the Demopolis Mafia is registered to compete in.

Training on a Nasty Hill

“So….you wanna be an Ironman huh?” said Drew.

That sarcastic question is one that the guys will shout out when the training is tough and their spirits are low.

“Heaaall yeah….Hell yeah!” replied Raymond.

“Only 271 more days,” said Drew, referring to the Nov. 6, 2004 date of Ironman Florida.

As the group crossed the halfway point of their ride, the adrenaline and excitement suddenly dropped off. They were approaching the base of Vomit Hill. Strategies and confidence boosters appeared to be running through the men’s heads. When asked why it was named Vomit Hill, Pete said that it was because of the nauseating feeling one gets after completing it. He said that the objective of the Vomit challenge was to maintain a comfortable pace until topping the hill, then “hammer for two miles until you see the Sumter Timber Co.” Drew referred to this weekly ritual as a mind game, a way to break down the mental barriers that accompany the physical suffering. He said that it’s just one of the ways to develop the Ironman mentality.

A Blueprint for Victory

Although mental toughness is a requirement to complete the Ironman, a specific training program is a necessity when preparing for the race. Many different programs exist, each one suitable to different athlete’s needs. For example, Drew, Raymond and Pete all have jobs and families. Therefore, their training time is limited compared to that of a professional triathlete.

When the Mafia begins specific Ironman training, a 15-to-20 week period where all of their workouts will be tailored to the swim, bike and run distances, they will average three hours of swimming, four hours of cycling and three hours of running per week. As they progress into the program, they will spend 12 to 15 hours total per week training for their race day. When the training nears its completion, there will be a tapering period of two to three weeks where minimal exercise is done. When race week approaches, the men may train one to two hours at the beginning of the week, while the rest of the week will be spent resting.

Although this targeted program will not begin until the summer, the Mafia considers the early season, February, March and April, a time to build up their base mileage, a necessity in training for the Ironman. Base mileage is the foundation of mileage that must be attained in order to condition the body for the demands of future training. These demands of future training include the higher mileage and, certainly, more intense mileage that is included in their Ironman training program. The group primarily focuses on running and cycling in the winter and early spring. Pete said that Demopolis lacks an indoor pool, so they have to wait until the school-owned and country club pools open before training for the swim. Around this time, the first triathlons in the Southeast are generally held. This period of April through September consists of many “sprint” and “Olympic” distance triathlons, considerably shorter distances that Pete, Drew and Raymond can finish in less than two hours. They consider these races very important in their preparation for Ironman.

“Certain actions, such as a quick transition from your bike to your running gear, can’t be practiced,” said Raymond. “Those actions become instinctive, and the best way to improve them is to race.”

And race they will. The Mafia has signed up for eight races, not including the Ironman, this season so far.

When Does the Pain Begin?

The 50-miler was nearly over. The odometers on their bikes read 37 miles. It was time for the Flat Liner. Raymond won Vomit Hill; he reached Sumter Timber Co. before anyone else did. Unfortunately, the unwritten rules of the Demopolis Mafia say that whoever wins Vomit Hill has to lead the pack in the Flat Liner, a pancake flat, three-mile stretch of open road.

“You just line up…in a pace line…and push…hard,” said Drew. “Raymond will be doing all the work today so we’ll just draft off of his back wheel and try to relax.”

Before Flat Liner, the group was cruising at 22 mph. When Raymond started the Flat Liner charge, the pace jumped to 27 mph.

“All I want to know is….when does the pain begin!” shouted Drew.

After several minutes, it was obvious that the pain was settling in. Grimaces were on the faces of everyone, Raymond in the front, Drew in second and Pete on the tail end of the draft. The group passed mile marker 28. This meant they had only one Flat Liner mile to go.

“Come on dawg…you got it man, you got it,” said Drew, hoping he could help cheer Raymond on. The trio kept pedaling. There was a reflective road sign ahead, within 200 yards. It signaled the end. The Mafia whizzed by the sign at a powerful 31 mph.

“Now I want to know….when does the pain begin!” said Raymond.

The group erupted with laughter. There were 10 miles remaining in the ride, but the stress of the training day was over. The last 10 miles is a time where the men replenish their bodies with liquids, protein bars and recovery gels. It is a time where they coast back into Demopolis, relax and know that the efforts of a hard bike ride will pay off in the end.

The End of the Road (for today at least)

Around 10 a.m., the Demopolis Mafia rode into Pete’s driveway, clipped out of their pedals and propped their bikes up against the garage door. They chitchatted for a while, mainly talking about their 10-mile run scheduled the next morning and how they would train for the remainder of the week. Before the group went their separate ways for the day, Pete asked the guys to step inside his house for a minute. As they stepped through the door, Pete reached for a UPS box that was on top of the washing machine.

“I ordered these last week for all of us,” said Pete. He reached into the box and pulled out matching triathlon shorts and jerseys. On the very back of the jersey, was navy blue lettering that spelled out “Demopolis Mafia.” Written beneath it was a saying that summed up their 50-mile ride and the strenuous journey that will bring them to their destined date on Nov. 6: “Get Busy Livin’ or Get Busy Dyin’.”