The Ironman: A Physiological View - by Matt Fitzgerald

A Physiological View Of What The Human Body GoesThrough In An Ironman

By Matt Fitzgerald

On a Hot Streak

Core body temperature regulation is not a big issue in most Ironman swims, as cool (and even somewhat warm) water transfers heat away from the body very effectively. But the bike and run legs are a different story, especially on hot days. Almost three-quarters of the energy that your muscles release during cycling and running takes the form of heat waste. If this heat were allowed to accumulate in the muscles it would eventually cause serious tissue damage.

Your body has various means of preventing this heat from accumulating. The best known and among the most effective is perspiration. But the most effective of all is simply regulating your exercise intensity. The more you slow down, the less heat your muscles produce. That’s why you don’t race as fast on hot days.

You might assume that your core body temperature begins to rise gradually at the beginning of the bike leg and continues to rise throughout the rest of the race, reaching its highest level when you cross the finish line. This is seldom the case.

“Within the first 10 to 20 percent of the race, the core temperature rises relatively quickly,” says Jonathan Dugas, Ph.D., an exercise physiologist at the University of Chicago. “For example, it might rise from 37.5 to 38.75 degrees C in that timeframe. And then for the remainder of the event it stays within a very narrow range—maybe 0.1 and 0.2 degrees Celsius.”

The maximum safe core body temperature is 40 degrees C, or 104 degrees F. Even on the hottest days, Ironman participants seldom cross this threshold. According to Dugas, that’s because the brain constantly monitors the core body temperature and produces feelings of discomfort and fatigue that force you to slow down and generate less heat if things look like they’re about to get out of hand. Triathletes sometimes mistake these unpleasant symptoms as indications of heat illness, but they are actually products of a self-protective mechanism that prevents heat illness.

But this self-protective mechanism has been known to fail. That’s probably because the brain itself can become too hot to function properly during exercise in hot environments. When this happens, the central nervous system begins to malfunction and the athlete becomes dizzy, disoriented and uncoordinated, and may collapse.

Running on Empty

The most celebrated physiological challenge of Ironman racing is supplying the muscles with enough energy to cover the distance as quickly as possible. The average Ironman competitor burns more than 6,000 calories between the start and finish lines.

These calories come from fats stored in adipose tissue and within muscle tissue, glycogen stored in the muscles and liver, amino acids released from the breakdown of muscle proteins and calories ingested during the event, usually in the form of carbohydrates.

The balance of fuels shifts over the course of the day. During the swim and the first portion of the bike leg, carbohydrates are likely to provide almost half of the muscles’ energy, with fat providing an equal amount and protein just a sliver. As the body’s carbohydrate stores decrease, the carbohydrate contribution to forward progress diminishes and fat takes up the slack. By midway through the marathon, at the latest, muscle glycogen will have reached critically low levels in the calves, quads and hamstrings. Consequently, total carbohydrate contribution to continued running drops further, fat oxidation increases, and amino acids may provide as much as 15 percent of the muscles’ energy.

The inability to supply sufficient energy to the muscles is one of the main reasons individuals who do not train for an Ironman cannot complete an Ironman. Endurance is strictly limited by the availability of glycogen in the liver and working muscles. When these stores fall too low, your day is done. Endurance training greatly increases the body’s capacity for glycogen storage. But even the fittest triathlete cannot store enough glycogen to fuel an entire Ironman. Thankfully, training also greatly increases the capacity to burn fats, which allows the athlete to conserve glycogen, making it last longer.

There’s a Hole in the Bucket

The most visible effect of Ironman racing on the body is the production of tremendous amounts of sweat. Thank heavens for sweat. Perspiration is a vital cooling mechanism for the body. The blood carries some of the excess heat produced by the muscles during cycling and running away from the muscles to capillaries near the surface of the skin, where it leaves the body. Sweat glands then take up some fluid from the blood, and with it some heat, and release it onto the surface of the skin, where it evaporates, cooling the skin. Finally, cooled blood flows back toward the core of the body to absorb and distribute more heat.

The only problem with this mechanism is that it’s essentially self-sabotaging. The more you sweat, the more your blood volume shrinks, and the more your blood volume shrinks, the less heat your circulation can carry away from the working muscles. However, contrary to popular belief, dehydration only slightly increases core body temperature. Its greatest effect is on performance, because as your blood volume decreases, so does your cardiac efficiency, or the amount of oxygen your heart can deliver to your muscles per contraction.

In a typical warm or hot Ironman, athletes sweat in excess of one liter of fluid per hour on the bike and during the run. That adds up to more than 20 pounds of fluid loss for many athletes! If some of these fluids were not replaced through drinking, triathletes would not be able to complete Ironman events nearly as fast as they do. By the time they got to the marathon, their blood volume would be reduced to the point where walking or a painfully slow shuffle would be the greatest level of exertion possible.

Even with the availability of sports drinks and water, most triathletes finish their Ironman races weighing a lot less than they did when they started. Nevertheless, rather modest amounts of fluid intake appear sufficient to enable the body to maintain blood volume, as the body can also draw fluid into the blood from other compartments (and, for that matter, much of the weight lost during an Ironman comes from the metabolism of fuels and the release of water stored with glycogen, which does not contribute to dehydration). A 2007 study from the University of Cape Town, South Africa, found that while participants in an Ironman triathlon lost nearly 5 percent of their body weight, their blood volume actually increased.

Wear and Tear

Muscle tissue stress may be the single greatest challenge the body faces in an Ironman triathlon. Vast numbers of muscle cells are disrupted, damaged and deconstructed along the way. The main cause of muscle damage is mechanical stress, which is caused primarily by eccentric (pronounced ee-centric) muscle contractions. In an eccentric contraction, the muscle lengthens as it contracts (for example, during the lowering phase of a biceps curl) instead of shortening as in a concentric contraction (e.g., the lifting phase of a biceps curl) or staying the same length as in an isometric contraction (e.g., flexing to show off one’s biceps). The muscle is really being pulled in two directions at once during an eccentric contraction, like a tug-o’-war, so it’s easy to see the potential for tearing.

A second cause of muscle damage during exercise is the breakdown of muscle proteins for energy, called catabolism. Protein is not a preferred energy source during exercise, but when carbohydrate stores run low in the later portion of an Ironman, protein is called upon increasingly to take up the slack. As mentioned above, by the end of an Ironman, protein may supply as much as 15 percent of the energy your muscles use to keep moving. If you’ve ever finished a long workout or race smelling like ammonia, that’s a sign you’ve been burning a lot of muscle protein, as ammonia is a byproduct of protein catabolism. When your blood glucose level drops during exercise, your adrenal glands secrete the stress hormone cortisol, which assists in breaking down carbohydrates, fats and proteins to release energy. Most of the proteins that it breaks down are found in your muscles.

Muscle damage is also caused by oxidative stress during exercise. A small percentage (an estimated 2 to 5 percent) of the oxygen molecules that enter the body lose an electron while participating in energy release in the mitochondria, becoming “oxygen radicals.” This increases their instability and causes them to pilfer an electron from a living cell in order to regain stability. The result is often a chain reaction of “free radical” damage to cell membranes, DNA and various structural proteins. During endurance exercise the rate of oxygen consumption can increase up to seven times above resting levels, with a corresponding increase in the production of oxygen radicals.

Just how much muscle damage does your body experience over the course of an Ironman? One of the chemical biomarkers used to estimate muscle damage is creatine kinase (CK), which leaks into the bloodstream from ruptured muscle cells. According to Bryan Berman, Ph.D., an exercise physiologist with Carmichael Training Systems, in a recovered state, the typical athlete’s serum creatine kinase level is approximately 125 U/L. Twenty-four hours after completion of a half-marathon, the CK level doubles. A day after a bike ride to exhaustion at 70 percent VO2max (a little faster than Ironman intensity), CK levels are as high as 700 U/L. And one recent study found that 16 hours after finishing an Ironman, triathletes had an average serum CK level of 1500 U/L, or more than 10 times the normal level.

I Think I’m Going to Puke

Australian professional triathlete Chris Legh had emergency surgery to remove half his colon after the 1997 Hawaii Ironman. A good chunk of the organ had literally died during the event due to inadequate oxygen supply. While this type of crisis is extremely rare in Ironman racing, and in Legh’s case was probably related to a congenital heart defect, completing an Ironman is stressful to the gastrointestinal system of every competitor. Common problems include stomach discomfort and bloating, nausea, vomiting and diarrhea.

Exercise scientists do not fully understand the causes of such symptoms of GI distress during intense physical exertion. But they have identified some of the contributing factors. In a 2005 review published in the online International SportMed Journal, authors Stephen Simons, MD, and Gregory Shaskan, MD, wrote, “To date, contributing theories mainly focus on the mechanical agitation of the gut, fluid shifts, decreased splanchnic blood flow, dehydration, increased sympathetic and parasympathetic tone, endotoxaemia, changes in bowel transit time, hormone shifts and autoimmune changes. However, none of these adequately explain the full range of GI pathology.”

Triathletes also bring many of their GI troubles on themselves by trying to consume too much fluid or nutrition or foods that are too difficult to digest while competing in Ironman events. The gastrointestinal system cannot tolerate the same rates and types of nutrition intake during vigorous activity as it can at rest. Studies have shown that athletes who take in the most nutrition during endurance events are most likely to suffer gastrointestinal mishaps.

The final stretch

If you’ve ever completed an Ironman, you know that the last few miles of the marathon are a unique experience that is only hinted at by the experience of running the last few miles of a regular marathon. Your body is so impaired from the beating it has taken over the course of the day, it’s almost funny. The simple act of lifting your foot off the ground to take the next stride feels akin to performing a heavy squat with a weighted barbell on your back. Research from the National Institute of Sport and Physical Education in Paris confirms that the energy cost of running at the end of a triathlon is significantly greater than that of running at the same speed without swimming and cycling beforehand. And that’s an Olympic-distance triathlon.

There are probably multiple causes of the “weightlifting” effect of an Ironman marathon’s closing miles. Stride form is measurably different at the end of a triathlon run than it is in the same athletes in an independent run. The stride changes that increase the energy cost of running at the end of a triathlon are themselves caused in part by local fatigue in specific muscles, which necessitates a change in form in much the same way you might start running with a locked right knee to protect a suddenly cramping right calf muscle. It’s neither efficient nor pretty, but it sure beats the alternative.

In triathlons and independent runs alike, fatigue and loss of mechanical efficiency are associated with increasing ground contact time. The closer you get to the finish line, the harder it becomes to pry your feet off the road. This bit of bodily mutiny is caused by a weakening of motor output from your brain to your working muscles. It is your brain’s way of preventing you from running faster—and perhaps even forcing you to slow down—in response to feedback from your body.

Your brain itself may become tired by the end of an Ironman—a phenomenon known as central fatigue. Like your muscles, it runs low on critical fuels and accumulates increasing levels of metabolites that interfere with its functioning, resulting in feelings of discomfort, loss of will to continue, fractured thinking, declining mood and reduced ability to fire the motor neurons that activate the muscles.

The Aftermath

It takes a good while for the body to recover from the stress of completing an Ironman. An Austrian study found that blood levels of antioxidant enzymes remained significantly reduced, while biomarkers of muscle damage and inflammation remained significantly elevated in triathletes nearly three weeks after they had crossed an Ironman finish line.

The immune system plays a major role in helping the body recover after exhaustive exercise, but the immune system itself is overwhelmed by the stress of endurance racing and its aftermath. Immune cell function remains depressed for as long as three days after such an experience, greatly increasing the athlete’s susceptibility to viral and bacterial infections. The causes of this effect appear to be multiple and are not fully understood. Part of the problem is that the immune cells’ main fuels, such as the amino acid glutamine, are depleted during exhaustive exercise. It seems that the immune system also downregulates its inflammatory response to tissue damage to avoid out-of-control systemic inflammation that would otherwise result from the high muscle damage incurred. But this very downregulation impairs the immune system’s ability to fight foreign invaders.

Triathletes also commonly suffer from a malady known as the “post-Ironman blues” in the weeks after an Ironman. It is likely that such mood depression is to some degree just another symptom of the general overtraining syndrome that commonly affects endurance athletes after such a test. Overtraining is known to disrupt brain neurotransmitters that influence mood. It has been hypothesized that as a symptom of overtraining, depression is your brain’s way of discouraging you from overexerting yourself again—in this case, doing your next Ironman—for a while.

Going Long: Tackling 70.3 And Ironman

By Kim McDonald

The challenge: Take a short-course specialist and adapt his training for back-to-back long-course world championship races, first in Vegas, then in Kona. Age-group triathlete Kim McDonald tells you how to successfully make the leap to long-distance triathlon. 

Note: This article originally appeared in the April 2012 issue of Triathlete magazine.

Racing short-course triathlons is what I’ve done mostly and what I do best. I’ve won two sprint national championships and an ITU sprint world championship in recent years. But long-course triathlon is an entirely different beast, one that I had never quite figured out. Last year, after qualifying for the Ironman World Championship 70.3 and Ironman Hawaii at Ironman 70.3 California in Oceanside, I had to put together a real-life training program that would make me competitive in the two races, yet fit into a 40-hour-per-week work schedule and busy family life. By the end I’d not only be a better triathlete, but could share some lessons with other triathletes who, like me, are fast at short-course triathlons, but are either rookies or consistently underperform at the longer distances. Herein, some insights and tips gleaned from my own experience:

Identify your weaknesses and revise your training to improve them early in the season.

Ask yourself whether you’re doing too much training in the disciplines you’re good at, which is a natural inclination. I tend to favor swimming and running, as both fit well into my 9-to-5 work schedule and don’t cut into family time like all-day rides. And I look forward each week to the social aspects of my open-water swims and group runs. But when I looked back at my race results, it was clear my lack of cycling was seriously limiting my performance in long-course triathlons. I had done Ironman Arizona twice and Kona three times in the previous four years,  and my performances in those races were far from stellar. While my iron-distance swims have ranged from 56 minutes to an hour and my run times are better than average, my bike times have been embarrassingly slow. Five- to six-hour rides on Saturdays had helped me bring my Kona bike splits down from the six- to the high-five-hour time range, but I’d get off the bike in every Ironman feeling physically trashed, stiff and completely out of contention. I realized that to succeed at two back-to-back long-course world championships without my usual “crash and burn” bike legs would require me to come up with a totally different approach to bike training. I also knew that to be reasonably competitive in my age group, I had to train myself to run faster half-marathons and marathons off the bike.

I started by bringing my bike to work in my car and rode at lunch as many days of the week as I could. My typical Saturday and Sunday rides, plus the additional rides back and forth to my daughter’s weekend soccer games (a 45-minute drive away) doubled my average weekly saddle time from seven to about 14 hours. (My total weekly training hours stayed in the typical “working man’s” range—usually 20-plus hours a week for my base and build periods, and 12 to 13 hours for my recovery weeks.)

Make strength training a priority.

I also realized that doing well at longer distances requires much more physical strength than I had naturally or was able to build from my years of short-course racing. For age-groupers as well as pros, strength is one way you can get faster with age in any triathlon distance, particularly in long-course racing. And the early part of the season is the best time to make major gains in strength. I asked Siri Lindley not long after she had coached Mirinda Carfrae to her 2010 win in Kona what she considered the key for success in moving up to the Ironman distance. Her reply was one word: strength. It’s true.

My weight workouts weren’t adequately addressing my weaknesses, specifically my lack of leg and core strength—two things critically important for preventing fatigue on the longer bike and run legs of an Ironman. I discovered as the summer progressed that holding planks for two minutes or more were particularly helpful in helping me maintain my aero position for long periods on the bike. One-legged squats effectively strengthened the supporting muscles around my quads, glutes and hamstrings that increased my power on the bike. And regularly pushing a big gear in the aero position at a slow cadence up hills and into strong winds enabled me to hold my average speed on long rides with much less fatigue.

Train your brain, too.

Another major shortcoming I identified from my race results was my inability to stay mentally focused for five or more hours at a time. To build my mental focus, I backed up my usual five- to six-hour group ride on Saturdays with a four- to five-hour solo ride in the aerobars on Sundays, which I’d follow up with a one- to two-hour moderate-paced solo run. Spending that much time training entirely by yourself does wonders for your mental focus, believe me.
Work on your nutrition in training.

Plain and simple: Improper nutrition can very easily derail your race. I’ve long known this, but never gave it the attention it deserved. If you’re having the same fueling issues race after race, it might be time to call in the professionals (nutritionist, coach, doctor).

Don’t keep a rigid training schedule.

Be flexible and arrange training around work, vacations and family. To make riding the activity I’d not only look forward to, but something my family would accept, I made it the focus of my summer vacations: a week in Flagstaff, Ariz., where I put in 20 hours of riding in mid-June with friends; a long weekend following the June Lake Triathlon in Mammoth, Calif., in July; and another long weekend with my daughter’s soccer team in August in Walnut Creek, Calif., where I managed to get in a four-hour ride in between games with triathlon legend Dean Harper. To prepare for the hills and heat of the 70.3 world championship, I also took a weekend training trip to Sin City at the end of July. My experience riding around the hilly Lake Mead National Recreation Area and running on the course led me to plan a conservative race strategy for IM 70.3 worlds—ride in a low gear on the hills to avoid torching my quads, take the time and effort to stay hydrated, then build my effort on the run to make sure I didn’t fade in the hot desert sun.

Races
Race day turned out to be very different than expected—relatively cool with light winds and temperatures that only reached the low 90s. I was dropped early by the lead pack in the swim and reached the shore in 31 minutes, more than three minutes slower than my usual 1.2-mile swim, making me realize the downside of cutting back on my swimming workouts. But I kept to my plan, riding conservatively on the hills and staying hydrated. The first part of my run was hampered by GI problems and three visits to Porta-Pottys in the first loop. But by the second and third loop, I was feeling great and running seven-minute miles. I ran hard and finished seventh in 5:08, the first American finisher in my age group. I figured my strong finish was a good indicator of my fitness for my “A” race—Kona.

I recovered for a week, then ramped it up again three weeks before Kona with my longest ride of the summer, a 162-mile, nine-plus-hour bike with one of my regular riding buddies. I knew that mega-workout—plus another weekend hammerfest two weeks prior when I rode five hours on Saturday, ran a half-marathon race on Sunday morning, then got back on the bike for another five-hour ride—would be not only a good physical test, but prepare me mentally for the tortuous conditions I’d be facing in Kona.

My taper for the two weeks leading up to Kona were focused on getting back some of my swim fitness, so I backed off sharply on my running and cycling, and swam nearly every day to regain the feel of the water. When the cannon finally exploded over Kailua Bay for the start of Ironman Hawaii, my swim felt like it was back to normal and I exited the water in 1:02, about where I expected given the slower swim times from the day’s ocean currents. The first part of the bike felt easy, and by the 30-mile checkpoint I had ridden my way into first place in my age group. But stomach problems from the saltwater on my way to Hawi led to GI distress on the return trip, requiring a pit stop before Kawaihae. I rode back into Kona in 5:33, insixth place with my fastest bike time ever in Hawaii. As soon as I got off the bike, the GI problems returned with a vengeance, reducing the first 20 miles of my run to a series of sprints, jogs and walks from one Porta-Potty to another.

I kept positive mentally, remembering how I felt the previous year when I strained my lower back two nights before the race and then somehow made it to the finish line. I started by telling myself I’m on pace for a 10:30 and a podium finish if my legs come back like they did in Vegas. When they didn’t, I kept going with hopes of a 10:40 finish, then 10:50 and finally, as I ran the last 6 miles as hard as I could with the hope of breaking 11 hours, finished in 11:04, 11^th in my age group. Not my best performance on the Big Island, but overall I’m pretty pleased with how things turned out. My bike split in Kona proved my new approach made a difference and, I believe, will allow me to one day be competitive in this race. And I’m already getting a head start on my cycling this season. With enough work, I’m hoping I can eventually turn my weakness into a weapon.

cam care e treaba cu jurnalismul "sportiv" în România

http://alerg.ro/useriu-sau-despre-noua-paradigma-a-sportului.html

Un român a terminat primul o cursă de anduranță desfășurată în condiții arctice. Evident, știrea este grozavă pentru mica comunitate de ultramaratoniști și pasionați de alergare din România, dar – și mai interesant – spune multe despre noi și lumea în care trăim.

Desigur, la ora la care citiți aceste rînduri, știți deja că bistrițeanul Tiberiu (Tibi) Ușeriu a terminat primul 6633 Ultra Arctic, o cursă ce a presupus parcurgerea a 566 de kilometri în condiții extreme: frig, zăpadă și gheață,  deprivare de somn, vînt puternic.

Alături de alte 12 persoane, printre care și alți doi români, Tibi Ușeriu a plecat la drum pe 11 martie, pentru a ajunge la zona de finiș după exact o săptămînă. El a condus tot timpul, pe alocuri autoritar, și a reușit să termine cu un avans de 56 de minute în fața singaporezului Poh Jou Too. Apoi, după mai bine de patru ore, a sosit compact un grup de cinci participanți, printre care și Vlad Tănase și Andrei Roșu. Cinci persoane au abandonat cursa, iar una s-a oprit într-un punct intermediar. Rezultatele neoficiale se găsesc aici.

Cam așa ar suna, acum, informația despre cele întîmplate. Desigur, sunt multe de povestit despre cursă, despre dificultăți, despre trăirile protagoniștilor, dar de acest lucru ne vom ocupa pe viitor.

Pe moment, nu ne rămîne să facem decît două lucruri. Întîi de toate, să îi felicităm sincer pe Tibi Ușeriu, Vlad Tănase și Andrei Roșu pentru efortul depus, pentru bravura de care au dat dovadă în condiții deloc ușoare.

Apoi, o să facem o ceva mai lungă digresiune pe tema modificării paradigmei în sportul de astăzi. O schimbare în care vom vedea cum se schimbă ideea de performanță și cum new media, pe lîngă interesele de imagine sau cele ale sponsorilor, influențează (se poate citi și alterează) mesajul public și ideea de sport.

Să plecăm de la o constatare. Niciodată presa din România nu a consemnat atît de mult, în cvasi-totalitatea sa, un eveniment de anduranță, așa cum s-a întîmplat în cazul rezultatului lui Tibi Ușeriu. Televiziunile, toate cotidianele, nu doar cele de sport, portaluri online, posturi de radio de nișă, plus mii și mii de mesaje în social media, toate au amintit despre acest lucru.

Ba chiar și președintele Klaus Iohannis a ținut să transmită un mesaj pe Facebook: ”Îl felicit pe Tiberiu Ușeriu pentru reușita deosebită obținută în cadrul Maratonului Arctic. El a dus steagul și numele României pe primul loc în această competiție. Un astfel de rezultat, obținut în condiții extreme datorită perseverenței și ambiției cu care s-a pregătit, este demn de aprecierea și respectul nostru. Felicitări campionului nostru!”.

Toate acestea vorbesc despre atenția și emoția – de înțeles, de altfel -, asociate cursei.

Din păcate, toate acestea au fost însoțite de o ”zgură informațională” care, zic eu, merită îndepărtată puțin pentru a pune lucrurile în perspectivă, fără a altera însă meritele cuiva.

Întîi de toate, s-a tot spus că 6633 Ultra Arctic este cel mai dificil ultramaraton din lume. Dacă am fi să fim extrem de scrupuloși, am spune că un ultramaraton e de fapt o cursă unde se aleargă cel mai mult, în timp ce 6633 a fost una de anduranță, în care s-a mers în ritm alert, iar de alergat, mai puțin. Dar asta chiar are o importanță secundară.

Riscantă e însă afirmația cu ”cel mai dificil”. Nu există așa ceva, nu există o ”cea mai grea competiție din lume”, deoarece varietatea curselor, a condițiilor în care ele se desfășoară e foarte mare. Pentru doritori, aveți aici o listă cu cîteva curse realmente dificile (da, 6633 e printre ele).

Apoi, s-a tot spus că competiția se desfășoară la -50/-60 de grade și în condiții de vînt de peste 200 km la oră. O altă exagerare de care nimeni nu avea nevoie. Toate acestea sunt valorile extreme înregistrate la un moment  dat în zonă, nimic mai mult. Condițiile reale au fost dificile, dar mai blînde decît cifrele de mai sus.

Nu vreau să fiu înțeles greșit, nu vreau să știrbesc din meritele celor care au participat la 6633 în condiții realmente grele, cred însă că trebuie să renunțăm la exagerări nefolositoare. Valorile de mai sus au fost prezentate inițial de unul dintre participanții români ca și de echipa de susținere din spatele său, fiind apoi preluate mecanic de mass media și în mediul virtual.

O altă exagerare, de fapt o gugumănie, este prezentarea acestui eveniment ca desfășurîndu-se la Polul Nord. Sunt extrem de numeroase relatările de presă ce citează acest lucru. În realitate, cursa s-a desfășurat în zona Cercului Polar, adică la mai bine de 2500 de km de pol.

Menționînd toate acestea, ajungem acum la ”miezul” digresiunii noastre. Și vedem că o competiție de anduranță, ca și rezultatul unui sportiv amator român, au ajuns să fie în centrul atenției nu pentru performanța sportivă în sine, ci pentru ”elementele de decor” adiacente (frig, zăpadă, cea mai dificilă… etc).

Pînă acum, performanța sportivă era în general asociată profesioniștilor care se întreceau cu cei mai buni din acel domeniu. (Apropo, chiar în ziua în care se termina 6633, un atlet român, Andrei Gag, devenea vicecampion mondial în sală la aruncarea greutății. Presa a consemnat marginal, iar în mediul online reacțiile au fost zero). La astfel de competiții, destinate de fapt amatorilor, nu se poate vorbi de o întrecere între cei mai buni, ci este mai curînd o competiție cu tine însuți. 

Și acum ajungem la concluzia finală: sportul a început să se transforme, mînat de la spate de o industrie a spectacolului care are interesul să te emoționeze, să te informeze repede-repede, chiar dacă incomplet, care să te facă să participi virtual la eveniment și care să îți creeze comportamente profitabile pentru ea.

E o industrie care nu te mai vrea spectator în arenă, ci te vrea spectator-participant în mediul virtual, unde să trăiești intens (Acum, cîteva exemple despre cum s-a comentat pe FB despre românii de la 6633: ”Un trio de titani”, ”Supraoameni”, ”Supereroi”, ”Toată România simte că e puțin mai puternică datorită vouă”). Totul, completat de o nevoie a oamenilor de a evada dintr-o realitate văzută captivă.

Desigur, veți zice, dar nici Tibi Ușeriu, nici Tănase sau Roșu nu au avut în spate susținători majori din business-ul sportiv.
Ei au plătit din buzunarul lor(Au avut totuși sponsori – adăugare ulterioară) ca să participe la 6633 (și nu au fost deloc bani puțini) și nici nu au primit vreo recompensă materială pentru asta. Da, așa e, însă faptul că nici cei trei, nici alt ultramaratonist român nu este susținut la modul serios de vreun sponsor arată doar că la noi acest fenomen e la început.

Un fenomen evident în modul în care a fost prezentată participarea românilor la 6633. Impactul mediatic și emoțional, dar mai ales ”zgura informatică” despre care am menționat mai sus au fost create și susținute de interesele de promovare ale unora dintre ei (lucru vizibil și recurent mai ales în cazul lui Andrei Roșu, care de ceva vreme a devenit un atlet profesionist al spectacolului) și al ”industriei” cauzei umanitare asociate.

E ceva rău sau greșit în toate acestea? Nu, nici pe departe. E doar o constatare.

Am vrut, așadar, doar să consemnăm despre semnele vremurilor noi care ne așteaptă la nivelul fenomenului sportiv. Un fenomen în care nu mai avem nevoie de performeri, ci de eroi, unul în care nu vor mai fi preponderent spectatori, ci spectatori-practicanți amatori, unul în care ”performanța” se va măsura și în numărul de fani, și în care ideea de competiție fair-play va fi adesea secundară ținînd cont de interesele (economice, de imagine) puse în joc.

Vom trăi și vom vedea.

P.S. – Acest text a generat reacții numeroase. Pentru a face lucrurile mai clare am modificat ulterior titlul (renunțînd la menționarea dlui Tibi Ușeriu, prin care îmi propusesem doar o introducere în subiect, dar care nu e neapărat necesară) și am adăugat două scurte fraze și alte cîteva cuvinte (toate marcate italic, cu roșu). Sper ca acum punctul de vedere exprimat să fie mai clar.

Scris de Marian Chiriac în data de 20 martie 2016 în calitate de editor al site-ul Alerg.ro

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Și acum vine textul meu ca reacție la comentariile de pe Alerg.ro și la vechile dispute (dispărute, dar nu uitate pentru unii) din 2013.

   Acum deh, fără să vreau mi-am amintit de Andrei Roșu și de explozia din mass-media de atunci, din 2013. Desigur că probabil 90% au luat ca sursă blogul personal al lui Andrei, unde declarațiile sunt destul de clare, dar și destul de încețoșate când vine vorba de a clarifica răspunsul la întrebări de genul specificului cursei, numărului de concurenți, nivelului concurenței etc. Acum, dacă totul e cu intenție sau nu ...... las pe fiecare să tragă concluzia în funcție de cum poate sau cum dorește.
Ce scria o publicație clujeană - un singur exemplu dau, internetul e plin! 

”Un român a devenit campion mondial la Triplu Ultratriatlon
   Andrei Rosu este noul campion mondial al Ultratriatlonului din Mexic (triplu sau deca?! - că nah, detaliile ne ucidE de multe ori *(sic!!) -
(....) Sportivul a reușit performanța de a deveni noul campion mondial la triatlon (o scăpare mică, dar ce mai contează?! Pentru necunoscători, Zeus a coborât de pe Muntele Olimp și trăiește printre noi, într-un apartament de bloc prin București!) iar următorul pas este participarea la Decatlon (.....)”
(cu roșu am subliniat ceea ce nu corespunde realității tehnice practic și cu albastru am marcat propriile mele comentarii).

Iată ce scrie și protagonistul pe propriul său blog:
”Pentru cei care nu stiu rezultatul Triplu Ultratriatlonului din Mexic, am sa ma manifest 'vocal': Am reușit! Am terminat!! Am castigat!!! Sunt atatea lucruri de povestit despre experienta traita la Cupa Mondiala de Ultratriatlon (......)"

 

Deci: "Cupa Mondială de Triatlon” despre care noi nici măcar nu am fi știut că ar fi mondială și că ar fi de triatlon .... pentru o personalitate de acest nivel aceste .... ”scăpări” devin cel puțin jenante.

 Toate bune și frumoase până la informațiile venite din partea unui reprezentant IUTA - bine, pentru mine chestiunea era clară din 2013 pentru că m-am interesat, dar acum cu ocazia comentariilor citite la materialul de mai sus al lui Marian Chiriac am simțit nevoia să mai verific o dată și cum nu am găsit nici un clasament referitor la vreo cupă mondială de triplu triatlon în 2013 am întrebat direct la sursa corectă, că așa e cel mai bine pentru toată lumea -:)

"Hello, Anka. This is Harn Wei, from IUTA. I need to check with the race director for results. Monterrey's organizer does not keep the results on his website.

But in 2013 the triple ultra in Mexico was NOT a world cup event! Only the deca was.

Andrei couldn't be the World Champion because it was nhot even a world cup event."

2nd message:

"As I said before, the triple ultra in 2013 was not a world cup event and so it was not recorded on our web site."   

Aproape că mi-aduc aminte de un prim-ministru român care a reușit totuși să nu ajungă (încă) președinte, dar care a deținut funcția de prim-ministru și după ce a fost dovedit că a mințit practic în CV-ul său legat de rezultate, școlarizări, diplome și lucrări de diplomă etc. Și care a fost plătit și probabil va mai fi plătit din banii noștri la o adică și nu puțini ....

   Dacă vecinul meu îmi spune că a făcut nu știu ce mare chestie, e treaba lui personală. Dacă eu îl cred sau nu, dacă eu vreau să-l cred sau nu, dacă eu vreau să-l verific sau nu ..... hm ..

   Dar atunci când cineva își construiește intenționat o imagine publică (atât) de puternică, când cineva este considerat formator de opinii, umanist, câștigă bani pe baza acestei imagini (cel puțin asta ar fi toată logica ”efortului” de la un anumit punct, nu?!) pe care și-o construiește (nu ușor) la nivel destul de high aș spune, apare pe toate canalele posibile de mass-media ..... atunci chestiunea devine de interes public. Pentru că cine fură azi un ou, mâine va fura un bou - așa, o mică aluzie folcloristică, că nu vreau să aduc acuzații, ci doar să explic cum evoluează în principiu anumite chestiuni și apoi ne trezim că ne dăm în cap și ne uităm unii la alții și vine unul și strigă ”somnul națiunii naște monștrii” etc. etc. - pricepe cine poate.

   Din punctul meu de vedere corect era ca Andrei să șteargă de pe blog titulatura de Campion Mondial, dar ea există și acum, după aproape trei ani, deci clar nu a fost ”o scăpare datorată entuziasmului”, căci știa clar la ce cursă participă - sau cel puțin așa îmi place să cred, că știa. Și știe. Și jenant pentru el este că știu și alții și i-au spus prietenește că nu e taman cool ceea ce face ...

   Și-atât. Nu e o chestie personală, ci una de principiu. Doar că fără să ne dăm seama ne afectează pe toți aceste exemple.

   Pentru că există mulți, foarte mulți români - că despre asta discutăm de fapt, cât de măreți sunt românii - care fac lucruri absolut incredibile la nivele de negândit, dar care nu se dau în spectacol și nu vin la televiziuni și nu au nici măcar bloguri pe care să scrie că ar fi ceea ce nu sunt de fapt doar pentru că dă bine, aduce imagine și toți știm ce aduce imaginea supra-clasată.

   Dar mă rog, fiecare trăiește după principiile și valorile personale, fiecare doarme sau nu doarme bine în funcție de conștiința sau non-conștiința din dotare. De vină nu e vânzătorul, ci cumpărătorul de regulă. De vină nu e cel ales, ci cei care l-au ales și exemplele pot continua. 

   Este vorba de cât de simplă e manipularea și cât de mulți sau cât de mare este procentul celor care pot fi manipulați, sunt manipulați și se lasă manipulați din comoditate. Ignoranța poate fi combătută prin ceva spirit de curiozitate măcar ... Da ...

Deci Marian Chiriac a pus punctul pe ”i” și sper ca pe viitor să mai urmeze și alții care-și fac datoria de a explica luclrurile.

Nu e vorba de denigrare, nu e vorba de invidie. E vorba de banalul adevăr și de devalorizata corectitudine. Și dacă la o adică grandomania omului depășește hotarele, iar se pomenește neamul românesc în strachina cu lături pe motiv că nu e doar hoț, dar mai și minte la nivel înalt. Nașpa ....

 

   Nu e o crimă să nu știi, dar e grav să nu vrei să afli!!!