There is an interesting shift that happens when you level up or improve.
When you are an amateur, a beginner, or just starting out, the world is full of mentors. Everyone wants to encourage you, cheer you on and support your journey. Everyone wants to offer a tip on how to clip into your pedals or how to pace your first 5k. The community feels like a welcoming and supportive place to foster growth and to chase your goals.
But, when you start to push the boundaries of what is “normal”, when you turn pro or decide to tackle an extreme goal that scares people, the vibe suddenly changes. The unsolicited advice stops feeling like support and starts feeling a lot like scrutiny. Instead of offering constructive criticism or tips to help you improve, they just tell you you are doing it “wrong”.
Recently, I’ve had established voices in the sport question my training.
“Why all the low-cadence grinding?” “Why are you doing such unconventional brick workouts?” “Why does the volume look “different” than a standard Ironman build for a professional triathlete?”
The questions come from well-meaning age-groupers, fellow pros, or random lurkers on Strava. But the answer to all of these questions is actually incredibly simple: I am not training for a standard Ironman.
If you are following a standard playbook to achieve an extreme goal, you are going to fail. Here is why my training looks “wrong” to the outside observer, and why you should fiercely protect your own unconventional goals from the noise of the cheap seats, or the peanut gallery, as my father used to always call it.
The Standard Playbook vs. The Extreme Reality
Most triathlon training plans are built for standard triathlons. Which makes sense, given most triathletes seek out this type of race. Standard triathlons take place on highly manicured courses. They are designed so athletes can rip down a flat highway in the aero position, transition onto smooth pavement, and fly from one fully-stocked aid station to the next in a pair of fancy carbon-plated supershoes. For a professional, that race takes about 9 hours. And don’t get me wrong, I appreciate Ironman. Ironman is what drew me into the sport, as it has many others. Their races are predictable. You know what you are going to get when you sign up for one of their events: a high production-value race, more volunteers than racers, a huge expo, and a lot of fanfare.
But that is not the sport I am training to compete in.
I specialize in extreme triathlon. I am training to survive the most raw, unforgiving, and untamed courses in the world, where the terrain and conditions are as brutal as the scenery is beautiful. These races aren’t a production or a parade. They are wild and unpredictable.
- The Swim: It’s not a warm lake with buoys every 100m. It’s usually a freezing plunge into a fjord before sunrise, often fighting against a tidal current.
- The Bike: It’s not a flat and fast highway with course marshals and a coned off lane free from traffic. It’s a relentless grind on narrow switchbacks on weathered roads in the mountains, featuring 4,000+ meters (13,000+ feet) of elevation gain where aerodynamics matter far less than pure, raw torque and power to weight ratio.
- The Run: It’s not a paved marathon with aid stations every mile and spectators to cheer you on. It’s a self-supported, highly technical trail marathon that finishes at the top of a mountain, where the weather is more unpredictable than the terrain.
- The Duration: My races don’t take 9 hours. They can take over 15 hours.
There are no aid stations. There are no course markings. There isn’t a giant expo, tons of volunteers, media coverage or prize money. You aren’t racing for fame and fortune, or even a PR. You are racing to push yourself to your limits in search of your potential. It’s about pushing the boundaries of what the human body can do, and what the mind can overcome. You might suffer alone in silence for hours on end, carrying your own survival gear in a rucksack.
Extreme Goals Require Extreme Measures
When you are preparing for those kinds of elements, the preparation must look different.
I do low-cadence grinding because I need the muscular endurance to push heavy gears up prolonged 15% gradients when my legs are already smoked. I do unconventional bricks because I have to know how my body will react when I get off a bike and immediately start hiking up a boulder field or running technical single track through the mountains, carrying all of my fuel and hydration on my back. I need to prepare my body to physically and mentally persevere not only grueling long days under strain, but doing so while battling the most brutal conditions and terrain imaginable.
To an outside observer who doesn’t have the map to my destination, my route looks entirely wrong.
And that brings us to the most frustrating part of chasing big goals: the unsolicited critics. People love to tell you that you are doing it “wrong,” but they rarely stop to ask you what you are actually training for. They question the “how” without ever bothering to ask about the “why.” And unfortunately, when I provide the “why” I usually just get radio silence until they feel the need to critique me once again.
How to Handle the “Cheap Seats”
If you are an athlete breaking the mold or chasing a scary, unconventional goal, you are going to attract critics. Here is what I have learned about handling them:
1. It says more about their limits than yours. When people see you doing something that breaks the mold or shatters their understanding of what is possible (or what is “normal”), it makes them uncomfortable. Projecting criticism onto your training is easier than expanding their own mindset to comprehend the goal you are chasing. Maybe they don’t believe it’s possible, or maybe they don’t want to believe it’s possible because they don’t have the physical or mental strength to pursue an extreme challenge like that themselves. Maybe they aren’t willing to put themselves in that amount of discomfort to challenge what is possible. Either way, it’s their limits, not yours, that are in question.
2. Indifference is the only true insult. Take their critiques as a compliment. If you were irrelevant, they wouldn’t care. If they are watching closely enough to critique every interval you do or every brick workout you post, it’s just a confused form of flattery. It means you are doing something right, something worth watching.
3. Criticism is just a fan club with a bad attitude. 😉🍿 To all the lurkers and unsolicited critics out there: I’m sorry my training is causing you so much worry, but thank you for the free rent in your brain. I’ll try to put on a good show.
The Tussle Takeaway
At Tussle Endurance, we don’t build generic plans and try to make everyone fit the standard mold. We recognize that every athlete has different past experiences, strengths/weaknesses, and goals. We don’t believe in cookie-cutter training plans. We build specific road maps for specific destinations.
If you are chasing a goal that scares you, whether it’s your first 5K, a rugged trail ultra, or an XTRI, you have to tune out the background noise. The distraction isn’t worth your time, energy, or space in your brain. Don’t let the chatter from the cheap seats distract you from the work you are doing in the arena.
- Trust your coach.
- Trust your training.
- Trust in God.
- Focus on your goals, not the haters.
Now, back to work. Head down. Eyes ahead. 💪
Are you ready to stop following the standard playbook and start training for exactly what your goals demand? Join a community of athletes who support challenging what’s possible. Get yourself a coach who understands your destination and creates your own personal roadmap to get you there. Click here to learn more about coaching with Tussle Endurance.
