But what is it? - Snake River Triathlon 2016

"Oh, look at that! Will you look at that? Isn't that glorious? It's... it's... it's indescribably beautiful! It reminds me of the Fourth of July!"

The annual Snake River Triathlon was held this past weekend in Lewiston Idaho. Well for me, two thirds of the triathlon were held in Lewiston, the swim was here in Spokane. Because this event is so early in the season the swim is Friday night and the bike and run are Saturday morning. This prevents the participants from heading out into the March morning air wet from the swim.

I have always enjoyed this event which is put on in a low key manner by some great people. This year the event was as early as it has ever been in the race calendar and I have to wonder if this was part of the reason the number of participants were down from past years. I wanted to participate in this years event not only because I truly enjoy the event but I also wanted to lend my support in a year where the numbers were down in an effort to make sure it goes forward. When events like this go away they rarely come back.

Our local tri club, Tri-Fusion, was kind enough to host a swim so that folks here in Spokane wouldn't have to swim and stay in the LC Valley Friday night. I took advantage of this opportunity to swim locally.

Mike Collins, the director of the event, graciously emailed each participant the results of Friday night's swim. This gave me the opportunity to preview where I would line up against the others in my age group.

Saturday morning I was up early in order to make the drive to Lewiston. I arrived in time to find a good spot in transition and get a short warm up on the bike.

At this race the participants gather at the far end of transition and wait for their swim time to appear on the race clock that starts at roughly 10 a.m. We all stood around until the 5:56 mark or when the first competitors time hit the clock and off she went. Each competitor would wait until their individual swim time would come up on the clock before running through transition and getting on the bike. I knew I was down to two others in my age group as much as a minute twenty three after the swim. I watched for the other two so if the opportunity presented itself, I would know which competitors they were if I came upon them out on the bike course.

Starting 20th overall and 3rd in my age group out of T1, I would quickly settle into a rhythm and power that would move me up in the field. I was able to catch the first rider in my age group at about the mile and a half marker as I continued to look up the road for the remaining rider in my age group.

I continued to watch my power to guide my effort, wanting this race to prove as a test of my fitness. As I approached the remaining racer in my AG, I will admit I did lift my effort as I went by. There is a risk when doing this. If you go by quickly it can do one of two things. It can affect their mental psyche negatively or it can light a fire under them, motivating them. It can be a calculated risk but I needed to move past so I elected to go by at an elevated pace.

Turning at the top of the grade, I made a hard charge for the bottom now in 4th place overall. I would watch my power to make sure I was giving my best effort heading back down to transition and I wanted to put any kind of separation I could get between myself and the others in my age group.

Photo By Madi Reisenauer

Back to the bottom of Tammany Grade and out of T2 on the run. As I started the run I had the opportunity so see the trailing racer in my age group as he was heading toward T2 and I had what I thought was maybe as much as a 2 minute lead over him. If this guy was a runner 2 minutes would never be enough to hold him off so I dug in. Early in the run I made a conscious decision not to look back to see if others were closing. I wanted my effort to be guided by my race not someone else's. This race will serve as a test so I pushed my effort not knowing if I was being run down. O.K. I will admit on the final corner I did look back to see if it was going to come down to a sprint in the final 200 meters.

In the end I was able to hold off the others in my age group finishing 4th overall.

Photo By Madi Reisenauer

Photo By Madi Reisenauer

Photo By Bo Reisenauer

Photo By Bo Reisenauer

It was great racing with teammates as well as many friends, old and new. Some if not most of them bringing home some hardware. Being part of this atmosphere, part of this race was again, a true pleasure.

It's a Major Award!

"Would you look at that? Would you look at THAT?

"But what is it?"

"He won that. It's a Major Award."

"A Major Award? Shucks, I wouldn't know that. It looks like a pint glass."

"It is a pint glass, you nincompoop, but it's a Major Award. I won it!"


I am thrilled with what was my first AG win of my career. With an age group placement each athlete receives a monogramed pint glass. I have been fortunate enough to receive a glass at more then one Snake River Tri and don't get me wrong here, I'm proud and excited about each of them but...

I live in a home with a world class athlete. She has more "Major Awards" then she would ever care to display. In fact some of her achievements are displayed in our home only because I put them out. She may rather they languish in a shoe box in the basement. The photo below is a vignette of some of her accomplishments.

We actually use these Major Awards/pint glasses for what they were intended to be used for, drinking glasses in our home. Everytime I remove one of these glasses from the cupboard I decry "It's a Major Award!"

There was a time when I would whine every time Bootsy would dare use one of these pint glasses, saying it was my Major Award and I should be the only one allowed to use it. I don't know how she puts up with me.

That was until last year when she showed up to take home the women's overall win and her own "Major Award", amongst other things.

Below is a mock-up of Bootsy's accomplishments using my awards some of them Major. Please note the majority of the awards are team awards, a team that I am so very proud to be a part of.

Do I really care if Bootsy were to use a glass inscribed with a regional race? Of course not. It is just another opportunity to make a point not only to her but myself as well.

My decry, now public as well as private, is more of an attempt to keep the focus upon how lucky we are to be able to do what we do. Yes, it's cool to win awards or have recognition but the awards are more about reminders of all the hard work it takes to position ourselves to receive the awards. If you were to ask Bootsy, she would probably say she is most proud of the "awards" shown below. The metals are representation of battles fought not only by oneself but with so many others. Others who are all fighting their own battles but share the same arena, the same challenges. Other athletes who are looking to find and test limits.

And you know what. She's right.

"And with as much dignity as he could muster, the Old Man gathered up the sad remains of his now shattered idea of a Major Award. Later that night, alone in the backyard, he buried this idea next to the garage. Now it could never be for sure, but the sound of "Taps" may have been heard being played, gently."

Racing under TSD

We all have those childhood friends who have left an indelible impression on our lives as an adult. Those friends who shared in our growing up and because of this are woven into the fabric of who we have become and are becoming.

O.K. I'm going to just say it; growing up Tim was a clown, a goofball. And not just your run of the mill everyday goofball, he was gifted. His light hearted playfulness and teasing always on full display. A prankster always in search of the opportunity for a quick joke or to elevate his game with a better prank. The goofball who often times could be heard belting out his own personal rendition of the song Roxanne as he left the locker room for the baseball diamond.

You put Tim between the lines and he would slip his cloak of clownishness and became a fierce competitor, the consummate teammate. One who was quick to praise and quietly lend support. But after the final whistle back into character he would go. Not a lot of dull bus rides home with Tim Druffel in the house.

Outside of the classroom and sports, Tim and I shared a love for the outdoors. We spent many hour fishing through out the region and hunting the canyons of the Snake River. Deer hunting became a yearly ritual that would bring Tim together with many life long friends and one that would reestablish the details of our adult lives.

Once in Alaska on a fishing trip with another high school friend, we were walking through a Kenai grocery store when much to our surprise we spotted Tim. It was completely random that we were all in the same store at the same time thousands of miles away from home. He would later explain he was there on "business" with clients. Tim hadn't spotted us and had absolutely no idea we to were in Alaska which gave us element of surprise. Rodger and I walked over and just started talking with him as though we had run into him in our hometown. True to form Tim never let on that we were standing in Kenai Alaska. He stayed in perfect character, just a few friends catching up and talking fishing. Tim would never want you to pull anything over on him.

Why does anyone get Cancer? Does anyone ever choose cancer? Of course they don't. It's not easy to think about cancer, let alone write about it. It leaves me with the feeling of helplessness, hopelessness and yes, relief that it hasn't found me - yet. Cancer may be a ticking time bomb that lies in wait like the monster in the closet of the minds of our childhood. It hides in our colons and beneath the pillows of our breasts. It starts in our testicles attacking our lungs while nestled in the neurons of our brains.

Sun can cause cancer. Too much food can cause cancer. Inactivity can cause cancer. Everything we do or don't do for that matter can cause cancer. There are times cancer and what it does will leave me wanting to drown my anger, sorrow, and fear in a fish bowl of adult beverage. But that too - can cause cancer.

Cancer is just so in your face. It's like the dirt that clouds Pigpen in the Peanuts Comic Strips of our society. It's like a stiff winter breeze that cuts though your light but fashionable jacket on a dark February day. It's the dog hair on everything you own when sharing a home with a Siberian and a Shepard. But cancer is more than an ever-present annoyance, it's a killer that is robbing our planet while relentlessly seeking new prey. Who doesn't know someone who has either suffered from or has died from cancer?

In the spring of 1993 Tim met Shelly Heimgartner and although there was nothing extraordinary about the beginning of their relationship, this quickly changed. Early on in their relationship it was very evident that Tim was "in trouble", you could see it in his actions and in his eyes. And when you saw them together it was obvious that Shelly was the love of his life, his soulmate. Tim, as one might expect, was glowing in the light of their love. They were absolutely beautiful together.

I spent a good part of my adult life as a professional portrait photographer. I have photographed literally thousands of brides. My sisters and sister-in-law excluded for obvious reasons, to this day when asked the answer has always remand the same, Shelly Heimgartner Druffel is the most beautiful bride I have ever seen. But it was more then what was an attractive young lady dressed in white walking down the aisle that May day in 1995, it was a combination of her exterior beauty and the inner beauty that was Shelly Heimgartner.

Outer beauty comes from our parents, our bodies creation comes from the combination of theirs. But inner beauty comes from growth of consciousness that we carry from a life lived. Our individuality is the joining of the physical heritage of our parents and the spiritual heritage of our lives, its consciousness, its bliss and its joy.

There are people where their inner beauty is so much, their inner light so bright that it radiates from their outer body. The outer body doesn't necessarily need to be considered beautiful, but the light that comes from the most inner source makes that outer body appear beautiful, radiant.

Shelly's inner beauty was this kind of beauty. When combined with her exterior beauty on that day in May it was breathtaking.

Shelly's love for Tim so natural, so deep and so complete it made it seem from the outside - so simple. Her love for Tim didn't appear to be something alive, something in flux or in need of nurturing. Her love so pure, it appeared to be almost easy. Shelly's model for love is something I keep around, pulling it out from time to time to be used as a model for the loved ones in my life; Simplistic in design, natural, complete.

"Hey we're starting our family. Shelly is pregnant!"

"Hey Shelly has cancer."

Breast Cancer places the both parents in a situation where they need to consider all parties involved. Any and all treatment options could adversely impact the fetus. Another issue with cancer is that the body is sick so it doesn't act as the best incubator and therefore doesn't always provide the proper nutrition. Cancer treatment can cause anemia because of the inability for the mother to carry oxygen well; and the mother is more susceptible to infection.

As a result of each of these risks, Tim and Shelly were faced with a tough decision of undergoing treatment or terminating the pregnancy. Terminating the pregnancy would introduce what could be moral or religious conflicts but if they delayed the treatment the cancer may advance, decreasing the chances of Shelly's survival.

The breast cancer itself has no impact on the fetus. The fetus is protected from breast cancer because the it cannot cross the placenta. Most babies exposed to Chemotherapy during the 2nd and 3rd trimesters are born healthy, there are risks but Chemo may be the best case scenario.

Ultimately, the decision was made go forward with Chemo but treatment would be delayed until it was deemed safer for the fetus.

Tim and Shelly had moved into a home on a small farm just outside of Eltopia Wa. I was in the Tri-Cities and Tim had asked that I stop by so we could visit and catch up a bit. I hadn't met his daughter Kailey so I agreed to stop in on my way home.

I remember how nervous I was as I drove up the long drive to the farm house nestled in the rolling wheat fields. I wasn't exactly sure what to expect. Shelly had been sick and there was a new born in the house but I wanted to show my support in what had to be a very difficult time.

Tim met me at the door with a hand shake that let me know I was welcome and wanted in his home. "Please come in, meet my family". As I step through the front door I could hear the baby crying in the distance. We move into the kitchen where Shelly is seated at the table, Kailey in her arms. Tim walks around behind Shelly putting his hand on her shoulder and says "Please meet my family". Shelly smiles looking down to Kailey, so happy, I could see it in her eyes.

But there were other things I could see in Shelly as well. She was well into her Chemotherapy treatment and when coupled with child birth and nurturing a new born, it was showing in her physical appearance. She had lost the majority of her hair and wore a scarf to cover her head, another outward sign of the battle raging inside her body. She was so sick! I stood fighting back tears in a moment I will never forget. The details to that day still etched in my mind as though it were yesterday.

We walked the farm that afternoon, it was apparent that Shelly wanted to get out of the house. As we walked I remember making a conscious effort to remain in the moment, not to appear distant but to be present as my mind wandered away from something so natural as a walk with friends to pondering how this could happen to anyone let alone these two people. I wondered how Tim could do it. The pressures of a new born and a wife as sick as she could ever be with an outcome that remained unknown. Tim had professional pressures as well. He continued to work most days, when he could, when he wasn't needed at home.

There was a hidden strength in Tim on full display that day. Until I stood there looking at that strength, trying to comprehend what it meant to just get up every day, I couldn't fathom what a monumental task was at hand. To face a present that isn't going as planned and a further that was uncertain at best and to do it with such strength, that moment will influence my life forever.

In time the cancer would go into remission and Tim and Shelly would move forward in as normal a fashion as possible but there would be additional demons to face in the future.

Tim had three loves in his life, Shelly, his family and his love for the outdoors. Tim was gifted in balancing the three. Because of this Shelly supported and would encourage Tim's hunting and fishing trips. Shelly's support was a gift not only to Tim but the rest of us as well. Shelly would often travel with Tim on his trips so not only did I get to hangout with a good friend but it kept me in touch with Shelly and his family as well.

Hunting in the fall of 2002 and Shelly is sick again, the cancer is back. This time in the limp nods. Shelly is once again fighting the good fight but the cancer has taken a toll on her and it was visible in her exterior. Her appearance hollowed and she looked so very tired. Cancer had taken it toll on the outside but cancer could never be strong enough to touch her true beauty, her inner beauty. Her love for Tim, her love for family and friends, and her love for life, these would move forward untouched by cancer. 

Tim and Kailey

December 6th 2002 - Tim absolutely loved fishing with Kailey but on this cold December day he would head out alone. Although Kailey wanted to go, Tim had decided it was to cold for her to be out on the water in their small open air boat.

The Call:

A friend and high school classmate calls letting me know that Tim had gone out fishing in the morning but when he failed to return by dark a private search had begun. The following day another call from Rick updating the situation. Tim's empty boat had been recovered. Tim was missing. Both professional and private search parties had been launched. I told Rick I wanted to join the private search. Rick warned against any efforts that could include the possibility of finding Tim's body.

"You're untrained. It's been more then 48 hours so this may no longer be a search and rescue, this most likely is a recovery. If it is a recovery do you want to be the one who finds Tim's body? As a paramedic we are trained in recovery and it's never easy. But to find the body of a lifetime friend that's a different story."

Guilt can be productive; it can help us grow, mature and learn from our behavior. Sometimes people can overestimate their knowledge of what could have been done. In other words, an individual thinks they could or should have done something more but, in reality, could not have.

I have always felt guilt for not joining the search, thinking it was a weakness in my personality that I didn't think I had the strength to deal with finding Tim's body. In hind sight there wasn't anything I could have done in that moment in time and what I have been left with is a better ability to evaluate a situation and make the best decision not only for myself but for those around me. Even if that means to stand down. I was not equipped to add to the search and may have in fact hindered it. A hard lesson to learn; that there is sometimes strength in a preconceived weakness or that the best course of action can sometimes be inaction.

What happened isn't exactly know and never will be but there are theories. In order to lower or take off his insulated coveralls Tim removed his life jacket. Standing he lost his balance, falling he hit his head on the way out of the boat and into the frigid waters of the Columbia River.

The search would continue and although Tim's body hadn't been recovered there came a time when a memorial was necessary.

As I walked into the memorial and a packed house, there wasn't an empty seat in the church, Shelly greeted each and every person in attendance that day. When it came to be my turn to be greeted there was a hug as I searched for something I could say but there was nothing that could be. "Shelly I wish there was something I could say." She replied with "I too wish there was something to say". She seemed to be comforting me. On this, one for the most inconceivably horrible days a spouse could ever imagine, she would take my hand and for a brief moment we stand in silence as if to say "I understand Craig, there is nothing you need to say". Looking into her eyes her strength in that moment was paramount. I then quickly turned to my seat, not wanting her to see the tears in my eyes.

I would watch Shelly during the memorial and the subsequent reception that followed as I would suspect many did. She was stowick in her appearance an absolute pillar. To see her strength on this horrifying day moved and changed me forever. I grew in her strength that day and I am still finding out how much.

Tim's body was eventually recovered on January 22nd. This providing his family some answers to nagging questions surrounding the circumstances that lead to his death and some closure.

Shelly did her best to move forward in life. She was grieving and continuing in her battle with cancer but this time the battle seemed different. Her body worn down by former struggles with the killer, she seemed exceptionally tired from a cancer that appeared deeper then it had been in the past. I worried what the lose of her soulmate would do to her ability to fight. She would put on a happy face, that was Shelly but her condition could be seen through the mask.

Shelly and Kailey would move in with her parents so they could assist during her treatment.  I would call from time to time. Sometimes Shelly would answer, sometimes her mother would answer. When I got her mother she would gently say "I'm sorry, Shelly is resting" and I knew Shelly was on a bad day. "I will let her know you called and thank you for calling". There were times when Shelly would answer, I could hear in her voice how very tired she was. Sometimes we wouldn't really talk at all, we would simply sit and enjoy the company of a friend even if it was just a phone call. I would sit in the glow of her strength and friendship in an effort to provide some kind of comfort in an awful time.

Shelly passed on July 6, 2003 just over 8 months after Tim's passing.



Racing under the markings of TSD. (Tim and Shelly Druffel)

At all full Ironman races part of the pre race ritual is body marking. Body marking is held in an area where very nervous athletes gather to have their race number marked in permanent marker on each shoulder and age on their calf. The volunteers are always very friendly and obliging. At every race I ask to borrow the marker so I can mark the inside of my left forearm with TSD.

Iron distance racing is a privilege because not everybody who would like to compete is given the opportunity. Out of the worlds population there are a mere handful who have attempted the distance and even fewer who have completed it. When I'm out there it challenges me. It challenges me to think about who I am and why I continue to race. It's amazing what will go through my head. The doubts that can creep in and what I have to fight through, just to keep going. To train for a 2.4 mile swim, a 112 mile bike and a marathon and to fail at it, well that just isn't an option.

When finishing is the only option, it means I am asked to push through some pretty dark places. If I'm not careful with my mental state in hard times the weight of an entire season with all the solo miles, all the hours of training when no one is watching, that can be a heavy cross to bear.

As I have progressed in my racing career, I have found things to lean on when struggling in a race. Be it the crowd, a crowd that lusts for your finish as if it were their own. Or the kind words of a training partner given to me to be carried within as I race and to be reflected upon when the body is weak in the monumental effort that is an Iron distance race. It could be a family member who's strength in this world is something I hope I possess and continue to reaffirm that the example put forth is something that I will spend a lifetime chasing. 

But racing under TSD is something different for me. It's about strength both mental and physical. It's about an unwavering strength no mater what comes my way during a race. Be it something within my control or something completely outside of my control. The writing of TSD on my forearm is my chosen outward sign of strength. It's in my face the entire race, there is no looking away from it, there is no escaping it. It's a blatant reminder of what it takes physically just to get through the day. 

TSD is also a inward reminder of a mental strength that for me can waver through out the day. You do what you can to prepare for race day mentally. That means coming in with a mental picture of the entire race or a mental plan for things when they don't go as expected. You do what you can but you will still need a lot more. 

This is when I lean on the strength of Tim and Shelly. I lean on them as individuals and as a couple. When I struggle either mentally or physically, I reflect on their strengths. I reflect on how trivial this little race is in the grand scheme of things. How I have chosen to challenge myself in an effort to find limits. Limits that pale in comparison but limits that teach about strength on and off the course. 

The strengths I carry are learned and I can only wonder if they continue to grow within me. I guess that's part of the reason I continue to toe the line. The strengths that live in me, that grow in me will always be my strengths but I can only hope that they will help keep both Tim and Shelly's examples alive. I will continue to carrying these strengths in races around the world to lean on in times of trouble and I will carry them in hopes that others will look upon them and learn from them. It will be my continued tribute to a friend and his wife that provide an example of their strengths and to have TSD continue to grow not only in me but in others as well.

The Heat, Bee Strings, Nose Bleeds and Ativan - IMCDA 2015

Racing in the heat is never easy. Whether you're racing in a humid climate or in the dry air of Coeur d'Alene Idaho, your body temperature will run higher then normal, you will sweat more, work harder and ultimately race slower in the heat. It's not only a physical burden, but a mental burden as well. Knowing you have trained for months in an effort to achieve a certain pace on race day only to have your goal times thrown out the window for a realistic pacing strategy appropriate for the race day conditions. Heat was the story of the 2015 Ironman Coeur d'Alene for most athletes.

When I signed up of Ironman Coeur d'Alene I will admit it was done with some hesitation. Over the course of the past few years I have chosen to race in the latter part of the season, mainly because it's easier to train when the days are long and the weather is warm. IMCDA training doesn't provide that most years, but this year IMCDA did provide us with warmer training weather. If you were to apply the law of averages, could that mean on race day we were going to pay?

Ironman is a tough day. If your life demands that you pick a training schedule that is designed simply to get you to the finish or if you hire a coach, put in 20 hours a week never missing a workout and plan to compete for a podium spot, it doesn't matter, you're going to suffer out there. Even in perfect conditions Ironman will test your body, test your mind, it will test you metal. Ironman Coeur d'Alene 2015 did not provide perfect conditions. It was quite the contrary in my opinion.

I kept my eye on the long range forecast as the temps for race day continued to creep up. Now a long range forecast is just that a forecast so I rarely put much stock in them. Outside of 48 to 72 hours it's more of a guess then anything. Now that being said, I did follow them and as they trended up I wanted to do my best to be prepared. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best. When it comes to weather hoping harder is about all you can do. So in the final two weeks leading up to the race I would shift my workouts to the hottest part of the day and I ordered some arm coolers with hopes of never using them. I had every intention of being as ready as possible for the forecasted temps. As it worked out I could never be fully prepared for an iron distance race at 105+ degrees.

With the rumor mill on overload I went about my race prep for a race 140.6 miles in length. Some of the forecasted temps for race day were as high as 109 degrees. If 109 were accurate, the question would become will they let us race at all. When you put 2000+ athletes out on course in a quest to conquer arguably the toughest single day endurance events on the planet and let them attempt it at 109 degrees, that's a tall order but that's not the half of it. You also have to consider the 3000+ volunteers and all friends and family that will be standing in the sun for an entire day. This race could not happen with out all those people as well. So the week leading up to the race, race organizers had a lot to consider.

Early in the week a desicion was made to start the race one hour early so instead of starting the rolling swim at 6:45 we would start at 5:45 a.m. As the rumor mill churned we heard everything from outright cancelling the race to cutting it in half or a 70.3 to a 127.5 where the run would be cut in half. Ultimately I would have been greatly disappointed if any changes were made to the distance and we were not given the opportunity to race the entire 140.6 but I knew if there were changes made it would be in the best interest of everybody involved and I was prepared to except any desicion and move on.

When the race starts an hour early, you get up an hour earlier which meant the alarm was set for 3:05 a.m. This would give us time to get prepped and out the door by 4 a.m. We wanted to be in transition by 4:30 a.m. allowing for what I like to call my Hour of Zen.

I last raced IMCDA in 2013. That was the year they introduced the rolling swim start and I wanted to hate it. I like the pageantry of a mass start. Let's line up 3000 athletes on the beach and when the gun fires it's survival of the fittest. The first 400 meters of a mass shore start is brutal. You have 3000 people standing on shore right next to each other like a hand full of pencils. Then when you lay those pencils down there just isn't enough space for them all. It's as basic as physics can get. You put 3000 keyed up athletes in the water where there just isn't enough space, you get broken noses, black eyes and dislocated shoulders. It's like trying to swim inside a washing machine. There are a number of forces and factors that are acting upon you and your fellow competitors.

Photo By Tricia Mack

In a rolling swim start everybody lines up according to what they believe will be their swim time. Much like the corrals at a marathon where like runners are grouped together, I lined up in the middle of the 1:15 to 1:30 corral. When the gun fired to start the race we all slowly move up the beach until it was your turn to go through the arch, crossing the timing mat and swimming away. The athletes are strung out right from the start so the combat conditions of the first 400 meters are greatly reduced or non existent in my case. Got to love the rolling swim start.

The swim was pretty laid back and I quickly settled into a rhythm. It's a two loop course and I exited the water after the first lap at 40 minutes and change, so I was on target. I took a gel at the half point of swim, it's a preventive measure after I struggled in a swim at IMAZ. As I crossed the timing mat and rounded the corner to head back toward the water I saw Nat. I asked how Bootsy was doing. She said her split was just outside of 30 minutes. It's always great to get a split to know how her day is starting.

The second loop is traditionaly slower for me so when I exited the swim just outside of 1:24 it wasn't a surprise.

Out on the bike and headed to Higgins point. The temps were low and the energy was high. I was sticking to my power and checking my heart rate. I knew later in the day as the heat increased my heart rate would also so I wanted to be sure everything was off to an excepted start. Race day adrenaline can push my heart rate up at the start only to settle after a few miles. Everything was great as I came back into town to the cheers of many friends and teammates.

I had taken a water bottle at the first aid station but as I headed out of town I hit a bump and it was ejected. No big deal I had two other bottles of Base Hydo electrolyte drink on board. Aid station number two, bottle of water number two, bump number two, same result, ejected. After climbing the Mica Grade I was in a full sweat so as I rolled into aid station three I took two bottles of water, one for drinking the other to pour over me. Exiting the aid station I had one bottle completely dumped over myself and tossed the empty. I then reached for the second bottle to start drinking but that bottle, although it was still there, the top had come off. I quickly pulled over and picked up a lid near the last bottle drop. Rolling away from the aid station with a half bottle of water, I was in better shape then when I rolled in. Not a perfect start to my hydration plan on the day but that's O.K. What if anything goes exactly as planned in an Ironman?

Photo by Steve Anderson

I was moving along as planned hitting my power and heart rate. At roughly mile 38-ish I was stung by a bee. After the race I heard there had been an accident somewhere out along the course where some 300 bee hives had been spilled while in transport. Now did one of these angry little buggers leave its now demolished home in search of an athlete to take it's revenge? I couldn't say but I do know I was stung not once but twice by the little bugger. Yep, it got me twice, once on the stomach and once on the side.

I'm not "EpiPen or Hospital" allergic to bee stings but I do traditionally have some sort of mild reaction. Swelling in my hands and feet is usually what manifests. Under other circumstances I would normally take Benadryl to help control any swelling that may occur but Benadryl makes me very sleepy so under race conditions I obviously don't take any. I did however check for tongue swelling. Swelling of the hands and feet is O.K. but airway? Should probably keep an eye on that.

Over the course of the next 20 miles my power started to sag and so did my heart rate. Making it back to town and out to Higgins point and back I felt pretty good. Crowds and adrenaline can do wonders, but as I headed back out the highway the sagging continue.

Photo by James Richman

I knew it was going to warm the second loop. The heat was starting to build and I could feel it. There was no escaping it. The only thing you could do was deal with it best you could. The heat had caused me to have a nose bleed, it happens but I didn't realize it. I had been pouring water over my head so the combination of sweat and water had hidden the fact I was bleeding and not just a little. When I finally realized I was bleeding, it took looks of horror from fellow athletes to drive the point home.

I reached Mica Peak Grade and as a climbed my heart rate wasn't reacting in a fashion I would have hoped. Air temps were rising and so was my proceived effort but my power and heart rate were not. They were really sagging as I climbed at what I thought was at or just below a normal effort.

I have what I would call a lower then average heart rate. My resting heart rate can be in the 30's. My target heart rate for an iron distance race is at or near 129 bpm. After the turn around at the far end of the highway my heart rate was trending between 77 and 84 bpm and my power had sagged accordingly as near as I could tell. I knew my heart rate wasn't where I hoped it would be but below 90? I wondered if all the water I had poured over myself had caused my heart monitor to malfunction skewing the numbers but wet or dry the numbers remained the same.

As I slowed I took stock not only with what was going on with me but those around me and it was absolute carnage out there. Every aid station was full of athletes seeking shade while waiting for a ride back to town. Out on course there were bikes laying along side the road with athletes up in the trees seeking shade. In more then one case I saw an ambulance parked along side the road with the EMS staff giving medical attention to athletes who had made what looked like an attempt to find shade in the trees but could not make it and were laying in the weeds. I don't know that to be the case but that is where EMS staff were giving them aid. It's hard not to take an athlete who is in need and make their pain your pain. We are all in this together but after a while I elected to just look away as I rode past. There were professionals caring for them, there was nothing I could do. I needed to stay focused on where I was so not to end up in the same boat. I was asked multiple times by multiple volunteers if I wanted a ride back to town. Every single volunteer had my health and the health of every athlete in mind.

"Don't push it. It's not worth it. If you need a ride back to town, we are here for you. Keep the big picture in mind. Remember your loved ones who are awaiting your safe return". 

These words certainly would help keep it all in perspective just how bad it was for some out there. The volunteers weren't discriminating, every single rider I saw got the same offer.

In the end 250 athletes would DNF without getting off the bike course. There were reports of road temps out on the highway of 148 degrees so to say it was hot out there would be an understatement. It was a furnace out there.

I limped into T2 a little beaten up and bleeding with a 6:56:56 ride. As I pulled up to bike dismount I was met by friend and teammate Ronnie and thank goodness. His direct words may have saved my race. I was in a bad spot and he gave me what I needed to move on to the run.

I took some extra time in T2. I changed my socks, tried to get some nutrition in and sorted through things I didn't get down out on the bike but hoped I could get down on the run. I got some suntan lotion and then put on a cooling shirt for protection from the heat.

Just outside of T2 I quickly ran into a friend and long time supporter Brittany. Brittany has been at every IMCDA race I have participated in, but I was still surprised to see her. It was 105 degrees for goodness sake. I had to stop and say thank you. I was met with a hug, the kind of hug that says "I don't care how sweaty, bloody and gross you are, I'm here for you". It left me fighting back tears. Brittany said Bootsy was, from what she could tell, still doing well. My surprise to see Brittany and hear all her kind words left me searching for something to say that could express my gratitude for her support. "I love you" would have to do.

A stop to say hello to Brittany.
Photo by Brittany Hood

I made it about 10 steps and there's another good friend Kathy. I stopped for pics and a hug and kiss before she sent me on my way. This marathon thing is off to a pretty good start I must say!

Photo By Kathy Worden

And for all intents and purposes that's where the good parts of my marathon ended. I tried to run through town but my stomach felt as though it was twisted in knots. Because of this the plan was to get to the first aid station even if I had to walk to give myself time for my stomach to calm down. There were lots of residents out in the streets with hoses spraying everyone with as much water as needed. I took full advantage of all of them. I wanted to stay wet in an effort to reduce or at least keep my core temps down and maybe this would help with my tummy issues as well.

At about mile two I ran into Bootsy. She said her day was coming apart a bit and she was walking the aid stations. She may have been out of the running for another AG win and a Kona slot but was going to enjoy the experience of the day to the best of her ability. I told her I was in "making it up as I go" mode and hoped I could pull it together so I could run.

At about mile four I found the Gallaghers. Of course they had lots of encouragement. I told them I was planning to walk until I could get in enough nutrition so I could run. The thought of walking a marathon just wasn't something at this point I was interested in.

Next stop, the Worthy's. This family is another group that has come out to support Bootsy and I each and every time we have raced Ironman Coeur d'Alene. Although Beth had reached out to us earlier in the week to make sure we were racing, I had to wonder if they would make it over to the race. Their children had spent the weekend playing in Hoopfest so their entire family had been in the sun and heat on the streets of Spokane all weekend long.

When I came upon the Worthy family they had found a great spot in the grass and shade and it looked so inviting. Yes I wanted to take time to thank them for coming out with "Go Craig" and "Go Erica" signage in tow but I didn't really plan to stop and take refuge in their shade spot. I actually sat down at one point. This seemed to concern Don, he worried I would cramp. My concern was in how good it was to sit in their company and watch the race go by.

Hanging with the Worthy's
Photo by James Richman (This guy is everywhere!)

I continued to walk and take in nutrition that looked good, which at this point wasn't much but I was able to drink some Coke, Gatorade and water. I also had volunteers pour water over me and put ice in the pockets that run down the center of the back of my cooling shirt. As I exited aid station 5 on my way back to town I noticed another athlete again looking at me in complete horror. My nose must be bleeding. When I looked down blood was everywhere. I had a water bottle in a hand carrier and I quickly used that to clean myself up but my goodness I was a mess. This had left some stains on my white cooling shirt and many would ask "Are you alright? What's with all the blood?".

Mile 13 and the turnaround back in town and guess who's still there suffering in the heat...Brittany. I stopped for more hugs and was happy for all of her encouragement. She told me that Bootsy had finished and she was able to talk with her after. Bootsy finished at straight up 12 hours and the one thing Bootsy was concerned with was "Couldn't I have gone 1 minute faster". It was a very Boosty thing to say so I knew she was doing well. Any news when faced with walking another half marathon was welcome and fact that Bootsy was in and doing well was a great burden lifted.

Photo by Phil Sandifur

As I pressed on the weight of walking the entire second half of the marathon started to weigh on me but I was still hoping I could run some. Now math started to come into play as well. There are cutoffs for this race and I needed to be done no later then 10:45 p.m. to make the 17 hours allotted to finish an Ironman. I also needed to be at the far end of the run course by 9:30 p.m. or my day would be done. I still had math on my side but not my stomach.

At the number 3 aid station at about mile 16 I wanted to be able to take in some solids. Heck, I was walking so I should be able to eat anything I want. There was a lawn chair right in the middle of the aid station so I asked if it would be O.K. if I sat for a minute while I ate some pretzels. I figured the lawn chair would be reasonably easy to get out of as I was getting a bit sore from all the walking. As it turned out the pretzels were a bad idea. My fastest run split on the day was around the back of a moving truck to find a box to relieve myself of the pretzels. 

Of course the volunteers were on me in a heart beat wanting to help in anyway they could. I was quickly brought paper towels and water. As soon as I felt I was finished with the box they quickly whisked it away saying they would take care of cleaning up after me. When a volunteer asked if I needed medical, I knew it was time to move on. I quickly thanked them for everything and asked for some sugar which came in the form of Coke and I moved on.

I tried solids a little later in the race but it was met with the same result. Every time I tried to run, after about 400 yard, my stomach would knot up and I would be forced to stop with my hands on my knees and wait for the wave of nausea to pass. But it felt so good to run. Running would give reprieve to the muscles in my legs that had not been trained to walk 26.2 miles. If you're going to walk a marathon might I suggest you train to walk a marathon.

Mile 21 and the Gallaghers had come back out on course to check on some of the racers, Bootsy in tow. Bootsy was kind enough to walk with me for a couple of miles and the company, although always good, was great. We had a chance to catch up about our day and reflect on what it is like to race inside of an oven.

Mile 23 - I trade out Bootsy for Nat who was on her mountain bike. Nat rode with me the remainder of the way in. There are times I am feeling so awful I wonder if I can make it the final miles but Nat talks me through it. Is having someone to talk with in the final miles of a 7 hour and 37 minute odyssey considered outside assistance? Probably but at 10:30 at night and 16 hours and 23 minutes into the race, who is going to enforce it?

I gave Nat a hug thanking her for bringing me in as I turn down Sherman Avenue. The lights of the finish line and Mike Reilly's voice were calling me home. A fellow competitor asks where we are supposed to go. I tell him we go straight down Sherman to the clock tower and the bright lights. "A finish on Sherman Avenue is what brought you here and it is what will bring you back".

I jogged the final few hundred yards to the finishing shoot, giving a high five to anyone who would take it and they all were taking. I reveled in it, soaking up every possible second, every congratulations, every smile and every cheer.

In the final hour Mike Reilly, the voice of Ironman, comes down from the announcers box and greets the athletes as they finish. As I approach Mike I look for a high five. He grabs my hand stopping me, looks me straight in the eye and said those magic words "Craig Thorsen - You are an Ironman"! I turn away from Mike and am delivered to the finish line.

After finishing I a quickly scooped up be a volunteer. I ask if I can take a minute but the volunteers have been instructed to keep the athletes moving away from the finish line so not to jam it up. My asking for a minute quickly brings a member of the medical staff. He, I believe it was a he, fires a few questions at me. I got the first one right but whiffed on the second. "Yes I do know who the president of the United States is but I just can't remember right now". Off to the Med tent we go. I tried my best to talk my way out of going. I just wanted to sit down for a minute or two. Once I started to plead my case a second member of the medical staff was called in making it very clear I was going to the Med tent like it or not.

Once seated outside of the Med tent I was still softballing their questions and was told in no uncertain terms not to lie to the med staff. They are here to help and could only do so if they have all the information. I was given a wristband and marked on it where my symptoms, dizziness and nausea. As I continued to crash the decision was made to move me inside the tent to lay down.

Med bracelet and a watch that is telling me I was out on course a bit to long.

After a few minutes inside the director of the medical staff and friend saw me and came over to asses my condition. This was not my first visit to the med tent after a race so to be able to say that I have a "working relationship" with the director of the the medical staff, well that's a bit sad. But Stan was awesome. He gave me some Ativan for the nausea saying "This is the stuff we gave you last time and it worked great. You will be up in no time". Of course he was right.

So in the end Ironman showed us all how hard it is to race in the heat. Ironman Coeur d'Alene 2015 proved to be the hottest full Ironman ever raced in North America. So I'm sure in time this race will become something of legend. But for the record it was brutal for everyone. The Medical Tent, during and after the race, treated 31% or 532 racers. Ironman started the day with 15 tons of ice, 30 tons were distributed to the athletes during the race, enough for 35 lbs of ice per athlete. I know for fact that some aid stations ran out of ice and water at times, I saw it for myself. But this is where the best volunteers on the plant stepped in, many of them driving to nearby towns to purchase supplies on their own dime to fill in as aid stations waited for another delivery. Who does that? The Ironman Coeur d'Alene volunteers do that!

So what's next? I have no idea. Bootsy and I will recover from this race with some mountain bike and road bike "workouts". I don't see us racing in the month of July but I would think we will toe the line somewhere during the month of August. We'll see.

Throw Back Thursday - "It's May."

Things are always drifting in and out of my head. Some things I deem note worthy and they can end up here as a blog post, some things I don't. I have more then once started writing about this or that only to have it gain no traction and be left as a draft.

I came upon this draft the other day and thought I would drag it out for a Throw Back Thursday and then expand on it's theme. Not your traditional throw back but maybe that's what I like most about it.

"When training for an endurance event there are cycles. In the run up to IMCDA the final build can be a bit daunting. Long hours, tired body and mind, it's all part of the process. It's just that sometimes in May when headed to Ironman Coeur d'Alene, the process can start to wear you down. It can make you do things you would hope you normally wouldn't. And it can trigger things you wish it wouldn't!"

 "On our mid week ride Bootsy and I got on the bikes for a scheduled 3 hour ride after work. We knew the forecast was for evening rain but we were hoping it would hold off until we got most if not all of our ride completed. But to us it would seem, we don't have the best luck with Spring rains. As per what has become usual for us, as soon as our cleats hit the pedals the rain begins. Our ride started downtown and shortly after pushing away from the car the rain really started coming down. You know that rain, the one where it comes down in sheets and so hard you actually laugh out loud. For the majority of our workout we rode in what resembled a monsoon. This was the type of ride that would prove to be all about testing our mental toughness. If you ask Bootsy she would tell you that I may have failed the test. After about the 2 hour mark in the pouring rain I put my head down and made a hard charge for the car. I was done with the rain! So on an out and back ride my charge left us with a 15 minute negative split. Not exactly how the workout was written but we got the ride in. Bootsy got tossed off the back a couple of times, not because she couldn't stay on my wheel, she certainly could have. She slipped off the back because she was sticking to her power. I was headed for the barn. Her mental toughness in check, mine acting like a 6 year old."

 "And no I did not pick up the last 15 minutes of the workout even though it had stopped raining as we arrived back to the car, the sun breaking through the clouds."

"Nor did I do my T-run!"

I'm a child or at times act very childish. Just ask Bootsy, she will tell you in no uncertain terms, recounting story after story of my childlike behavior and attitudes. This is not a strong suit as it applies to training and racing or any other part of life for that matter. But it is a reality.

Bootsy on the other hand is the polar opposite, focused and driven. You will never hear her speak to it, she is quick to divert this topic of conversation to you and your achievements. Not solely because she's uncomfortable with the subject of herself but because she is truly interested in your successes.

And to that, it is my belief that the following quote captures much of the guiding force in her everyday life.

"I've worked to hard and too long to let anything stand in the way of my goals. I will not let my teammates down and I will not let myself down."

Bootsy is blessed with great focus and drive. She knows exactly where she is going and has an unwavering determination to get there. Undeterred by setbacks or failures, and as a person with next to no ego, she works closely with her coach to make any necessary adjustments, always keeping her eye on the prize. With every goal she reaches, she sets new and bigger goals, redirecting her ambition and focus in their pursuit. Bootsy exudes contagious energy and passion, inspiring those around her and arousing even this most passive follower into action.

There are triathletes who are up before the sun, leaving for a run from their front door, putting in solitary mile after solitary mile with only their mental toughness to keep them going. Bootsy is definately one of those athletes.

I, on the other hand, am someone who swims with the masters group, rides with the peloton and runs with the pack. I like pushing each other in an effort to reach limits and I enjoying shooting the breeze over a recovery shake or whatever the chosen post workout beverage may be. I find training with others forces me to push myself and varies my workout locations and my state of mind.

Although Bootsy enjoys training with a group, she still puts in her share of lonely workouts; "mental toughness sessions." She puts in plenty of miles on the trainer this time of year due to weather or darkness. But she also realized that while training alone does have its time and place, nothing is more fun than a good laugh during a long run. (Except maybe dropping a minute per mile on her run pace, simply by running with the Swifts.)

In my case, I trained alone for years, certain I was too slow to hang with any group of runners or most cyclists and convinced my location wouldn't allow for group training. As Bootsy and I drifted toward Ironman, I knew I would want to train with a group and when the invitation to join a local Tri group came, we were convinced to do so. This was a perfect fit for me but I have wondered at times if I rely to much on a group setting instead of my own mental toughness.

Bootsy and I have a unique situation when it comes to training together, me a middle of the pack age group athlete, her a world class athlete, her acheivements speak for themselves. We are fortunate in the fact that we can train together, side by side, while both of us get what we need from the same workout. But there is really only one reason for this, I'm male and she's female. Her talent is off the charts but because nature didn't put an average male and world class female on a level playing field, most days I'm able to keep up.

We ride and run together a lot in training but on race day it's a different story, she finishes hours ahead of me. One doesn't have to look far to see it's because of her mental toughness. She's a machine. I can train right next to her everyday, putting in the exact same miles at exactly the same prescribed intensity for months and months leading up to a race but on race day...

So I watch for the little things, looking for any small details I can apply. I take her up on her unspoken challanges to go little harder, a little longer or to stick to the plan which can also mean slowing down or taking it easy. During workouts, I look for slight facial expressions that may give any insight to how much she may be suffering in a given moment. She can be expressionless when suffering so even the smallest change in expression can be a huge indicator. I also watch her away from training in her day to day life, looking for signs or clues of how her body is recovering. I am constantly looking for any of these details so I can use them as a comparison and apply them to my training, to my mental toughness.

There is one other thing she posesses that I do not. That is her ablility on race day to be alone with herself. She has the uncanny ablity to stay in her own head. When things get tough in a race she can block out all the distactions and the pain, staying focused on the task at hand. That in my opinion is a gift.

An iron distance race is a long day. Staying mentally crisp and in the moment for the entire race is nearly impossible. But for those who can do it better then most, well those folks get the opportunity to spend a week or two in October under the sunny skies of Kona. And as for the rest of us, maybe we are just trying to stay out of the rain.

"Maybe we should fall in love" - Ironman Arizona 2014

"We find that we will take flight only when we fall: Maybe we should fall in love."
   
Outside of time it awaits, it lies in wait for your arrival. But you have to know where to look and more importantly be willing. Never confuse motion with progress, physically or emotionally. In order to redefine your limits you must be willing to push beyond yourself, beyond the boundaries you hold within. Do this and a journey of wonder will begin.

Post Ironman Wisconsin this September, it was time to make a decision, time to evaluate what Ironman Arizona would mean to me. I needed to decide what direction I would pursue in an effort to evaluate any kind of result IMAZ would provide. Would this be a race that I would look to the clock and time splits in search of a race identity or would it be something more? I had no idea.

My training for Ironman Arizona progressed on schedule. My head was clear where it hadn't been for other events this year. I was seeing a weekly if not daily physical progression in my build. My training montra had become "This race is today. Ironman Arizona will be physically fought today." Every battle is won before it's ever fought. I thought this would be enough. I was focused on my physically progression, as I should be, it's Ironman for goodness sake. Stay within yourself and get better each and every day.

But it seemed a bit empty...

I know these blog things are supposed to be about the race, a race report if you will. But that wouldn't tell the story of this race. Yes I swam, I biked and I ran. The distances are ridiculous and the race was physically daunting but that's part of the reason why we do these things, right?

Stepping off the plane in Phoenix on Thursday I was relatively relaxed and reasonably clear mentally. This is a race where it's easy to remain that way as long as you stay out of your own head. One of the things about racing here is the general public in the greater Phoenix area thinks of the event as that crazy race out there in Tempe. Outside the immediate area of the race village it's pretty much a non event. This makes it easy to step away from the race, unlike Madison or Coeur d'Alene where during race week the entire cities are immersed in Ironman. Here the media ignores the race, where in Madison it's front page news. We stay in Mesa where cruiser bikes are the norm so we get some strange looks when out test riding our tri bikes. We might as well be test driving a spaceship.

Friday Bootsy and I went down to the village to check in and to take a quick spin on the bike course. I have recently started to ride a Trek Speed Concept. I'm still finding my way around as far as making some adjustments. The newest technology has made this bike fast but also has made it a bit more challenging for a newbie to be confident in his bike mechanic skills. Because of this I decided to take the bike to an on site bike tech where they would dial it in to perfection. But...it took four hours. I wasn't the only nervous athlete who wanted a professional to give their bike the once over.

They guesstimated three hours to get the bike back but "it could be sooner". Because of this Bootsy and I elected to stay at the village and wait. We cruised the vendors killing time eventually finding a seat at a picnic table over looking the swim start. We wanted to take a minute to engage the race and really start to get our heads around what lie ahead.

As we sat together in near silence, Bootsy working through her race and me working through mine, it all came together. Ironman Arizona was a search. My coming back to what is arguably my home course would re-establish my love for the distance and for the course. I hadn't planned this search at all. I thought I had come to test myself which I did but the search was unplanned and frankly a bit of a surprise. As a triathlete that sounds a bit strange. My world is very structured, it has to be. My training plan is broken down to the minute. If you were to ask me this past January if I could join you for this or that on the third Saturday in October I could have answered your question. So the surprise of this race or to have this particular search step forward was to say the least, strange.

I am always looking to redefine my personal limits both mentally and physically. Can I go deeper in an effort to endure something larger then myself? Do I wish I could go faster? Yes! But the definition of this race would lie in something other then the numbers, something other then time. The definition of this race was about looking deep within myself. About searching for and finding a love that remains but sometimes gets confused with motion.

As I worked my way through race day, I didn't get caught up in the numbers: heart rate, power or time itself. I used them as parameters, it's a long day you have to. For this race the numbers were secondary, as secondary as they could have ever been. I used the numbers as a guidance system, but the driving force lie in my heart not as much in my head.

Photo by Kellee Crary

Photo by Timex Factory Team

For all this race has given back to me, I won't be back next year. I won't be back because I love this course, as backward as that may sound. I am stepping away from this course in effort to pledge my love. I want my true freedoms of this race to always remain. Racing here year in and year out may steal the innocence of that love. So, as of now I plan to come back to this course in 2017 but that's a long way out so we'll see.

Next year Bootsy and I will plan to toe the line at Ironman Coeur d'Alene. IMCDA will always be my first love and I am excited to see what lessons it will hold.

"So it's official now. There is nothing we can do. Now you're apart of me and I'm apart you. And we can see how one and one make more then two. Maybe we should fall in love."

Respect - Ironman Wisconsin 2014

“That which we manifest is before us; we are the creators of our own destiny. Be it through intention or ignorance, our successes and our failures have been brought on by none other than ourselves.” - Garth Stein

All Iron distance races challenge and if you let them, they will challenge in every way possible. It is up to you to do your very best to control what and how much that challenge may be. It is your sole responsibility to control the things you can and let go of the things you cannot, in every aspect of the event, both on and off the course. Iron distance races commanded respect and Ironman Wisconsin is in no way any different. Respect the race or pay a heavy price, those are your only choices. Respect must come early and continue until your final step or until Mike Reilly calls your name.

Photo by Bootsy

I happened upon a tweet a few months ago that I later looked back for but to no avail, I couldn't find it. At the time it was just another quote rolling down my twitter feed. I read it without much thought but little did know at the time, the words I haphazardly breezed across were the definition of what had been for me the past two and a half years.

For the two seasons leading up to this past Spring I had some niggles. Niggles being the chosen word because no one, especially a male, wants to admit to injury. Injury is an unspoken truth. Injury is weakness. Injury is regression.

But those two seasons are in the past and even at an age where recovery comes a little slower the body has a surprising resilience, an ability to heal and moving on. But the mind can be a completely different animal.

The afore mentioned tweet said something along the lines of "train to thrive not survive". There is a big difference between the two! Over the past two seasons I had been training with one sole and corrupt purpose, to survive. Although I didn't realize it at the time, my only goal for each workout, each day, and each race was to simply get through it, to survive and nothing more.

You train differently when you are training not to get hurt or to not re-injure yourself. My body had done its part but I had been left with a mind that had not been able to do the same. I had lost sight of any kind of mental toughness. I found that I had separated myself from the commitment to training first. The commitment to be out training when the weather is bad, the attitude is bad or the body felt bad under the stress of an Ironman build. I finally had it, my excuse. My reason to take it easy. To stay home when it rained and/or when I mentally just didn't want it. If I push I will re-injure myself, right? My head had been completely removed from the game.

When you live with a world class athlete who is as mentally tough as any person you have ever met, it's supposed to rub off a little. Bootsy is a machine! She has the ability to get through the most wretched stretch of training no matter what or how she is feeling. She just flat gets it done. She pushes me to do the same but only as much as she feels she can. She pushes because she cares and wants to see me do well, but ultimately she understand it's my race, it's my journey.

We all face limiters in life, be them self imposed or not. Limiters can be as simple as time itself. My true limiter for Ironman Wisconsin was my mind and how it elected to use time.

Madison Wisconsin - Sunday, September 7th. 2014.

The weather is predicted to be absolutely perfect, low to mid 70's with some late afternoon cloud cover and winds at 3 mph with gusts to 5 mph. You can't ask for anything better then that.

Lake Monona and swim start.
Photo by Bootsy

We are up early and out the door. A struggle with nutrition is already underway but I felt I was controlling it as I continued to take liquid calories almost until start time. Not a perfect approach to race day nutrition but it was the best I could do on this day. Liquids were the only thing I could keep down. Trust me, I tested solids earlier in the day. No love!

Leading up to this race I had been terrified of the water. Any discomfort came from the pool so I just refused to go. I flat wouldn't get in the water. So about three times a week I got the same text from Bootsy "You swimming tonight?" and the answer was always the same.

I swam less then I ever have or as "some" may argue not at all. I was in the pool a handful of times leading up to Troika and then Calgary but I honestly believed I would swim more as Ironman Wisconsin approached. It didn't happen. Some of it was timing of the race and a professional avalanche that comes this time of year but that wasn't everything. I was as mentally disengaged from swim fitness as I could have ever been.

The Swim -

In a word - uneventful. You get what you pay for so this was one of my slowest swims but not that far off what I normally would expect to swim on a percentage basis.

There has been a change to the swim course since I last raced here. It's now a single loop course and for an athlete who positioned himself to far back at the start, a single loop course was a welcome change. The pack had thinned by the second turn and I was able to settle in.

Swim exit is unique in the fact that you leave the shore to run up the helix, a spiral car ramp of the parking garage of the convention center. The helix is absoultly packed with people and the long run goes by very quickly but it does give me time to look into the eyes of the spectators drawing energy as I pass.

T1 - It's in a board room in the convention center. Kind of cool, crusing the hallways of what is a beautiful building overlooking Lake Monona in full race mood. A quick change and throw down a gel as I head to the sunscreen station.

The Bike -

Having run up the helix on the east end of the building, you ride down the helix on the west end of the building.

The bike course takes you out a 16 mile what will be an out and back section where you complete two 40 mile loops on an oval course in the Wisconsin farm land. So you ride out, do two loops then ride back to town. Because the majority of the ride is completed outside of Madison proper, there are buses to get the spectators out to view the ride. These buses dump the spectators at three very specific spots. There are three shortish (or longish depending on what part of the country you come from. I did hear some flat landers doing some whining out there. If you're from the midwest where the largest hills are the overpasses on your local highway then these hills are longish) steep hills were the fans are deliver. You put bus loads of people in sections of the course that are less the a quarter mile in length, you create quit an atmosphere. An atmosphere that I would liken to a mountain stage at the Tour de France. The atmosphere is electric, alive and in your face. And yes the devil makes an appearance.

The plan was to take the first loop very easy, which I did. I rode along enjoying the atmosphere and the beauty of the Wisconsin farm land. But as the miles slid by my stomach become more and more stressed and by the time I made my way around the first loop and back to special needs anything I put in was met with a gag reflex.

On the second loop my stomach continued down its path of non acceptance and as I drew near to the turn back to Madison I was reduced to trying to get simple water to stay down. I could sip very small amounts and with some effort I could get it down. I was thirsty but I couldn't deliver the hydration in quantities that would support my need.

As the miles passed my pace slowed and on the final 16 mile section back to town it was time to start forcing nutrition. There would be no way to chase calories I had missed but I would be forced to get something in or be faced with a decision in T2 of whether or not I could go on.

I slowed, even pulling over from time to time as I tried to get in a quarter or maybe as much as a half gel in. As I road along I watched and listened for other racers, trying to time any feeding so that no one else was in the immediate area.  If the nutrition was rejected I didn't want a fellow competitor to pay the price.

T2 - Took my time changing. I nursed a gel and a few ounces of water. I stopped at the sunscreen station before heading out on the run course.

The Run -

The first few miles of the marathon went better then I ever thought they would, I was running. I walked the aid stations searching for anything I could get in but was having limited success. Poor hydration had led to cramping but I was able to walk them off.

By mile eleven I was in trouble and I knew it. How much trouble would play out in the later miles of the marathon. That is if I could get to the later miles.

Reality - it can shift and change as the race progresses. Reality can be fluid and it can crush you.

I have always been aware of how harsh reality can be but I'd never been asked to face it squarely in a race. Yes, I have had some struggled in other races but this was different, this was deeper.

As I approached mile 14, I was still in search of a combination of nutrition I could get in and keep down. I was back to strictly water having tried bits of gels, energy drink, cola and at this late hour of the race, chicken broth. As my blood sugar slipped I was left to wonder, could I finish.

I continued going through a series of checks that ultimately boiled down to "can I run". Am I physically able to continue to run because it's a manifestation of deterioration and once I crossed that line to no longer being able to physically run, could I get back?

Time is an absolute reality. I thought if walked the last 8 to 10 miles it would take another 2 or 3 hours to get to the finish. As I pressed on time was replaced with distance. Not the distance to the finish line but the distance of how far I could go before my ability to move forward would stop. Not because I chose to stop but because my body no longer had the ability to move forward.

I have raced a few of these Iron distance races but this is the first time a DNF (Did not finish) had become a absolute reality. At this point in the race I truly believed I could not finish. That my nutrition would run out and I would no longer be able to move forward. A sobering moment for sure.

Night had fallen and it was very dark along the lake Mendota. As I walked through the total blackness I took stock. I wondered what this race meant to me and what a DNF would mean to an already soft mental approach to racing. As I worked the mental side of the game, my body seemed to be recovering a bit. I would continue to walk but I was able to get a few ounces of cola and chicken broth down.

By mile 20 I was back to a run/walk but I was able to run, all be it for only short distances at a time. This is where the race changed for me, I now thought I could finish. I had come from a mind set of just keep moving until I no longer can or someone pulls me off the course to, if I just keep moving I'm going to finish this thing.

In a lot of ways this race was a real disappointment and a boarder line disaster. I didn't show the proper respect to the race, to myself or to all those that support me in this crazy pursuit. In some ways I take pride in this race. I face a very dark reality and persevered, getting to the finish line.

The athlete is blurry because it after dark,
not because he is moving at a high rate of speed.

The ability to race the way I would like to race takes balance, anticipation and patience. But racing is also about the mind. It is about owning ones body and the race is just an extension of that body.

Bootsy raced well here in Madision so she again was on the podium. So we went to the awards ceremony to celebrate her accomplishment. We arrived early and found a table with plenty of room. As the ceremony approached and people filtered in, a very nice and genuine group asked if they could join us at our table. They made idle conversation about the race never letting on that they were pros and one of them had come second on the day. They were just athletes congratulating us all on finishing.

Bootsy on the podium.

Pro athletes within competition may at times be confused for someone who is selfish and egotistical. Try to say hello during a race or workout, it most likely will not elicit a response. But to be a champion you must have no ego at all, giving yourself over completely to the race. Confidence and self awareness can never be confused with egotism.

So it's time apply these lessons to my racing, my training, to my journey. Time to get my head in the game and to give myself back to the race - Ironman Arizona awaits.


What Ironman Wisconsin 2014 looked like for the masses - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kB8c0Z891vo