I got off to a painfully slow start. The water was chillier than I was expecting and I had a hard time keeping my face in the water and finding a rhythm. I struggled along for about ten minutes when I saw Lisa turn around in front of me. She was panicking. I did my best to calm her down and keep her moving forward. I really think that hearing the words come out of my mouth helped me calm down as well. Right after that, I got into a good rhythm. I turned the second buoy and started heading back at around 25 minutes so I was not in any danger of missing the cutoff.

In the second half of the swim, I felt great. I was cruising and felt faster than I ever have in open water. I got off course a couple of times and bumped into some other swimmers, but got right back into a groove. I actually managed to catch the back of the pack, so I was in more of a crowd. The second half was a little longer than the first, so I took a couple of extra minutes on the way back in, but got out of the water in a little over 51 minutes. Not a PR swim, but if I hadn't wasted 10 minutes at the start trying to find my way, it would have been. I exited the water feeling great and ready to take on one of North America's toughest bike courses.

Get off to a better start. Struggling at the beginning cost me 5-10 minutes, a perfect swim and a definite PR.

The wetsuit strippers helped me off with my wetsuit and I headed to the changing tent. On the way, I met Sterling, who is part of my mentor group. He had told me he was volunteering, so it was great to meet him in person, however briefly. I think the existence of the tent kind of invites me into taking longer than I need to, so it was a slow transition. I also needed to use the restroom, which cost me additional time. I finally made my way up the switchbacks onto the road, waved goodbye to Jenna and hit the bike course.

A better sense of urgency and organization likely would have saved me 2 or 3 minutes.

I knew going in that the bike would be very challenging. To prepare, I tried to ride hills as much as possible. I even took a road trip to Tucson to ride Mt. Lemmon. I made the decision a while back to take my road bike instead of my tri bike for this race. I expected to benefit from a more upright position and additional gearing. It turned out to be a great decision for me, since I used every gear I had (and could have used more). While I usually can handle myself pretty well on a bike course, hilly courses are my kryptonite. Being heavier than most riders, it takes a lot more power and energy to haul myself up hills. Silverman has a reputation for being one of the hilliest.

Right out of transition was a short steep climb. As I was trying to downshift, I dropped my chain. This was not a good way to start less than 1/4 mile in, but I got off the bike, put the chain back in place and continued on.

The course starts with two out and backs. The first is along part of the same road (Lakeshore Dr.) that is used for Pumpkinman, a race that I did in '07 and '08. I did pretty well on the first out and back section, knowing that for every climb, there was a descent of equal distance. I also knew that coming up, after mile 37 there were no more out and backs so the course could be steadily uphill. On the first back, I ran into Robin. We said hello and went back and forth for a while. It is always great to do races where you see friends on the course.

At the beginning of the second out and back, I dropped my chain again. After a quick dismount to fix it, I was on my way again. I passed mile 30 feeling pretty good. That wouldn't last, however. On the stretch between miles 30 and 37, I started to run low on fluids. I restocked at an aid station, knowing that on such a long day, I needed to keep fluids and calories coming in. It was also starting to get warmer.

I finally made it to mile 37 and the start of the River Mountain trail section. It was here that I was about to face the legendary three sisters, a series of short, steep climbs. I was hoping to build some momentum to carry me part of the way up each one and then try to spin to the top. I hit the first one and it responded like a brick wall. It was here that I dropped my chain a third time. I put the chain back on and tried to get going again. I shortly ran out of both gears and momentum and was standing on the pedals trying to keep going. I realized quickly that I still had two more sisters, 20 miles of riding and a 1/2 marathon to run, so burning all of my matches on the sisters was probably not wise. For the first time EVER on a bike ride, I got off the bike and walked to the top. Robin passed me on the climb and looked really strong spinning up to the top. I look back and wonder what I could have done on a normal day, where I hadn't already ridden so many hills and didn't have so much course stretching out in front of me. I like to think I could have climbed them under different circumstances. However, the tide had now turned and the course was winning.

I hit the second and third sisters, which are consecutive, and this time didn't bother much with trying to climb. I rode until I ran out of gears and forward momentum and walked to the top. It was a battle of attrition now.

After the sisters, the trail continued into the desert. In the midst of my struggles, I had lost most of the riders I had been with. Things got pretty dark and lonely on this stretch. I was running low on fluids again, my left inner thigh started cramping (this is typical for long bike rides, but usually doesn't hit me until about mile 70 or 80), and a pretty stiff headwind had picked up. I slogged foward as the miles very slowly crept by. I needed to see civilization and an aid station in the worst way.

I think the aid station appeared somewhere around mile 45 or 50. My memory is a little blurry. I got off the bike, used the restroom, and restocked with water and two Gatorades. I figured these would last me until the end of the ride. Things got a little better after the aid station. There were some sections that were downhill and some where I now had a tailwind. My legs were burned out, though, and I was ready to get off the bike. I entered Henderson and knew it was only a few more miles and I was back in civilization. It had been a very, very rough ride. How was I going to run after this? I finally saw the transition area, and after four hours of battling the bike course, it was time to move on. I rolled into T2 broken, beaten, and battered. I handed the bike over to a volunteer and staggered toward the change tent. (my bike and I had both said some things we didn't mean, things we regret - but we'll patch things up in time for the Tour de Tucson in a couple of weeks :) )

I stopped by Jenna and told her that the bike course had broken me. At that point, I couldn't muster the ability to fake my way through a smile and positive attitude. I had experienced Silverman's punch and was lying on the canvas.

I think I paced things as well as I could have. I stayed on top of my nutrition pretty well. I do have two regrets, however. I should have taken advantage of the aerobars during the windy stretch of the trail and I wish I had battled harder to get over the sisters. It's hard to know in retrospect whether it would have hurt me more on the run, but my pride has taken a beating from having had to get off the bike.

Blurry transition. I was shaky after the bike course and needed to collect myself. I drank the Gatorade I had left, put on my shoes, a running shirt and a visor, packed my bike things in the bag and headed to the bathroom. I wobbled onto the run course to see if I could salvage what was left of the day.

Not much more I could do. I was in rough shape.

After a day filled with ups and downs (figuratively and literally), I had a season to save and 13.1 miles to do it. During training, I realized that running a continuous 13 miles after that bike course was unrealistic, so I worked with a run/walk ratio of five minutes to one minute on my long runs in training. My running has been poor all year, but if I could stick to the ratio, it gave me my best chance of having a decent run. I was hoping that I could hold the ratio together for the entire run (which included plenty of uphills), but it had been a long day already. I did the first five minutes and took the walk break. This was okay - just stick with it. I did another and another and another and pretty soon I was at mile three. Even though it was slow going on the uphills, I was able to keep running.

I knew it would be mostly uphill for the first 8 miles or so, but I kept my ratio going. If I was due for the walk break and saw an aid station, I kept running to it and shortened the next run section. If I hit an aid station early, I walked through it and the next run section would be a little longer. It was just as important to keep getting water and Gatorade in me as it was to stick to the ratio, so I took in a cup of each at each station. I wanted to stay away from non-traditional stuff (cola, gels, pretzels, bananas, broth) until late in the run, if at all. I held that out as a 'treat' to myself, as I was getting tired of Gatorade and water. After mile 10, I could take in anything that sounded appealing at the aid station buffets.

Just before mile 7, I saw Robin again - hadn't seen her since the first sister. She is a much better runner than I am, so knowing that I was staying about 15-20 minutes behind her was encouraging. It let me know that my run pace was about at my best and I wasn't falling too far behind. I hit the turnaround between mile 7 and 8 and felt good about the fact that 1 1/2 hours into the run, I was sticking with my ratios and most of the uphill sections were behind me. I saw Lisa heading out - she had recovered well from a rough swim and was looking strong in the middle of the run. It was getting dark and starting to get chilly. I wanted to get the race over with but my body was starting to scream at me to ease off. Here is where I really started negotiating with myself.

I kept telling myself to keep the ratio going, at least through two hours - that should get me close to mile 10. I kept it going, and soon after two hours, the mile 10 sign appeared. Just a 5k to the end. I talked myself into continuing the ratio - it was going well so far, let's see how long we can keep this up. Mile 11, heading into the Green Valley Ranch section - just keep going - lots of spectators ahead - don't let them see you fold. I got a burst of energy running through the District shops. There were a lot of people around cheering and that gave me a boost - it almost - almost - made me forget the searing pain in my legs, the blister on my left foot and the weird pain I was feeling in my left shin. I held the ratios together and soon mile 12 was in view - almost there - can't slow down now.

I knew I only had a couple of intervals left to the finish. I was nearing a walk break and a spectator told me there were only about 600 yards left. I decided to forego the last break and just run it all the way in. I checked my watch and saw that I was around 2:41. I seemed to recall that I ran a 2:45 at Soma the year before, a flat course when I was in much better shape as I was preparing for IMAZ. I had a chance to PR this run! I crossed the street, turned the corner and headed into the finish chute. It was bright, spectators were cheering, music was playing, kids were reaching their hands over the rails for runners to high five them - it was magic. The volunteers at the finish line held a piece of finish line tape to run through as I crossed the timing mat. I was dizzy and so thrilled with my run that tears welled up in my eyes. I saw Jenna at the end of the chute as they placed a medal around my neck and a mylar blanket around me. I gave her what had to be a really weird looking cry/smile as I approached her, but I was ecstatic. The finish at IMAZ last year was probably more meaningful, but this was a close second.



Not a thing - this was a GREAT run for me.

Went into the medical area, turned in my chip, and picked up my finisher's shirt. We talked to Dean and Kim for a bit, picked up the bike and equipment and headed back to the hotel. We were both beat. I got cleaned up and we headed to the buffet and an early bedtime. Our last night in Vegas would end with a whimper, but neither of us had anything left.


Surprisingly enough, bike fitness.


There is a great deal of reflecting to do with regard to this race. It's very unusual for me to be disappointed with my bike and thrilled with my swim and run. However, for a season finale, I can't ask for more than turning in my best performance of the year in my two weaker disciplines. In almost every race, I get to the run and allow myself to settle - it's been a pattern that I haven't been able to break. My body hurts, I'm tired and I succumb to the temptation of easing off and coasting to the end. I have never been able to force myself to push like I did in this race. It took all year, but I found a new place on Sunday and learned what I am capable of doing mentally. I don't think I was great physically in this race - the bike ride bore that out. However, I was able to focus my run and push through discomfort and pain like never before. I really hope I can carry this lesson and momentum into next season. My swim finally came together ten minutes into the last race of the season, but better late than never. Overall, it was a great day. I'll have to continue chasing that elusive race where everything comes together at once.

I have to mention what a great job the Lowerys do at putting on this race, as people will read this who are considering doing the race in the future. It is a first class event in every way. Everything runs smoothly, the athletes are treated like stars, everyone is kept safe with plenty of aid stations and traffic control, and it is fun and scenic. It is a VERY challenging course, but if you feel up to the challenge and are on the fence, do the race. You feel like you're a part of something great.