The dictionary lists definitions of “an exceptionally long and arduous task or activity… heroic or grand in scale or character,” or “a long film, book, or other work portraying heroic deeds and adventures or covering an extended period of time.” The intrinsic value and meaning of the word was lost for me amidst its overuse and popularity, so it mostly receded from my vocabulary save the occasional reference to my beautiful Specialized mountain bike. I would cringe a little when friends tried to pump up their stories and references with its use, as I have always believed duration and intensity were essential elements of a true epic.

Fast forward a few years into my pro triathlon career, and I have done quite a few crazy training days and plenty of Ironman races.  I’ve also had my fair share of accidental and misjudged adventures that left me shivering overnight on a mountainside, or trudging through the cold and dark to the trailhead after getting lost and miscalculating just about every element of a climb. However, I had never completed anything more than 3 consecutive days of intense racing on my bike, let alone 8.  When I was offered an opportunity to race The Cape Epic for the Ironman Foundation, I suspected that it would be challenging, but perhaps subconsciously doubted whether it was really “epic.” I happily said yes; IMF is a great cause and I could use a little excitement in my training. I began learning and preparing for the event with the belief that it would be no more difficult than the hard training I subjected myself to for Ironman racing.

After a few months of preparation in Arizona, I boarded flights for South Africa to tackle the famed event. I began the journey with confidence and excitement for the new challenge. My partner, Sebastian Kienle, and I prepared for the prologue, a short and sweet 20k/600m climbing affair that would help seed us for the following days. Unfortunately for us, our stomachs were feeling a little off a day before the event got underway, but we put on brave faces and assumed we would recover quickly during the week ahead. The prologue went well and we were underway, but the faint whispers of uncertainty and concern were already sounding somewhere in the background.

Day 2 came and went, but not without some eye-opening experiences. The stomach bug worsened for both of us and made nutrition and hydration more challenging.  Sebi also had a heavy fall in the opening kilometers of the stage which could have easily broken bones. We survived and finished in a good position, but with looks of worry discernible through our dusty veils. Still, there was optimism and hope in the early days, and we kept pushing forward, convinced that this was at a minimum teaching us to be better at suffering.

And suffer we did. It would only get harder for us, and the following days were like living a bad dream. One one hand we felt sheepish about discussing our small mishaps and crashes because it almost felt like doing a disservice to the “real” misfortunes of other athletes breaking bones, bikes, and spirits as they DNF’ed the race. After all, we were still racing, but we were both struggling with injuries from our own crashes, the GI distress, and the cumulative mental and physical fatigue from the punishing event. With many endurance sports, injuries can be seen almost as a badge of courage and toughness, of hard work, but perhaps these had gone a step beyond, and we often gave each other solemn and uneasy glances. Even off the bike the nervousness pervaded our thoughts and discussions, as the concept of relaxing disappeared amidst the fear of tomorrow’s certain punishment and potential for catastrophic consequences.

We discussed quitting, as our careers were in Ironman, not mountain bike endurance racing, but we felt the need to finish what we started and honor the charitable elements of our race for Ironman Foundation.  Looking back now, our desire to continue probably also sprung from an innate curiosity to test our limits of endurance, free of the usual rationale that governs much of our daily routines.  We were both liberated and trapped by our passion for exploring the brink.

Over the next several days, there were moments of hazy delusion when my mind drifted and began personifying stones so I could curse them as if they had a deliberate agenda to cause me annoyance and harm. It was a feeling of holding your breath all day; an almost constant apprehension and growing distrust of my skillset to handle the unrelenting obstacles and accumulating fatigue. Apprehension and doubt were prevalent in virtually all elements of our day, and I understood that I could both love and hate my partner simultaneously as we pressed into the unknown. I posted on social media, but there was a clear reduction in the cheerful and polished content that would often appear in my timeline. I did not eat or sleep enough or on my normal schedules, and I retreated deeper into my own mind. George Harrison had taught me that “all things must pass,” but I began to question the soundness of his proclamation.

However, and finally, the end of the road quite literally came, and we were across the finish line. The 8 days possessed a strange infiniteness; peculiar by the absolute and unusual degree of struggle, and through the uncharted exploration of the margins of our mental, physical, and emotional stamina. Even in that moment of relief, our sense of elation and accomplishment was restrained, probably due to sheer exhaustion and having been removed from those more “positive” emotions for over a week.  We had completed one of the most demanding challenges of our careers, and it was time to absorb the lessons and recover, to recount stories and shake our heads in disbelief at the sheer expenditure. I had come for a new experience, to adjust my perspective on discomfort, to feel alive, and I can tell you, it was epic.

Interested in learning about how you can #raceformore with the Ironman Foundation? Check out their website http://ironmanfoundation.org and join us in making an impact and racing for those who can not.

https://www.eventbrite.com/e/ironman-world-championship-viewing-party-meet-eat-watch-and-celebrate-tickets-14003505863

After a very hotly contested battle in St. George with last year’s second-place finisher at the Ironman 70.3 World Champs, Terenzo Bozzone, which ended with me a couple seconds behind in a sprint finish, I found myself again matching pace with him on the run in Lake Stevens. The story of how we got there involved a swim and bike ride through the heavily forested and occasionally foggy hills of the pacific northwest, but that part was history and meant nothing as we battled for what would be the first win in both of our 2014 seasons. We had come out of T2 within seconds of each other, and to be honest, our first few miles consisted of trying to match the footspeed of Matt Reed as he throttled up and made us hurt. Shortly after mile 4 though, it became a back-and-forth battle with TBone, neither of us relenting under the strain of 5:35/mile pace, and Matty falling a bit back. I tried on a number of occasions to dispatch Terenzo, including some of the harder hills where I could tell his breathing was more labored, but he hung tough stuck on like super glue. At each passing aid station, we fueled and I counted down to what was appearing an inevitability. On the front I continued to turn the screws the best I could at that stage in a hard race,  fully aware that I was better known for my extremely good looks than my explosive sprint. Alas, Terenzo weathered the storms, and we both hit the gas with a little over a kilometer left. I had been through the finishing chute the day before when helping with the Ironkids race, but T still got the better line around some barriers and initiated the true sprint. I matched the best I could, moving left to try and come around, furiously pumping my arms and losing all semblance of form in a desperate bid to win. I held on, but never had another gear to come past, finishing just .79 sec behind, empty, bittersweet.

Of course it stings to lose a close one like that, but it is over and done with now. Instead, I will take some good fitness away from it, knowing that my body is coming into form just in time for the big races of the year in Mont Tremblant and Kona. Additionally, I know that I gave everything I had on the day. No regrets, no big “what ifs,” and was simply beaten by a world class athlete in Terenzo. Now it’s back to work for  some finishing touches… Please stay tuned for the World Championships this fall.

As always, tremendous thanks to all my supporters, especially family (my dad raced as well and earned his WC slot), friends, fans, sponsors, volunteers, coaches, and others.  I know my best years are still in front of me in this sport. Exciting times.

Returning to defend an Ironman title is a rare and special experience. Winning one takes so much work, luck, and support, and returning in form to properly defend requires even more I find. Fortunately for me, I came prepared this year, having done the work I felt was necessary in training, diet, recovery, mental preparation, and creating a support network that was surely unrivaled in this northern Idaho town. Between my lovely girlfriend, parents, the Hutter family, Zoot Sports, local friends and fans, my coach, and my massage therapist, I had built a cocoon that put me in the proper place to emerge as a contender on race day. In addition, training partners, coaches, extended family, and all other sponsors played a critical role in my lead-up to race day, and I thank them for such dedicated support.

So I toed the line with a clear mind and no excuses, just a hunger for the elation that comes with an Ironman win. Admittedly, I was spoiled a bit, having won 3 of the last 4 I raced. But I didn’t feel cocky, just confident and prepared. The chop on the lake made the swimming challenging, and we lost more time than we should have to Andy, but I knew it would be a chase no matter what.  By 40 miles Maiki and I had pulled back more than half the deficit and gotten rid of Viktor, who was content to try and sit behind us.

The next block of miles unfurled slowly, with high winds and a gap that had stalled out a little, around 2 minutes. Maiki pushed hard and left me behind, his trademark move. I wasn’t too concerned, as I felt I was riding within my plan, and knew the run was strong.  Around 85 miles I crested a hill and got a split from my dad that the gap to Andy was only 45 seconds, and I had started to feel strong again. I pressed on, convinced I would make the catch soon. Unfortunately, the race had other plans for me. Only a short while later, while making a pass on an age-group athlete, a strong gust of wind blew him into my path, and with no time or space to avoid a collision, I ran directly up the back of him. We both crashed heavily, my front wheel colliding with his rear cassette, puncturing and shredding it badly. My first thoughts were disbelief. It couldn’t be real. Couldn’t be happening. But it was. So, I gathered myself, and checked on the other athlete. His back was sore, and he was also stunned, so I helped get him up and off the course. I gathered our bikes as others came to help. His bike was basically unscathed, and he needed some time to sit once we determined he had no serious injuries. I went to work fixing my tire, knowing that I needed to stay in the race and punch my ticket to Kona, even if a win was slipping away. I fixed the flat with my one spare, but the tube bubbled out of the considerable hole created by the crash. Even at low psi, I knew it was unlikely to last long. By this time, I was able to help the other athlete onto his bike and to get moving again with the help of a couple volunteers. It was time to turn my mind to racing as hard as I could from this point forward.

I pressed on with some nervousness, making it about 6 miles before my front tire blew. Desperation began to creep in as I lost even more chunks of time. I spotted a neutral support car, but he was on a mission to help another athlete. I rolled very slowly forward with all my weight on the rear tire, covering another mile or two before a scooter with spare wheels came through. I grabbed one, and rode hard to finish the last 15 or so miles of the bike.

I heard big time gaps from the crowd, but did my best to put it out of my mind. If I was so sure of a good run before the crash, why should it be any different now? My knee was a little swollen, and I had some cuts and scrapes, but it was time to go like hell. I took the first mile out hard, and it didn’t feel very good, but I ignored the pain and chalked it up to being slightly uphill. By mile 3 I had found my groove, but the new concern was if I was going way beyond a sustainable pace. It didn’t matter, I was running in fourth and needed the podium, had a hunger to test myself. So I stayed on the throttle, getting gaps that kept falling to the leaders. My half split through town was just over 1:20, and I pushed back the negative thoughts and visions of an epic implosion, focusing on form and nutrition. By 15 miles I believed I would at least catch Maiki, which I did at 19 miles, and then I just stopped being concerned with a final outcome. I was going to the dark place that took everything I had, all of my heart. I was testing my limits and rewriting them in a big way, and the gap to Andy and Viktor kept falling. Finally, I was less than 1 minute down to Viktor, pushing with every remaining bit in the last miles. I could see him, and he was looking over his shoulder, but in the end I could not close the gap, finishing about 40 seconds down in 3^rd. I looked down at my watch, which had recorded my best marathon effort by far, 2:43:59.  Of course it was bittersweet, but I did what I could to stay positive. The good news was that I secured my Kona spot, and completely changed my perspective on what I am capable of over the Iron distance.

I must take another moment to recognize some of the key people and supporters who made this another memorable event. To Kelsey and my family who made the trip north. To the Hutter family for their incredible hospitality and good energy. To Marcos, my massage guru who also traveled with me and kept me in top form. To all my sponsors: Zoot, Specialized, Clif Bar, Tender Belly, IMT Wines, Fuelbelt, Zipp/SRAM, Oakley, and Vector 450.  Finally, to the race organizers, volunteers, fans, and community of CDA. Thanks! See you in Kona…

Early on, I could tell that the pace was unsustainable for me after such a hard ride. I stayed in my zone  and ran around 8th or 9th position, excited to be in the top ten but wanting a little more. When Frodeno came charging past around mile 5.5, I  tried my best to hang on for a little while, but realized this was beyond my skill set on the day. Still, the little surge gave me the energy and turn over to continue running back up to Collington and Bozzone. By mile 9, I had passed Terenzo, and by 10 I was running with Collington. We slowed a bit before the big downhill, and Tbone got back on, a tactical error that would cost us both a place in the end. With a couple athletes like Bevan Docherty and Sebastian Kienle closing on us, we pushed the pace back up and ended up in a sprint finish for 6-8th. I was 7th in 3:48:39, a couple minutes back of 1st.

Although I’ve never been happy with 7th, I will say that this ranks as one of my more important results. Against one of the very best half-ironman fields ever assembled, I pushed hard and showed that I can be competitive. Most importantly, I raced hard all day, and walked away feeling I gave everything I had. I do believe that my best years are still in front of me, so this was just another step forward on the journey. Congrats to all the racers who tackled that demanding course, and to the top-notch pros that made for an honest, hard race.

Post-race was all about relaxing with family and friends, having a little dinner party and sharing stories. I was lucky to a great hike with my dad and family friends through Orderville canyon in Zion the day after the race, and then a little video work with A to Zion on the mountain bike trails near Virgin on Monday. All in all, another awesome trip to St. George. I will be back again next year!

Tremendous thanks goes out to all my sponsors and supporters. The energy keeps building and I appreciate  you all.

So nearly ten years to the date of my first triathlon in 2004, I was floating high above the Wind River, Teton, and Bitterroot ranges, dreaming of how to best another class field full of returning champions. My biggest rival on paper was fellow Movember Man, Matt Lieto, who had won the race in 2012 and was the last man to break the hour barrier. Of course one could never discount the tenacity and cunning of Calamity Seeley, nor the almost robotic precision and execution from neo-pro Andy Drobeck (T1000).  Add to the mix the up-and-comers from the University of Montana triathlon team, and it was sure to be another classic battle at the Montana World Championships.

With less than a full rotation of the earth to spend before the race after landing in Zoo Town, I made sure to limit my strolls down memory lane to just a few visits with friends and a nice spin in the Rattlesnake. I’m always taken with the enormity of the landscape in Montana, and this time was no different, as I soaked in the undulating pine-covered hills, rolling rivers, and generous open heavens that are the inspiration for the state’s nickname, “Big Sky Country.”

It seems no matter how many years I race, how well I prepare, and how many times I drop Richie Cunningham on bike rides, I still get nervous for this classic race. Entering the Griz pool sparks a cascade of memories from my days of learning to swim on the University club team, and I am right back to my first triathlon in 2004, a memorable clash with Calamity that left me in 2^nd place by 19 seconds. One might think that I would be brimming with confidence after some good races this season and 5 titles at this event, but I knew to keep things in check and remember that anything can happen, especially at Griz…

After an entire morning of competitors testing themselves on the course, it was finally time for the Elite heat to enter the water. With all his charm, my coach and co-director of the event had persuaded the pool staff to cool the waters to 80 degrees from ~84, but it still ends up quite toasty after 1000 yards.  Even so, I felt good, and put my mind to the task at hand. It was time to focus, especially since an anonymous donor had offered up $3,000 to any man or woman breaking the record, to be donated to a charity of the victor’s choice.

With the sound of Shaun Radley’s booming voice, we were underway, and Matt Lieto and I went stroke for stroke through the first several hundred yards. So much so that we were doing our best imitation of open water within the confines of the lane lines. Rather than risk a back and forth battle with Matt on the bike,  I instead rolled the dice on an “attack” at the halfway mark, opening a small gap that eventually grew to 18 seconds by the end of the swim.  I was content with the swim, although not happy, clocking in just over 11 minutes. More crucially, I had grabbed the bull by the horns early and took to the bike with intentions of breaking the record.

Across the footbridge and into the near stall of the sharp “s” turns, my steed stayed true and light, weaving me through unscathed. Now was the time: pour the power on and grimace my way through the heart of a steady breeze in Hellgate Canyon. There was no looking back, just a flood of memories from my early days of triathlon training: Coach Chad Latino yelling at us like we were football players during brick workouts in Turah, long runs up Pattee and around Sentinel, swims upstream in the Clark Fork river, late night swim practice at the U of M, and bike rides up Butler Creek, Big Flat, South Hills, Alberton…

Back to the moment and stinging pain of the redline 20k effort, I could see at the turnaround my lead was growing over the chasers. I was going big, and it was working.  Like a reassuring pat on the back from an old friend, the wind stayed true to it’s unspoken promise and began propelling me home, helping me gather speed and precious time over Todd’s 13 year-old record performance.

Nothing in life is guaranteed, so I absorbed the precious moment and opportunity that was at my feet, quite literally.  The run shoes went on quickly and I bolted from transition like a spooked gazelle, chased not only by the hungry lions in this race, but perhaps by my own demons from previous unfinished business at this race, cringing momentarily with a thought of how painfully close I had come in 2010…

A couple updates from friends gave me differing splits and generally unreliable data, especially considering that I had no idea exactly how much distance remained. There was only one option and it as to go FULL GAS. At least this way if I came up short, I would know that I had given what I had on the day, even though restless nights would undoubtedly ensue. Each moment that felt even one iota too easy, I was back on top of my highest gear, gasping desperately for more oxygen, less lactate, more heart, less doubt. I thought of training sessions I had done, willing my legs to turnover faster, ever faster. Despite concern that “The Hill” might be my undoing, glided up the shale covered slope as if lifted by an invisible force, a pulley system rigged on yet unrealized dreams and past dissapointments.

Down the other side, past the turnaround, and still in panicked flight down the Kim Williams trail, I saw my opportunity lying just ahead, seemingly indifferent to my exertion, mocking my previous inadequate attempts and reminding me of how it would be an entire year before I could try again. I could feel the deep burn in legs and lungs, and let the cozy thought nestle in my mind of how a first place finish would be good enough. Just stop this madness and coast in, kiss some babies, do an interview with the local paper, and call it good. You’ve got this in the bag. No sense in risking injury. It’s silly to dream of breaking that record on such a harder course!  The mischievous thoughts swirled. My pace slowed. My body reveled in its victory, convincing me to return to a more normal level of physical activity.

But it did not last. I turned my mind to the UM Tri team, and all it had done to set up my career as a triathlete.  To how badly I wanted the record.  I dug deep and pressed into the final kilometer of the run, turning along the chain link fence, through the parking lot and around the basketball courts for home. The crowds were cheering loudly as I rounded the final corner, entering the wide open finish chute. I glanced up momentarily in my oxygen-deprived state and saw 55:54. I had done it! And with time to spare. I had finally cracked the code in my 7^th attempt, and put the conversation to bed.

Post-race was a wonderful celebratory dinner at famed Big Sky Brewery, and then some good fun downtown in Missoula with my Montana crew, dancing and revisiting some of my favorite haunts from college. I am looking forward to getting back up to Montana after racing Ironman Coeur d’Alene later this summer. Such a wonderful place. A big thanks goes out to all my support crew and sponsors, coaches, friends, and family. Looking forward to a year’s worth of Montana World Champion status!

Still a joy to return to the Southern California landscape, see good friends and connect with sponsors. I was able to salvage things a little by surfing with friends and having a great dinner with some of the Zoot crew. I will be back again to have a crack at the classic California race!

Fresh off a three-month block of training in Tucson, I have completed my first race of the 2014 season with a podium 3rd place in Monterrey, Mexico. This was the inaugural Ironman 70.3 race in the historic city, and I thought I would throw my hat in the ring after my training in Tucson finally became more fluid at the end of February.  The course was certainly intriguing, with a swim in the lazy riveresque Santa Lucia Canal, a 3-loop bike on some old cobble sections and open highway, and a run that weaved along the swim course and through Parque Fundidora.

Upon arrival in Monterrey, I was greeted with rush hour traffic, but my taxi driver weaved his way safely through and delivered me to the hotel downtown. Pleasantly surprised to see some very impressive and sharply rising mountains that contain the city, as well as river running through the heart. Since I didn’t have time to do much else, I built the bike and laid low. Saturday was standard pre-race run around, with some light training and packet pick-up, pro meeting, and plentiful rest. Because the city is over a million people, I opted to use the hotel gym for my run, but still took a moment to explore while tracking down some last minute essentials at the mercado. A truly bustling metropolis and good energy for race day.

With bikes racked on the plaza near the Mexican history museum, we did the final adjustments, and backtracked along the water’s edge to swim start, a 15 minute hike. It wasn’t terribly unpleasant, and we still had some short moments to warm up before introductions. With the sound of the cannon, 2014 was underway, and I got out clean in the smaller pro group. The pace was hard from the start, and really never let up, but I clawed my way onto the main group of 8 and hung on. I eventually lost about 10 seconds near the finish after yo-yoing a little off the back throughout, but made up for it with a quick transition, and jumped on the Shiv to get down to business.

This was what I was looking forward to all week. After some good, hard rides in Tucson, I knew the cycling fitness was there, so I throttled up immediately to jump across a small gap to Tim Don and Francisco Serrano. To my surprise, nobody came with, and I bridged solo after 5 miles. Shortly after, Serrano went off the front, and a Brazilian made it across to us, sitting much to close as Tim and I set the pace. After one complete loop, we passed through an aid station around mile 24, and I heard the dreaded bang and hiss of a flat tire… which turned out to be my rear. This was the moment: negative thoughts or positive? I came a long way to race, and the body felt mint. I jumped off and went to work changing the tube. I don’t know exactly how long the change took, but estimate it was maybe just over 2 1/2  minutes to get it fixed. I saw a few other pros go by, but went right back to work alone, pushing hard to make back some lost time. The rest of the ride I would only see Rana with about 10 miles left, and dreaded being well out of contention.

Still, I pushed the opening miles of the run to catch the Brazilian, Carvahllo, and asked him where we were. He said he thought 4th or 5th, and I was immediately fired up again… the podium was still a possibility! Of course I had one of the best half-distance runners behind in Rana, so I stayed on the gas, and eventually caught up to Guerra around mile 11. I easily passed the convicted-doper-cyclist-turned-triathlete, and cruised home in 3rd. The podium celebration was worth the extra effort to get back in the race, with champagne showers and flowers, but it was also mixed emotions since I felt so good coming in that it left some questions that will never be answered. However, after reviewing the severe slash in my sidewall after returning home from racing, I can see that I was first unlucky with the flat, but secondly very luck to not have another, as the new tube was bubbling out significantly…. I’ll take 3rd, and move on to the next one!

A tremendous thank you to all my supporting sponsors: Zoot for the speedy Prophet wetsuit and Kiawe’s. Specialized for the rocketship Shiv Tri, and stealthy Evade helmet to keep me hidden from the wind. Clif Bar for fuel to keep me going in training and racing. Zipp and SRAM for the fast and reliable components. Fuelbelt for what I need when I need it. SportPump for keeping the legs fresh and ready for racing. Vector 450 for boosting the immune system, especially on longer and international travel. Oakley for killer shades. And finally, Tender Belly and Infinite Monkey Theorem wines for the post-race celebrations and pre-race nutrition!

With the last two months being a mixture of light training and recovering from bronchitis, I found myself with a little more time to write, and I thought it appropriate to take a quick look back at 2013.  It’s hard to believe I kicked my season off in January, and held on all the way to November!  It was a season of highs and lows, but overall a big step forward. From a slower start in the first half of the year, to course record performances at Coeur d’Alene and Branson, and a solid 15th in Kona, it was another good season of racing. Of course this is not due only to my efforts in training and recovery, but also to those who surround me and commit to the effort. Looking back on the season, my first order of business is to thank those who made another year possible, and worthy of review. Thank you to my family, who always makes it to the big ones and has always believed in me. To Kelsey for her unwavering support and enthusiasm. To my sponsors who make this lifestyle possible, and back me in my efforts to become the best long course triathlete in the world. Thank you to my coaches for guidance and support.  Thank you to my friends and fans who offer incredible encouragement both on course and off. I’m now back in Tucson and setting up shop to get back in shape and ready for another big year. Bring on 2014!