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.

When I won the race last year, I was on a mission to prove to myself that I could execute a solid Ironman again after two disappointing races in 2015 with Texas and Kona. I was also behind the 8 ball with regard to Kona points, so I was deeply motivated and hungry to perform. When I came back this year, I was still riding some of the high of another strong race in Kona, so I had to search elsewhere for my fire. And that came from truly wanting to defend my title and set up my year very much like 2016. In two previous attempts (Lake Placid 2nd, Coeur d’Alene 3rd), I had come up short in my quest to win two in a row. Maybe it isn’t possible to demonstrate factually that a title defense is harder than the initial win, but history and my experience seems to bear it out. Regardless, I hunkered down in my winter training grounds of Tucson, Arizona, and went to work.

I really love training in the dirty T, and this winter was a good one. Sort of a renaissance for the dusty old west town this season, with more triathletes than saguaro cacti popping up all over the valley. I fed off this energy and managed to log some good volume earlier than I had the previous year. Despite feeling sluggish and a bit overdone at Buenos Aires 70.3, at the two week out mark I knew I was coming into some special form at the right time.

We all battle our demons though, and for most of us that are honest, self-doubt will almost always be one of the most insidious. Even as I churned out monster training with relative ease, the final days of taper can lead one into lethargy and questioning of ability. Fortunately, I have incredible people around me that remind me just how blind I can be in the most helpful ways, and I began to turn the doubts into belief when it mattered.

Race day came quickly, but I was ready. Kelsey and I managed the week leading in perfectly, from the huge travel over, to the sleep, eating, and even the enjoyment of where we were. Port Elizabeth is one of the most welcoming venues for an Ironman event that I have witnessed.

I warmed up, I focused on my plan, and I walked to the starting corral with the other professionals. The sun was rising over the Indian Ocean, the sounds of traditional African drumming intensifying during the countdown…

The swim was rough to begin and there was some chop, but I made sure to do everything necessary to be in the front group. After last year’s sub-par swim, I wanted to start my day without needing to chase as hard. I knew Josh would attack the swim, so I didn’t worry when I could see someone gradually pulling away from our pack. I stayed in control and exited in 49 minutes, alongside all the major contenders.

Onto the bike I let a couple other athletes dictate our pace as Cameron Wurf began his assault out front. Within 10k, I moved to the front and pushed the pace some, bridging up to Josh and continuing on the front to the first turnaround. I’m not one to focus on the other athletes too much, but at this point I made the turn and saw the big pack sitting behind me. I temporarily lost focus on my race as I lamented the close pack riding that was going on in the group, but within another 15k, I broke away with Josh and Nils in pursuit of the front of the race. I did not prepare for 3 months to sit in a group and play cat and mouse all day, and I knew my fitness was deep enough to leave the others and build some time. After all, the goal was to defend the race honorably, not sit and wait.

When Nils and I rolled into T2, we were less than 2 minutes down, and we took off in pursuit of the lead. By the first 5k we had moved past Cameron, and I was slowly opening a gap on Nils. I found my rhythm and settled in without worrying too much about the others. It was my race to win or lose, and I fed off the energy of the crowds and called on my training to carry me forward. To be honest, I felt in control all day, awaiting the dreaded onset of pain and heavy fatigue, but it never really came. I conserved a little from 34-38k, then hit it again to finish strong. The incredible rush of turning the corner onto the carpet and hearing the announcers call out my sub-8 finishing time sent a jolt of euphoria through my system, and I took a few long moments to soak it all in. A big investment for a massive return, I had defended the title and done so in record time.

Looking back now, I am excited by the possibilities of this season. Once again I am in complete control of my time leading into Kona, and I feel on track to make another step forward in October. I have to say a tremendous Thank You to all my supporters, and all of my sponsors that make this all possible: Zoot, Bahrain Endurance 13, Transamerica, Specialized, Clif Bar, Cercacor, Ice Friction, Infinite Chimp, Tender Belly, and Oakley.

Follow along on my social media for updates this summer as we hit the road in our Airstream and get married in May!

I believe the source of these strategies and standards must be credited to my parents. How much we are nature and how much nurture can be deliberated ad nauseam, but I strongly believe my mom and dad are some of the biggest influencers in my life. Even to this day, I will consult with my parents about big decisions, especially those that are financial in nature.

These are some of the most important cornerstones of my investing and money managing strategy, and ideas that I think can help guide anyone to a successful financial life, no matter what job, income level, or retirement goal they may have.

1. Surround yourself with high achievers that are experts in their field. For most of us, our job is not to study derivatives, stock markets, and economics, so find someone who does and enlist some help. It’s okay to be humble and allow help from others. My dad was a building contractor, skilled in home construction, but that didn’t mean he did the electrical or plumbing on every house. Do your homework, but listen to expert advice too.

2. Limit your debt load. One lesson my parents consistently reinforced to me was to limit my debt to “good debt,” like a home mortgage with a reasonable rate, and to avoid having multiple payments that included lots of interest. This goes hand in hand with not spending what you don’t have. Being heavily leveraged means you are wide open to financial ruin if and when major economic changes happen, and it adds a major level of stress which I’d rather live without.

3. Save no matter what. Even if it’s only a very small amount, commit yourself to saving every month. The more you put away earlier in your life, the longer it has to multiply, and compound growth is your best friend in investing. Be patient and consistent with your contributions.

4. Aim for diversification, both within your market portfolio and outside it. My parents own a small business, have a couple rental properties, and a diversified investment portfolio, so even if one area takes a hit, another can carry them through. I am still fairly young, but I have goals to diversify with rental properties and continually rebalance my portfolio to optimize my returns.

5. Enjoy the process. Although the general objective is to make money, there is a balance between the value of money and the value of your happiness. They can be symbiotic, but pushing too hard on either end of the spectrum can be dangerous and unfulfilling. Each person has different goals, but outline yours clearly, and then try to see the process as an enjoyable one, full of learning along the way.

I feel very fortunate to have great parents and role models around me, and know there are many people in less ideal circumstances, but it’s never too late to save and take control of your financial future.

….and I’m happy to announce that my return to real training will back at The Cycling House for a few days of riding in the sun at the end of January! The crew at The Cycling House has played an integral role in helping kick off my winter training for the past several seasons, and I am excited to join the team again this year. With their expert staff, awesome accommodations, food, and guided rides, it will be perfect recipe to get my body back in shape and on the road to a season of racing hard.  If you’d like to join in the fun, escape winter for a week, and make some new friends while training in the sun, please visit their website at: www.thecyclinghouse.com  Dates for the camp this year are January 27th-February 1st. I will be riding with the groups during the first few days, and offering insight and training tips for all ability levels.

2015 is here, and it’s time to get to work. Train hard, have fun, and see you out there!

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

It does still seem a little surreal (maybe even like a fairytale) to be typing a race report from the Ironman World Championship in Hawaii where I get to say that I am 2nd. In the universe (as my mom wrote to me in an email after). It’s not at all to say that I didn’t believe in myself or the possibility of a high finish in Kona, but the plan has always been longer-term, and in some sense I am reeling, suffering a good form of whiplash from the accelerated upward trajectory. I came prepared for a top ten in body and mind, and technically I got that, but a podium at worlds? I’m just thrilled.

The story starts way too far back to recall it all, as is the case with any of our lives that lead to a great moment. Instead, I suppose that touching on the energy around my time on the island will suffice for now.

I arrived about ten days before the event, in very good shape from my year of hard work, especially the final touches in Tucson. Mentally, I was in the zone: Relaxed but excited. Confident but not cocky. I had incredible support from my family, girlfriend, sponsors, friends, coach, and massage therapist, and many notes were pouring in from fans wishing me well on the big day. I was still hungry for something special after some hard luck and mishaps, close calls and underperformances. It was time.

So, after bringing my taper to a finely sharpened point in the final days pre-race, I was anxiously awaiting the morning buzz, getting body marked and setting up the rest of my gear. I quietly warmed up in Kailua Bay, calmed my mind, and focused. The cannon sounded, and a career of hard work was being tested for any holes by the strength of the winds in Hawi, the heat and humidity of the lava fields, the best athletes in the world, and my own demons of self-doubt. Fortunately, I had done my homework in my previous trips to the island, trained appropriately, and was ready for the challenge.

A clean start in the water set me up for a comfortable front pack swim, and then I stayed attentive and aggressive on the bike. When the time came to push a little harder, my legs were strong, and I went all in. It was always my game plan to do my own race and not react too much to other athletes, but in the end “my race” was to take this chance. In a World Championship, I feel that it is a privilege to compete, and out of respect for the race, other athletes, and supporters, one must give everything. So back into town we rode, steadily pulling time out on chase groups. Being close to last year’s champion gave me confidence, and I closely monitored my hydration, nutrition, cooling, and mental state. All systems go.

My running has come a long way in the past two years, and I believe I am finally starting to touch on my potential. Confidence in my ability to execute a strong marathon was bolstered by a breakthrough run at Ironman Coeur d’Alene and several of my fastest half-ironman runs throughout the year. Strong and steady was my mantra on the run, feeding off the energy of so many supporters. From 5^th to 4^th, to 2^nd, to 3^rd, to 2^nd once more, the battle raged on. I stayed in my head, daring myself to forget about the chasers and focus only on what was in front… a world title. In Kona, anything can happen, so I fought and protected what I had worked so hard for all day, year, career. And then it came, the top of Palani, like the reassuring pat on the back from an old friend. I was descending, around the corner on Kuakini, then Hualalai, then the sacred Alii where dreams come true.

On this day, my dream did come true. I clashed with the best warriors in our sport, and proved myself a worthy contender on the hallowed grounds of Kona. Clutching the American flag, feeding off the energy in the finishing chute, I will forever cherish those moments. And, soon it will be back to work, for there is another step yet to take…

There is no way to properly express in words my gratitude to all those who have been part of this effort, and it is a deep fear of mine that I would overlook someone, but I will try my best now. Triathlon is not truly an individual sport, and no athlete accomplishes great things entirely on his or her own. To my parents, girlfriend, coach, massage therapist, training partners, friends, fans, and media, thank you for all the support and love. To my sponsors, thank you for the belief and backing for so long now. Zoot, Specialized, Clif Bar, Infinite Monkey Theorem Winery, Tender Belly, SportPump, Fuelbelt, Zipp, SRAM, Vector 450, and Oakley: You are the best of the best, and enable me to race to my potential at the highest level. To anyone and everyone else, past present, and future, thanks for being part of Hoff Racing!

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!