Saturday, May 6

6:00am

I wake to the sounds of nervous chatter, of bike shoes in loose gravel, of water bottles being filled to the brim with sugary fuel. Its time. I roll out of bed, careful not to wake my sleeping bunkmates in a crowded RV, slip on a shirt and sandals, and step outside to check the weather. It's cool, almost cold. The air is moist with fog coming off the ocean. It's going to be a good day. Final race preparations were made last night. I brush my teeth, throw my pack on my back, and head to the water.

7:00am

The energy of a transition area is almost tangible. You can almost smell the combination of testosterone and caffeine in the air. I do my best to efficiently set up my gear. Did I remember my goggles? Am I hydrated? Will I cramp? Did I train hard enough? Did I rest enough? The answers are about to come.

8:14am

Coldplay is playing on a loud speaker. The music, the crowds, the thoughts of anticipation pouring through my head...deafening.

8:15am

Gun fire. I run to the water...a sea of chaos with 100 bodies around me. Arms and legs everywhere. 100 bodies crammed together going from a vertical position to horizontal. Geometrically, it doesnt work. I fight, kick, punch, and do the best I can to find my own space of calm water. Then suddenly, silence. It's a stark contrast to go from an environment of sensory overload, to a place of pitch black where all you hear is the soft, rhythmic sound of your hand hitting the water.


splash......splash.......splash......Wildflower has begun.

8:30am

splash......splash......splash......I have found my rhythm. I've relaxed and can now enjoy the race. Swimming is a time of great solitude. I do some of my best thinking during a long swim. I think about my family. I wish they could see me. I think about my friends. I'm glad that they are here. I think about my dogs and how I wish they could be swimming beside me.

8:55am

The waters edge is quickly approaching. Thoughts of the bike begin racing through my head. Solo time is over....the bike is where the race really begins.









9:00am

From the water I strip off my wetsuit, slip on my bike shoes, and mount my bike. As I'm leaving the race area I hear the race announcer scream my name over the loud speaker as if I'm a well-known athlete. It felt good and was just what I needed to send me out onto the brutal bike course.



9:30am

Relentless...thats the only word I can use to descibe this course. You can never get comfortable here. I am either constantly grinding up a hill or working just as hard to maneuver the bike down the other side. 56 miles of this. Over the first hour on the bike I feel terrible. I feel heavy, thats the only way I can describe it. Every crank of the pedal is an effort. It's going to be a long day.

I have a predetermined nutrition plan that I must follow throughout the day. Since I will burn almost 8,000 calories, I must take in at least half of that if I want to finish. The majority of this is done on the bike. The feast begins on mile 6 and continues to mile 50. As I ride I am force feeding myself energy drinks, Gels, Shot Bloks, and Clif bars.

11:00am

I feel great. My nutrition strategy is working, I have found my rhythm. I go into the aero position, put my head down, and hammer. Wineries, vinyards, old farm houses, beautiful cows, they all blow by me as I make my way across the country side. The fields are full of wildflowers of every color, hence the name.

11:30am

I approach the dreaded mile 40. This begins the legendary "Nasty Grade". It's an infamous 7 mile hill that gets steeper and steeper as you approach its summit.

11:40am

My speed drops to 10mph. The grinding is in full force now. As I look up the hill the athletes seem to not be moving. Everyone is in slow motion as we all push our limits to find how strong we really are.

11:50am

7 mph. My quads begin to seize up. I have to shift from a standing to seated position every 10 pedal strokes to prevent a complete cramp.

11:58am

6mph. The summit in sight, an old man dressed as the energizer bunny is on the side of the road yelling "Welcome to the top of Nasty Grade!" He has been doing this for years and has become a fixture in this race. As much as I was suffering at that point, I had to laugh.

12:15pm

My legs are fried. With Nasty grade behind me and only a few miles to ride in front of me, I begin to think about running a half-marathon.

1:00pm

I am several miles into the run and fatigue begins to set in. Not only physical fatigue, but mental fatigue, and even a little emotional fatigue. I begin to break down. All motivation is gone. All I keep saying to myself is "this is stupid. This is so stupid". I have visions of selling my bike, melting my wetsuit, and completely retiring from this sport. Luckily, I have enough race experience to know that this breakdown would come, as it has before...so I had a plan. My strategy for the run was to dedicate each mile of the run to someone in my life. For that mile I would pray for them and think about memories I have with them....it worked. I got choked up at a few points in the race...it got me a long way.



2:00pm

Mile 7 is the best part of the entire race. It goes through the heart of the campgroud where 30,000 spectators line the road as you run past. Think Tour de France. As I approach, huge crowds would erupt in a roar of support and encouragement. I looked over my shoulder to see who they are yelling at, no one there...its me...every eye is on me. Even now as I write this my eyes well up with tears thinking about the emotion pumping through my body at that point in the race. This is exactly what I needed.

2:09pm

Out of the bushes pop Steve and Jeff with a video camera. They run along with me, interviewing me as we jog. I dont even remember what I said, it was just so great to see them after a long day. The interview was cut short due to Steve developing a cramp.



2:11pm

The course takes a sharp turn into the woods. The crowds are gone. I'm all alone. All I hear is the tap of my shoes against the dirt. No words of encouragement, no final boosts of energy. I'm all alone with 4 twisting miles standing between myself and the finish line. No one is talking, there is no music. I'm not racing anyone. It's not me against a clock. It's me against myself. How strong am I? How much punishment can my body take? Where is my breaking point? These next 4 miles are all about answering these questions.

2:30pm

I am suffering. 'Why am I doing this?' 'This is really stupid.' A small down hill allows me to gather my strength and push myself the final 2 miles. Aid station...I take some Gatoraid and a cup of ice water to pour over my head. Out of the bushes come Steve and Jeff again with a brand new set of interview questions. They run along me for about 30 seconds until Jeff develops shin splints. Again, my spirits were lifted and I began to realize that I was almost finished.





3:05pm

Thousands of people line the finish chute. I hear my name over the loud speaker. Months of training and hours of suffering are all justified. This long day is over.