Double Anvil 2019 Recap - The FULL Version

In March of 2018 after we had returned from my completion of the Double Anvil

Triathlon, it was Wendy - not me - who brought up going back.

“I know we can do better,” she said.

It was because she said ‘we’ that had me instantly on board.

I knew exactly what she meant. She had done such a great job supporting me

during my 100-mile run in 2017, she was a big reason why I was able to
surpass my expectations for that race. Despite that experience and getting
advice from others while preparing for the Double Anvil, it was obvious that we
were not anywhere near as prepared as others were. It showed in slow
transition times and a lot of other unnecessary stops.

It was a no-brainer. We’d all go back in 2019 and make improvements: me
on performance, her on efficiency and preparedness while crewing with
Kaitlynn again.

The universe had other ideas though. When Kaitlynn’s competition dance

schedule came out, I casually scanned it, knowing there had never been a

competition scheduled on the second weekend in March. Until this year - just
our luck. Without Wendy and Kaitlynn able to come down and crew, I now

had to find someone not just able to fly down to Florida for a long and tiring

weekend, but also someone that understood the thankless tasks involved in

crewing an ultra-endurance event.

I found that someone in Brian Benjamin. In retrospect, it shouldn’t have been

a surprise to me that he said yes. After all, not only did he and his wife Ann

talk me into signing up for that 100-mile run, but he was also prepared to pace

me for 31 miles of the course. Someone else ended up pacing me for that
segment so Brian ran the celebratory 6.2-mile victory lap with me.

The universe wasn’t done making jokes yet! Brian came over the Sunday

before the race and Wendy and I got him up to speed on what to expect.

During that discussion, I mentioned to Brian it would be my first run outdoors

in months because I didn’t want to risk a fall on snowpack or black ice during

an outside run. Brian agreed that was smart.

I flew down ahead of Brian on Tuesday, and that night I got a message from

him: “Remember when we talked about not running when ice is present?”

accompanied by a picture of his wrist in a splint, followed by “Cast goes on
tomorrow.” Well of COURSE that would happen to my one and only crew!
He assured me he was still fine and adamant that he was still going to make
the trip and be my crew.

One of the changes Wendy and I had agreed on when planning our return was

staying at the cabins within the state park (convenience and efficiency, check)!

Since it was going to end up being just Brian and I, the race director Steve Kirby

e-mailed me a week out and asked if we wouldn’t mind letting another

participant have the sleeper sofa. We said yes, and hosted Terry Rajsombath

from Rhode Island. This was Terry’s first Double after completing an Ironman a

few years ago. He was by himself with no crew, which made his task even

tougher but I knew it would be possible. After all, I had been planning to go at it

with no crew of my own until Brian agreed. I knew from the previous year that

other crews would support him or any other athlete needing something they
hadn’t brought.

The pre-race dinner was part reunion, seeing some previous participants and

all the staff and volunteers. There were more relay teams participating this

year – in 2018 there were none – and Kirb (Steve Kirby, the race director)

also announced that there would be not only Single Anvil racers this year

(the traditional 140.6 mile long-course triathlon) but Half Anvil participants as

well (70.3 miles). The more the merrier! I was more focused on the inter-

national field of Double Anvil participants. As Kirb introduced each racer and

their previous achievements, it became very clear this was a stacked,

experienced field. I was able to look up previous race results for some of

them prior, but not for others. I knew last year I was fortunate to finish in 3rd

place – if you looked historically at this event, my 2018 time often wouldn’t

crack the top 5. It was a different experience for me this year, and it didn’t help

matters that when making my introduction, Kirb pointed out that I was first

out of the water last year and everyone should look to chase me. “Thanks

for putting the target on my back!” I told him when I went up to shake his hand.

“But don’t worry,” I told the rest of the crowd. “I go backwards on the bike!”

Thanks to Kirb, I was now marked or targeted, if I hadn’t been already. As Joey

Lichter, a participant in last year’s and this year’s Single Anvil in addition to

being a board member for the International Ultra Triathlon Association would

later tell me, Europeans like coming to races in the United States because the

fields are smaller, and it’s easier for them to accumulate points to contend for

the ITUA World Cup title. I’m not yet crazy enough to go point-chasing and do

more than one of these a year, but it confirmed my thought that the foreign

racers don’t sign up for these and travel this far just to see IF they can do an

ultra: most of them are here with a larger purpose.

So what was my purpose? My main objective was to do exactly what Wendy

and I planned almost a year prior: have a faster finish time just by being more

efficient. My secondary objective was to execute a smarter race by pacing

myself, and eating and drinking intelligently. My third objective was to be

faster in all 3 disciplines. If I could hit all 3 of those, it would lead to a PR and

whatever else happened would be icing on the cake.

Back at the cabin, Brian and I had a few beers and chatted with Terry a bit

more. He has issues running due to an injury he suffered while deployed in

Afghanistan, so his strategy was to walk the 52 miles once he was done with

the bike. Wow. That’s a long time to be just walking, but Terry’s approach

reflects that of all the participants: we all know it’s going to be a long, difficult,

painful experience. Yet we’re doing it anyway.

I slept fairly well for a race night’s eve. I was relaxed, and not at all nervous. I

told Brian that ever since my first Ironman, I typically don’t get nervous. The last

time I did was before the Booneville 100, and Brian had been there and

recognized it right before the race started. He said exactly what I needed to

hear at that time, and having him around as a calming presence was an added

benefit I was grateful to have that morning.

Our tent set was up alongside the other Iowans racing and their crews. I had
Brian, Davey had his girlfriend Cindy, and Donnie had his training partner Mindy
plus his parents Joe and Coleen, both of whom were participants in the Ironman

World Championships in the early 80s. While neither had ever done an ultra,

they definitely knew triathlons. It was a great collective brain trust that would

serve all three of us – and others – over the next two days.

We made our way down to the swim start. It was marginally warmer than last

year, both the air and the water (about 50 and 66 degrees, respectively). The

sun was just about to peek over the horizon, and Lake Louisa was calm and

clear. Kirb did his usual pre-race routine of announcements and pictures, and

had “Padre” from Columbia say a prayer for everyone.

After that, we all waded into the water. I took a position next to someone at the

front, and waited for the air horn.

THE SWIM

Off we went! I had half-joked in the weeks leading up to the race that I hoped

there was someone as fast if not faster than me so I could draft off of them

and not strain my deltoid like I had the previous year. Drafting during

swimming in triathlon is actually legal, and believe me when I tell you it is just

as beneficial as drafting is in any other sport. So I was fine to be joined at the

front by two other swimmers. I had no idea who they were – everyone is

wearing different colors of swim caps, and it’s tough to remember who’s who.

All I could see was purple cap with sleeveless wetsuit, and white cap with

full sleeves.

Purple got slightly ahead in the first 150 yards, while White and I stayed

even. I was going steady but not pushing the issue, waiting to see if White

would get in behind Purple and draft off of him, in which case I would draft

off White and save some energy. White never really made a move until we

hit the first turn buoy to come back, but he had the inside corner so I didn’t

have a choice but to let him have second unless I wanted to be a jerk and

swim over him (and I’m not a jerk when I’m racing – at least not intentionally).

I kept an eye ahead on Purple to make sure White and I didn’t fall too far

behind.

Unfortunately, we started falling back and out of Purple’s draft. By the time

we finished the first lap, I decided to take the initiative and passed White to

get back on Purple’s tail. I had to be careful – I wasn’t going to burn myself

out and be uncomfortable for the whole bike ride like I was last year. I told

myself to stay within my limits. There was no need to be first out of the water.

Besides, Purple could have been swimming one of the shorter distances or

been part of a relay. I had no idea. After the second lap was complete I gave

up trying to chase him down, and just settled in to a pace I knew I could

maintain. I think Purple did too, because every time I looked up and tried to

sight him, he wasn’t ever more than about 100 yards ahead.

Near shore there’s the turnaround buoy along with two beer pong rafts that

hold drinks and nutrition (for real, I can’t make that up)! It wasn’t until I

stopped for my bottle of Skratch on the 8th lap that I realized that Joe and

Mindy were keeping the rafts in place for us. Not just great crew members,

but helping out on the course and volunteering as well! I didn’t recognize

them until that point because I was focused on sticking to my efficiency
strategy and not wasting time at the completion of every lap when you
had to stand and shout your number to the lap counters. I was even
having a hard time locating Brian on the beach, but when I did find him
he always had a big smile and kept giving me the thumbs up!

A new strategy I used this year was to set my watch to go off every 12

minutes. The reason behind that number is I did the math from the previous

year’s swim and knew that if I could swim each lap faster than 12 minutes,

I would finish faster than in 2018. Thanks to those drafting efforts early, I was

able to give myself a great start in achieving that, since my first 3 laps were

all about 11 minutes or less, and while I wasn’t exactly sure of the splits, I

knew I was still padding extra time.

I knew at the halfway point I had a good chance of beating my time from last

year. In fact, I took a quick glance at my watch at the 2.4 mile mark and

noticed that I had roughly tied my fastest Ironman swim in 1 hour and 7

minutes. Wow, that was putting me on pace for a 2 hour and 14 minute finish!

I knew that wasn’t going to happen though, since I didn’t have anyone to draft

off of like I had the first 2 laps.

After drinking about half my bottle on lap 8, I went back out onto lap 9 pretty

sure that I was still in second place since no one had passed me, but I hadn’t

had a good Purple sighting in some time. I figured he was long gone. I rounded

the far-out turn buoy to come back to shore on lap 9, and suddenly out of

nowhere, OOOF! I swam right up onto somebody! I stopped to make sure I

hadn’t accidentally hurt them, I had never had a collision quite like that before

and I wanted to make sure they were OK. It seemed to me as though they had

stopped completely, I came up on them so fast. As I made that pause to check,

I noticed the swim cap and wet suit.

It was Purple.

Purple’s name was Jeff Strump, and even though I had no idea of knowing at

the time, he WAS in fact part of a relay team (the one that would finish in first

place). Talking with him afterwards, he had cramped up and had to stop

suddenly. The cramping slowed him up just enough that I didn’t see him the
remainder of the swim. Believe it or not, at that point I was mostly concerned
about his safety and kept hoping that he was OK and able to finish the swim
(he was and he did).

The final 3 laps were largely uneventful, but with so much lap traffic it was

getting harder to know exactly what place I was in. I could have been

anywhere from first to third. Whenever I’d make a turn I’d sneak a quick

peek to see who was coming up behind me. On the final turn I thought I saw

White closing in again, but couldn’t be certain it was him (or her). I gave a

little bit extra on the final return to be on the safe side. Joe would later tell

me after the race that I was sighting a lot, but also swam the straightest. If

anyone would know, an Ironman World Championship veteran certainly

would! Everything was feeling good. My forearms were a bit fatigued, and I

had a little tightening in my lower back from being out there so long, but felt

nothing critical or anything to worry about as I mentally prepared for the bike.

When I got out of the water and shouted my number one last time, I looked

towards the official’s table to make sure I was OK to exit. I knew I was once

good once I started hearing the applause, and someone announced “First

out of the water!” Brian was right there waiting for me, and he confirmed it. I

started peeling off my wetsuit right away, and said to the crowd “Well that

was fun, now it’s time to do the hard stuff!” That line got a few laughs, and

as I started jogging up the beach I overheard someone say, “Only a true

swimmer would say something like that.”

As Brian and I headed towards my bike gear, I looked at my watch, and

was thrilled to see 2 hours and 20 minutes, which was a 7 minute

improvement over last year! But me being me, I joked to Brian that if I had

been 40 seconds faster I would have been out in 2:19. I had good reason to

joke, I was feeling fantastic! I had been a marked man thanks to Kirb

and still managed to be first out of the water, faster than the previous year,

and with no issues.

Now it was time to go backwards.

THE BIKE - 224 miles

I knew the forecast was nice for the day so I didn’t spend as much time as

I had the previous year thinking about what gear I was going to wear. I

threw on a thick pair of bike shorts over the tri shorts I wore during the swim,

my heart rate monitor, bike jersey, dried off my feet and ran with Brian up to

our tent.

The first order of business was putting RockTape on my neck. Over the last

few months, I had developed a sometimes sharp/sometimes dull pain at the

base of my neck while riding in the aero position. Last year I developed the

same issue about a third of the way into the bike. I started seeing a

chiropractor 10 days out from the race, and she recommended taping my

neck prior to starting the bike. While Brian applied the tape I tried to eat as

much as I could, shoving any food I could grab into my mouth. After the tape

was done, he applied sunscreen (more on that later) and I was off!

The course is all on roads entirely within the state park. We ride 3 miles east

towards the campground, then loop around and come back. However, to get

the mileage correct, you don’t do the first full loop; you only ride out 1 mile,

then return to the AnVillage before heading back out for the first of 37 full laps.

There were a handful of cyclists out there doing the shorter distances. I knew

I wasn’t going to be in the lead for long, so I just tried to settle in and get a

rhythm going.

I couldn’t settle. I was jacked up and excited. I was pedaling the entire loop,

including the downhill portions (there aren’t many, but still serve as good

recovery areas). I couldn’t believe how fast my first few splits were. I was

averaging nearly 20mph early on! For perspective, the previous year I

averaged 17.2 over the entire 224 miles. I had to force myself to start easing

up, and keep reminding myself that the current pace was NOT sustainable.

It was hard to dial back, because all my numbers were looking great.

“Stay within your abilities,” I started saying out loud to myself. “Don’t over-reach.”

“Find your all-day pace.” “Is this sustainable?” I had to keep saying these things

and reminding myself that this was just the start of a very long day. I had 3

simple goals for the bike this year:

1. Only make 4 stops every 50 miles or so, and keep them under 5 minutes.

2. Eat and drink at least 200 calories per hour, and keep eating after dark.

3. Ride smart and have enough left in my legs to have a solid run.

Having those goals helped me focus throughout the day. On a repetitive

course you have to come up with ways to keep your mind engaged. Even

though the hills aren’t steep, there are sections where it does not take much

effort to get above 30mph, and a steering or mechanical mistake could end

your day quickly and painfully.

What I had decided to do to keep myself engaged - and in a good mood - was

to smile at everyone. Because of the nature of the out-and-back course, you

see all the other participants as they’re headed the opposite direction as you.

Last year I saw a guy that was smiling even more than I was. His name

was Michael Ortiz, and I remember how great it was seeing that big, beaming

smile every time he went by. This year, Michael wasn’t able to join us because

he was running his 15th consecutive 100-mile ultra marathon that weekend,

easily breaking the previous Guiness World Record mark of 13. Since Mike

had bigger goals to achieve (side note: as I write this he is currently en-route

to Nashville to run his 16th - WOW), I decided to take it upon myself to take

Mike’s role as Unofficial Course Smiler.

It worked! Everyone I smiled at smiled back, and that just made me smile

bigger and more often. It was a great and welcome diversion, because as the

day wore on, the course became a bit more challenging. On one hand, while
the temperatures never got up to the low 80s that were forecast, the reason

was because the winds started picking up. Cyclists like it when winds are

consistent, meaning you know when to expect to face a headwind, and when

to enjoy the benefit of a tailwind. On this day, none of us knew when to expect

anything. The only consistency of the wind was that it was NEVER consistent!

There was, however, one thing I knew to expect on the bike course: I was

going to get passed. Sure enough, about an hour into the bike I got passed
like I was standing still. I would later learn it was Martin Qvist of Denmark. He
was out of the water 12 minutes behind me, but wasted no time moving up and
into first, where he would remain the rest of the ride. As more athletes finished
the swim, the course became more full and once people started taking breaks
in the AnVillage, the inevitable shuffling began and after that starts, you can’t

tell where you are relative to everyone else on the course. There’s around 30

people out there at any given time doing one of 3 different race lengths, or
possibly part of a relay. Remember that relay teams can switch out or ‘tag team’

just like in wrestling. Of course those people passed me also, but all I could

worry about was myself and keep smiling.

The best part of the ride is when all the people you know are out on the course,

confirming they finished the swim. I gave all my friends thumbs up whenever
we’d pass, and have a quick exchange on the occasions when we’d be
side-by-side. It was good, because it was keeping my mind off the discomfort
that would inevitably come.

When it did, I was prepared for it. My neck pain wasn’t terrible. I was

more concerned about my rear end. There’s a difference between training

indoors and outdoors (besides the obvious) is that your bike doesn’t shift

underneath you when you’re indoors and your bike is locked into a trainer.

Outside, while the bike is moving underneath you, your muscles are

constantly making tiny adjustments to maintain balance and keep the bike

steady and your weight is shifting around more, drawing on your core and

your butt. My core was feeling great, but not my butt. I had to start standing

up on the pedals just to get my rear off my seat for a little bit. Of course my

back and neck also started stiffening up, but it was easier to give them relief.

The strategies I worked out in advance with Brian were paying off. We pre-
mixed my Skratch supplement in one-gallon jugs to make it easier for him to
refill the bottles with one hand. I also carried several Honey Stinger Waffles
in my jersey so I wouldn’t have to slow down and take them from him. He was
timing each lap so he knew almost exactly when to expect me, and every time
through he’d ask what I needed. Whenever I asked for something, he had it
waiting on the next lap.

My scheduled breaks went better than last year, but looking back I could

have done an ever better job communicating to Brian what I wanted. The first

break was at mile 50, exactly as planned, and I was in and out in about 3

minutes. The second break was at 104 and took a bit longer because I asked
for some RockSauce Ice on my neck, but was still at 5 minutes.

The third break went long. Cris Rowe, a friend of mine from the area, had

showed up to help out as he and his wife did last year. Brian had informed

me in advance that Cris was stopping at Culvers, and if I wanted anything.

“YES! CHEESEBURGER!” I shouted as I had passed through the AnVillage.
When Cris showed up, his timing was perfect. I was 146 miles in, and it was
a good time for another pit stop. Chatting with Cris and scarfing down that
oh-so-delicious cheeseburger led to a pit stop of about 11 minutes. I didn’t
stress about it, though. Breaks are good both physically and mentally. While
you’re no doubt tired of hearing about my ass by now, I can’t describe how
nice it was to stand up and just walk around for a few minutes.

With roughly 70 miles to go, I was still learning new lessons. One of which

was, things that worked for me last year weren’t working as well this year.

For instance, the previous year, I ate a Honey Stinger Waffle at least once

an hour for nearly the entire ride. This year, they weren’t as appealing and

I didn't eat as many. What I was doing instead was eating potato chips on
my stops, and taking Fuel for Fire which is a mash of protein and other
supplements in a squeeze-it pouch. It was a newer product that I only used
a few times before, but I was glad I had packed them.

Darkness was settling in, so it was a last chance to get a visual on where

others were compared to me. I knew that Martin had looped me and I was

at least 1 lap down to him, and he did so again right around dusk. There

were two other athletes out there that I knew would be in contention

for a podium finish: Zema (who’s full name is Konstantinos Zemadanis,

for obvious reasons we’ll just call him Zema) and Edison Alexander who

is a minister. Kirb had given him the nickname of Padre and it stuck.

I didn’t know exactly where either of them were, but my hunch was that

both of them had passed me at least once. I hadn’t asked Brian for a

position update in a while, because it wasn’t going to change my strategy.

So what if I was in 4th or 5th place? I was here to improve my time from

last year, that was my main goal. If I ended up getting beat by people who

trained harder and executed better, then they deserved it just like I did. I

stayed positive, knowing that the end of the bike wasn’t too far away.

I came in for my last pit stop a bit earlier than the others - Mile 176 - and

that was mostly to prep for the few hours I’d be riding in the dark with lower

temperatures. Brian and Cris put toe covers on my bike shoes while I

slipped on wool socks. I wanted to avoid having numb toes at the start of

the run like last year, and this was the best way to do it. In retrospect, I

could have done that on the 148 stop, but in the end it wouldn’t have

mattered too much. Again, the quick breaks were good. I was surprised

that Cris was still there (I knew he had a busy Saturday) but he said he

was going to stick around and see me off on the run. I would hear back

from the rest of the Iowa Crew that Cris kept them entertained with stories

on all manner of subjects. Cris is a great conversationalist, and I know the

Iowa Crew welcomed a new face and voice after putting up with each other,

myself, Dave and Donnie all day long!

Two volunteers out on the course also helped break up the monotony of

doing lap after lap. Chad was stationed out at the turnaround, and he and

I were having quick exchanges each time I’d pass through. On one pass,

he told me that Kirb had found a picture of me with ice cream all over my

face and used that as my picture on the timing system. Another volunteer

of note was Don. He was all over the place, but primarily directing traffic

where the bike course intersected with the main park road. He would make

different gestures and be very psyched up every time someone would pass

through. Those two and all the other volunteers made a big difference on a

very long day.

My day (and night) on the bike was coming to a close. I knew I was faster

than last year, but even I was surprised when I realized by how much. With

a few laps to I estimated I was going to be off the bike before 11pm. Last year

I didn’t get off the bike until almost 12:30am! I was going to be about 90

minutes ahead, and I’d also be running sooner since my toes weren’t cold or

numb at all. My back, neck, and butt were all stiff and sore at this point. My

only concern was how they would feel once I started running.

I’d find out soon enough. I passed through the timing gates once more, and

they gave the familiar ringing sound indicating I was on the final lap. I

reminded myself to not push too hard, I had to keep spinning light and trying

to get out the lactic acid in advance for the run. I was thrilled with where I was

at, regardless of place. When I coasted in to the AnVillage for the last time, it

was 10:50pm and I had finished the 224 miles in 13 hours and 10 minutes.

Brian and Cris were of course ready and waiting to help get me off on the run.

Now, in my mind, it was ON.

THE RUN - 52 MILES

One of the motivating factors in returning to this race was my disappointment

in how my run turned out in 2018. Running has always been my strength in
triathlon, and my time of 11 hours and 19 minutes wasn’t reflective of what I
thought I was capable of. This was a bit of a revenge run for me. I had put a
lot of thought and training into this run, and had an ambitious goal of
finishing close to 10 hours, if not faster.

First I had to get out on the course. The one thing I had forgotten to bring down

to the tent was a running shirt. Brian had driven back to the cabin while I was

still biking and brought down all the ones I had packed, just in case I had a

favorite. It didn’t matter since I was wearing a light long-sleeve pullover on top,

but I grabbed my favorite anyway from the Fort Lauderdale A1A Marathon.

I had brought 3 different pairs of Altra shoes: my flat road racers, which were

fast but didn’t have much padding in the soles, and two pairs of Escalantes -

one newer and ‘fresher’ than the other. I started on the older pair first, thinking

how comfortable the newer ones would feel changing into later in the race.

Brian had my shoes all ready, Cris had my water bottle ready, they were all

hands on deck. I was ready to go!

So I stood around and ate for a few minutes.

It was rather funny at the moment. I think everyone was so excited for me,

the expectation was that I was going to shoot out onto the run course like a

rocket. Nope. I knew I was going to need solids in my stomach, and the longer

into the run, the less I’d want to eat. So I walked around a bit, snacking as much

as I could. Finally, Cindy spoke up and said “Are you going to start running or

what?” I jokingly replied “Listen sister, I just rode 224 and my ass needs a

break!” I was still smiling. I was still having fun. But there was still work to be

done so I broke into my stride and started running.

It was so nice compared to the previous year. I think it was in the low 50s,

maybe upper 40s this year, compared to the upper 30s last year. Whatever
the temps were, they were perfect in my opinion. No need for extra layers or
even gloves. I did leave my bike shorts on over my tri shorts though, just
for a little added warmth. My first two miles were right where I wanted them
to be, around 9:15 per mile. As I finished the first lap, I realized the bike
shorts were distracting me, so I quickly took them off and headed out for
Lap 2 (remember that each lap is 2 miles; one mile out, then one mile back).

Lap 2 was just about as good as Lap 1, but again I found myself having to

adjust my tri shorts. I was frustrated because this was the same thing that

happened last year. I had anticipated it this time though, and had regular
running shorts waiting back at the tent. I changed into them after Lap 2,
and was irritated with myself that I could have done that while I was
standing around snacking before. Not that a few minutes would have been
a big deal anyway, right?

The next few laps felt great. I was getting to that ‘locked in’ feeling that I

enjoy, when I’m not even thinking about running, I’m just doing it. It’s like my

legs just take over and the rest of me is along for the ride. The only thing my

brain is doing is scanning the road and thinking of lyrics to 80s songs. But

this year I was trying something else new, and that was wearing my

headlamp in - of all places - on my head. Laugh if you will, but a lot of runners

wear it around their chest. That’s what I did last year, and it annoyed the hell

out of me. The trade-off is I always run with a ballcap, and the brim casts a

shadow about 2 feet in front of me since it’s blocking the light. It felt like I was

wearing reverse sunglasses, and every once in a while I’d reach up to touch

my nose or forehead to maintain focus.

Once I got used to it, I just settled in, repeating what I had on the bike. “Stay

within your capabilities. Don’t push it. Is this sustainable?” Brian had told me

when I got off the bike that I was in 3rd place, which surprised me! Just like

last year, I could have sworn that others had passed me on the bike. This just

reflects how hard it is to know exactly where you are, so sometimes it’s easier

to simply focus on the discipline at hand. I still had a hunch that there was a

strong runner out there that could chase me down. My goal was to put down

as many sub-10 miles as I could early on, knowing that sore feet and tired

legs were coming - it wasn’t a question of “if,” but “when.”

One by one, others finished the bike course and joined us on the run. It’s

incredibly difficult at night to make out faces since the headlamps are

shining at you. Wish so few runners out there, it was also difficult to have

a conversation with someone to help pass the time. Karen Alexeev, who

is the oldest woman to finish a Double Anvil, was doing the single this year

due to some health and training concerns. She was nearing the end of her

26 mile run, and I did my best to keep encouraging her (she did finish).

After the 3rd or 4th lap I noticed Donnie had finished his bike portion. When

I caught up to him, I slowed and walked a bit with him to see how he was

feeling. He said all was good: he definitely looked and sounded good, and

he was managing his run by walking early on. I totally got that strategy, but

my legs were still feeling fresh and while I would have enjoyed nothing more

than to hear more about how his day had been so far, I wanted to get back

into my stride.

Everything was clicking along nicely. When I got done with Lap 6, I made a

brief stop in the AnVillage for a quick snack. Brian made sure I was good

and had everything I need, and asked how I was feeling. “Great, but I have

to be careful because this is where it started to fall apart last year,” I told him.

“This isn’t last year,” Cindy said. “You’re doing SO much better than last year.”

“That’s right,” added Brian. “You’re crushing it. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

It was good positive affirmation. That’s what you need from your crew. When

you’re running in the darkness, pretty much by yourself, your mind can go to

dark, negative places easily. It’s the biggest challenge in ultra events:

the mental aspect. I’ve said many times before that I’m no special freak of

nature when it comes to my legs or my swimming ability. Hell, I never even

qualified for state in cross country while I was in high school, or any other

endurance event. But what I have done the past few years is adopt my true
ultra mantra: “Become comfortable with being uncomfortable.” One thing is

certain, and that is everyone hurts at some point during any race, no

matter the distance. The degree to which everyone is hurting is subjective of

course, but the key to finishing is to not dread it, but to be prepared for it

and - if you can - embrace it. That's all mental.

My discomfort came on sooner that I had hoped. I was planning on running

30 miles in my first pair of shoes before switching, but I ended up making the

switch at 22 instead. There was a difference in comfort, but not as appreciable

as I had hoped. Still, it pushed the oncoming discomfort back a bit.

Everything else was feeling good at that point. My legs weren’t tired, my knees

and ankles weren’t feeling swollen like they were the previous year. My pacing

was good and I finished the first marathon in 4 hours and 45 minutes. That was

great! If I could keep that up for the second marathon, I would finish the run in

about 9 and a half hours!

There was just one problem though: I knew I wasn’t going to be able to keep

that pace up. I was already slowing down, and I knew there were going to be

fewer fast laps and more slow laps. Even just over 10 hours was looking

unlikely at this point. I told myself to just keep running until I got to Mile 30,

then I’d do an assessment and come up with a different strategy.

At that time, Brian told me I was comfortably in 3rd place. That was still great

news. I asked him on the next time I came through to get an idea on who was

behind me, and whether or not they were closing the gap. By now, most

everyone was out on the run.

My focus was simply to keep moving and see what I could do. Just

before the sun started coming up at around Mile 40, things started

changing. When I came in for a quick stop, Brian told me there were a lot

of moves going on position-wise, and he’d tell me more after my next lap.

When I came back, he told me that Martin was fading (which I already knew,

he and I kept greeting each other when we’d pass on the run and he had

been walking for some time), and Zema was going to pass him soon for

first place. I asked if I had a chance of chasing either of them down, and

Brian said no.

Mindy then came over to tell me that the person I should be worried about

was Padre. “Wait a minute, Padre is behind me? I thought he got off the

bike a lap ahead of me!”

“Nope, you were a few laps head of him,” Mindy confirmed.

“But right now his laps are 3 minutes faster than yours,” Brain added.

I knew at that moment if I wanted to finish on the podium again, it was time

to start getting uncomfortable.

I thought I could do a walk-run technique, which has been proven

effective by countless endurance runners. The problem was my hips were

starting to get fatigued, and I couldn’t manage a brisk power-walk. Also,

walking was more painful on my feet than running. So it was a no-brainer

to take the lesser pain and faster pace. I needed to start digging deep,
though. The sun was rising, it was going to warm up fast, and I didn’t
want to be running out in the Florida heat and humidity any longer than
I had to.

I needed my Why. My reasons. My motivations. I reminded myself one by one

who they were.

My grandmother, who turned 98 years old only 10 days prior. I e-mail her every

week, and back in September I told her I was going to dedicate all my races

this season to her. I had thought about her on the bike as well, knowing that

she deals with pain on a daily basis. Yet she perseveres and is still an

inspiration to me and Wendy and Kaitlynn. If she can handle all that pain on
a daily basis, then surely I can deal with this pain for few more hours.

No surprise, my girls are my other Why. I thought of how much I wanted them

to be here, to share this finish with me, but I also thought of Kaitlynn up on

stage doing what she loves in dance, and how proud I was that she found

something she is passionate about. Of course I thought about Wendy, and

how much I was going to miss giving her a big sweaty stinky hug at the end.

Then I started thinking about everyone else who got me this far. I thought

about Lauren and her battle with MS and how we toughed out an indoor

marathon together back in January. I thought about Coach Ebe

(#coachEbeisaprick) and how he never faltered in supporting me and

worked with me the past two years and my crazy schedules to put

together training plans that worked. I thought about my family, my

teammates, and friends who I knew were getting up early to check the

results and see how I was doing.

All of those thoughts came through my head on that lap, it was Mile 42. I

had 10 miles to go. I had been doing the math in my head and knew that

if I wanted to, I could start walking and dialing back my place and still be

safely in third. Or I could suck it up, get my ass in gear, finish as strong as

I could, and run the last 10 miles straight through to the finish.

I got my ass in gear.

Every time I came through, Brian kept checking on me, making sure I

wasn’t pushing too hard. I told him I was just locked in at that point and

wanted to keep moving. I joked that among everyone in the Iowa Crew

tent, they’d have to decide among them who was going to give me a

finishing kiss in lieu of Wendy. Jokes like that almost made the last few

miles easier, and the next thing I knew, I was running faster. I had figured

that to finish the run under 11 hours, I would have to average faster than

a 14:30/mile pace. I was hitting in the 13s. Then with 4 miles to go I

started running 12s. I knew it was within reach. I could have eased up,

but I didn’t.

My smile hadn’t gone away. When the sun came up I was still

smiling at everyone, but as the run dragged on and the temperatures

rose, there were fewer smiles being returned. But on my final lap, everyone

was happy for me and offering congratulations. I saw Martin just finishing
his final lap with his family as I was starting mine. I ended up almost
chasing him down for second place, finishing only 16 minutes behind! I
was happy for his finish; he had a fantastic bike ride and was friendly
all night and day on the run course. I tried to chat briefly with everyone
else and give them encouragement. Neal, Erin, Erik, Jose (who I had
been incorrectly calling Pedro most of the run!) Donnie, Padre,

Frank, Steve, Linda, David, Terry, Davey, Ronnie, anyone who I had exchanged

words or a smile with during the past 26 hours.

I kept my pace up, knowing my run split was safely under 11 hours but to
hell with that, I wondered if could do it under 10:50? Not quite. But still,
nothing was better at that moment than seeing Brian waiting at the finish.
Mindy had taken on the role of being everyone’s crew member, and
handed off the American flag to me as I returned to the AnVillage one last
time. I felt a huge sense of pride knowing it was the first time that day that
the Star Spangled Banner was playing, and held the flag high as I crossed
the finish line. I got hugs from Brian and the staff and volunteers. John Wahl
and Kirb both came over to hand me the official hammer and hit the anvil
twice. I think it sounded sweeter this year.

After the finish ceremonies and pictures were taken, I went back to our tent

and finally looked at my watch. 10 hours, 51 minutes. A damn good run. I

was ready for a beer.

POST-RACE

The Universe was still having fun at my expense though, my beer would
have to wait. This year the International Ultra Triathlon Association was
testing all podium finishers, so I couldn’t have anything to eat and could
only drink water until I peed in a cup for Kirb. I hadn’t stopped for much of
anything the past few laps, including water, so it took me a while. I sat
over by the timing tent and drank water, having a nice post-race
conversation with the staff. Don was there, and said that there was one,
maybe two people other racers that were smiling as much as I was
during the race, but that mine - in his opinion - was the most genuine.

That was maybe the best compliment I received all weekend, because he said

“genuine.” That word resonated with me. Genuine means that it’s real and

authentic, not fake. You can’t fake your way through a race like this. I also don’t

think you can fake enjoyment when you’re out there. Were there times I was

miserable? Absolutely. Between miles 90 and 130 on the bike when everything

was starting to become uncomfortable, my mind was drifting towards dark

places. But it never stayed there long. All I would need is to see another racer

and I’d snap back into it. I realized that every single person out there was an

amazing individual just for attempting this, and that brought me happiness,

which is what made my smile genuine I guess.

There’s no easy way to segue from that thought to the comedy that ensued

once I was ready to give Kirb his sample. I knew it would have to be witnessed,

and we could have walked back down to the beach and gone in the nicer

facilities, but the port-o-potty was right there, and I wanted to see how Kirb

would fit in there with me since Anti-Doping Rules say there has to be a

witness when the sample is being given. I’m sure it looked quite humorous as

Kirb followed me into the port-o-potty, and I know it was even funnier as he

stood up over the toilet seat while I pointed at the trough and peed away.

(Insert any one of numerous jokes you can think of here as to what you would

have said when we both came out of the port-o-potty commenting on the color

of urine.)

I could finally have a beer with Brian and relax. I have to give another shout-

out to Joe, who had drove into town to get some snacks for Donnie and Davey

and asked if I wanted anything. I asked if he wouldn’t mind trying to find some

Funky Buddha beer, and he did! That gesture was reflective of how the whole

Iowa Crew worked together - Brian, Cindy, Mindy, Joe and Colleen. Everyone

helped out, and that’s true of the ultra-community as well. Everyone shared

whatever they could with other racers who had forgotten or misplaced

something. Brian had given my base salts to Padre. An extra rear wheel was
lent to someone who had a mechanical issue. That’s what I love about

coming here. No one really races against each other - we all race WITH

each other.

It’s because of that spirit I’ll keep coming back. I don’t know for sure when

just yet, or in what capacity, but I want to keep that spirit and this event alive,

going strong, and help it grow. If you’re a triathlete and have ever thought of

trying an ultra, I can’t encourage this one enough. I know there are others

out there, but in my opinion this one offers the best value and greatest

challenge. Hopefully I’ll see you racing in Clermont in the future.

Now, I wonder what it would take to get that ITUA World Cup...