In writing this post I was faced with a very difficult task of taking what was in my heart and translating it into a race report. The question I kept asking myself was, "how am I suppose to describe how it felt, when I was feeling indescribable?"
I awoke at 4:14am after a restless night of sleep. Today was the day I had waited a year for. Today was also the day that would last forever. I knew that in about 15 hours everything would all be over and I would be back at the Tri Pad. In about 5 hours my triathlon life would be greatly changed by this race, for better or for worse was yet to be determined. I had made all my preparations in the days before so I was ready to hit the road with my accompanying parents at 4:58am.
The drive to the race was better than that of the other years. We managed to miss the yearly cattle drive slowdown, the usual rainstorm, and the anticipated construction delays. Three hours later, we arrived at the race to the sunniest day all year. Considering we were at nearly 7000 feet of elevation, the fact there was no snow was a victory in and of itself.
Pictures from the drive:
Upon arriving I sought out Janet’s parents, I am always surprised at how happy they are to see me. I think Janet’s mom told me she loved me and thanked me for coming about a half dozen times. She didn’t have to thank me, there isn’t anywhere else on the earth I would even think of being. It was nice to see all of the familiar faces from past years as I said my hellos to the volunteers and staff that remembered me.
One gentleman, a gentleman that I have known all four years said to me, “I think you are going to win. The guy that won the race last year isn’t going to show up.” Weeeeell ain’t that something! That “guy” is me, and I AM here. I had a good laugh over that one.
After a quick mist of auto-detailer spray, Janet Bike was shining with the pride of the time and effort I had put into it. Before I knew it we were 20 minutes out from the start.
I went into final swim preparations as I headed down to the lake for a warmup in the icy water (oxymoron). I plunged into the water and it was cold. However, after my ice-bath training it didn’t phase me.
With the rescue boat following me, I swam about 10 minutes letting my muscles and mind acclimate to the approaching race. After a quick chat with the rescue boat while fixing my swim goggles, I was headed back to the start line.
Courtesy of Jim Blow, WY News
*Frozen face
Despite a lower number of participants compared to previous years, I did spot some fast competition on the start line. One guy, I knew well, he had beaten me in a previous race so I knew he would be close. He is a very fast guy and would be tough to beat. We said hello to each other as we squeezed shoulder to shoulder for the start.
The countdown started at 10…I reminded myself to give my best, but enjoy every moment of this final race. 3…2…1…BANG! I dove in and began swimming. At about 30 meters, the guy swimming to my left squeezed into me, bumping me into the guy on my right. After bouncing between the two for a few seconds I began to pull ahead. At 250 meters I had thought I had gone clear.
That was until I felt a foot tap, this let me know I had company. At this point of the race it is rare for me to have a swimmer that close. I made a few quick “zig zags” in an effort to rid the trailing racer and deprive him of the benefit of my draft. It worked, as I made the 500 meter turnaround I saw the swim gap was about 15-20 seconds to second place, and another 10 or so to a chase pack.
I swam comfortably hard the remainder of the swim. I remember thinking “enjoy this, it is the last time you will swim here.” I hit the swim exit to some great cheers. I checked the swim gaps, appeared to be about a minute.
My frozen fingers fumbled with trying to put on my mountain bike shoes, race belt, helmet, sunglasses, and arm warmers. After a struggle with my left arm warmer, I gave up and left T1. My swim was my fastest in all four years, but my transition was the slowest thanks to my unresponsive fingers.
*Wetsuit and goggles, OFF
*Helmet, sunglasses, bike shoes, race number, ON
*Brodacious is GONE
It wasn’t even a minute into the bike before my spotless Janet Bike was slinging mud all over itself and my Hammer Nutrition kit. I knew this was going to happen so it wasn’t a big deal. If you know me, you would know I hate to get my kits and bikes dirty. I mentally prepared to get everything muddy as I was going to do whatever it took to win. Even if that meant mudding up my bike, kit, and marring my bright white bar tape.
Post bike split photos of how dirty the once spotless Janet Bike became in 14.5 miles:
The entire bike was very muddy, more so than any other year. Most of the bike I spent whipping from one side of the road to the other in an attempt to avoid the mud and huge puddles. Each time I went through an unavoidable puddle, mud would sling all over, my bike shoe would fill with muddy water, and my speed would dissipate as my bike was bogged down.
The record setting year of snow and rain made for a very debris ridden and washed out bike course. The bike course is a large square; on the first stretch I rode as hard as I could. The second stretch, miles 4 through 7.5, were the most muddy and the slowest. There were times that I would go through the mud and almost lose control of Janet bike. Two times I found myself careening off the road. Stretch three was the fastest, I found the dry hard-pack and Janet Bike flew under my full power. I was riding very hard and suffering greatly. I kept telling myself “this is the last one, this is the last one.”
Photo Courtesy of Jim Blow, WY News
I knew that the effort I was riding was necessary if I wanted to break my course record. I did the math in my head, when I get to T2 I will need to see about 58 minutes on the clock to have a shot. As I finished the final muddy section of the bike I removed my shoes and readied my screaming legs for more punishment. Just outside of T2 I saw my cheering parents. It was also here that a gentleman gave me a time check. “one-thirty behind your record.” I skidded into T2, hopped off my bike, and ran barefoot over the gravel. I glanced at the clock, 59 minutes. I can still do this, but I will have to run myself into the ground.
Only a true champion matches their kit with their bike.
*Bike Finish
Mile one came and went. I was forcing myself to stay up on my toes, even though I couldn’t feel them. About a mile and a half into the run the elevation, power sucking mud, and the hard bike ride I did began to hit like a hammer. My body was totally caput and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I kept telling myself, “this is the moment you trained a year for. Stay here, stay in the moment.” I put all thoughts of pain and the finishing line out of mind. The time is now and I am in the moment. The moment was every bit as painful and uncomfortable as I dreamed it to feel. At mile two I hit an aid station. At about mile 2.5 a cyclist rode by me and charged me with a “kick a$$ Bryan!” That kept me going as I suffered my way to mile three.
At mile three I took a quick drink at the aid station and asked how close second place was. A lady replied with, “not close.” I have raced this course enough to know that mile to the end is run on guts. The elevation and mud had zapped all muscle power; from here on in it was will power. At mile 3.5 I ran a straight stretch that afforded a 20 second view behind, I peeked, no one there. I kept telling myself, “stay here, stay in the moment,” as I ran the last part of the run course. At mile 4 the pain slipped away when I saw the orange flagging that escorted the runners to the final stretch to the finish.
I saw my mom and a group of fans on the final corner. I raised my hands above my head as I plowed through the cheers of the crowd. Today was the day, I had delivered a big one for Janet’s family.
Photo Courtesy of Abbie Tumbleson, WY News
I rounded the final corner as a distant view of the finish came into sight. I made one quick check over my shoulder as I pulled off the throttle and let my legs coast and float on the cheers of the finishing crowd. I crossed the finish line as my head whipped back and a “man! What a day," escaped my lungs.
As I crossed the finish line the clock told me I didn’t break the course record that I set in 2009. The bike was simply too muddy and slow. My swim was my fastest, my bike was the slowest, and my run was about 10 seconds off my record year. It wasn’t in the cards to break the record, but I did my best with what the course offered.
After crossing the line I slumped over with my hands on my knees as the volunteer removed my timing chip. I took a few seconds to collect myself. One of the volunteers shouted, “get back, get back, let him catch his breath.” It wasn’t my breath I was collecting. Janet’s mom was there as the first to give me a big hug. I told her how hard I trained for this race and that I did my best for her.
Janet's mom quickly led me over to Jack, Janet's dad. He greeted me with "Bryan my boy, it wasn't as close this year." No sir, no it wasn't. With tears in my eyes I told Mr. Clarkson that I thought about this race and his family everyday. I told him I wanted to give my best performance for the last race. I know it is a small token of appreciation to their family, but training hard, respecting the race, and going fast was my way of supporting the cause. It wasn't the fact that I won that I was thinking about. The reality is, this may be one of the last times we can all meet and celebrate health and each other's company.
I greeted the next few racers while I drank my Hammer Nutrition Recoverite. I knew I had a little time to wait before the awards so I did my best to enjoy my last remaining hours at the race. I received a ton of "congratulations," hand shakes, hugs, and "good job" from all the familiar faces. I have never felt better or more accomplished. I knew the final awards ceremony was going to be very special.
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