Boise Ironman 70.3

So this past Saturday was the Boise Ironman 70.3. This was my big A race for the season. Last year I signed up for it, looking to complete it in under 5 hours. I had never done a half-Ironman and really didn't know what I was getting myself into. When I came in at 4:37, I was pretty amazed with how well I had done. I then found out that I had taken 6th in my age group, which I also felt was a pretty good accomplishment. Considering how I did in my first attempt, I figured that it was a realistic, but challenging goal to go and race in Boise again this year, with the goal of being able to qualify for the Ford Ironman 70.3 World Championship in Clearwater, FL. I have a coach now and a full year of racing experience, so I figured it was something that I could accomplish.
Needless to say, I was looking forward to this race for a long time, almost since I crossed the finish line last year. I worked hard and sacrificed a lot in order to ensure that I would be in peak shape for this race. Race day rolled around and I was excited. I felt prepared physically and mentally and I was ready to go out and just tear the course up. I knew it wasn't easy, but I figured that if I gave it everything I had, I could finish in the top two in my age group, thereby qualifying for Clearwater.
The race started at 2:00 in the afternoon, an unusual start time. The day was pretty gorgeous out at Lucky Peak for the swim. It was warm and there were basically no clouds in the sky. There was definitely some wind though, which would prove to play a big part in my race. The pros took off and I started my final preparations for my wave start, which was at 2:45. After pulling my wetsuit on and getting my cap and goggles on, I headed to the corral to walk into the water with the rest of my age group. As I walked through the group of neoprene clad athletes, I quickly noticed the curly red hair of my friend Josh Poulter. I quickly moved up to where he was to find him waiting with my other friend Brandon Astin. We quickly exchanged words of encouragement to each other and hugs and then walked into the water. After the 54 degree water of Lubbock, TX, the 60 degree water of Lucky Peak on a 80 degree day felt pretty amazing. Our wave swam out to the start buoys and anxiously awaited the horn. I positioned myself at the front, toward the outside edge in an effort to avoid getting caught up in the main pack of swimmers. The horn blew and the water exploded as we took off for the first turn buoy.
I quickly established my position on the hip of a fellow athlete as we trailed closely behind two lead swimmers. By the time we reached the first turn buoy, I had gotten separated from these other swimmers as we had begun to overtake some of the slower swimmers from the previous wave. After turning the first, I realized that I was having some difficult sighting the next buoy. This was a little frustrating, but I was able to use the constant line of swimmers to help direct. As I turned the second buoy, I started to pick up my tempo as I began the home stretch of the swim. I came out of the water in 28:06, which put me first in my age group. It was a little slower than I had hoped to go, but I was still happy with it.
I ran up the boat ramp, quickly bypassing the wetsuit strippers and sunscreen volunteers. I wasn't about to waste precious seconds with these things knowing that when all was said and done, it could be a very close race for those top two places in our age group. After pulling of my wet and getting ready for the bike, I headed to the bike out. I jumped on my bike and was off for a 56 mile ride that would prove to be very challenging.
As soon as I started down the first hill from the dam at Lucky Peak, I realized that I was going to be dealing with some significant winds on the bike. I told myself that it would be okay because that seems to be the norm while training in Provo. One of the disadvantages of being in the last wave of a race is that there is a lot of clutter out on the road during the bike portion of the race. For most of the 56 miles, I was passing a steady stream of people. I don't mind it that much, except for when people are totally oblivious to what is going on around them and make it very difficult to pass them. Not wanting to incur a penalty, I was doing all I could to ensure that I always passed on the left, but sometimes this forced me to the very edge of the road or dangerously close to oncoming traffic.
Anyway, back to the race, I was feeling pretty strong on the bike. Between mile 5 and 10, I was passed by an athlete from my age group. Although I don't really enjoy having that happen, I knew that I had to race my own race at this point and not worry about it. About mile 20, I began having going back and forth with another athlete. I would pass him and then a few minutes later, he would pass me. We repeated this several times. It was also at this time that the wind was getting really bad. It reminded me of racing in Lubbock this year because there were times that the cross winds were so strong that you had to lean into the wind to avoid being blown over.
After the turn around point on Ten Mile Creek, the athlete that I had been going back and forth with came along side me and encouraged me to go and catch another athlete from my age group that had passed us a few moments earlier. We had the wind at our backs, so we both took off. I let this athlete get a little ways ahead and then used him as my motivation. I'm not sure that I ever caught the athlete in my age group, but it definitely helped me to push myself a little harder.
As I reached mile 45, I was really starting to hurt. My legs were feeling fatigued, but nothing that I didn't feel that I couldn't push through. What really hurt was my lower back. The pain was intense, but I knew I was approaching the end of the bike and I told myself that it would be better once I was off the bike and standing upright for the run.
As I came into T2, I knew that the run was going to hurt. 13.1 miles is bad enough, but having to deal with the pain in my back was going to make it even worse. The pain was absolutely unreal when I bent over, so I'm still amazed that I was able to even get my running shoes on. I exited the transition area and began the run, figuring that it would just take a few minutes for my body to adjust and for the pain to become tolerable. I quickly discovered that this wasn't the case. The pain intensified rapidly and I quickly found my entire body beginning to revolt against the demands of my mind. I found myself gasping for air as it felt like my throat was closing off. I was also having an incredibly hard time even keeping myself upright. When I had gotten about a quarter mile into the run, I saw my parents on the side of the course and I knew that was it. As I reached them, I quickly stopped and as I gasped for air, I told them that I couldn't keep going. My dad told me to just relax for a minute to see if it would pass. I couldn't even sit myself down on a nearby retaining wall because of the pain in my back. With my parents holding my arms to support my upper body, I was finally able to sit down. This help to get my breathing under control, but the pain in my back was not subsiding. I had my parents help me over to the grass so that I could lay down. When a paramedic showed up, we informed him that I was alright. He asked if I wanted him to radio in my race number to say I was pulling out. I could barely respond to his question. The thought of really pulling out of this race was unimaginable. Eventually I realized that even if it got to the point that I could even finish the race, I wouldn't have finished anywhere near the time that I had hoped for. With this realization and the realization that I could barely move five feet, let alone thirteen miles, I pulled out of the race. It was one of the hardest things I've done. I had worked so hard and wanted so badly to do well in this race.
As I reflect back on the race now, I realize that I can still take a lot away from the race. I went into that race knowing that it was going to basically take everything I had to finish where I wanted to. I can honestly say that I gave it everything I had. I in no way can look back and ask if I left anything in the tank. I went until my body shut down. I also realize that there are a number of things that I can work on in my training to avoid this happening again in the future. Lastly, a part of me knows that there is some reason that I didn't finish that race. I'm not for sure positive as to what that reason is, but I have my ideas and I think that those reasons are far more important than qualifying for the world championship. There is always next year and you better believe that I will be going back to Boise to redeem myself and chase some of those demons that came because of this DNF.