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Last weekend I had the pleasure of joining nearly 2,000 athletes for the Pacific Crest Endurance Weekend in Sunriver, OR.

<- Maia, the true triathlete of the family

This three day event had everything from 5k’s to Half Ironmans that weaved through the Sisters Wilderness, giving everyone a chance to get outside and enjoy the beautiful Oregon high desert. I met up with my extending family for a mini-family reunion, and we all enjoyed racing and watching others in the perfect 70 degree weather.

I chose to race the Half Ironman triathlon on Saturday, and was looking forward to “doing a tri” for the first time in years. My open water swimming skills were definitely lacking, and after witnessing the cycling accident on Sand Hill Road last month, I was too nervous on the bike to do long rides (btw, for those following along with this story, Debra has returned home from the hospital and is doing well on her recovery). But I figured I had a good foundation from all the running and could get through without too much trouble. One thing for sure – after all these ultras, the half marathon run was going to feel like a sprint!

The extended Dunlap clan were also signed up for many of the events, providing many opportunities to cheer. When I tallied it all up, here’s what we had on the schedule:

• My 7-year-old niece, Maia, was going to do the Splash/Pedal/Dash
• My father, Larry, was going to do the Olympic distance duathlon
• My step-mother, Sandie, would swim in an Olympic triathlon relay along with my step-sister, Jill (run) and her husband, Mike (bike)
• My mother, Diane, was tackling the 5k after a two-year recovery from heart surgery
• Christi, Sophie, Rocky, Maia, and I would join Diane for the 5k, along with Christi’s brother (Scott), his wife (Erica), and their 2 and half year old twin boys (Cannon and Carson)

Whew! Needless to say, there was someone to cheer for every day!

Maia was first, tackling the Splash/Pedal/Dash like a pro on Friday. Over 150 kids took on the water slide, 1 mile bike, and quarter mile run. As they were sent off two at a time on the chip-marked course, parents circled in a frenzy to cheer them on and take pictures. I was very impressed with how kids as young as five years old did all three sports with almost no help. Maia was great, even kicking it into overdrive for the run! So many budding triathletes. We celebrated like kings that night, eating BBQ and drinking beer until the wee hours. I had so much fun celebrating, I almost forgot I had a Half Ironman the next day!

The next morning, my brother, Mike, drove me out to Wickiup Resevoir on a beautiful morning and we tried to estimate my splits so the family would know when to look for me. I hadn’t done an open water swim in years (and had a brand new wet suit to prove it), and I was still burping ribs and beer from the night before, so I figured 40 minutes for the swim. The bike course had changed this year and didn’t have the big climb around Mt. Bachelor, so I thought maybe 2:45 for the bike. The run would largely depend on how the bike went, but I had never run faster than a 1:40 in a Half Iron, so that was a good stretch goal. Overall my stretch goal would be under 5 hours, but 5:20 would be most likely.


I hustled up to my wave just in time for the start, and we were off! The water was cold (~60 degrees), but quite pleasant. I found a rhythm at the back of the back, but continued to burp up a storm (note to self – baby back ribs do not make the best pre-race meal). When the wave behind us caught up, they rolled over me like a speed bump, pulling off my goggles and forcing me to take a quick break to get them back on. I didn’t get too angry – this was the Pacific Northwest Championships after all, so the front-runners were giving it all they had. Another wave caught us as I hit the halfway point, but they were all in a line like a Tour de France peleton. We let the convoy by and did our best to pull into their slipstream. Before I knew it, the swim finish was in sight.

I dashed out of the water and immediately into the port-o-pottie. Those baby back ribs were tearing through me like frayed rope. No worries – I’m sure there would be plenty of port-o-potties along the way. I got my bike gear on, slapped on some sunscreen, and gave my brother a high five as I headed out. The swim took 38 minutes, but the 10 minute T1 had thrown me off my pace.

The day warmed up quickly as we all headed out on the bike. I had on a Sugoi tri outfit that ventilated nicely (Christi calls it the “super hero suit” thanks to the metallic blue stripes). Most of the roads had nice big shoulders to ride on and sparse traffic, but I noticed that my heart would jump when the big trucks went by. I seemed to be the only one though – all the other riders were barreling down the highway in full aero position. I stayed down in my aero bars as much as possible, and kept my power meter on 220 watts. At the half way point, I was averaging 22.5 mph, which was projecting a very fast 2:30 bike split.


The scenery was amazing, as we raced past the Cascade Lakes and through endless hills of pines. I did my best to take a pic, but it turns out that isn’t very safe on the bike (whoa!). My legs felt tired around mile 45, reminding me that I hadn’t done many long rides this year. But I stayed in my pack, and finished up in 2:33. With a not-so-quick change into a new shirt and shoes (and yes, one more port-o-pottie stop), I headed out on the run.

The Dunlap clan was there to cheer me on, led by Maia in her new bright red Flamenco dress. With a round of high fives, I set down the course on a 7-min mile pace. My quads were a bit tight, but the run felt very natural. One of the best parts of being a runner is that you’re one of the few people smiling on the last leg!


One thing I quickly noted about triathletes is that they seem to be more competitive than the ultra runners. If I came up on somebody from my age group (who were everywhere – when is that going to stop?), they would prefer to surge than chat. In fact, nearly all of my humble attempts at starting conversation with “isn’t this a great day?” were met with grimaces of disdain. The few who answered back were often ultrarunners! That’s okay – to each their own.

It felt like I barely had enough time to soak in the wetlands and river area behind the resort when the aid station attendants were shouting “2 miles to go”. I hit one more port-o-pottie (oh Lord, let this be the last) and kept up the speed to finish a 1:38 run leg, good for 5:01:36 and 70th place. I was WAY off the winning pace (sub 4 hour - those guys are FAST!), but was feeling good enough for beer and pasta at the end.


After a night of more food, family, and fun, we all gathered along the course to cheer on my Dad in his duathlon, and the family relay. All did very well, with my Dad winning his age group in the duathlon, and the relay team exceeding their expectations. The true hero of this race was my Step-Mom, Sandie. She is legally blind, but still managed to clock an impressive time on the swim course, even in a wetsuit she had never tried before. Given how little I could see during the swim, I have no idea how she did that!



The 5k was also very special. My Mom had been using this 5k walk as a stretch goal for recovering from some new stents put in just two years ago. Like many heart-related procedures, the first year of her recovery involved juggling rehab, short exercise, and a medical cocktail that severely restricted her. She couldn’t travel, walk long distances, or anything. The only way out was a lot of hard work on her behalf – the kind that makes my training seem easy – and a big goal to work towards. I was very proud of her just for making it to the start!


I will let my Mom describe the 5k:

Coming in Last

By Diane Dunlap

After a long decline in health that finally led to heart surgery two years ago, last year I had struggled to walk from where the suv was parked to Scott’s swim/bike transition point at this same event. Any thought of walking a mile or a 5k was out of the question. Last year, I was still working my way back to 10,000 step days and cardiac capacity that would let me do any aerobic work. This year, I had another year of training and recovery behind me, and I was ready to try for a new record.

So, on Sunday morning, eleven of us (and Rocky!) lined up near the back of the 5k pack with the other walkers. The race started, the runners off into the 80 degree day on the pine-lined walking and bike paths, followed by the walkers. It took less than two minutes for all of the family and the other walkers to slowly begin to pull away from me. All but Jim Stott, my partner, who had decided to walk with me, just to make sure I was ok. Gotta love him! He’s not a runner—that was his first race ever. It must be love—he strapped on his lawn-mowing Keds and insisted on keeping me company. Then, Scott dropped back to join us—bless his heart! He commented, “I’ve never been last in a race—wonder what it’s like” before spending the next hour entertaining me as only he can. It must have seemed like a glacial pace to him, but he just kept making me laugh and distracting me from the accumulating miles.

So, what is it like to finish last? Well, first I kept moving over on the path and then trying to speed up because there was a car on my heels. I finally turned around to see what the crazy driver was doing, and saw that it was the local police cruiser, and I really was the last person in the 5k! He waved to us when we left the road to go onto the paths.

For awhile, we walked with a nice woman who said she always came in last in this race, but then she “zoomed” ahead when I had to slow down on 1% and 2% inclines. At about the 1 ½ mile mark, 26-year-old Kristopher Houghton of Albuquerque zipped past us on his way to a 32:29 finish in the 10k. By the time we rounded the last turn in the woods and headed toward the sounds of cheering in front of us, we were lapped by two other 10k finishers. I began to have images of the tortoise and the hare! I felt like I was going really fast and long, compared to my prior times, but I was feeling pretty “tortoise-y” in this company!

Volunteers cheered me on at the aid stations, even as they asked if we were the last ones and began to close up their tables. Several people out for a stroll on a beautiful morning suddenly realized, “Oh, you’re in the race!” and moved over, clapping as we “sped” by. Little children ran up on the path and ran around us laughing and hitting “high fives.” When we came to the final turn into the finish gate, the crowd cheered as loudly for us as they did for the duathlon runners who were also starting to come in. I felt like a real athlete as our names were called through the electronic monitor, the announcer said “great finish” and we were shunted into the 5k finish corral.

I found out another part of finishing last—they were out of 5k medals! Doesn’t pay to come in last if you want a medal! But, they took our numbers and promised to send one in the mail. We stepped out of the finishers’ tent into the sunshine and found our family members—already rested up because I took so much longer than they did! I also found that woman who always finished last, who thanked me for doing the honors this year!

So, I completed my 5k in just over an hour, last but for my partner and son who pushed me across the finish line ahead of them. I came in 234th out of 235—I guess someone didn’t finish. I was tenth in my age group! Oh yeah, there were ten in my age group. Didn’t set any records, didn’t make the local news, didn’t get a medal, but I’ve never been prouder of me in my life!

So, I’m thinking next year, maybe I’ll aim for last in the 10k, or the ½ marathon, or maybe even the marathon. You know, the possibilities may be endless!

(That's it, Mom, I'm signing you up for the tri next year! - SD)