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For nearly all of my life, good news has come in threes. The last few months have put an exclamation on that trend in a big way. First, the company I founded (NearbyNow) was acquired by a very exciting business in San Francisco. Second, my wife told me she is pregnant with our second child, a daughter comin' round in mid-March. Number three had been on my calendar for months now - a chance to fulfill a childhood dream and compete in the Ford Ironman World Championships in Kona, Hawaii. Too much life change in one month? For some, maybe. But for adventurers like me/us, I've never felt more invincible.

It's a good thing I was feeling on top of the world, for I would need every ounce of energy to keep up with the 1800+ world class triathletes here for the big show down. This event has more hardbodies than the Top 40 Rap Video countdown, and make no mistake they were here to COMPETE. I was certainly fit, but you could easily pick me out of a line up as one of the 200 lucky lottery slot winners. I don't even have an Ironman logo tattooed anywhere on my unshaven body, for the love of Pete.

(Ironmen do have fun, such as the Thursday Underpants Run)

I got sized up at every street corner and asked "where did you qualify?", only to watch the smile drift from their faces when I said this was my first-ever Ironman distance. Their expressions looked exactly like Ted Knight in Caddyshack when he says, "well, the world needs ditch diggers too". ;-)



No worries. I was AT KONA for IRONMAN. After applying to the lottery for 12 years and sticking to a solid training plan for five months, I was as ready as ever. I yearned to be a part of this now-world standard for crazy endurance challenges that sucked me in with their ABC and NBC one-hour specials decades ago (see video above...drama, baby!). This was long before I was pulled into the world of marathons, ultramarathons, and 100-milers, which even the Ironmen here will tell you is a bit off the deep end.  As a teenager when I heard that the origin of the sport was a dare from Commander John Collins in 1978 to combine the toughest swim, bike, and run tests on the island and settle a bet about which athletes were the most fit, I was seriously hooked. How could you not want to be part of a story like that?

(The Ironman Tribe, photo courtesy of Phoenix)

As an ultrarunner, hanging around the Ironman crowd felt like a big family reunion filled with distant cousins. We were all cut from the same cloth (lycra?) but I felt like the mountain hillbilly that came out of the woods to see what this whole swim-bike-run-thingy is. I'm sure others thought the same with all my body hair.

I was in good company, however. Western States 100-mile Run Champion Graham Cooper was here after qualifying at Ironman St. George, as was WS100 Champion and 25-time sub-24 hour finisher Tim Twietmeyer after claiming his spot at Ironman Wisconsin. Graham was hoping for a sub-10 hour, and this definitely wasn't his first trip here. His family helped him triple check all his drop bags like a fine-tuned machine. Tim was new to Ironman Hawaii like me, but he was a known quantity among his age group. When I asked Tim which is harder, Ironman or Western States, he just said "Are you kidding? You get to SWIM in the Ironman." True, true. But as a runner, it was the swim I feared the most.

(Only at Kona can I fit in with a Speedo and compression gear...sooo sexy)

(An Army of volunteers get us marked and ready)

(1,800+ athletes check their gear one last time)

We watched the pros go off at 6:30am, and there was a lot of discussion about the womens race, now wide open after 3-time defending champion Chrissie Wellington dropped with flu-like symptoms. Mirinda Carfrae, who set the marathon record here last year (2:56) in her very first marathon, and XTerra and Ironman 70.3 champion Julie Dibens, here for her first Ironman World Championships, were both up there. For the mens race, the talk was about temperatures predicted to only hit the high 80's by the time of the marathon, and how that might affect a race that usually rewards the heat-friendly like 2-time defending champion Craig Alexander and 2nd place Andreas Raelert.

(Defending champion Craig Alexander chats with Ben Hoffman)

(That's the race number to have!)

I edged into the water about 6:45am, just noticing that I had torn my Speedo when sitting on lava rocks. Let's just hope it holds on! I don't want a penalty for failing the nudity rule. ;-)

The goal for my swim was to stay on the back 1/3 of the pack and have a comfortable experience. It was going to be a long day, so best to hit the bike feeling good and staying aerobic. The 2.4 mile swim distance wasn't a worry so much as the mass start with 1,700 people. When the cannon sent us off, the ocean exploded into a white mass of bubbles and we went heads down.

(On your marks, get set....)

(GO! And the sea becomes a washing machine)

(Look out fish, we're comin' through!)

The meyhem was AMAZING. Nobody could see in the bubble-filled water, so swimmers were darting everywhere. If the pack slowed down in front, the swimmers behind you would start climbing up your calves. It was like rushing the stage at a rock concert! Once a fast swimmer cut through us, we would all jump on his/her tail for drafting, and before too long the pack moved forward like a school of fish. Just tickle the feet in front of you, and don't be surprised if you are tickled yourself. And hang on!

At the halfway buoy, I caught a glimpse of my watch - 41 minutes. This is fast for me! I found a great line on the way back, using the waves from the open ocean swells wherever I could. I hit the beach in 1:20:44 and felt good. That was supposed to be the hardest leg, but honestly, it was fun! I changed into full bike gear, had the volunteers soak me in sunscreen, and hit the road.

(Swim done, now onto the bike)

After a quick loop in town, we made our way to the famed Queen K highway, known for it's unpredictable winds and road temperatures that can exceed 130 degrees. It was warm, but I had the feeling Madame Pele was cutting us some slack so far.

(Canada's Brian Preston shifts into high gear)

The Queen K is all about isolation. Lava flows on either side of the road, heat, and long stretches of highway as far as the eye can see provide a barren landscape worthy of self-contemplation. I hummed along at 23 mph and feeling good, careful to take water and S!Caps at every aid station.

(Chris Lieto takes it out fast, per usual)

(Does it get hot on the Queen K? HELL, yes!)

At mile 30 is where I had signs of my first issue. The ball of my left foot felt like I had stepped on a firecracker, and loosening the shoe straps showed obvious swelling. Hmmm, not good. The pain subsided when I spun in a lower gear, but was ferocious when out of the saddle. I had heard about "hot foot" before, but wasn't sure why it was hitting me now for the first time after thousands of miles of training. It didn't go away by the time we turned to Havi at mile 50, so I had to factor it into my pace and slow down. Graham Cooper was right - there are many more things that can go wrong in an Ironman.

Havi was a reminder about who is in charge on this island...and it ain't us. The heat kicked up to the 90-100's, and the cross winds coming off the mountain were keeping us leaning 20 degrees to stay upright. I had to get out of the aero bars and white-knuckle it for a few miles just to stay on the road. Fallen athletes were being picked up on both sides of the street, proving we are all just one gust away from unforgiving lava ditches.

(The isolation of the climb to Havi)

The return trip from Havi was just as brutal, but at least had some downhill to keep up the momentum. The heat at the bottom was well beyond 100 degrees and we all pushed hard to reach the breeze of the Queen K again. My foot swelling wasn't getting better, and now my obliques were twitching from all that white-knuckling (and let's not forget that swim). Holy cow, this is tough! As we hit 100 miles, my ass started to complain too. But luckily each body position only hurt one area, so I just "rotated the pain".

(Chris McCormack off the bike and putting on the chase)

(Ocean on the right...that means we're headed back!)

(The press follow the head-to-head duel of Chris McCormack and Andreas Raelert)

As I closed in on the final miles, I could see the press cars and helicopters following Chris McCormack and Andreas Raelert going shoulder to shoulder at mile 22 of the marathon. They were on a sub-8:10 pace so this was going to be a fast one! Marino Vanhoenacker and Craig Alexander were behind them and gaining ground too. If I timed it right, I could catch the finish before heading out on the run.

I entered T2, and walked my swollen foot to the change area. The volunteers took one look at it and called over a medical person, who said something about "metatarsal swelling...foot cooked from hot asphalt...ice...five minutes". Clearly I was not the first person with this problem, and I was far from their biggest problems in the full medical tent. Within seconds my foot was packed in ice and they were changing my clothes.

The conversation with the volunteers reminded me of any great crew trying to get their ultrarunner out of late-race aid station. Does it hurt to walk? Well, you've got nine hours to walk a marathon. Did you come this far to drop now? I didn't think so. How about we cram that foot into a running shoe and get you out the door and see what happens? We did just that, and I took an extra minute to watch Chris McCormack win his second world championship before taking off.

(Speedy runners already 10 miles up on us)

(Feeling good enough to run right out of T2)

(Catching a breeze on Ali'i Drive)

(Volunteers were top notch all day...and even recycled 98% of the trash)

I was pleased to quickly figure out that if I ran on my heels (the opposite of barefoot running), my swollen foot felt okay, so I could shuffle along at a 9 min/mile. My legs wanted to do more, but this wasn't going to be their day. It was my first Ironman, so let's just try and finish without a permanent injury. I hollared at Christi to let her know this would be a 4-5 hour marathon, and cruised down Ali'i Drive.

(Alaska's Katy Rosane doesn't let a minor thing like a broken foot stop her from completing an Ironman)

It wasn't hard to occupy myself. Fans were lined up everywhere, runners going in both directions of Ali'i Drive, and the ocean was always on our side. I shuffled the miles, stopping for ice at each aid station.

(Plenty of aloha spirit along the course)

(Oklahoma's Angela Stewart smiles as we climb up to the Queen K)

Before too long, we were on the desolate Queen K again (mile 9) which played mind games with its never-ending expanse. I made a few friends along the way, happy to finally have a chance to chat with other athletes.

I got a huge surprise at mile 10, when Tim Twietmeyer walked along with me. He was working through some back spasms (and massively swollen hands) but laughing his way through the whole thing. It was awesome to see him out there and get a surge from his ever-positive vibe.

(Tim Twietmeyer keeps me in good spirits at mile 10)

(Madam Pele was nice enough to throw in some cloud cover on occasion)

We turned into the Energy Lab, the last out and back before heading home. Everybody could smell the barn door now so there was a lot of smiling. The sun began to set, and each minute brought cooler temperatures. Aaaahhh, it's nice back here!

(Super stoked to see this sign...getting close!)

(Yup, we're running on a live volcano)

(The inspirational mile says "Go, Scratch, Go!")

The Ford inspiration mile gave me one last boost as we returned back on the Queen K. It said "Go, Scratch, Go!", referring to the nickname of Uncle Scratch given to me by my nieces and nephews. Apparently, the goatee is a little scratchy when giving a kiss. ;-) It put my mood in just the right place, and I cruised down the darkening highway wishing the best to those still headed out. The Queen K was eerily quiet, leaving nothing but the sounds of footsteps and the occasional crazy party of volunteers.

In an instant, the calm and quiet of the Queen K was replaced with cheering fans four-deep on either side as I headed down Ali'i Drive one last time. The finish was a party that would rival Times Square, and I crossed in 12:04, good enough for 1,333rd place. I gave a little dance to Kool and the Gang, and the crowd shouted out "YOU ARE AN IRONMAN". I couldn't believe it!

(At last, there it is...the final ramp)

(What a great time!)

(Crossing the finish, with enough energy for a few dance moves to Kool and the Gang)

(Look, I'm getting lei'd on the big screen!)

I got a massage and some food, and packed up my gear to head back to the hotel with my girls. But I didn't stay for long, and ended up coming out at midnight to cheer on the last few finishers in grand style. I tried to get it on video, but it's hard to capture the positive energy that exudes as thousands of spectators cheer each finisher. 2010 champions Chris McCormack and Mirinda Carfrae (winning after clocking a course record 2:53 marathon this time, and only the third sub-9 hour finish of all time) were there to great finishers. It was magical.

(Sophie swipes my lei and makes eyes for the medal)

My body was completely drained, but my soul was spilling over with joy. Is an Ironman tougher than a 100-miler? Well, it's a different kind of tough. I certainly won't be recovering as fast as an ultra. The Ironman training and discipline required is definitely harder, but to approach the mental challenge of a 100-miler, you would probably at least have to do one more lap of the swim and the marathon. But I get the whole Ironman thing now. I can see why the tattoos are so common. This is a bold statement to engage fully in life and find your best, then toe the line with fellow warriors from your tribe. There's nothing wrong with that at all, my cousins!

A huge "mahalo" to all of the directors and great volunteers for putting on a spectacular event. And thanks so much for keeping that lottery system around - I will keep putting my name in and hope to come back again! But for now, it's time to go sit on a beach and rest with a few mai-tai's. It's what Madame Pele would want, no?

SD

Last Saturday, I had the pleasure of joining 350 multisport athletes for the XTerra Lake Tahoe off-road triathlon in Incline Village, NV. This sprint/Olympic distance triathlon offers a delicious sample of the many things that make Tahoe special, from swimming in the crystal clear Lake, to mountain biking down the epic Flume Trail, to finishing a trail run in a dog park full of four- and two-legged spectators. I had never done an off-road triathlon, so thought it would be fun to be the “newbie” and see if this XTerra community loves trails as much as ultrarunners do. If love of a trail is measured by the volume of dirt in your teeth from smiling through a whole race, then in retrospect, I’d say it’ s pretty damn close.

An off-road tri wasn’t on my marathon/ultra training agenda, but when I saw that this event landed perfectly on the morning of a nearby wedding we would be attending, I figured it was fate calling my name. Let’s call it “cross-training”, shall we? Thirty seconds later I was registered for the sprint distance, and instantly freaked out at how unprepared I was. Damn you, Active.com. Damn you to hell. (Damn you too, ultrasignup.com, even though this one wasn’t your fault)

I haven’t been swimming regularly for almost two years. And my mountain bike has gathered more dust than the Arc of the Covenant (cue the Indiana Jones music). But this is what the sprint distance is for – long enough for a workout, but not so much that newbies like me will get into too much trouble. One lap of 750 meters in the water, 22 miles on the mountain bike, and a 3.1 mile run. Just find a rhythm, go fast when you can, and have as much fun as possible.

I chatted with the other athletes as I set up my gear in the transition area, laughing about the few plots remaining from the beach towel land grab that eager, early-rising athletes had claimstaked. C’mon guys, I’ve had studio apartments with less square footage! We all cracked jokes and shared our personal histories of past rookie moves, and there seemed to be an endless supply of both. The ample laughter eased away any tension, and I sensed that XTerra athletes and ultrarunners are cut from the same cloth. We share a common bond for laughing and sweating in the dirt, perhaps more so than our distance-loving cousins, the Cult of Ironman. Then again, I don’t think any of us would pass up an opportunity to spend a cloudless day outside bonding with nature. Perhaps that cloth is big enough for three cults. ;-)


I made my way down the swim start with Laura Ward from Tahoe City and Piers Stockwell, whom I had met last year at the XTerra 10k. Both are fabulously fit, and like me were using the sprint distance for some cross training. They eyed my Vibram Five Fingers shoes, which I was planning to wear in the water to make the 600m transition from the swim to the bike a bit easier. Is there anything these shoes can’t do?


We took off at 8:10am, a few minutes behind the Olympic distance racers (they would be doing two laps). The water was perfectly calm as we swam around the Hyatt pier, past the boats, and made our way towards the beach. My swim stroke was definitely lacking, and I set into a manatee-like pace near the back. One poor guy had a panic attack, latching onto an unsuspecting boat to tear off his claustrophobia-inducing cap and wetsuit. Another hyperventilated in the mountain air and was floating on his back. Such drama with the manatees! The Olympic distance swimmers caught us on the last corner, throwing elbows and cutting through our pack like the Waterworld version of Hells Angels. With that, the last of us ran up the beach and down the street, frantically pulling off our wet suits to reveal our age-inscribed calves and size each other up.

I was sooo stoked to jump on the bike I could hardly contain myself. Oh Santa Cruz Blur, I have missed you so! This loop out the Flume Trail and back through Marlett Peak is one of the best around, and I had run these trails dozens of times. My hope was that my BMX background (15 yr old State champ, baby!) would combine with my trail knowledge to overcome the fact that this is the first day I’ve touched this bike since Sophie was born three years ago. Preparation, shmeparation!

After a short sprint down the road, we began the first of two hellacious climbs. The 3-mile Tunnel Creek trail had me openly thanking the Gods of triple chain rings, as my thumb subconsciously molested the shifter looking for even smaller gears. Most of the pack stayed to one side, panting and heaving in unison, and walking when it got too steep or sandy. An “unauthorized aid station” with a man in a tutu was handing out bacon strips telling people to get their protein early in the race…had I realized this was the only food on the course I might have taken him up on it! It did seem a bit odd that there were no food or gels on a 3+ hour course, but I guess this is the XTerra way.



I had to pull over to realign my front wheel a few times and stop the Halloween-esque squeaking of my disc brake (spooky rider on your left!). It felt so odd to have mechanical issues during a race! I also got a pic, one of just a few I was able to take. Taking pictures during an XTerra race risks life and limb, either from a high speed fall or from stopping the momentum of another rider who would quickly, and justifiably, pummel you for your indiscretions. I only had to try and start pedaling again on this steep climb to understand that.


At the peak of Tunnel Creek, we were rewarded with the gorgeous Flume Trail. This trail isn’t much more than a single track notch in a cliff, but you can haul ass on its long straightaways. I stacked up behind some slower riders, but it gave me a chance to suck in the deep blue of Lake Tahoe and enjoy the scenery. I started chatting with the guy behind me, and it turned out to be the panic attack guy! He said it was the first time it ever happened, but he was able to calm down after a brief rest.


We circled Marlett Lake, and I used the fire roads to pass a bunch of people succumbing to the rising heat and altitude. The next climb started suddenly, and a lot of folks got off their bikes to walk in the rising heat. I was thankful to have the TRT100 knowledge to gauge my pace, which quickly paid off by passing another 30 riders on the climb to Marlett Peak. Many of those riders caught me again as I white-knuckled the large boulders in the descent. Good lungs can only do so much to overcome lack of comfort on the bike.



My Julbo Race glasses were doing wonders with the shadows (I’ve recently become a convert of their Zebra lenses, which can change shades instantly), allowing me to keep up with stronger riders on the single track. We all plunged down Tunnel Creek at full speed, narrowly missing a group of crashed riders untangling their bikes. I entered the pavement section a bit too fast, taking out a pylon and getting hoots and hollars from the police directing traffic. All in good fun!


My transition was fast to the run, as I slipped on my Inov-8 X-Talon 212’s and began sprinting through the course. There were so many zigs and zags, it was hard to run below a 6 minute pace. My lungs were bursting, but I kept at it, knowing it would all be over with soon. I crossed the finish line in 3:21, good enough for 18th place. My splits were epitomal of a runner crashing the XTerra party – 25 manatee minutes in the swim, 2:20 wimp rider minutes on the bike, and a blazing 20:43 fastest-run-split of the day (thank you, X-Talons!). After comparing notes with the others, it appears it was all about the bike today. Pierce had similar splits to me for the swim and run, but his 20 minute speedier time on the bike was good enough for 3rd overall. At the finish BBQ, few spoke of finish times but instead shared their favorite parts of the course and licked the dirt from their smiling teeth. We definitely made the most of this gorgeous morning.

I got a post-race massage from the Monsters of Massage, grabbed a burger, and cheered on the remaining athletes in the warm sun. Tom Faukner (2:34:31) and Nancy Harrison (3:07:34) won the Sprint distance, while pros Nicolas LeBrun (2:47:56) and Genevieve Evans (3:25:28) won the Olympic distance. When you think about the fact those pros had two swim and run laps, those results are truly world class. XTerra athletes are the real deal!

As I returned home to change for the wedding, I relaxed with that glow you get from trying a new adventure, and seeing your favorite trails in a whole new light. There’s nothing quite like being a “newbie” again, no matter what the distance. Perhaps I won’t put that wetsuit and mountain bike right back in the attic just yet.

Hope you are all having a great weekend!

- SD

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)