Slaying the Dragon

This post is dedicated to Dan Gustafson, a true hero, and a man to whom I owe a debt that I can never repay.  I hadn't thought about Dan in a long time, but his daughter, Margaret, sent me a note in June of 2015, near the anniversary of his death.  I didn't know at that time how prominently the events of 1981 and Dan's legacy to me would play out in Wales.  I can only hope that if I am ever faced with the same situation, that I am willing to give the full measure and live up to his example.  May God bless you and hold you close Dan.

Ironman Wales is unlike any race I have ever done.  The race course took on it's own persona and it fought me just as hard as I fought it.  The crowds were like the spectators in a Roman arena.  Sometimes I felt they were cheering for me and other times I think they were cheering for the course.  The course lived up to it's reputation, it was a Welsh Dragon, with no mercy for the weak or faint of heart.  The course, the Welsh people, and village of Tenby have marked me and I hope I can always live up to their standard.

After Lake Placid in 2014 I felt I had missed a great opportunity.  I had a great race and missed qualifying for the Ironman World championship by 6 minutes.  I believed then, and I believe now, that I have the talent and on the right day I can earn that slot.  In 2013 Snapple Triathlon won Division IV in the Ironman Tri Club program and I earned a VIP entry to a race of my choice.  I had heard of the race in Wales  and it's reputation for being one of the toughest races in the world.  On a whim I decided to make that my goal race for 2015 and my next attempt at qualifying for Kona.

I had a fantastic build for Ironman Wales.  I had one of my best races ever at Challenge Williamsburg with a time over the course that put me in the top 10, only to lose the 45 to 49 Age Group podium to a drafting penalty.  I raced well in my tune-up race at Lake Logan in August, with a 3rd in the Age Group in a very strong field on a tough mountain course.  I rode well in both both the Mountains of Misery Double Metric Century and the Alleghany Century, where I finished 3rd O/A.    I was in the best physical condition of my life.

Preparing for an international race is hard, especially one that doesn't have a big draw from the States.  Tri Bike Transport wasn't shipping to IM Wales and I had no interest in dragging a bike box with me on every train and bus we were riding in England.  I didn't want to rent a car, so I had to find another way.  Dai and Denise Roberts, who live in Virginia Beach but hail from Pembrokeshire, found the solution.  They found Luggage Forward, a company that specializes in door-to-door luggage delivery.  Luggage Forward shipped my bike for the same price that the airline would have charged for me to carry it with me as checked baggage.  That was amazing considering that UPS, DHL, and FedEx had all quoted in excess of $1200, each way, to ship the bike.  Dai and Denise also found a local bikeshop, Pembrokeshire Bikes, that could receive, assemble, and re-pack the bike for me in Wales.  Pembrokeshire Bikes is a family run business and they were great to work with.  A special thanks to Tom and Peter Walker for all of their support in Wales.  The bike was superbly tuned and they gave me invaluable advice on the bike course prior to the race.  Cheers guys!  I hope I can return the favor when you come to the US.

The Intrepid Race Crew Departing the US

I planned Ironman Wales as a Family vacation, we took the kids out of school for the 1st two weeks.  We left a week before the race from Regan National in Washington, DC and flew in to London Heathrow.  We planned for three days in London prior to the race, five days in Wales, and then another six days touring England before returning Stateside.  The pre-planned stops included Bath and Dover.  All travel was done using the British National Rail and local buses.  I think it worked out pretty well, but my wife, Kelly, might have a different opinion.  We covered about 4,000 years of world history in two weeks - Egyptians, Greeks, Romans, Celts and English History through World War II.

The British Museum

We arrived in London at 0930 GMT and headed straight to the Marriott Maida Vale (Heathrow Express to London Paddington, then the London Tube Bakerloo Line from Paddington to Kilburn Park, and a two block walk to the hotel).  We dropped our bags with the concierge and headed straight to the British museum in London.  I love that the British Musem has nothing to do with England.  It is absolutely stuffed with Egyptian, Greek, and Roman artifacts, like the Lion in the picture below.  The kids were worn out from over 12 hours of travel by this point, but the museum managed to grab their attention.  We closed down the museum, grabbed some Starbucks coffee and a couple of American hot chocolates for the kids , and started our walk to Trafalgar Square where we planned to meet an old friend and then grab dinner in Soho.  A couple of blocks and we were on Charing Cross Road and then it was straight on until we hit Trafalgar Square.  A special thanks to Martin Bushell and his wife Vicky for coming down to London and having dinner with us.  I worked with Martin at Raquette Lake Boys Camp in 1993.  Funny how two guys who haven't seen each other in over 20 years can start right back where they left off.  We had a great meal in Soho at a cozy and unpretentious Italian restaurant that was about as easy on the wallet as you can find in London.  If you are down that way, give La Porchetta y Pollo on Old Compton Street a try.

An ancient Lion in the British Museum

A late night ride back to the hotel on the tube and that wrapped up day one in London.  Already an amazing journey and we had just started.  If you ever wondered why you should be a member of a hotel loyalty program I'll now explain it to you.  Being a Marriott rewards Gold Elite member saved me several hundred dollars in London.  Like all full service Marriott hotels, the Marriott Maida Vale had a concierge lounge for elite guests.  We didn't have to buy a single Breakfast or Dinner in London and unlike American Marriotts, the hotels in Britain offered free cocktails.

Smith family checking out the view from the Eye

A bunch of Poseurs

On the Train to Wales

I could post a million photographs of London.  But this is a race blog, not a vacation blog. So, I'm going to leave London with this.  We had a blast over our three days in London.  We rode the London Eye, visited the Tower of London, did the London Bridge Experience, Buckingham palace, Kensington palace, and I was able to run St. Johns Wood, Regents Park, and Primrose Hill.  We even visited a health clinic for Alex and got to experience socialized medicine 1st hand (Alex had an allergic reaction to her antibiotic).  All-in-all, London was a great success and at the end of the three days we rode the tube to St. Pancras station and boarded a train to Wales.

Ironman Wales is held in Tenby, Pembrokeshire, on the northern edge of the entry to the Bristol Channel.  Before we left the States my wife, Kelly, found a guest house on the edge of town about a 2 mile walk from transition.  That meant, of course, that it had to be raining on the day we traveled to Wales.   We hiked our kit, in the rain, from train station to the Pen Mar Guest House and met our Inn Keepers - Maria and Nigel Smith.   They are a great couple and were fantastic hosts.  Maria even went out and bought peanut butter and bagels, so I could have my favorite American pre-race meal.

The hike to the Pen Mar.

The next morning I walked up street and caught the bus to Narberth to go and retrieve my bike.  I had it shipped to Pembrokeshire bikes and they had assembled it for me before the race.  I carried my kit with me and then rode back to the guest house by way of the south half of the IM Wales bike course.  That was my first taste of the what the Welsh Dragon had in store for me.  I rode nearly every major climb on my way back to the guest house.  I wished that I could have ridden a few more times prior to the race.  The bottom half was as technical as any course I've ever ridden.  But the weather was beautiful and I had a great ride.

Mithril in Wales

Friday I had planned my pre-race swim.  The weather had other ideas.  It was blustery and windy and the race director pulled the rescue swimmers and support out of the water for their safety.  We scouted town, the transition area, and got registered.  In the line for registration we just happened to strike up a conversation with the volunteer coordinator for IM UK, which would be a great bit of luck for the Family later.  We picked up the VIP passes for Kelly and headed to the beach to get my swim in anyway.  The water was gnarly, it was churning and heaving.  The waves were reflecting off the beach and coming from multiple directions.  It unnerved me and took me to a place I hadn't been in a long time.

Before my practice swim (Goscar Rock behind me)

In 1981 I was caught in a rip-tide off a beach in Port Saint Joe Florida.  I was with my Dad's best friend, Dan Gustafson, and his daughter, Margaret.  We had walked into the surf on what seemed a calm afternoon and suddenly found ourselves in an angry ocean.  Dan got Margaret back to the beach and looked over his shoulder.  He saw me being sucked out into the breakers, caught in a rip tide that I wasn't strong enough or smart enough to fight.  I can't imagine what went through his mind at that moment, but he left Margaret on the beach and came back for me.  What seems a lifetime later to me, but must have only been twenty to thirty minutes in real time, Margaret waded out and pulled me onto the shore.  Two hours later they found Dan's body, in the surf, down the beach.  I had buried that memory pretty deep, but the surf in Wales brought it right back to the surface.  Until I raced in Wales I never had the answer to whether or not - if it had been me on the beach, safe with my child - I would have walked back into the surf to try and rescue my best friends son. It was a question that I just couldn't answer.  I didn't have the answer during the practice swim either.  Panicked and shaky I made my way back to the beach.

Berry Picking on Slippery Back Trail

Saturday was a new day.  Kelly headed off to visit a local island with a monastery where the Monks made Chocolate and I took the kids berry picking.  After my swim, my throat was a bit rough and my nose had been dripping, but I just assumed it had been the salt water.  Now I knew better.  As the afternoon progressed my nose ran constantly and I was chilled the whole day.  Not a good sign the night before an Ironman.  We had meat pies for dinner and turned in early.  The plan was to be up at 0430, grab a quick bite, and Maria would drive us down to the edge of town.  The group of us at Pen Mar that were racing had packed up our kit the night before and we were all already to go.  I woke up with a stuffy head, fever and chills.  What to do?  Nothing to do, but race, so off we went to transition.

The Pen Mar Crew before the Race

 I had checked my bike in on Saturday before we went berry picking.  So all I had to do was hang my gear bags, put air in my tires, put my nutrition on my bike, and fill my water bottles.  Then it was down the cliff to the swim start.

The Ramp to the Beach

 The swim at Wales is in a partially protected harbor.   The wind had turned overnight was coming from the North, but due to a quirk in the geography, the wind dips and hits the water about 400 meters off shore.  So we had quiet water on the shore, not a ripple, and 8 foot swells at the first buoy.  The racers were lined up at the edge of the water half way back up the ramp.  It was an impressive sight.  The music was thumping with some Euro Techno music and then came the British National Anthem and you could have heard a pin drop.  My nose was running like a faucet, I was shaking with the chills and adrenaline, and I was looking at an ocean swim that had me absolutely terrified.  At that moment the horn sounded and whole line surged for the water.

I'm a racer and a competitor.  I didn't come to Wales to DNS, DNF or any other three letters you can think of.  My wife and kids were hanging out with the Mayor of Tenby and the chairman of the Pembrokeshire Council in the VIP tent.  I had a reputation to uphold.  Besides, I don't quit.  I took the first step towards the water, then it became a jog, and the next thing I knew I was diving in.  Stroke-Stroke-Stroke breath.  The first 400 to 600 yards were as smooth as glass. The next 800 yards was bizarre.

The waves were short period and 6 to 8 feet high.  In the troughs you couldn't see anything and from the peaks you could see all the way to the shore turn buoy.  I came over one wave and turned to breath and rolled down the face of the wave.  I felt like crap, but the only way to get out of it was to just keep swimming.  I've written before about despair in races.  Usually it comes from physical or mental exhaustion.  This time I wasn't fighting despair.  I was fighting fear.  I was that 12 year old little boy in the surf off Port Saint Joe fighting for my life.  I wasn't racing an Ironman, I was fighting the ocean.  It felt like I was in that place for a very long time, and then, suddenly, I wasn't anymore.  I was back in the wind shadow of the cliff and the water was smooth and I had found the answer that had eluded me for 34 years.  I had no choice really, I had to find the answer, because IM Wales is a two loop swim course.  I swam back in to Goscar Rock, ran onto the beach, through the timing chute and back into the water to do it all over again. I can assure you that the second lap was much easier than the first.  (Swim Time: 1:12 41st AG/ 366th OA)


The transition Area for IM Wales is located at the top of the cliff.  After the swim you have to jog up the cliff and along the streets for one kilometer to get to transition.  Kelly and the kids saw me exit the water and snapped a few quick photos of me getting my wetsuit off and my tevas on for my short run up to the bike.

I loped up the switchbacks to the street at the top of the cliff and headed for transition.  I had my wetsuit draped over my shoulder and my goggles and swim cap in one hand.  I blew a couple of snot rockets as I ran and it felt like the whole North Sea was in my head.  I was still feverish and chilled and I had a 112 mile bike ride and a marathon to run.  It was going to be a long day.

Starting the Bike

The volunteer in the changing tent had my bag pulled and I sat in a chair and pulled all my gear out of the bag and packed my wet suit back into the bag.  The weather was clearing, but I was still chilled, so I pulled on my arm warmers and my light jacket.  I could always pull gear off, but if I left it in the tent, I wouldn't have it if I needed it.  I ran out of the tent and climbed on my bike, Mithril, for a scintillating ride through the Welsh countryside. (T1:  12:09)

The climb out of Angle.

Climbing Heart Break Hill

The IM Wales bike course is amazing.  I lack the words to convey the beauty, the rawness, the incredible crowds.  It is nothing short of an epic ride.  The descent in Angel and the climb out are indelibly etched into my memory.  I can still smell the salt air and feel the sand sting on my legs and face as I rode down to and back up from one of the most beautiful coastlines I have ever seen.  Green grass and an even greener ocean.  The crowds in Pembroke and then the western loop was done and we were back onto the main loop.  The long grind into Narberth, then the sharp technical descent in Saundersfoot and then the immediate up, and up, and up.  Short, Sharp, and impossible to carry any momentum into the climbs, and then finally heartbreak hill.  I felt like I was on the european continent riding in a major tour event.  The crowd was encamped across the road and they would part just in time to let you climb up the winding hill, all while yelling and shouting, and ringing cowbells.  I was pushing an average of 240 watts, 20 watts higher than my target, but I was averaging less than 20 miles per hour.  To put that in perspective, at IM Lake Placid and IM Lousiville, I had averaged 220 watts and finished my rides in 5:36 and 5:40, respectively.  In Wales I averaged 240 watts and finished the ride in 6:35.  I was over an hour slower on the IM Wales Bike course at a higher average power. It is beautiful, but rugged.  I was also feverish and not doing such a great job of riding smart on the hills. (Bike: 6:35 43rd AG/355th OA)

Coming out of Transition

At the end of the second loop I took the left turn to head to transition and I knew my dream of qualifying for Kona at Wales was done.  I left an extra hour on the ride and I was smoked.  I was either sweating buckets or shaking with the chills.  I pulled into transition, handed off my bike and headed to the changing tent one last time. I traded my jacket for a vest, my helmet for a visor, and pulled on my running shoes.  (T2: 6:25)


I ran out of the chute and tried to settle in at 8:00 minute mile pace.  I was still blowing snot rockets and I couldn't warm up.  I kept pushing fluids and I began the long climb out of Tenby.  The course winds up out of Tenby towards the village Saundersfoot and it is a four loop run.  At the top of each loop you get a colored armband and you have to collect all 4 colors to enter the finish chute.  The crowds were great.  They chanted USA/USA and "Go Boy" all along the route.  At the bottom of the course, the route winds through the streets of the village of Tenby and there are no barriers between the races and the spectators.  The crowd is part of the course, they are part of the race, you can feel it as they shout and yell.  By the end of the second lap I was an emotional mess.  I was grieving for a race I just didn't have in me.  I was done.  I took the split to start lap three and I stopped to walk a bit.  As I was walking I notice that the guy walking in front of me had an Ironman Tattoo on his right calf.   He had 4 Welsh dragons with the dates of the last 4 Ironman Wales races tattooed below his Ironman Tat.  Written in marker on his leg was his age, 62.  I gave him a pat on the shoulder and an encouraging nod, and I made the decision to finish.  That was all it took.  I ran some, I walked some, 4 hours 37 minutes after starting the run, I finished Ironman Wales. (Run:  4:37 / Finish Time: 12:44 - 57 AG/440 OA).

As I was racing, the family had been enjoying their VIP passes at the swim, bike, and finish line venues.  After Jessie Thomas won the race, the VIP area at the finish line was winding down and a very haggard volunteer coordinator stumbled into the tent.  She saw my wife and kids, recognized them from the registration tent, and hurried over to them.  She explained to them that over one-hundred of her volunteers had failed to show that day and that she was in desperate need of someone to help in the finish line area.  My kids and wife spent the rest of the night assisting the mayor and county council chairman, hanging out with the pro triathletes, and handing out medals and water to the amateur finishers.  When I crossed the line and the Council Chairman hung the finishers medal around my neck, my entire family was there to greet me.  It was like I was royalty and it was truly a special moment.  It's the one picture that I don't have, but that's all right because it is a memory I will cherish forever.

It was a heck of a race.  It was not what I had hoped or trained for.  It was an Ironman.  You get what you paid for in the currency of blood, sweat and tears.  I have two favorite pictures from the trip. The first is my finisher photo.  I think you can tell from the look on my face all that I had gone through to stand in that spot.  It wasn't pretty, but as friend of mine named Daniel said - "you look like you earned it."  The second is picture of me and my kids walking my bike back to town so that it could be shipped. It's the day after the race and the sun had broken through the clouds.  Everything was right in the world.  We had another 5 days of a grand adventure ahead of us and the future looked bright.  I wouldn't trade those memories for anything.












One of the local reporters in Wales, Ruth Davies a friend of Denise Roberts, asked me to send her my thoughts after the race. Here is what I sent her: Ironman Wales is in a class of its own. There are no comparable races in the United States. The rugged beauty of the course, the narrow winding roads, the incredible support of the Welsh people are unique and special. If anyone tells you there is harder race anywhere, they do not know what they are talking about. If anyone tells you there is race with more spectator participation they are clueless.
 
In the States Ironman walls off the spectators to keep them away from the racers. In Wales they are part of race as much as the competitors. I saw a granny grab a competitor that was walking. She took him by the hand and made him run with her. I watched the crowd on Heart Break hill catch the rider in front of me when he fell over because he just couldn't turn his crank any more. They set him back on his bike and pushed him until he could pedal again. They yelled my name if they could read my bib and if not they yelled "Go Boy!" with all their heart. I am grateful for their support.

As I was walking down the street with my family in Tenby on Friday morning the gentlemen in front of me turned around to greet me. He said he recognized my accent as American and wanted to thank me for coming to Wales. He was the chairman of the Pembrokeshire County council. On Sunday evening he put the finishers medal around my neck. It was a nice moment and it speaks volumes about the Welsh people.

Thanks to my wife Kelly for letting me chase my dreams, Snapple Triathlon, Xterra Wetsuits, Rudy Project, and Sweatvac for the best gear on earth. Bike Beat Yorktown and Pembrokeshire bikes - Thanks for keeping me on the road. All the folks cheering at home - I'm sorry I let you down. Finally, to my coach, Adam Otstot - you had me as ready as I could have been. All the faults were mine not yours. The race plan was solid, we'll give it a go again in September. I've got a date with destiny at IM Chattanooga in 2016 and I like my chances!