“For neither birth, nor wealth, nor
honors, can awaken in the minds of men the principles which should guide
those who from their youth aspire to an honorable and excellent life,
as Love awakens them”
- Plato
One of the many frustrating nuances of human nature is the habit of taking things for granted. How many times have you realized the true value and importance of something only after it is out of your life? I am going to take a leap here and say that probably one of the things we fail most to regularly appreciate is our health. There are many different levels of fitness, but most of us are relatively healthy individuals. Thanks to the omnipresent influence of social media and TV, we tend to equate a perfect body with perfect health. This is not necessarily the case; and far too many people lament not having a modelesque waist size while forgetting that they have a functioning heart, a powerful brain, and clear lungs.
When these things are suddenly taken away, what was used every day becomes precious.
***
After completing XTERRA, I went back to training with BYU's Triathlon Team. There's something about training with a group of people that have the same goals that is extra motivating. The guys on the team push me and help me stretch more than I could on my own. Our focus now was the last race of the season:
PUMPKINMAN
Pumpkinman is a big triathlon in Vegas. It's actually in Boulder City, NV and begins at Lake Mead. I was going to compete as a member of the BYU Tri Club, because Pumpkinman is a collegiate race. We would be competing against other colleges such as Arizona, UC Boulder, Air Force, etc. I was especially looking forward to this race because it would be my first Olympicdistance race.My first was a sprint and XTERRA was in between a sprint and Olympic. I began taking my training to a new level and was working harder and longer than I had previously experienced. It felt good to see differences in my time, form, and endurance. I was feeling confident about competing in Pumpkinman.
As they say, "when it rains it pours." With only ONE week before the race, my body decided to shut down and I got terribly sick with walking pneumonia. I wanted to rest but had 3 difficult tests in the same week. And worst of all, after an arduous 18-month battle against cancer, my sister's father-in-law passed away.
Now, I know what you might be thinking; "sister's father-in-law? That seems a little distant." That couldn't be further from the truth. My sister married her high school, and actually junior high sweetheart. He grew up not far from our house and as long as I can remember Jaden has been a part of our family. His father, Judd Kemp, was like an uncle to me. I grew up knowing and admiring him. Judd was a soft-spoken, humble man with an almost tangible dignity that he carried with him at all times. His piercing eyes made it seem like he could see things invisible to others. And when he smiled, it made you feel like you had done something that had impressed God. He never said much, but what he said was always wise and calm. Judd Kemp was an incredible and honorable man.
Race day was fast approaching and I wasn't feeling any better. I wondered if I should even compete or if it would be dangerous to even try with my sickness. I was exhausted from that week; physically, mentally, and emotionally. I felt like all my hard work and training was wasted and I was back at square one. I prayed hard for strength and the ability to complete the race. During Judd's funeral I had an idea. I decided I was going to compete in Pumpkinman no matter what, and that I was going
Using adrenaline as a weapon this time, I clawed my way through the pack of swimmers to the right side where I could indulge in some open water. I hugged the inner line of the swim course, sometimes even being nudged by the volunteers on kayaks to not venture inside the triangle. I used the kayaks as my guide to know how straight/crooked I was swimming. Usually I try to spot the buoy or some other landmark, but for this race the sun was directly in my eyes as it peeked its head over the eastern horizon. This made the kayaks a good alternative to know my lines.
It wasn't long before I got into a rhythm, something that never took place in my Yuba swim. It felt great to just swim and not be kicked in the face. I got out to the first buoy, turned, and had a long stretch to the second one. The water temperature was perfect, crisp and refreshing (I prefer swimming in lake water to pool water). The sky was a gorgeous blue and it was a beautiful day for triathlon. There are a lot of techniques and quirky tricks to remaining calm during the open water swim. A lot of people suffer panic attacks and end up wasting a lot of energy, breath, and time trying to recover. Not being able to see the bottom of the murky lake beneath you, swimming in chilly waters, not having anything to hold onto if you need to rest (except the kayaks for worst case scenarios); these factors all lead to a rather stressful situation if you don't know how to handle it. I had researched some tips such as shaking your hands when they're in the air between strokes, smiling, telling yourself audibly that you can do it, etc. I decided to implement a couple of these into my swim. They really helped me keep my cool. Sidenote: When I was born, my heart stopped for a while. I was an emergency C-section and apparently it was a pretty stressful time for everyone in the room. My mom tells me that while she was so patiently bringing me into this world the song "Don't Worry, Be Happy" blared on the radio. Despite wanting to reach through the loudspeakers and strangle the Rastafarian singing the tune because of his deliberate insensitivity to her current predicament, she took in the message.
I thought of this as I pulled and kicked through the water; don't worry. Be happy. I reminded myself that I was accomplishing a goal, that I was doing something I loved, that I was doing something that was good for my soul. I also remembered that I was swimming in the same race as incredible professional athletes! What a great opportunity! I made it around the third buoy and was on the homestretch. I could see the beach to my side and knew I was approaching the boat ramp. I started to swim faster. I even was breathing every three strokes instead of every other stroke. I finally felt my fingers scratch concrete and realized I was done with the swim...and I felt great! I had plenty of energy and was making good time! It's amazing what you can do even if you've failed at it your first try.
I took off running up the boat ramp, saw my dad, heard his "go Ryyyyy" that is like a shot of energy for me, and started transitioning to the bike.
after the race, I randomly found this picture (taken by a stranger) and realized I was in it! Crazy haha
Mountain Bike
Usually I feel very confident on the bike. The best part of the race for me is realizing that I'm done swimming and it's time to cruise on my bicycle. Now, make it a mountain bike and multiply that feeling by 1000. I love mountain biking. I've done a lot of racing, but have never swam right before, nor ran right after. I hopped on my Specialized Epic and took off down the narrow track, winding around the different curves and eventually up to the canyon road. I was familiar with the bike course, having watched the entire 2011 Championship race on youtube, so as I was trying to get some momentum and pass as many people as I could while on the road, I took a moment to think, "I'm racing on the exact same course Lance Armstrong raced last year!" It was a fun thought and helped me appreciate what I was doing even more. Cars were lined up across the dam, waiting for us to pass and head into the canyon trail. I'm not going to lie, I kind of felt like a rock star as we flew past the cars and heard them cheering and honking.
Off the road and onto the dirt. Here we go, it's time to climb! Like I said in the previous post, this race was unique in that it wasn't a loop. You didn't ride up really high and then come back down to finish. You rode up really high and then kept riding high to finish. There was literally no downhill. That wouldn't come until the second half of the run.
It began with a killer climb; it was long, crowded, and gradually steeper. I had never experienced climbing in a race with such a dense group of racers. I am used to fast single-track racing. I tried to weave my way in and out of other bikers while keeping a steady and strong rhythm in my legs. I don't have a lot of strengths but I do pride myself in being a strong climber on a mountain bike. I might get passed on downhill switchbacks or in long stretches, but I usually am able to pass people on the uphills. I took advantage of this during XTERRA.
The course was arduous and required as much patience as it did leg strength. I tried to stay consistent and never lose my pace. I couldn't believe how gorgeous and stunning all the different colored leaves were as we tore through the woods of Snowbasin. I had a couple bogies on my tail but was able to stay in front of them the whole time. There is a fun sense of comradery in mountain biking. We were all yee-haw-ing and cheering just because we were having so much fun. Sounds cheesy, but it really is just an enlivening sport. It wakes you up and opens your eyes to the joys of the mixture of nature and sport. Of the people I passed on the bike were some that caught my eye and gained my endless respect. A woman with only one leg, a blind man (he had a guide riding behind him, telling him when to turn), and 75 yr. old. If these guys can compete in such a strenuous race, how lame are the excuses I make for myself?
I came out of the main section and was nearing the finish of the bike course. I pushed hard up the last big incline and then flew down to the base of Snowbasin Resort. I heard the cowbells and cheers and it gave me an added boost. I had one more person in front of me so I dug deep and passed them right before the transition area. I hadn't seen anyone from my category so at this point I was thinking, "I think I'm in 1st place in my age group!" I kicked off the bike and transitioned to the run.
Trail Run
Oh the trail run. Let me take a minute to rename this the Death March. I was feeling fantastic off the bike...I had just ridden one of the fastest and most flawless races of my life (maybe I should swim right before every mountain bike race from now on). I thought I'd tackle the trail run.
I had been running 10k trail runs up Provo canyon in my training and had become pretty confident in my endurance on uneven-terrain running. I burst out of the transition area and made my first turn to start up the first hill. I didn't realize the first hill was a 60 degree incline that stretched for a mile. By now the sun was out and it was getting hot. I started to huff and puff up the hill, trying to maintain a good pace, but it didn't last long. I looked up ahead of me and saw scores of other runners wearily walking up the hill. It reminded me of a scene you might see in a movie depicting slaves in ancient Egypt. In these moments I think, "why the #(*$%_( are we doing this to ourselves?!"
The run seemed to never go flat. It was either steep uphill or steep downhill. If you're a runner you know how awful that is. Eventually I heard a guy behind me say, "hey you were really strong on the bike, I was trying to catch you the whole time but couldn't do it!" I appreciated his compliment and graciously let him run past me...okay, so he ran past me because I was dying. My legs felt like bricks and I thought the run would never end. When I was about to the halfway mark the worst was about to begin; I got a nasty side-ache. I'm going to spare details so as to not have to relive the last half of this run. Let's just say it involved me clutching my side, trying to stretch and open up my lungs, grunting loudly, and saying a multitude of swears in my head. Like I said, Death March.
I eventually heard the cowbells and started to pick up my pace. It was the final push in this self-war. I came over the hill and saw the finish arches. I went into dead sprint and crossed the finish line.
I didn't see my parents, but that wasn't my concern. I had one thing on my mind:
"lie down on the grass."
I grabbed a banana, orange, and water and collapsed on the fresh grass. I overheard other racers singing the same sad song about the ridiculousness of the trail run. I kind of never want to do that again haha. Maybe I just wasn't as prepared as I thought I was. Either way, I was thrilled to have finished. One more goal accomplished. I was officially an XTERRA finisher. I had fought the mountain all day and came out on top (though it felt more like a tie).
My parents are so great to come out and support my races. And of course I have to give a shout-out to my little brother Max! He's just always being the best dog/brother ever. My dad even bought a shirt -- I told you he has just as much fun as I do!
Seriously folks -- Snowbasin in September.
It felt great running through that arch and on to the finish line.
Awesome finish line
After the race there was a really fun atmosphere. I enjoyed a free lunch, and a free massage!
I checked out the scores and found out that I had gotten 4th place in my category!! I was pleased with this. I just need to improve my running!
"Great things are done when men and mountains meet."
- William Blake
I used to have a recurring dream. I would find myself slipping into it every now and then, and every time I experienced it, the details became clearer and clearer. I've had few dreams that were more palpable and realistic than this one. Here is a brief description:
My eyes open. I am in a dense forest. I feel my bare toes grip the dark brown soil beneath me. The cool earth feels wonderful to my soles. I breath in the pure mountain air and at once feel full of life and vitality. I begin to run, sprinting through the trees, enjoying perfect traction and control in my naked feet. I run for a while, until a clearing opens up. The once pine-filtered sun now explodes onto my skin as I approach a cliff, followed by a several-hundred-foot drop into the ocean below. I begin to sprint faster until I reach the edge of the cliff...and jump.
I feel weightless as I glide through the air. I dive straight into the water and begin to swim, the water is fresh and clear. I instantly feel at peace in the water and then dive down, void of any fear of drowning. I then swim faster as I approach the surface and then launch upward like a dolphin. Only, after I emerge from the water I keep going up and am flying.
Okay, that was a trippy dream right? You might be thinking, "wow, I didn't know Ryan had completely lost his mind." You're only half right. Don't ask me why, but I continued to have this dream multiple times, and every time I had it, I longed for it to be my reality. I felt perfect peace and a sense of unity with everything around me. I wondered why it kept coming back...
***
During the years I've spent mountain bike racing I would often hear whispers of an event that was reserved for the most avid riders. They spoke of tackling a mountain in three disciplines. A mountain-lake swim, a grueling mountain bike race, followed by an excruciating trail run.
It was almost with reverence that they talked about "XTERRA."
I knew the first time I heard about it that it was something I wanted to do in my lifetime. I considered it a very long-term goal. I have always loved mountains. I grew up spending a lot of time in the woods (and the reader's opinion of Ryan being a complete tree-hugging quack continues to progress...).
The mountains are sacred to me, as I have learned many lessons and gained valuable experience while visiting their splendor. I have learned to enjoy them, but also to respect them. Because of this, hearing about something like XTERRA triggered some curiosity.
Flash-forward a few years and we're back to 2012. I had just finished my first triathlon at Yuba Lake (see previous posts). I was immediately hooked on the sport and couldn't wait to do another one. I thought about registering for one in Ogden the following week but for some reason felt a little unsure. Then, as if some kind of heavenly omen, registration for the one and only XTERRA Off-Road Triathlon presented itself to me. I don't even remember thinking about it; before I knew it, I had signed up to race in this challenging event.
I got online and started doing some more research. I found an awesome video that showed the entire race from last year. The XTERRA Utah race at Pineview/Snowbasin just happens to be the National Championships for the sport of XTERRA. I couldn't take my eyes off the screen as I watched stellar athletes (including Lance Armstrong himself...think what you will of him, he's still a beast) compete just an hour north of me in a battle of endurance, mental strength, and mountain toughness to become XTERRA Champion of the USA.
I had since started training with BYU's triathlon team, but decided to take a break from their daily routines and break off into more mountain biking and trail running. I had two weeks to train for XTERRA and wasn't going to waste a second of it, especially after my fiasco in the water back at Yuba. I would ride pretty much everyday, up Provo Canyon to the Bonneville Shoreline trail, Sundance, Corner Canyon in Draper, Alpine Loop, American Fork Canyon, etc. I love mountain biking. It adds a finesse and technicality that you can't find in road biking. It takes patience and maneuvering to climb up a 60-70 degree incline that's covered with huge, jagged rocks and boulders. Being one with nature is also a plus :)
I wish these photographs did it justice. The mountains in Utah provide an unexpected paradise, especially in the early fall months.
I've never felt more free and happy than when I'm running through the woods with nothing but shoes, shorts, and sunglasses. There are also lots of other benefits of training...
You feel on top of the world riding 1000 + ft. above the canyon road.
Sometimes even gnats and flies want to join you so they take a ride on your face while you run.
Trail 157 up American Fork Canyon/Alpine Loop. Probably one of my favorite trails to ride.
***
Before I knew it, two weeks had come and gone. It was time for XTERRA!
I woke up long before the sun did, loaded my gear into my dad's car (he's a trooper for waking up with me and being such a huge support to my racing), and headed off to Pineview Reservoir. I told myself I'd get some shuteye on the drive up, but that never happens. I always end up having great discussions with my dad. Those long drives together are some of my favorite memories. Anyways, we finally arrived at Pineview and came around the corner to THIS view:
It was a gorgeous morning for a triathlon. I started to feel it in my chest, that anxious/excited/nervous/scared/did I forget something?/the water looks cold/that guy has a nice bike/how much time do I have til the gun goes off?/how hydrated am I?/I need to find an outhouse feeling. Pre-race atmosphere is always exciting. The speakers blare upbeat music and the announcers make regular reminders about packet pickup, start times, course descriptions, etc. Everyone's anxious to get in the water and start the madness.
This race was different than Yuba. At Yuba we set up our bike AND run stuff at one transition point. Because XTERRA is a swim/mountain bike/trail run triathlon, we set up our bike gear just above the lake, but then set up the run gear up at Snowbasin, where the bike course ended. Yes, that means the bike course was literally all uphill...You started at one elevation, and ended at a much higher elevation. Reservoir to Ski Resort.
I got inked (they tattoo your race number on your arms and sometimes hands, and then your age group on one calf and your distance on the other), and then started setting up T1.
After setting up T1 (bike), my dad and I drove up to Snowbasin to set up T2 (run). I had to take a shuttle back down to the lake for the start, so my dad had to drop me off and go park somewhere to watch. Turns out there was only one shuttle left going down and they were about to leave when I got there! Add that to my already anxious/panicking heart. I hurriedly set up my stuff, made sure I wasn't forgetting anything (you kind of become obsessive compulsive when it comes to these transition areas, seeing as how you can't waste any time between disciplines), and hopped onto the shuttle. I enjoyed the shuttle ride down with other racers. I love triathletes! Salt of the earth (literally because we sweat so much and when the sweat evaporates all that's left on your face is salt :)).
T1
I made it down to T1, made last adjustments to my bike, took a second to gawk at the Pro's bikes, put on my wetsuit and cap, and started stretching. Because of the whole parking situation, my dad and I agreed that he wouldn't be able to be at the start, but that he'd wait by T2 and see me come off the bike. This was a bummer because having him at the start helps me stay motivated. But it was okay.
Pro's.
It really was a perfect morning.
Getting inked before the race
Here we go!
Just as I was about to get in the water and start warming up, a hand touched my shoulder. I turned around and it was my dad! He had figured out a way to make it down for the start. He said, "there's no way I was gonna miss the start." I was filled with gratitude for his support. I love that man.
Let's pray this goes better than the swim at Yuba!
Me and Papa Russ
I positioned myself at the far right side of the pack this time. I thought I'd stay as far to the inside of the swim course as possible so I could get some open water and establish a rhythm. After some delays in the start and over a thousand antsy racers, that sound came almost out of nowhere; it was the sound that startled us all like horses, causing us to take off as fast as we could...
Instantly I was in a frantic swarm of swimmers, each kicking and clawing their way forward in the crisp lake water. It was a bit of a shock, to be honest, how out of control I felt. It was like there wasn't a free inch of water to swim in. I would try to streamline my stroke by stretching out and being as long as possible, then as I punched the lake with my hand and tried to kick I was welcomed not by water but by other racers. I never thought I'd understand how those fish feel when they're all trapped in the same giant net, but here I was, flailing on top of other racers' bodies and being kicked in the face. Eventually, after pushing through the white water and getting to the side of the pack, I found some open water. At this point I felt like I was the last one in line. I pulled and pulled to catch up. Open water swimming has an extra challenge; chances are the water is murky and there aren't any lines on the bottom of the lake anywayto keep you straight, like in a pool. This requires swimmers to sight or spot their location regularly to make sure you're not wasting precious energy swimming in the wrong direction! I had practiced sighting because I tend to veer a little to the right, which is the side I breathe on. The course was organized in a triangle shape, with large inflatable buoys at each point. Every time I put my head up to spot my line, I'd look to the buoy. I'd swim for what felt like a lifetime, then quickly look up. Every time I did this, it felt like the buoy wasn't getting any closer. Was I just swimming in place? I was miserable.
The scary thing about the swim is that unlike running or biking, if you get tired you can't just go slower or walk or cruise. If you stop swimming you drown! Luckily, God invented the backstroke. I had used so much adrenaline and energy at the start, which I now compare with the beginning of the Hunger Games when they are at the Cornucopia, so I was exhausted much sooner than anticipated. I flipped onto my back and started backstroking. I took in deep breaths to ease my nerves, soaked in the blue sky, smiled, and told myself I could do this. Also, I saw that I was not the last swimming in line, but was actually ahead of a large number of other racers. When I had finally calmed down I flipped back to my stomach and continued to push. That swim felt like it lasted 8 hours.
Eventually I was swimming past the dock that I had started next to. I was done with what most triathletes agree is the worst part of the race. There's a saying; "the best part of the swim is when you get out of the water." Those words flooded my mind as I felt solid ground beneath me and started to run up the boat ramp to the transition area, stripping off my wetsuit, cap, and goggles as I ran.
I got to transition, noticed the bike next to mine was gone, and got another punch of adrenaline. I quickly put on my shoes, helmet, and sunglasses; took a shot of Gu; grabbed my bike and started rolling. I heard my dad yelling, "go Ryyyy!" in the same voice I heard growing up playing basketball, baseball, soccer, football, and lacrosse. It was the same "go Ryyyy" I heard when I was racing mountain bikes. I can't express how much strength those two words in that voice give me. When I hear that, it's not just that I know he's proud of me, it's that I know he's having a blast with me. I'll write a post about my dad later, but he and I keep each other young.
Once my wet bike shorts hit my saddle, I felt at home. Going from swim to bike for me is like sleeping in your own bed after lying awake on a stone slab in prison for 20 years... and no, I'm not being dramatic! I thought, "this is your time now" and took off. After feeling like a dead fish, it did a lot for my confidence to start passing dozens of people on the bike. I took a second to look to my right and see the beautiful Yuba Lake shimmering next to me. I couldn't help but feel grateful that I was doing something so fun and rewarding and it wasn't even 9 am yet! Those moments are what make this sport so great.
The bike ride was straightforward, fast, and I made up for a lot of my time that I lost in the swim. I rode back into transition, hearing my mom's voice this time (I can't stress the importance of a support system when racing triathlons. It's a huge source of energy and gives you that extra push. Isn't it amazing what our mind can do for our body when it's stimulated?), hopped off the bike, switched to my running shoes, took off the helmet, put on my race belt, took another shot of Gu, and off I went!
I have NEVER considered myself a runner. I have always hated running. My high school lacrosse had a motto that I cringed at every time he yelled it at us... "Your body is capable of so much more than you know!" What that meant was, "you're going to run until I feel like you should stop." I agree with him 100% that our bodies can do much more than we think, but that doesn't mean we want to see what it's capable of. The run really is the decision maker in triathlon. You can get away with a slower swim, and even if you aren't the fastest cyclist, because the run separates the prepared from the fatigued. It shows who used their energy most efficiently throughout the race, and punishes those who went too hard too soon. That's one of the reasons tri's are so challenging; you're competing in one discipline (like cycling) but you're thinking about the next thing you're going to be doing (running). I spent the majority of my bike ride planning my run.
Halfway through it turned into a trail run, and flat pavement transformed into steep dirt. As I was trying to run as fast but as efficiently as I could, I was surprised to see people pass by going the opposite direction and actually cheer each other on. "Great work! Almost there! You got this! Just a few more meters! Lookin' good!" It was like we were all on the same team. I had never experienced that before in a competitive setting. I loved it. We were all racing ourselves as much as we were each other. Triathlon is a sport of personal victories. We were all in the same boat (or wetsuit...I wish a boat was involved). As I was approaching the finish, maybe a half a mile out, I got back into competitive mode. I saw about three runners ahead of me. I was going to pass them all. Something sports have taught me since I was a kid is the value and importance of "leaving it all out there." You want to finish without any thoughts of "should've" or "could've," you want to finish completely spent. My legs were hating me, but I started to sprint. I passed the first two people, and was catching up to the last. I made the turn into the finish area, kind of got confused as to which way to go, and then booked it to the finish line. I missed him by 7 seconds.
As my little nephew used to say when he was 3, I did it! I can't begin to tell you how rewarding it felt to cross that finish line, get a medal placed around my neck, and start chugging chocolate milk. I would later find out I took 6th place in my age group and 15th overall! I was a little bummed I didn't get in the top 3 for my age group, but really excited that I did that well for my first race. My mom said, "when you came out of the water didn't you notice how many bikes were still in the transition area?!" I replied, "I just noticed the one next to mine was gone." I thought that was an interesting lesson on perspective. I was seeing a false reality because I was so focused on something close to me, a detail, instead of the big picture.
The swim got the best of me, and I learned a lot from that experience. I had been going through some very difficult personal issues at the time of this race, and completing it was a wake-up call for me. It put new life in me that had been gone for a while before. This race will always mean a lot to me.
From that day on, I was addicted to triathlon.
I knew right away that it was going to be a large part of the rest of my life.
My awesome family came out to support me. Having a support system is really crucial to being successful in triathlon. Max was holding my hand for emotional support.
Wading in for the start
My set up in the transition area. Wetsuit, swim cap, goggles, bike shoes, helmet, sunglasses, socks, bike, gloves, running shoes, race belt, shots of Gu, and a bright colored towel (so I don't waste time trying to find my stuff).
Getting anxious right before the start.
It was a little bit chilly that morning.
After a very long time of wanting to but never making the commitment to train for and race in a triathlon, I finally accomplished my goal.
The best part of finishing this race was knowing that I was going wakeboarding right after! Trust me, wakeboarding in Yuba was much more fun than swimming in it.
Chocolate milk is actually a really good recovery drink. This pleases me.
This is the one and only Austin Beck. He and I have known each other since birth. Growing up, people thought we were twins. I consider him my cousin, and he's always been a great friend. He is a big shot at an residential treatment center for young boys called Telos (www.telosrtc.com)
Their treatment plan is focused on training young boys for triathlon. Their model is that triathlon gives the boys a goal and an opportunity to work hard physically, mentally, and emotionally to achieve that goal. Great idea in my opinion! Telos is in conjunction with a Tri shop called T3 Triathlon. Austin hooked me up with them and they provided my awesome jersey! They even said that if I start winning races while wearing their jersey they'll sponsor me! www.t3triathlon.com
