Xterra East Championships, Richmond ,VA

2nd

1h47′39 - 71 seconds behind winner Conrad Stoltz

Xterra Richmond Swim 2010

I was positively certain I’d exceed personal expectations but not once considered a showing that different to the envisioned struggle and certain too that I’d be content and smiling with disregard to any result. It’s just the space I am in, the timing of it all, and doubt I’ll ever get to experience this measure of reckless carefree ambition.

Standing up against a 20foot cement pile on that suspends the train bridge above I could feel my heart out pacing the countdown to canon fire used to start the race and trigger my push off from the pillar. I’d picked the most upstream line across the James River and putting the butterfly jitters to good use kicked off to a clean start and onto second feet when converging with the rest of the pro wave.

Digits 1-6 were vertically tattooed on my shoulders. The last to enter, the lowest ranked. I’d only gone into registration the day before in all fairness. But not to management’s surprise - seemed word had got about, and they’d welcomed me with a complimentary entry all prepped by the time I’d got there. Twas really appreciated. Their support was shared by all I got to connect with over the weekend. Good crowd this. But stroking the tiger across the James was not time for reflection just yet.

I’d already settled into the fun side of it. Enjoying jostling, picking a different line on the return, and eventually exiting the swim in 2nd; which seemed wrong in itself. To complicate matters, I ran way to quick across to transition, just incase this was my one moment, you know, to be in the mix, and well, just to say I’m still here, mostly to myself.

Just about dropped a shoe and my fingers staged a glove protest that thankfully meant no chance of following Conrad Stoltz’s wheel as he opened up a smooth and powerful seated cadence. I’d have popped my cherry in a few minutes had I tried to.

And then the moment.

Midway between Conrad passing the lead swimmer and the forming train behind - midway between risk and being conservative. I was shouting to self, to settle the 172bpm on the 310XT and hang onto Evans and Rakita who were just 10seconds back for as long as I could. But self ignored the ordered sense and rolled the dice.

That’s a feeling I appreciate. And one I hope all get to experience when racing and in life general. When reason gets substituted with improbable desire. It’s a feeling that dances to the tune of self purposed destiny in the shoes of freedom.

I kept getting splits hollered my way that seemed I was now holding Stoltz, and edging away from third. I’d hear 42seconds, mark the spot when Stoltz passed returning from one of the many hairpins in Forest Hill, and get encouraged that no one passed where I was by the time I got to Stoltz’ spot. Meant I had at least 42seconds myself. I’d ridden the trail so many times in the past two weeks and felt fluid and sure in a way I’d not been on the two previous races in Richmond.

The chorus of self-doubt kept announcing the passing of Middaugh at any moment, and the fading of power, but instead I was holding the gap to Stoltz. Seemed more wrong than the swim exit.

Race start was changed to earlier for the expected heat and humidity. In any event, I couldn’t be as hot on the run as my long run had been the Sunday before when I got out at 11am and made my way around the run course one and a half times. I was feeling electric and enjoyed the ice packet sliding down my back before settling unreachably inside my one piece against the hollow of my back. So effective this ice packet that I needed to think warm thoughts to avoid my ass cramping from the cold…

It wasn’t until a the boulder hopping expanse around the 8km mark that I took a long disbelieving look back and truly considered holding 2nd. I was still loving it as much as in the swim, only now my HR was round 174bpm (I’ll upload the file soon) and very much out pacing any countdown of mileage. Somehow it felt comfortable, and seemed to be sustained by months of consistency over the South African summer.

Recipe for unfit race success:

* Make everyone else race 7days earlier in warmest Alabama.

* Get the Frenchman to stay home and the guy from Durango to tear his chest apart and the Canadian to change careers.

* Pick a course thats really technical, and ride on repeat for two weeks. Even train the run route a few times.

* Make sure the profile has no sustained climbing, for the bike or the run.

* Get the event organizers to shorten the race, to a winning time of 1h40′ish.

* Stay relaxed; drink a glass of Kannonkop Kadet from my hometown the night before.

* And ask the girl you’re falling for to be out on the course.

Seemed to work for me at least.

I ran my affectionate belly in 71seconds after Stoltz, more daylight than the 24second loss here two years ago, but closer than that personal expectation I’d mentioned would ever had dared gamble. The most improbable result for me ever I’d say.

And sure, I was beyond grateful for the result and the unexpected payday it earned, but the greater emotions were for the feeling of being healthy, of my body responding as normal, of my self-condemnation voice being silenced for a moment.

It felt somewhat like life from stone.

(Craig has been beyond supportive over the past 2months. And gave me little choice in racing after a heartfelt pep-talk - thanks mate - this one was for you.)