Tweet at 8:22pm

achi11e5 Kevin Everett

Tasty French dinner, lamb, cake, champaign, wine. Little problem, I still have a run to do.

It’s my father in-law’s birthday and the family is celebrating like only the French now how, a ‘nothing special’ supremely satisfying dinner.  We toast some champagne for 66 years of life and eat some appetizers.  The main course is with lamb followed by a salad.  For dessert it is my wife’s famous chocolate cake.  Only taking one helping of my favorite food is unusual but I have hopes of still completing a run after dinner!

Time with my family is most precious.  There are few things on earth more satisfying than eating dinner with your family and seeing your busy 17 month old daughter laugh and play.  Time lingers, life is good.

My wife and daughter head to bed early and I’ve had about 20 minutes to let the dinner ‘settle’.  I don some running attire.

Stepping out of the front door the transformation is immediate.

It’s dark outside and my eyes adjust while my breathing picks up.  It is a calm night, the night after a full moon.  Beginning the run in the middle of the street is standard issue at this time of day.  The Nightrunner moves freely and takes liberties as the king of twilight. Taking tangents across streets, through manicured lawns, down alleys mostly in the direction of choice the whole city feels like a personal playground.

Making my way to the State Capitol Building’s grass lawn I meander over to the Occupy Boise scene and see a few people milling about near the common kitchen area.  I then head towards the heart of downtown and run south on 8th street.  Everyone here is out entertaining, eating, and drinking, I feel out of place and love it.  My entertainment for the evening is top shelf.

But I run to 8^th street for more than the downtown scene.  8th street is the Ironman Boise 70.3 finish and I’ve been running the last half mile.  I project, reminisce, dream and fantasy about running the race that I’m training for right now.  Then, I mostly appreciate the random run down the center of 8^th street on a Tuesday night in January.  It’s the process and the piece by piece challenge to reach a peak performance that is so rewarding.  True, the event itself is the test but it’s the lessons along the way that fill one’s heart with the richness to achieve something more.

Returning from a full day of family celebration to our home left me wanting to extend the joy in my heart for a while longer. It feels late. It’s been dark for hours and it’s freezing outside hovering around the high teens and low twenties but it’s only 8:30. Many of us think nothing of going for a run in June at 8:30pm, but when it’s cold and dark outside, you have the whole great outdoors to yourself and a few foxes, owls and mountain lions. Instead of watching a movie or some football the thrilling idea of heading out into the wilderness took hold of my focus. This was not a run about training or keeping holiday weight down but rather the simple pleasures of being human.

My body instantly began priming itself for the excursion. Part of the challenge of running in the cold is dressing appropriately, and I love getting it just right. To do this you need to be OK feeling a bit cold when you start out. I find the key is a supreme pair of mittens and having the ability to vent the arms. I’ve ran in single digits and had to pull up my arm sleeves to keep from sweating too much.

I step out of the warm house with my wife and daughter already fast asleep and become the NightRunner.

My breathing is deeper and fulfilling, the eyes adjust to the darkness, and my legs propel my 160 pound frame gracefully through the Christmas Lights of Harrison Boulevard with families hanging out in kitchens and living rooms enjoying the warmth of each other while my ears pick up the subtle sounds of near silence under a sky cloaked in star light.

Something deeply rewarding invigorates my soul and it’s really simple. Being healthy and moving while thriving in conditions that challenge one to enjoy their passion on another level animates the soul. My moon shadow streaks through the streets of the North End and after only a few minutes I enter the wilderness leaving almost all sights and sounds of man behind.

Yes, this is what I’m looking for. It’s a tremendous recharge. Maybe I’ll see a mountain lion? Errr, yikes, that might not end up to well for earthier of us nightprowlers.

I see no one. I run. I breathe. I love this. The natural night light resembles so many candles and Christmas lights that adorn the city houses and buildings. But out here, on a trail a few miles northeast of Boise I take in the view of the universe feeling utterly all alone yet surrounded by so much natural splendor that I feel more connected and plugged in. Yes, all this from a simple little evening jog as the NigthRunner.

I’m sorry when my run approaches its last few steps before entering my house. I take off my hat, mittens and thermal vest and the cool night air leaves my warm body with a wonderful sensation. Entering the house it feels hot and I take off my long sleeve shirt and notice that I nailed my attire choice for the evening. Almost no sweat on any of the outer layers while running comfortable with minimum protection means the run is almost perfect.

Breathing in the Christmas Spirit!

It felt like the whole town was sleeping when I began running with absolute calm in the North End. The quiet refreshed my spirit. Mostly it was the lack of any car engines that are hard to escape. Running down the middle of the empty streets with glee in my feet and the moon yielding spectacular shadows of earth’s surface I appreciate my health. I hear a few people at Camel’s Back up early and enjoying the show and continue my journey into the wilderness cloaked in chilly darkness. For a full moon run the eclipse made things very dark. I run east into the single-track of the Boise foothills and keep turning backwards to make sure not to miss the show. Then, about 10 minutes in, the excitement of running alone, under the stars, with a creek trickling beautifully meditative sounds of running water under moon shadow like I’ve never experienced came a million dollar moment. Maybe a billion dollar moment (time will tell).

It swept over me suddenly. The power of it wrapped me with joy as the gratitude intensified. I laughed out loud almost feeling like a crazy person but it felt so good. I let it flow, my gratitude overwhelmed me like 1000 souls joining forces inside my spirit, all expressing thankfulness for a precious moment. A simple, beautiful, humbling moment of wonder and awe for this wonderful life; “Thank you, thank you, thank you” I spoke out loud. I wanted to let the universe know how fortunate I felt to be breathing and thriving in the twilight of a Pacific Northwest Lunar Eclipse.

This morning my 10-mile bike commute started for the first time this autumn in almost full winter gear save for the booties and a hat. I had dressed well and this allowed me to savor the beautiful morning’s crisp air with the warmth of my gear. The day is always better when you can get some fresh air.

Only a mile into my ride a big recreational truck speeds by within centimeters of pushing me off the road or worse. I am heading west with next to no traffic (while it is bumper to bumper heading east into town) on the 5 lanes of State St and taking up a portion of the far lane. Apparently, the person driving the truck doesn’t feel like bikes should be on roads? Not only did he speed by me (going close to 40 in a 30mph) but he also did not use the totally empty lane to my left.

I don’t get angry anymore, but I should. This guy thinks it is his duty to teach me a lesson (that I shouldn’t ride my bike?) by gambling with my life? Ridiculous. So instead I give a courtesy wave, half wondering if he even saw me.

He did.

He slams on the breaks to his big tire all black giant Ford truck with the muffler thingy that sounds like a jet engine. I noticed several BSU stickers on his truck and thought, ‘you know I’m a fan too, can’t we be friends?’ Right!?

I ride up to the big black beast because I don’t feel like turning around to avoid him. I know better than to escalate matters. He is driving a bike squashing several thousand pound vehicle while I’m exposed on a few pounds of lightweight carbon. It’s a fair fight; this guy is obviously a macho man.

I carefully look into his open window and say, “Hey, I was just waving” with a sheepish smile. He ignores me and expresses some pent up anger thinking he is a civilian cop.

“What’s your problem!”

I ignore him.

“You can’t ride in the road!”

“Yes I can” J

“You’re not going the speed limit”

“It doesn’t matter”

I’m surprised that he is a younger skinny guy, and he is getting more upset. His face is red, his fists are clinched and  he is angry but it’s not about me riding my bike.  Not good for me when he could easily brush me off the road and ride on. Plus he is pushing me towards the sidewalk.

“Hey, Man!? Can I just ride my bike?”

With that I push on the brakes and he stomps on his gas pedal.

I catch him at the next light, Veterans, and wave (nicely) as he gets stuck; the left turn signal turns green for me and I continue on my commute.

It only takes a few seconds for my focus to return to the enjoyment of the ride.

Almost four miles later, I speed up to make the light at Chinden & Glenwood. I make it through the intersection with a modest effort and guess who is stuck waiting for the light to cross Chinden. Yeap, skinny little macho man in his giant black truck. I don’t need to wave, I see him, seeing me. I ride on, enjoying my super fast, almost goes the speed limit, takes no gas, keeps me happy and healthy bike.

O body swayed to music,
O brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer
From the dance?

William B. Yeats

Ahh, yes.  Read it again, let it’s implications linger.  The beauty of the human form perfecting it’s given movement, merging with it, becoming it.  These fleeting moments take the highest level of the human psyche and it is an energy that we all revere.  It is hard to talk about or put a finger on but Yeats is oh so concise with his prose.  To achieve it, takes a most developed human spirit. Most of us only see it.  It’s why we all buy tickets to the big game or event, for a chance to see the impossible or the spectacular.  But do not relegate yourself to be a spectator, anyone can and should experience their own oneness with movement.

As a younger man I considered myself ultra competitive and that used to mean beating everyone in whatever game happened my way.  I am no longer ‘that’ competitive, it’s now about finding that optimal experience, not just in the race but the journey as a whole.  A flow that reaches all aspects of life.

The word competition comes from the Latin words con petire, which means “to search together.”  The idea is to test your limits, you must match them against the skills of another.  What one can accomplish when the challenge is appropriate and shared can test the boundaries of what we deem possible. The point of competition isn’t to beat someone else, but to search out the best in yourself.

Doing well in anything requires absolute focus.  Being completely engrossed in the movement of the moment.  One of the great things about sport is that one can forget about the ruminations of the mind and everyday life.  Turn your energy into the absolute concentration of making your body one with the dance, one with each subtle yet absolutely precise movement.  There in lies the magic of the human potential; it is a higher state of being.

Sport, the art of movement, provides the greatest physical and mental pleasure we can experience.  A special performance, one that’s intense or redefines what we’re capable of; is, in many cultures, the centerpiece of religious celebration.

I fantasized about IT.  It, being what I like to call ‘crystallizing the air’.  It’s often referred to as being in the zone, flow, on fire (en fuego!), in the groove, on a high, creating a masterpiece, or the classic; an out of body experience.

Such is the mindset for me as I take on the biggest challenge of my life racing the crème de la crème of the endurance world at Hy-Vee’s Triathlon.  The 1.2 million dollar prize purse brought out the best triathletes from around the globe.  Yes, the money is exciting but even more so is setting the stage for a wonderful moment to merge with your body, mind, and spirit in sweet harmony.

I prepared myself for a fleeting possibility to crystallize the air on a very big stage against athletes with endurance limits that pushed the known boundaries.  I see the race, the challenge, and the competition as a perfect opportunity to merge with the moment, the movement and time in a state of oneness that fills the soul with joy.

Hey, were all in this together.  Let’s see what’s possible.

The Race!
September 4th, 2011 at 4pm

The race has just started and 30 of the best triathletes in the world are floating in the air, taking in one last breath before submerging into the Des Moines River.  They are diving in upriver, against the current.  The first buoy is a mere 25 yards a way with a sharp 110 degree left turn.  They will all converge on this spot virtually together all trying to squeeze the best line.  A tenth of a second here could set someone up for some prime open water.  One athlete achieves this, Josh Amberger, makes the turn first and get’s himself free and clear.  Beautiful.  The other 29 athletes are left to scrum it out.  Great for spectators and in retrospect, kind of fun for the athletes.

I thought that getting my 10th of a second might come from diving in and doing some underwater dolphin kick.  Silly swimmer.  I dove in well and streamlined some powerful kicks feeling like I was swiftly sneaking into the current ahead of my competitors.  Then, I came to the surface.  No, wait, I can’t get to the surface because there are too many bodies in the way.  So much for my underwater dolphin kick!?  I finally surface only to find myself in the melee of 29 athletes all trying to be the second one to cram into a Volkswagen Beetle.  Triathlon meet MMA.  I’m getting worked!  Elbows, people swimming over the top of me while I’m swimming over the top of someone else, and the lovely kick to the head by getting to close to someone’s heel.  All while fighting a strong current.  But heck, it’s boys being boys and this set the stage for one of the most fun swims I’ve done.

It’s a three loop swim of just under 500 meters each, (thanks to Andy Potts for pleading with the officials to lengthen it after the obvious short course with the girls times).  The swift current made for a most dynamic swim and one with all the elements of challenging course.  Swimming against the current took power, skill, and focus.  We inched against the force of the water as it took copious amounts of our energy.  After a strenuous first lap and running up to dive against the current for lap two I found myself behind, somewhere in the middle of the pack.

Coming into the race I felt like my bike was my weapon and strength with my swim lagging behind a bit.  If I could just come out of the water in contact with the leaders then my biking prowess would set me up for a tough but exciting run near the front of the race.

In the second lap I made up time and finished around the top ten.  Josh was killing all of us, almost a minute clear.  Each lap he won filled his pockets with $5,150!

In the third lap I found my mojo and swam with an inner grin.  Wow, this is fun!  Turning the second buoy we cruised with the swift current, down river.  At this point it felt like we had been swimming for an eternity, but I wanted it to keep on going.

I exited the water seconds off Andy Potts, in the first group.  This did little to comfort me as I’ve learned that a hiccup in T1 can be disastrous against these talents.  I smoked T1 with the fastest split on the day (Hy-Vee, how about another $5,150 for the fastest T1 & T2!) and mounted my super mean and super fast SCOTT Plasma 3 in 5th position.  I started the bike just 4 seconds behind Ben Collins who would go on to win 4 bike primes and the first run prime, each earning him a sweet $5,150!  Not a bad payday for a little over an hour of being an endurance monster.

It was an exciting moment to be set up so well for leveraging my bike strength.  I realized that the air had been crystallized and the possibility for having the optimal performance was in my grasp.

But flow in sports is a fleeting experience.  Just when I got comfortable and felt that I had IT.  I lost it.  The mind took charge and counter balanced my mojo.  My mind was positive and doing it’s best but somehow the merging of oneness had been lost.  With hindsight it was probably an inevitable occurrence having had my fitness wane in the months prior to the race.

Still, I finished the first of 4 bike laps with the first group, minimizing the damage and enjoying mixing it up with some very strong cyclists on the many corners, hills, and accelerations of the downtown Des Moines course.  However, slowly moving backwards in the race kept me from getting back in the zone.  I worked hard, tried to get back in it and stayed positive while enjoying the experience but never got back to the level I hoped to achieve.

It took all my wisdom and experience to enjoy the rest of the race while knowing that it was actually an off day for me.  Having an off day at the biggest event of your life is tough.  But you also have to keep things in perspective.  I still got off the bike with Macca, (Chris McCormick) the reigning Ironman World Champion.  He ran his way into 10th place while I continued my slow march backwards.

I am a full time coach at the YMCA in Boise. It is rewarding work and I enjoy working with the community and playing my part to make Boise one of the best cities in the world.  I love hard work but when it’s not focused on swimming, biking, or running and you are racing the best guys in the world that are focused only to that end…well, you have to keep it in perspective.  Balancing family, work, and being a professional triathlete often leaves the tri training with the short stick.  I believe that Kyle Leto and I are the only two guys with full time jobs on top of being a pro that raced in Hy-Vee.

Greg Bennett, the oldest guy in the field at 39 years young crushed the world and won over $166,000 for his 1 hour and 49 minute masterpiece.  Bravo Greg!  It’s impressive to see you hold back the clock for all of us.

Several of us exchanged the trisuits for some casual garb and took to the streets of Des Moines that evening.  Many of us were still on a high from the fun race and we all enjoyed a little down time, if only for a few hours before many of the guys would get on planes and head to the next ‘big’ race.  Greg kept all the glasses full and I’m sure this might have played a role too with everyone’s elevated spirits.  I hope to be the one topping off the glasses at next year’s race.

Hy-Vee Triathlon 2011 Elite Results

Flying home from New York the day after a successful race my attention turns to being with my wife and daughter. The week ahead is packed full of activities so each moment with them becomes central. One of my favorite tasks as Head Coach of the Boise Y TriClub is running the week long Youth Camps. Seeing the kids acquire these essential skills; you know you are setting them up for a life long journey that includes more fulfillment. Kids swimming, biking and running just makes a lot of sense.

Sandwiching two east coast trips on back to back weekends takes a lot of demands on the mind and the body. Asking your body to then perform at its highest level to race against the world’s best endurance athletes is wishful thinking, especially when your week is packed full of activities.

The Ironman 70.3 Steelhead is in St. Joseph, MI where I spent 4 years of my youth. The seeds for my love of swimming were planted here. My first day of swim practice happened on a Tuesday evening when I was nine years old (a late start for a kid whose dad was a swim coach). I spent about 40 minutes of the 45 minute workout in the showers at the Y, intimidated. I finally worked through some fears and yielded my shy persona out to the swim deck. The coach introduced me to some swimmers and then I jumped in and swam a fast 100 yards racing some of the others. I haven’t been away from the water since.

Joining the swim team enabled me to have the confidence to take my love for swimming to the next level; spending much of my summers on the beaches of Lake Michigan, swimming. This lake is an open water paradise and having the pleasure to enjoy this at a young age has shaped me to this day. Most of the time the lake is calm but my favorite days were when the wind picked up and the waves rolled in. I would play in the waves for hour after hour until hunger or mom said it was time to go.

Every year of my life gets better and this golden age refreshes the memory of the beginnings of my journey.

Now, a fish story. A rainy day along the banks of the river did not keep the true fishermen from casting. My dad got off to an early morning start and headed to the St. Joseph River. I have fond memories of waking up before sunset to spend serine mornings on the lakes of Northern Michigan fishing. Unfortunately, I slept in for this outing.

Hearing the raindrops hit the river as the water flows towards the giant lake, one can meditate on the movement like watching sand spill out of an hour glass. Fishing is a patient mans game and much of the time you ‘settle’ for the simple act of being outside on the water. Then, the line starts reeling. The senses go on high alert and adrenalin spikes through your body. I can only assume a fervent, “Holy Crap” was uttered. This was no ordinary fish. This sucker was pulling the full weight of my dad along the river banks. With the line reeling he stumbled to find better footing while being pulled along the shallows of the river. Then, he lost the white knuckled grip he had on the pole. The fishing pole slipped into the river and out of sight. With out a moment’s hesitation he jumped in the river.

The picture below is of me when I was 9 holding up the prized Steelhead. I remember having a hard time hoisting it for the photograph. My dad is decked out in all Levis denim on cloud nine from an epic day on the St. Joseph River.

He spent the next hour swimming and fishing in a battle of wills that ended with one fine ‘catch’.

Returning to St. Joseph for the Steelhead Triathlon after more than 20 years had me excited to race on semi home turf. It also proved to be an awesome family reunion as much of my extended family still lives in the area.

Race morning came and the conditions were perfect; breezy and cool. Lake Michigan looked marvelous with some subtle 1 foot waves rolling in at irregular intervals. The 9 year boy in me saw the lake again and looked forward to a fun swim.

The race organizers saw it differently and canceled the swim. I was stunned and disappointed.

I let it go and prepared for the longest time trial I’ll ever do. Having the pros start at 30 seconds intervals took the race away. A 56 mile bike and 13 mile run is a long way to race the clock.

Still the biggest shock of the day came when a draft pack of about 14 pros swallowed me up around mile 40. Without any referees (no one saw any all day) the drafting got way out of hand and turned this ‘race’ into a very unfair day. I got mad and went to the front and hammered home the last 10 miles not wanting to be a part of the cheating. All I did is pull everyone to T2. I ran hard for 3 miles holding almost the whole lot off but by mile 6 my fight was gone.

The race that could have been didn’t materialize and I’ll be honest it left a sour taste in my mouth. It had its moments in the early parts of the bike and run but the overall race was not at all what it should have been. It is imperative to know that when you spend a lot of time, money, and energy for a race that you are going to get what’s promised; a swim, bike, and run in a fair racing format.

Later that same afternoon my family and I enjoyed some time on the beach, my wife and I went for a leisurely swim while doing some body surfing in similar conditions to the morning in what we felt was very pleasurable.