Kevin Everett leading Boise Ironman 70.3 in the beautiful turquoise water at Lucky Peak

Seconds before the cannon boomed for the start of the Boise Ironman 70.3 I had to smile. Reflecting on the moment and how good everything felt, life was clear and in focus. The crowd was full of friends and family and their good emotions permeated the air. Often, I get slightly behind the opening 100 meters, but not today. Representing the hometown gave me confident powers and warming up for 45 minutes primed and readied me for the sudden effort. The cannon detonated, at last my body embarked on the reward it was promised after months of demanding training. I can’t tell you how exhilarating it was to be going my pace and leading the race. Rounding the first buoy and looking back, it was satisfying to see a small gap. Today, I was racing at 100% for the first time in a long time and I was thankful for the vitality.

Kevin getting ready to warm up

The 2pm start time is ingenious for the Boise 70.3. Not only do you get to enjoy a quiet morning at home with your family & friends but people in general seem more psyched to race when they are not coming straight out of bed. Even with the foreboding clouds on the horizon the sun came out and the temperature was pleasant. Lucky Peak’s turquoise waters illuminated, declaring a refreshing dip in mid 60 degree water temperature. Planning a race mid-June in the desert oasis of Boise promises for dry sunny conditions, however, this day would be remembered for bucking that trend.

Moments from the swim start

Turning the 3rd buoy and feeling the pack break up and string out behind me; had me wishing the swim could go on for a few more miles. When the race takes 4 hours and it only takes a half hour for the swim leg; swimmers feel cheated. It was about then that I retracted this thought as the hot sun on my black wetsuit made me uncomfortably hot. My effort slowed and my body cooled back to comfortable levels. Still alone in the lead I could feel some company. This kept my pace honest albeit relaxed as we neared the finish. The boisterous crowd forced a smile on my face and jump in my step. The calm quiet meditation that is swimming gave way to an exuberant crowd as I hurried through T1.

Three weeks prior, while racing in a French Grand Prix in Dunkerque, I sprinted to keep in touch with the lead swimmers while in T1. Only 200 meters into the swim someone pulled down my wetsuit zipper. It cost me time in the swim but I hung in there and having a fast T1 was imperative for staying in the race. I have learned the hard way many times; that giving a second to professional triathletes is time you never replenish. Today, I went through T1 with the same sense of urgency.

My determination worked wonders as I rode alone feeling like superman. Cresting the first long and steady climb and looking back to see what kind of progress I had made; it was comforting to not be pressured. There was someone back there but they were way back, my lead was comfortable; for now. Even though I carry no timing device while racing, I was getting used to the lead car with the race time posted above it. While passing mile 5, the crank seemed to be turning on its own despite the fact that I sped along in my biggest gear. Knowing that the added excitement of leading might come back to haunt me was not enough to slow me down. I was having way too much fun to be rational.

The race clock above the lead vehicle read 47:16. It was uplifting to know that I had set the pace for every second of the race. In the back of my head, I also knew it was a long day. Racing along the same streets that we train on and hearing people shout your name gives you strength. Still speeding along in my biggest gear and almost spinning out I was confident that any challengers would not be able to catch up anytime soon. Wow, this Boise Ironman is going to be great.

My lead was relinquished by guys on motorcycles; just after passing mile 10, Lieto, with Gambles in tow stormed by with superior speed. They had to have motorized engines hidden in their bike somewhere. It was shocking because I was still flying at unprecedented speeds. However, my 53 chain ring was not enough to keep up with their bigger gears. They powerfully pulled away leaving me alone as they lingered on the horizon tempting a surge that I never mustered.

Then, at mile 15, Crowie and Lavelle rode up. It was nice to have some company in the wide open desert plains that dominant southern Idaho. When people are around you it becomes easier to go fast without wasting energy simply by gauging your speed. At last, the sense of urgency that is racing, gave way enough for me to work on some nutrition. I stuck a morsel of CliffBar in my lower lip and let it sit there.

For the next 25 miles the 3 of us rode in the same vicinity. There were a few rough stretches but for the most part it was comfortably hard racing. Taking my eyes off the road to grab some nutrition my back wheel hammered into a pot hole. It slammed me enough to worry but 3 pedal strokes later it was a distant memory.

Hoffman and Rapp caught up to our group and they all started pulling ever so slightly away from me. Still feeling strong I hoped that a surge would bring me back in contact with the group. A couple miles later and there wasn’t much progress on my end in terms of closing the gap. Then, there was a rider on the side of the road. It was Rapp, working on a flat tire. “That sucks”, I thought while happily taking back one place the easy way.

Heading east, the dark clouds on the horizon were menacing. I was thinking how nice it would be to beat out the storm when it became apparent that that was not going to happen. It looked like an enormous sliding glass window as only nature might render it. One second was a slight drizzle, then, crashing through the window, shards of rain pierced my skin. The street filled with water and the wind howled in my face. It was so impressive and sudden that I forgot about the race at hand.

By mile 45 there was some noticeable play coming from my back wheel. I quickly dismissed any possibility of it being a flat tire. In over 5 years of racing, not one flat had I encountered and it wasn’t about to be my first when everything was going so well. I was in denial. Riders flew past me.
Turning onto Federal Way with a scant 5 miles to go, the realization of my predicament hit home. My tire was completely flat and I had no spare. I rode on in mental and physical anguish desperate to get off my bike in T2.

Coach, Harold Frobisher, keeping me focused

Strolling onto Capitol Boulevard into the heart of Downtown Boise was amazingly gratifying. The last few miles of the bike had been torture. Not knowing if my disc would hold up was horrifying considering I would have to walk my bike in bare feet in order to finish. But it was also bleeding me dry of precious energy. It was soo good to hear the crowd as I got off my bike and knew for certain the race was back under my control.

Nearing the finish in great spirits

What happened to me on the next 6 miles of the run is tormenting me more than having a flat tire. I ran defeated. My psyche had been fractured and I couldn’t flip the switch. The mental focus required in these races is amazing. When something goes wrong; it can be difficult to regain composure. Finally, it worked itself out after about 6 miles. I let it go and regained focus on the moment. And at the moment, my body was telling me it had plenty of energy to go faster.

Memorable race

Slow leak, totally flat last 5 miles

I was thankful to be running the second lap at a good clip and I would wager my 2nd lap 5 minutes faster than the first. Finishing a race strong is rewarding for so many reasons. Coming down 8th street for the last few minutes of the race had me floating to the finish. I heard my wife, my coach, my brother, my mom and several friends rooting me on. How lucky am I to share this with all of them. The good spirits from the hometown crowd will fill me with merriment for the rest of my life. It’s something I will carry forward with me every moment.

RESULTS

Articles: SLOWTWITCH, Idaho Statesman, 2News.TV, Ironman, Triathlon Competitor

Craig Alexander, down 1 minute with one mile to go, ran a 4:48 mile to nip Chris Lieto at the line.

Epic Duel Between Alexander & Lieto

Hortense’s photo’s for larger downloads

Training with the Boise Y Tri Club up at Lucky Peak photo courtesy Katherine Jones

The second annual Ironman 70.3 Boise triathlon is Saturday, and athletes must conquer three grueling stages - a 1.2-mile swim in Lucky Peak Reservoir, a 56-mile bike ride through South Boise and a 13.1-mile run Downtown and on the Greenbelt. There are professionals coming from all over the country to compete, but there also are several local athletes who hope to give quality performances. Here are some of their stories:

KEVIN EVERETT

Everett is looking forward to Saturday’s race because of how good he feels.

“The last six months I’ve basically trained 20 hours a week,” the 1993 Centennial High graduate said. “I’m pretty excited.”

Last year, Everett placed 22nd overall and was the first athlete registered from Idaho to cross the finish line. He did that despite having been hospitalized a few weeks earlier from an accident in another race.

This year, he’s got a clean bill of health and a sense of optimism. He recently joined a French triathlon team and will compete in a series of races in that country starting later this month.

The 34-year-old was a swimmer at Oakland (Mich.) University where he was a part of four national championship teams. Swimming remains his best discipline in the triathlon, but he said his cycling has improved and can be his strongest area.

“I’m disappointed if I’m not in the lead pack of the swimming,” Everett said. “But sometimes my bike is my best.”

TRISH DEIM

Deim, a 29-year-old mother of two, shut down her in-home child care business in Meridian and will pursue coaching triathlon full time.

But like many coaches, she’s also a serious competitor with proven results. She won a triathlon last year and set a course record in Utah.

It’s her love of the sport that drives her. She has done about 50 events, ranging from sprint triathlons to full Ironman events.

“It’s a sport that you can really grow with,” she said. “It’s not marked by the young. Anyone can master it, and it depends on your motivation and your technique.”

To get started, Deim had to overcome her fear of water. At a young age, she nearly drowned after being thrown from a dock into a lake when she couldn’t swim. She had to be resuscitated and the incident haunted her for many years.

Early on in her seven-year career as a triathlete, she would “doggie paddle” and refuse to put her face in the water while swimming, putting her in the back of the field and often the last person out of the water.

After three years, she took swimming lessons and learned to put her face in the water. She had friends swim next to her in open water as her courage grew.

“I can now swim without having a panic attack,” she said. “I feel much more confident in the water. I am over that fear.”

KRISTIN SMITH

Talk about a smashing debut.

Smith, who had spent most of the past five years pregnant with her three children (now ages 5, 3 and 2), decided to enter the 2008 Ironman Boise race.

“It’s the first race I had done since all of the kids,” said Smith, who is a non-practicing lawyer originally from Seattle. “I was still carrying a lot of baby fat around in that one.”

Smith did well enough in Boise to qualify for last year’s world championships in Florida. She trained, and “got it together a little bit” and the 40-year-old won her age group in that elite event.

“It was fun,” she said.

Smith describes her training as “inconsistent and somewhat unique” because of the amount of work it is to raise three children, two of which don’t sleep through the night.

“I have to do most of my training in the morning before the sun comes up,” she said. “I have to be efficient and go for quality, not quantity.”

You can find Smith in her garage at 5 a.m. at least two times a week on her stationary bike in the dark. The light in the Smith’s garage makes a buzzing noise, and she doesn’t want to wake up her 3-year-old, whose bedroom is above the garage.

“I’ve got my iPod on, the lights off and I’m pedaling away,” Smith said. “It’s my version of fun I guess. The peace and quiet isn’t bad considering the energy level around here the rest of the day.”

BRYAN SHIFLETT

Shiflett practices emergency medicine at both St. Luke’s campuses, working from 10 p.m. to 6 a.m.

The 36-year-old doctor’s unorthodox schedule - he works for seven days in a row, then gets a week off - has helped him improve his times and performances. He took 14th overall in his age group at the world championships last year in Clearwater, Fla., and he’s qualified for the World Championships in Kona, Hawaii, by virtue of a strong finish - 46th overall and ninth in his age group - at Ironman New Zealand.

“On the weeks I’m off and I’m preparing for an Ironman a typical week is between 30 and 35 hours of training,” Shiflett said. “When you’re not working, that’s easily accomplished. And when I go back to work the next week, it’s time to recover and rest and I do anywhere from 1Ý hours to 2 hours on those days.”

Shiflett, who has lived in Boise for almost two years since relocating from San Antonio, Texas, is extra excited about this year’s Ironman Boise race.

“I usually use these half-Ironmans as training days,” he said. “This is the first time I’ve specifically trained for a half-Ironman. I’ve changed my training regiment a little bit to accommodate the shorter distance a little bit. A little more intensity and a little less volume than I’m used to. It’s been challenging, and my body is feeling the effects of it. It’s either going to work out wonderfully or it’s going to be a complete disaster, but that’s part of the fun of it, learning about yourself and see what you’re capable of doing.”

“Meyruis. Lozere, June 26, 1977.  Hot and overcast.  I take my gear out of the car and put my bike together.  Tourists and locals are watching from sidewalk cafes.  Non-racers.  The emptiness of those lives shocks me.”  This opening paragraph from Tim Krabbe’s, ‘The Rider’ had me engrossed immediately.  The book went on and touched on situations that clarify my love of racing.  His book dances beautifully with the rhythm of life that can be mirrored in the accelerating pace of the race.
Dunkerque, Nord-Pas de Calais, France, May 24, 2009.  Sunny and breezy.  Warming up, I dive into the port for the first time, finding the water refreshing and the hundreds of jellyfish stunning in their translucent beauty.  After only 10 minutes I hear Fred signaling me to come in.  It’s time to head into the transition area.  In the French grand Prix there are 16 teams each with 5 athletes.  In order to enter all 5 athletes must be present and in uniform.  It’s hard to believe that a few days ago I was 8 time zones away.  I find myself wishing there was more time to warm up, knowing the body was going to be shocked at the effort;  suddenly, after 3 days of sitting, my energy was about to be maxed.   
The transition area is a buzz with athletes and coaches in friendly conversations.  The camaraderie among the triathletes is noticeable but once the race starts hearts will be crushed and those doing the crushing will reveal in their aerobic dominance. 
My team, St. Jean de Mont, won division II last year and hence, moved up to division I this year as the 15th ranked team.  Beauvais Tri, the number 1 ranked team, was announced as they walked out to the dock and choose the farthest right position.  Taking one of the last spots, near the middle, 80+ athletes were now lined up, ready to dive off the dock and froth up the sea.
Seconds after the last team took their spot, the horn sounded sending the swimmers into the bay.   Vying for a slight advantage going into a 180 degree turn after only 200 meters forced a sprint.  Even bad swimmers at this level can open up with a quick first 200 meters.  My dive was sound and popped me up just ahead of the field.  Coming into the turn I was just getting warmed up and in good shape while on Aurelien Raphael’s feet.
Still, most of the swimmers came into that corner within seconds of each other.  Suddenly, I was forced to slow down as the convergence created a jam.  Someone swam over me, I tried to get around the turn, knowing that as soon as we made the corner there would be open water and I’d be able to utilize my closing speed to accelerate into T1. 

The unthinkable happened; I distinctly felt my wetsuit unzip down the back.  The feeling of dread in the pit of my belly overwhelmed me.  Was my race over after barely 2 minutes?    A moment later I was around the corner and free to move.  But my wetsuit was cumbersome now, the shoulders and chest filling with water.  I stopped and vainly tried to zip my suit back up feeling precious seconds tick away.  It was going to take more time to zip it up, time I didn’t have. 
I abandoned my efforts to fix the wetsuit and swam on.  It was less than ideal, however, my form was strong and I worked my way into the front half of the race.  Trying to forget the extra drag I focused on negative splitting my swim.  Coming into T1 in 33rd place just 20 seconds down to the leaders, I was thankful to still be in touch with them.
T1 was 5 seconds short of being perfect but good enough to move up slightly.  Onto the 20 kilometer bike, an all out sprint insured a brutal 1st lap.  There were 8 turns each lap with two of those being 180 degrees.  The accelerations were constant.  Riders were looking to break-away and force any of the slower swimmers from every catching up. 
My riding skills were lacking, having focused on Ironman 70.3 training and riding on my ‘tri-bike’, I was not comfortable on either the road bike or the close contact riding.  Riding sporadically and jumping from wheel to wheel I remained in the front group. 
Feeling strong and riding on Will Clarke’s wheel I thought, “Sticking on his wheel will make things a lot easier.” Riding securely in the lead group of 30 or so riders in this 2nd lap of a 5 lap crit had me ever so complacent. I did not internalize the danger of the all out accelerations happening 3 to 5 times a lap. I blinked and the peloton was 5 meters up and pulling away. The wind, laughing at my strain to bridge, all but sealed my fate into riding in ‘no-mans-land’. 
Being crushed and blown out the back of a peloton is a double edged sword.  Not only are you exhausted having just been dropped and attempting to bridge back up but then your exposed to the wind.  You are working harder and going slower and it’s hard to stomach.  All you can do is grit your teeth.  For the next two laps that’s just what I did until midway thru the last lap the second large chase group swallowed me up. 
This group started the run about 90 seconds down to the leaders, a lifetime in a 5k.  The fastest runners from the group were off at a clip just past my pace.  Feeling lethargic, I worked on my foot speed knowing any kind of lapse in a 5k is too much.  Going into the last mile of the run I felt the best I had all day and noticeably picked up my pace.  It felt as if my body finally adjusted to a racing pace after days on my backside traveling.
Running in a sprint finish for 63rd place kept the crowd cheering and I was edged out by Mehdi Essadiq of Poland and team member of LAGARDERE PARIS RACING whose other 4 racers incidentally placed 1, 2, 6, and 7.  I congratulated Mehdi with an inner smile from a worthy race and a remarkable experience. 
The race unfolded in a humbling yet satisfying way.  After all, being in the race is what counts.  Being a racer, whatever form that takes in your life, is what it all boils down to.

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