I have a ton of thoughts about this weekend at the Rev3 Race in Knoxville, but have been a little tired. Until I hunt and gather my opinions on Knoxville, the Pros, the Holiday Inn, and the race, here are a few pictures (including the group custom finisher shots) as a visual guide. 
In my final stages of sleep this morning I was swallowed by the triathlon equivalent of oversleeping a test in college. I woke up in cold sweat and a state of panic before focusing on breath to bring my heart rate down.
For some reason, I was dreaming about Rev 3 Knoxville, which is still two months away. I didn’t oversleep the race, but after finishing the swim staggered into transition to the realization that I forgot my bike in the hotel room.
Madness surrounded me and I was the guy standing in everyone’s way with his hands in the air. No one seemed to care about my dilemma or even think about offering me their bike.
But I was determined to save my race and dug through my bag, grabbed the hotel key and sprinted out of the parking garage.
Next thing I know, I’m running barefoot through downtown Knoxville in my wetsuit with guys in pick-up trucks calling me out-of-water-white-trash. I kept my eyes on the road and screamed, “Tell me something I don’t know!” They all laughed with no teeth.
As I got to the revolving front door, a woman in a wheel chair squeezed in ahead of me. I waited patiently as the spinning glass spilled me into hotel lobby. I bypassed the elevator and ran up stairs to the fourth floor but my room key didn’t work. I flagged down a maid who approached with caution then hesitantly let me in.
The race clock was ticking and it took thirty five minutes to get to my bike. Sweat poured from my body as I sat on the bed and wondered if I would wind up with two T1 splits. I held my tire pump, looked at my bike, then stared out the window with the realization that my race was over. All those training hours for naught.
I casually stripped my wetsuit, reclined onto the bed then drifted back to sleep with my first DNF.
Well, I have to admit, the glow has faded on Ironman Wisconsin and I can see how difficult it is to keep the train moving in the right direction. For me, I think the next race is Rev3 in Anderson, SC. They put on great races and it would be a good way to cap the year. Not to mention, I think I have a good shot at qualifying for Age Group Nationals in Knoxville next May.
While I am a little sluggish after finishing a year-long-goal, I am also optimistic about the future. The base is laid for a whole new level of racing in 2014. Sub-12 Ironman, now what? Sub-11 is where I’m leaning and, yes, I have decided to go after it at Louisville. I was “this” close to pulling the trigger on Chattanooga, but didn’t want to sign up for my second before I did my first at Wisconsin. And frankly, I was also “this” close to signing up for Wisconsin again. I just have a hard time imagining any IM is more perfect for me. Great fan support, awesome course, and right up the road from my family. I just loved every single minute of that experience, including moments like this with my brother. 
NOLA 1/2 is in the mix, along with Muncie 70.3, and possibly Gulf Coast 1/2, which I hear great things about. I’m also contemplating Rev3 in Wisconsin Dells in lieu of IMWI. Or maybe Racine. So many choices.
I guess I’m a little melancholy today, so I’d just like to say thanks for following this blog. Your support and encouragement has been a driving force.
At Mile 5.5, my coach ran out from the sidelines and encouraged me to suck it up for a chance at the podium. He was tracking me and by his estimation, third place was a possibility. Problem was, there wasn’t much left in the tank.
A guy from my age group passed me about a mile earlier and he was long gone. All I had left was to stay in front of all comers. But about point 4 miles from the finish line, I heard footsteps. I didn’t even have time to glance before he was right next to me. Then in front. I looked at his calf, and sure enough, he was from my age group. I couldn’t let him beat me.
I stayed on his tail and with point two miles left, channeled my Monogetti run training and darted past him. We came down under the bridge, before jumping onto the lawn for the 60 yard finish chute. I thought I had a comfortable lead, but about 15 yards from the finish, he blew by me!
As you can see by the look on my face, I was toast. The grass was slick and there wasn’t enough real estate to catch him. He finished one second ahead of me, and as I crossed the finish line on his tail, I started to slide and grabbed him to stop from falling. I nearly knocked down everyone in the path, including volunteers, but somehow stayed on my feet. I stood tall, gave him a menacing stare, then glanced at his calf again. He wasn’t in my age group after all.
Here’s a closer view so you can see the pain and rain.