Ultraman Hawaii

It's no secret that a conscience can sometimes be a pest
It's no secret ambition bites the nails of success
Every artist is a cannibal, every poet is a thief
All kill their inspiration and sing about their grief-
Bono


I knew this morning eating breakfast with Chris Lieto at Lava Java that my normal mode of waiting a week before I start my race report could be longer.  As we discussed the race I realized there’s so much to relay, so much to sink in. Heads up…THIS IS A LONG RACE REPORT. Ultraman  Hawaii left its mark.

Or scar.

No matter the effort to remove dark memories-it will never happen. Every second..will sooner or later surface. Same with all the glorious thoughts too. They will never, ever fade.

A statement I’ve flippantly tossed around in the past…”That was the hardest race I have ever done”..or..”I went deep” won’t be recycled here.  This race, this event— Ultraman Hawaii….is the hardest most difficult event I have ever done. Ever. Ever.

I know now as I fly above the ocean, Ian’s eyes still wet with tears because he didn’t want to go, Evelyn asleep, and Rhonda chewing her lip in fear I’m going to start trying to talk her into racing again—It’s possible but improbable that I can actually relay how “it” felt.  I’ll try and with effort do my absolute best to share thoughts in a way I hope paints a picture-or, at least a few strokes. I now believe and truly understand with every fiber -

Ultraman is different.
Ultraman seeks the truth.
Ultraman is the greatest race on the planet.

Because of it, I am forever altered and I fear the struggle with how to situate it on my “shelf of life”. 

Talking with Chris this morning before we flew home- we discussed how easy it is to slip into finding identity, our identity in sport. When, at least for me, it’s not my identity—it can’t be. If I allow it to I'm always left flat. Because it hurts to finish and be left looking forward to whats next? I’ve done it to myself many times,  it always leaves me wanting, hurting, and skipping over the war I just waged.  Ignoring the sacrifices that so many made for me and, blatantly neglecting the blessing allowed in my life to take part in such a wonderful event. Focusing on all the wrong. Nice try Scratch. Not this time.

Flying together was a blast

Arriving in Kona a few days before the race was perfect for us.  The house, location-very near downtown Kona, and our set up was so solid. We felt blessed, and very taken care of.

The rest of my crew--Joe and Dorothy arrived on Thanksgiving in the afternoon. Rhonda got em up to speed as we prepared and talked strategy throughout the afternoon into the evening.

I struggle a bit to find the right order of words to form sentences properly describing my love for these two people. Actually their whole family have become such a big part of our lives, they are our family. I’ve worked with Joe for years and have grown very close to him.  Rhonda and Dorothy are like sisters and our kids love each other like brothers and sisters.  We spend holidays, take trips, you name it. J & D have also traveled to CDL with us to support me at a race, Joe was part of the team that came to Hawaii and run with me during the Epic 5. It's awesome.

Joe locking in everything.

All that to say-the importance of  Joe and Dorothy  taking time from work, from their children, on Thanksgiving to come and focus on me meant more than I can possibly say.  I know writing about these guys will make them squirm a bit… Humility seeps from them.  The kind of humility you feel and know it’s true. They are just amazing people and we feel so very fortunate to have them as friends.  Also…I get more crap flung at me from Dorothy than a kid sister, and Joe’s quick wit and laser focus was a perfect fit for the crew. Ian and Evelyn consider them “Aunt and Uncle”, and no barrier is present when we are together.  I’ll write more later about how vital they were throughout-but especially the later portion of my run.

Rhonda--being baptized by vomit in Canada--had sharpened her crewing skills since. Her patience, Love, understanding, kindness, humor, sarcasm, wit, truth, honesty....I could go on and on…is indescribable. She knows me better than any human on earth.  I can’t fake, lie, alter, change, deflect anything to her and think I’m pulling a fast one.  She knows EVERYTHING about who I am and what I need.

The crew.

 The initial meeting and processing days leading up to the race are always enjoyable for me.  Seeing friends, looking at the competitors, and getting the over all race ‘vibe’ is some of the greatest parts of the event for me. The pain seems far off.

Jane has been so kind to my family..

Watching Jane, Steve Brown, Cheryl, Steve King, —the whole UM crew —work and organize, felt a bit like watching a familiar favorite childhood sit-com.  Kinda like the Cosby show…you know whats going to happen, it’s stable..and warm, makes you feel happy and content, and feel better for watching it when it's over.

Steve King makes me double check…”Ok.. get  my crap together”… Not because I need to act different around  him-I just love the guy so much & want to ensue he knows I respect his time and the effort he puts into this race. People want to talk to him....A lot. His professionalism and courtesy to everyone is incredible. I mean that.  How that dude remembers names, faces, race results, sponsors, details..you name it-he knows it..is unreal. It’s not for show either. It’s solid. Like truth-solid.  Sitting with him and talking, I could feel he was honestly interested in how my family is, my crew, my prep and intent here at Ultraman. I appreciate him so much and his wife-Jean, is as kind and thoughtful.  It’s obvious they make a great team. It's obvious how much they are still in love with each other. IT's awesome to be around them.

Steve King and I talking Ultraman

Jane Bockus is the same way. She hugged me and I believed it.  No pretense or plastic.  “I’m so glad you and Rhonda are here…How is Ian?  I look forward to meeting Evelyn”…What!!!  What’s going on here?? Oh wait..I know…. People caring about people.  Thank you Jane. Thank you Steve, and Cheryl. The whole Ultraman crew never stops surprising. Thank you.




 Throughout the prep time leading to the start I was able to re-connect with a few friends-helped ease the growing tension in my heart.  I really wanted to do well at  this race, and we all focused on not letting bad anxiety rob us of this vital time. Ian and Evelyn are specifically good at this.

I ran into Jim Gourley at Lava Java’s and was so very happy to see him-he too is just a chill guy that being around  relaxes me. Some people just ‘get it’….he gets it.

His recent book —FASTER—is a must read for athletes, and talking 'shop' with him, is really, really, talking shop.  Jim asked if he could accompany me to the store and watch me compile  the food I’ll be eating throughout the week/race.  It was fun talking and laughing, catching up. Again--the guy is a wealth of knowledge-so I learn when I am with him. Someone I want to hang around so-it was awesome for me to reconnect before we got busy.  Thanks Jim.

Throughout the week I had gear prep, few workouts, the usual. Pretty uneventful - which was good.  While at the bike shop I met Vern the UM bike tech,  and also surprised by a handshake form Kurt Madden. The winner form the first Ultraman in 1983.

I slept well the night before day 1-it was refreshing. Up @ 3:30--ready to go, it was awesome to just be with my family.  Joe, Dorothy, and Rhonda had EVERYTHING dialed.  I spent days worry free knowing things were taken care of. Talked with my coach again about strategy and approach. Chris had me ready, my crew had me ready-and I knew it.

Hooking up with my Kayak escort and his wife was one of the highlights of the trip for all of us.
Kai, a fellow brother/Firefighter from Kona, and his wife Eva gave up time to get me through the swim and escort me in the water.  The second we met there was a connection.  Not just because we’re both Firefighters-(yes that’s a big part) but, he and Eva’s kindness and knowledge was palpable. He made me feel comfort and I was secure with him even before taking on the swim.  We talked about currents, tide, and the best way to navigate in the water. It was a good feeling and my confidence was building. Again-- I felt really ready.

Getting into the water I hugged and kissed my team-I worked hard to fight tears and the flood of emotion that was scratching to get out.  Not because I have a problem with that. (Ian sees me cry all the time…Commercials, songs, whatever….I'm a wuss.)  No matter, I made a note before getting into the water to keep focus and just "hold it together till the gun"... It was time and I wanted to concentrate…believe me, stories of tears are coming. Along with poop, pee, lube, vomit....good times.

My game plan was simple and I knew I was fit to have a good go in the water.  I told Kai if things go as planned I should be up front and intent was to be out under three and close to the front.  At the gun the swimmers were off the front. Biscay looked like a dolphin-It’s amazing to see an athlete like that up close, at least for a few seconds anyway.  The lead pack formed and were quickly out of sight. I didn’t care-I was just happy to be on my way-it was a relief to be here, finally, I'm doing it. I was relaxed. I was filled with Joy.

Stop every 30 or so for fuel/fluid, that was the plan.  I had no temptation to doubt my escort-ever.  It was obvious he knew what he was doing.  His ability to hold a line in the water was incredible.  His GPS post swim proved his gift for navigation.  All was well.

But all was not.

Around 40 or so min’s in I started to feel…something. 
Things weren’t right, and it happened so incredibly quick. When my ability to gauge how long I was in the water was off, I felt a little worry creep in.  It was like my internal clock was broken and I am so dependent and aware of this..  Usually I can estimate roughly how long I've been in the water.  Training does this and without fail, I’m usually only  5/10 min’s off.In Canada I was spot on. Here..different story.

"OK, how long have we been in?”
“40 min’s”
“What?! Crap…”

I seriously thought I had been in for 1:20?  “Wait, I’ve only had one fuel stop?? right? I think? OK…breath. Relax”…Things just started getting fuzzy, and sour. Alright..This may be just “a thing”, but, it’s a thing not normal.  I heard him yell “Good pace Christian, were going 2.5 miles an hour-pace is perfect.”

“Ok..that sounds about right then”, I thought.  Eh...it'll pass. I just focused.  The water, and the sunlight breaking through was beautiful-like, unable to describe beauty. I lost view of the bottom and was just in a blue space pillow. I thanked God for his creation. It hit me how insignificant I really am. It hit me again...I am nothing. HE is everything. I remember thinking to myself over and over..."Just let me reflect You Jesus. No matter how crappy this goes-keep me level"

Then I started to throw up. 

I latched onto the side of the outrigger and told Kai that something was really wrong. At the time I had a legitimate shock about my situation-What is going on??  It’s easy now to know what and why, but, at the time I was not right, I kept thinking “Why am I so sleepy, I feel so tired, like I want to go to bed tired”.  I vomited hard three times and felt better.  I told Kai stop me in 20 and lets see where I am at. 

Throughout I was talking to my self and going 10 stokes with my eyes closed and 10 open.  I rolled onto my back for a few seconds and tried to gather myself.  But, the stomach problems continued and I grew more and more fatigued &  could not keep anything in. Kai told me I was in 11th--Ok-“Chill, and get to the finish”.  Kai was awesome, he encouraged me and kept me moving-Thanks brother.

Finally, making the final turn I felt beaten already. I had no gauge at all of time, and fought letting in the “bad thoughts’, but....I told myself..”Christian be real here…Where am I at-really???  What condition am I in..right now?”  I found this happening throughout the three days and it was a strategy that began to pay off.  1. Focus 2. assess 3. respond 4. recover. 5. push.

I felt like Gollum in the Lord of the Rings- Fighting with himself….

“What's going on?”
“Uh..I really don’t know”
“What am I going to do-quit?”
“Quit!?! What?? It’s just the swim??!!”
“Then go..”
“I can’t..”
“Go”..
“I have nothing left..”
“Go..”

Standing up out of the swim my body felt OK, but my stomach and head were jacked. I mean
J A C K E D.  I got lost in the fear and discomfort they Worked together like “Poverty and Want” eyeballing Scrooge.  I ran from them throughout the first day, but eventually separated them and took each on one at a time. 

I’ll explain.

The depth and level of discomfort that crept in the last half of the swim and had a party throughout the day on the bike has left a lasting impression.  I couldn’t let it happen again on day 2, or 3, and if I did…I was done. It’s scary to be in that spot. To really, I mean really have doubt and really wonder, to fear-and forget where my strength comes from.  I don’t recommend this-ever.  Somewhere within the first 10 min’s on the bike I forced it off. I just told myself - "Shake it off...Shake it off.." That climb out of the water may be one of the most special moments in my life. I hurt, I was throwing up, but I was re-booting.  I felt my legs come around. I began to sweat like crazy and this pain was welcomed.  It was the kind of hurt that felt good-I had another quick conversation....

“OK-do not…DO NOT think about quitting-ever again. Yes, the swim sucked, you hurt, but move on.  Catch them.”

Ian getting my bike set as I wonder what just happened in the water.

My crew drove up after the climb and I told em I need fluid/fuel and I forced it down. I planned on pushing. That’s what I did- I spent the next 50 miles catching and working to get myself into a position for day 2, it was time to race.

My stomach settled a bit but I knew with the heat and the stress if I wasn't careful it would come back.  Fluid stayed in and fuel stayed down for 2.5 hours, but the effort caught up and the weather was fighting back. Heat, rain, wind, heat, rain, wind, WIND.  It was insane.  Nearing Volcano the climbs were taking bites.  Joe had run next to me for a few hundred yards and really let me have it.  Screaming at the top of his lungs colorful motivation - I knew he wasn’t joking.  He told me how much time I made up and if I didn’t get my act together I would waste all  the work.  It helped.  Dousing me with water to keep me cool and dealing with my stomach was what I did throughout. It was dark. I mean really, really dark. The last eight miles I'll never forget. I pushed, finished and lost it. Those tears I held in at the start were back. along with what was left in my stomach and fear-again, fear. Of tomorrow....

“What the heck am I going to do?”

I had the third fastest bike split of the day but my swim put me in the hole.  Rhonda had her hand on my neck and told me over and over in my ear…”We’ll recover, regroup, and you’ll feel better. You will be ready babe, don’t worry, don’t worry.”

Very little phases Rhonda. "Just go faster"...she tells me, "Suck it up"..

I did not believe it then.

One hour later, I did.  I was ready for day two. 

Staying at the base in Volcano was a night I'll never forget.  All six of us together in one room…with bunk beds—laughing, and talking, and loving on each other. It made day one feel better. Finally got some food in and stayed off my legs.  Joe ran back and forth with food and fluid—Hillary Biscay and her husband Maik Twelsiek brought me purple potatoes, oil, and salt.

It was a kind gesture and I ate feeling like they actually gave a crap.  It was awesome and tasted so good.  My stomach felt better--but I had the lingering effects of that swim still in my gut.  So weird, I still felt “off".... I ignored it the best I could and just enjoyed the evening. As usual I did not fall right to sleep. My body temp climbed and I just tried to relax.

Day 2

Felt good waking up. My stomach still sour , I was able to get a few bites of oatmeal in and some bread.  I forced nothing and decided to see how I felt after an hour on the bike.  It was cold and wet, and that first hour would direct the day. 

The gun went off and the decent off the mountain was as expected.  Twenty plus miles downhill at 45 mph. Few miles down I decided to stretch the legs and just get out front away from the pack.  I wanted to focus, and if I could get some food in I would lessen the chance of getting tangled up. It worked— got a bonk breaker down with some water and I felt encouraged.  Tucking into aero position I was hauling. Ribeiro caught me and we went down to the bottom together near the front. 

Pack riding is unavoidable the first 25 miles of stage 2 because of the downhill, but,  once the turn happens it’s back to solo riding.  The course officials were waiting and I made sure to be smart and broke off behind Alexandre. It was another signature moment of the race for me.  I was riding with  Ribeiro.  I enjoyed it for a few minuets. Thought of all the times I read about him, the pictures I had of him on my fridge, mirror, locker at work, screen saver. I was with royalty and it was humbling. He was with the guy I wanted to race with, and honestly-I wanted to beat. Those photos of him all over my house were there to remind me of his dominance and that if I was going to be in the mix-I had to work. 

I gathered my troops and thoughts in my head-I did the checklist. My stomach is OK, my legs feel good, I feel loose, I’ve got fluid in. Just wait. Be patient.

Again, I watched Ribeiro and just chilled. I heard someone go down behind me at the turn, I glanced back—was glad to be near the front away from the accident.  Looking forward again  I noticed Ribeiro's crew handing him a bottle of Tri-flow/lubricant. “I wonder if he is having some issues with his bike?”  I crept up a little to see and couldn't tell.

His crew again was waiting a few miles up the road and again—the lubricant came out.  As he reached for it, I took off.  It was mile 30 & I told myself “No one catches me till at least 100.” I put the gas on and didn't quit. Part of me just didn't care, the other part of me felt really good.  My gut was still off & sour, but I was keeping things down. I had to go. I pushed, and pushed, and pushed.  My crew was going nuts and giving me splits.  I was breaking away and the longer the splits grew the better I felt.

At mile 112 I was at 4:40. “Crap-is that right???"

It was.  With the early down hill and the initial push I was holding watts and feeling good-speed came easy for much of the first 130.

Occasionally I'd glance around me, and the beauty of Kona is breathtaking. That word is weak actually when describing the island.   Ian had asked me the day before “Dad..you think God has given us a glimpse of Heaven with how pretty it is here???  I have never seen anything like this?!” It was true.  God-the creator.

Things were well-but, a bump happened for me around Hilo.  I had to stop for a few traffic lights and after pushing hard for hours-it seemed like those few pauses in the effort tweaked me just a little.  I was able to get back into the flow-but, it didn't seem as easy.  I still kept things down, but the heat and hills were starting to do a number on my stomach and a few of my normal “burp-ups” of fuel, turned into throwing up again.  I was OK though, and it was not too bad. I could feel the sting in my legs a bit more now and the effort wanted some payback.  I spun out my legs, was able to go pee on a downhill, and gathered my self.

Changed my helmet for a few b/c of heat. My crew yelling at me.."Go Dad, GO!!"

My crew drove up next to me and said Miro was a few miles back.  “Ok--I'm Ok if he catches me”.  I had hoped that my effort had juiced his legs a bit, along with Ribeiro's.  Even though I was on the bike-my thoughts were already on tomorrows run.  If I'm going to have a crack I need to believe in my ability to recover tonight despite this effort and hope that others worked too hard. One thing though, I was racing against the best Ultramen in the world. 

I turned to glance back and saw a white dot in the distance.  Kregar was pushing and these hills going into Hawi were getting worse.  I decided to slow a bit, spin out my legs a little more and get a look at him. He was either going slower than I thought, or I was going faster because it took him a while to get up to me. I slowed, let him pass, and we made eye contact.  He looked tired, but composed. I let him take the lead and just stayed behind.  Every effort I matched and we leaped frog for a while.  It was a battle I'll never forget.

Miro creeping up behind me. We waged a battle against each other for miles.

I can’t remember how long we had been at it but I finally broke him. Or…so I thought. Looking back at it now I know it was his experience that taught me a lesson.  The last time I took the lead I looked back and saw him struggling.  I just stayed up and danced-he soon was out of view. It was to the second, thinking I was something special, I realized what  happened.

He let me go.

Miro knew what lay ahead, and I got served. It’s fuzzy, and actually a way I like to “think” it happened…but, as he passed I detected a little grin.  Not him being a jerk….just a master grin.  It was awesome. Despite the cement in my legs and the climbing that lay in front I loved the discomfort at that very moment...it lasted only a moment though.  The final miles were treacherous. Ribeiro caught me and put his hand on my back with a nod and smile.  It was at this moment he went from famous star athlete, to fellow competitor.  It was awesome despite me shutting down, I was doing it. In the Ultraman World Championship I was racing against champions.  It was humbling to see greatness up close.  They made it look easy.  I respected them so much and could not help but feel blessed.

The ups and downs come faster in the later stages as usual. The final 15 miles were fast, filled with vomit again (though this time it was due to the effort), and pain. I had to pull off for a "lube stop" to avoid the malady from Canada. I love you Rhonda Isakson, and I am certain that had "And do you Rhonda swear to be waiting on the side of the road with a palm full of lube to smear on Christians butt, and other parts, in front of your children and the general public as he bends over and screams in pain till death do you part?"...things may have been different. I love you.

 I hit 50 mph on one of the final downhill into the finish and it was the one time I thought I was going to eat it.  The fatigue in my upper body matched my legs and I was teetering.  I could feel the day sinking in. I worked hard and was able to keep the fear and the discomfort separate all day.  I knew what my plan was and was happy to have stuck with it.

Crossing the finish line on day two the pain charged in and I went down again.  It’s just so much to take at once.  But at least today I welcomed it in.  Did not fight it as much. Accepting it helped.

Ian just sat next to me as I broke down. My little best friend found himself scared throughout the 3 days.  He told me he did not like to see me hurting so much. The last day he asked when he could get a bike and start serious training.

Again I had the 3rd fastest bike.  Lost a few min’s to Ribeiro and Kregar, but took a good chunk back from Hillary and a few from Sheeper.  I felt good and was where I wanted to be going into day 3.

Post Day 2 Interview.

But I started to wonder the cost, and that freaking swim. My crew told me to forget about it and move on.

We had to drive back from Hawi to Waimea for lodging before the start of day 3 and our initial concern of being a few miles away was erased the second we saw our room.  Again-we were all together in a suite and it was the best.  Just hanging out together and talking about the race, laughing, and spending time with each other will always stay with me.  I will NEVER forget the feeling of just being together.

The team.

Up again at 4 am. My stomach was sour, it just felt knotted up.  Rhonda was certain it was nerves, because I was able to get some food in-but, I thought different.  It had the sloshy, post swim feel again.  This time I was like “Crap man…What’s going on?”

Of course now I look back and know it was a combination of many things…The swim, the effort, the heat, the race itself.  I just went into the run the same as the bike. Chill, be patient, and adjust.

I talked with Chris.  We both decided - Go for it.  Leave nothing.  Chris told me a number of times “You can hang man, you are ready, just know and believe in your fitness”. I did.  I recalled the hours, and hours, and hours of prep.  Driving to the start I calmed myself and prayed.  I just wanted to run.

I knew Miro and Alexandre would be out front from the gun. I also suspected Sheeper, and Biscay would do the same.  Talking again with Joe before my run just  to hear myself say it…”Stick on 8’s and wait till others fold”. The sound of the gun brought the start and off we went.

A group of 6 vanished into the dark.  I found my pace and locked in.  I even had my crew driving by telling me to slow down throughout the first 20 miles.  Other than my gut cramping-I felt good.  I stopped a few times to use the bathroom and this helped. Something about having your family and closest friends on the planet nearby as you empty your bowels on the side of the road. Ahhhh...Ultraman.  Despite the effort- my gut never really settled down till around 20 miles in.

As the sun came up I started to catch the group that took off. 7,6,5…I felt good.  As I approached Hillary - had another token moment.  I was excited to run with her and she did not disappoint. Hillary is as cool as she is an incredible athlete. Man-she can run. We shared the road together for a while and kept each other company.  Talked a bit, laughed a bit, it was cool.

Looking back despite feeling good, I should have stayed with her.  Our pace was close to the same and the company was good.  So why did I go?  Why did I just not work with her?  Would it have helped me get through what was coming?  Would I have been able to stay with her?  I don’t know.  What I do know is at the time I felt strong and it just seemed like the move to make.  I didn’t motor away at mach 3..... It was just a hill, and I went. 

I honestly thought I would not see her again.

wrong.

Rhonda swears she saw a change in me around mile 23, but I remember it different.  It was around 27 I felt a small shift and worry crept in a bit. 

Hitting my first marathon around 3:25 I felt good.  I had got my stomach somewhat under control, my legs were ok and I was still advancing.  we decided as a team I would not worry about where anyone was at until the end of marathon one.  Joe had told me I was in 3rd and “Miro and Alexander were having trouble.  Just keep moving forward-stick with the plan and you’ll get em.”

I believed it. 

I changed my socks and shoes and took a few moments to gather myself.  At mile 28, I changed back to my original shoes.  My feet were swelling and the second pair just felt off.  I was a bit worried because my feet were wet and I saw my toenails. No matter, move forward.

I’m still going over my run in my head -- but it was here things came unglued.

Mile 30.

Thanks Jim.

I had expected a wall, but honestly…later, like mile 37/8.  It was horrible, drastic, and swift. I lost the work I had put into fuel, and fluid here and again, began throwing up.  It was the worst.  I could do nothing and it seemed like a cycle started and would not stop despite my effort.  Get something in, let it settle, out it would come.  The heat began to cook me and now many factors were in play.  With just over 22 miles left I knew I was in some serious, serious trouble.  We did everything we could—nothing worked. I saw Ian crying in the van,  Rhonda had worry on her face.  She has told me many times that she’ll never get used to watching me crumble. Joe and Dorothy knew too but they distracted me throughout. Parked the van farther away, counted to 30 when I walked and made me go at zero.  Joe was talking non-stop, I thought he might be paying me back for my big mouth-but it was a loving move and worked.

I can’t emphasize this enough-- If Joe and Dorothy had not been with me the last 22 miles I don’t know that I would have finished. They traded back and forth through the Lava fields and I can’t thank them enough for that.  Again and again, talking, encouraging, and pulling me.  I was stumbling, and veering, and they were consistent.  They both told me how proud they were, how much they loved me, and how happy they were to be there.  I don’t know if they had both been ‘just running’ with me  that it would have done it.  The encouragement was vital.  Ian got out with me too and he was just as militant.  I yelled at him through my tears once “PLEASE Ian…let me walk for a moment”. Common sense says OK, OK, walk.  Get some fluid in. I did, and it did not work.  With each walk, it was SO VERY hard to get going again. So I just ran the best I could.

Dorothy was relentless in helping me...

Rhonda would pull the crew van up and get out.  I would lock eyes and run to her..the closer I would get the louder her voice would be..she was yelling “DO NOT QUIT, DO NOT QUIT CHRISTIAN.” She would slap me hard, so very hard on my butt as I ran buy and it would help me so much. I love her ability to not sympathize with me.

Hillary caught me again and just I didn't care, actually I was stoked for her--she looked solid.  I was throwing up she was throwing down. Good on her.

Dorothy locked in around mile 46 and really started to keep me focused.  I had had enough.  “Just get me there Dorothy, just get me there”. My crew was so patient with me.  While running there were times I told them "Just be quiet please”. It hurt to listen and having the sound of their feet and knowing they were with me on the road was so comforting.   I began throwing up again and fell to  my hands and knees with my head on the burning pavement. I was yelling out loud...."Please Lord..give me the strength.."  Dorothy grabbed me by the back of my shorts "Get up Christian!! Let's GO!! You can pray while you run..we are NOT STOPPING AGAIN!!  Move it..."

Joe never let up with anything. HE ran with me, and always had what I needed.

I was starting to keep coke down and with the cooling water over my head every half mile I found a manageable pace. By mile 48 I realized I was going to finish-I was going to finish.

The final 2.5 miles hurt, but it sunk in again....I was going to finish.

Thomas Vonach rode next to me for a few miles and encouraged me.  Was cool to thank him at the finish.

What just happened?

Ribeiro comforted me.  I believed him and felt he knew what I was thinking.

My body was in total revolt. But I felt so wonderful.

The reason I finished.

It was over. I could not walk. My feet were shredded in horrible shape, nails were prepping to make an escape, and I felt wonderful.

I still have yet to process all of this. Where to go, when to go, why? I am so very thankful for this opportunity. To bring my family to Hawaii and race with me.  To talk to people about the Ameena Project and why it's important.  To represent my wife and her continued support.

My sponsors have been generous and behind me every step.  Thank you so very, very...very much.

Respect Your Universe, Orbea, The Athletes Lounge, Farmington Gardens, Living Fuel, Vuelta Wheels, Polar. Thank you.

Joe and Dorothy. I love you.

Chris my friend and Coach.  No way...No way this would have happened without you.

Rich Roll...Thanks for being solid.

Rhonda, Evelyn and Ian--My life.  You know everything about me, and still love me.

Jesus Christ - My savior. I am nothing, you are everything.