Hebrews 12:1

"Let us run with endurance the race God has set before us"

The Lord is my rock

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Over the last decade I’ve been pulled deeper and deeper into the world of endurance sports. Very few of my friends and family understand what drives me to want to do the things I do. There are so many reasons why I enjoy events that push me to find new limits to what I am capable of. But the one that means the most to me is the spiritual connection that I’m able to make with God over the course of training for and participating in these events. By putting myself in situations that seem far beyond my own abilities I’m forced to fully trust in Christ. I’m forced to rely on him in ways that I don’t experience in the everyday rhythm of life. There are moments in every event where I realize that I’ve exhausted my abilities and that I cannot finish on my own. Usually those moments happen late in the race but sometimes – like this past weekend – those moments come early and often.

This past weekend I joined my friend Troy in an attempt on the Dirty 130 route. The Dirty 130 is one of the three routes that make up the Tennessee Gravel Triple Crown. Conquering the Triple Crown had been a goal of mine for 2023 but after a complete rupture of my bicep tendon in April I didn’t think it was going to happen. The bicep injury had to be surgically repaired and with the physical restrictions that I was under following the surgery I just wasn’t able to train like I needed to in order to take on these monster routes. So when Troy reached out to me last week to ask if I wanted to do the Dirty 130 over the weekend my immediate answer was “thanks but I’m not up for something that challenging right now”. But I kept thinking to myself that God had been my strength in so many situations like this and that I wasn’t truly and fully trusting him. So I texted Troy back and said “Man, I’m in!”.

I won’t bore you with a full ride report because that’s not what this is about. What I do want to share is how God used this time to remind me who he is, how he has always been my strength, has always been faithful, and that I need to fully trust in him. Throughout the ride his presence, his provision, and his strength were shown in ways that I’ve never seen before. I’d like to share a few of the ways that God showed up in a big way on this ride.

  1. Around 2:00 in the afternoon on the first day we hit a two-mile road climb. The sun was beating down on us and the heat was radiating off the asphalt. I could feel my body temperature rising with each pedal stroke. I knew if I didn’t find some relief from the heat fast I was at risk of a heat issue like heat exhaustion or heat stroke. But there was no relief in sight – no shade, no creeks, and no breeze. It was in this moment of desperation that I said “Lord, I’m in trouble. I need relief from this heat and I need it soon. Finding that relief is out of my control so I give it over to you and trust that you will provide”. Not long after my plea I rounded a corner and saw Troy sitting beside the road in a set of adirondack chairs nestled in a shaded little grove of trees. God had provided the shade and the cool breeze that I desperately needed.
  2. After cooling off we started the five mile gravel climb up Starr Mountain. I was already feeling the early stages of dehydration, down to one bottle of water, we were heading deeper into a remote area, and I had no idea where the next water source was. My legs and hands cramped the whole way up the mountain. By the time we reached the top I was in trouble again. Troy could see it and I knew it. We sat on top of Starr Mountain knowing that we could either backtrack thirteen miles to the last water source we passed or press on in hopes that we would find water on the other side of the mountain. In that moment I said “Lord, you are a faithful provider and I trust in you. I trust that you will lead me to water somewhere on the other side of this mountain”. And once again at the bottom of the mountain we found Yellow Creek. I quickly downed two bottles of water, filled them back up again, and poured cool refreshing water on my head over and over. God had once again provided in my time of need.
  3. After a restful night, we started rolling early the next morning. And for the next six hours it rained. But after the previous day’s heat we welcomed the rain. By lunch time the rain had progressed from a steady refreshing rain to a pretty severe thunderstorm. We stopped at the Reliance Fly and Tackle Shop for some rest and food and as we sat on a covered bench outside the store we heard a loud explosion. We were pretty sure it was a lightning strike and the owner came out to let us know that they had in fact just been hit with lightning. Hearing this Troy turned to me and said “I’m out. Finishing this is not worth risking my life”. I wondered if I needed to make the same choice but once again turned to the Lord and said “Lord, I know this is just a bike ride. But you have been with me in a way I’ve never felt before. If you want me to finish this I need you to be my protector.”. The rains slowed and the lightning strikes seemed more distant and I set out to knock out the last 30 miles of the ride. Within fifteen minutes the rain and lightning stopped. God had once again shown that he was my protector.
  4. After leaving the tackle shop the only major obstacle that stood between me and the finish was the 10-mile climb up Little Frog Mountain. The climb was steep and rocky – unrideable at times. The sun had come out and the rain began to evaporate. You could see the steam rising up from the ground. I covered the first four miles without any problems but by mile six my strength started to fade, the climb had become a brutal hike-a-bike, and once again I was low on water. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could carry on but the only choice I had was to keep moving forward. But how? By mile seven I was taking a few steps, resting, and then taking a few more steps. At this rate it was going to take several hours to reach the top of the climb. I stopped to rest and cried out “Lord, MY STRENGTH IS GONE. I can’t do this on my own.” And as I stood there, all of my body weight draped over my bike, eyes focused on the dark and muddy ground below me I saw this beautiful, pure, glistening white rock. Immediately I thought of Psalm 18:1 and Isaiah 1:18. At that moment I was reminded of who God was and what he had done for me. I leaned forward, picked up that rock, put it in my pocket, and started climbing again. Within the hour I reached the top and started the descent to the finish. God had once again reminded me that he was my strength, my rock, my fortress, and my deliverer.

I love you, O Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. I call upon the Lord, who is worthy to be praised, and I am saved from my enemies. Psalm 18:1-3

Come now, let us reason together, says the Lord:
though your sins are like scarlet,
they shall be as white as snow;
though they are red like crimson,
they shall become like wool. Isaiah 1:18

I don’t write much anymore. I can’t really say why. Maybe because I am self conscious about sharing these very personal encounters with God. Or because I often feel like my posts come across as self serving. Or simply because I don’t know that anyone cares to read them. But as I experienced God at work throughout this ride my thoughts kept coming back to 1 Peter 4:11 and the hope that somehow God would be glorified.

Whoever speaks should do so as those who speak God’s word. Whoever serves should do so from the strength that God furnishes. Do this so that in everything God may be honored through Jesus Christ. To him be honor and power forever and always. Amen. 1 Peter 4:11

 

 

My hero

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I want his courage in the face of fear. 

I want his strength in times of trial. 

I want his positive attitude when challenges lie ahead.

A word cloud representation showing some of the challenges Witt has faced

Wednesday marks the 11th anniversary of Witt’s heart transplant. I look back on those years and see a boy that has courageously faced things in his eleven years that terrify me. I see a boy that has accepted every trial that he’s encountered in life and tackled them all. I see a boy that is beginning to see the challenges in store for him but chooses to meet them head on with a positive attitude.

I will never be as brave as him, as strong as him, or demonstrate the positive outlook that he lives by every day. But once again, for the 10th Annual Witt’s Warriors Challenge, I will honor him and challenge myself to be a little more like him. 

These things I have spoken to you, so that in Me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world.  John 16:33

What he doesn’t know

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Eight years ago Alison and I sat in a conference room with the Pediatric Heart Transplant Team at Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital. Two days earlier we had heard doctors talking about us going home soon. But then Witt turned blue and was rushed to the ICU and put on life support. Now we were meeting to discuss evaluating Witt as a candidate for heart transplantation. Going into the meeting I was in disbelief that they could perform a heart transplant on a little baby but the team assured us that it could be done and in fact they performed heart transplants on infants regularly. We knew that Witt’s options were very limited and that a heart transplant was likely his only hope and the transplant team confirmed this. So with us in agreement to evaluate Witt for a heart transplant they began to discuss what it means to undergo a heart transplant. They outlined the risks in the transplant surgery, a lifelong increased risk for infection, an increased risk for cancer, the medications he would need to take for the rest of his life, the side effects of those medications, reviewed the 1-year and 5-year survival rates for children that undergo a heart transplant, and discussed the need for another heart transplant in the future. While all of these things weighed heavily on us we agreed to move forward with the transplant evaluation.

Two months old. On life support waiting on a new heart.

Five months later, Witt received a wonderful gift – a healthy new heart. The transplant procedure went smoothly and while the recovery was pretty rocky Witt was able to go home three weeks later. Over the last eight years we’ve watched him grow up and live a surprisingly “normal” healthy life. Sure, he’s been hospitalized several times, takes medications daily, has frequent doctor appointments, and every two years has to undergo a heart catheterization to evaluate the function of his new heart and to look for coronary artery disease (one of the risks associated). But Witt has always taken these in stride and never once complained or questioned why he needed to go through all of this. But recently, with another heart catheterization approaching, I’ve been thinking a lot about what he goes through, the risks he’s been exposed to, and the idea that he’ll need another transplant someday. As these thoughts run through my mind something has troubled me deeply. Lately I’ve thought a lot about “what he doesn’t know”. There is so much about Witt’s future that he’s too young to comprehend. Up until now we’ve not had to explain much about the tests Witt has to undergo or the medications he takes or why he seems to get pneumonia so often. We’ve tried for the most part to keep him blissfully unaware. But Witt is getting older now and he’s asking questions. Just this week I casually mentioned to Witt that he should pack some things for the hospital visit on Friday. Hearing this Witt questioned my previous statement – “wait, I’m just going to the doctor”. We had planned to tell Witt about his heart catheterization the night before but he’s getting older and more perceptive. Which means he will begin to become more aware of what lies ahead. And that weighs heavy on my heart.

But then something amazing happened. Like he had done many times before Witt showed us that you can’t let your circumstances steal your joy. Witt awoke at 4:30am the morning of his heart catheterization happy and without worry. He gathered his favorite things – white bunny, blue bunny, his Champ stuffed animal, his Nintendo DS and happily got dressed. We arrived at Vanderbilt at 6:30am as instructed and began the check in process. Witt happily answered all of the questions from the nurse, the anesthesiologist, and cardiologist. When the cardiologist began to explain what they would be doing he paused for a moment and asked if we would prefer to have this conversation in private – somewhere that Witt wouldn’t overhear what he was about to say. Thinking that he was just explaining the procedure itself I thought that it would be good for Witt to hear. But then he began to discuss the risks associated with the procedure – bleeding, abnormal heart rhythms, blood clots, infection, stroke, heart attack, embolism, and death. With each of these risks I wondered what Witt would say. Would he be scared? Would he still willingly go through the procedure? Would he question why he had to do all of this? Would he say this isn’t fair? His response totally amazed me.

Following the discussion with the cardiologist Witt enthusiastically sampled all of the flavor choices for his anesthesia gas and objectively debated the merits of each flavor before settling on a mixture of cotton candy and skittles. Then he got out of his bed and did the Village People’s YMCA dance for the doctors and nurses. He joyfully played with blue bunny and white bunny. He did all of the things that he would normally do at home. He never once showed any fear. He never complained. He never cried. And when they said that it was time to go back to the cath lab he didn’t hesitate. He hugged us and told us he loved us and calmly walked down the hallway with the anesthesiologist and nurses. Following the procedure the anesthesiologist remarked at how brave Witt had been – that the cath lab can be a little intimidating and scary but Witt walked right in, climbed up on the table, and followed their instructions happily. She said that as the anesthesia gas was administered he fell asleep to “one cotton candy and skittles, two cotton candy and skittles, three….”.

I’m sure I will continue to think about “what he doesn’t know” and it troubles me to think about the fight ahead of him but I know that whatever lies ahead that Witt will approach it joyfully and bravely. And I will continue to be inspired by how he lives his life.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Romans 15:13

Through the support of my friends and family

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This year’s Witt’s Warriors Challenge, the 7th annual, was incredibly tough. But it is complete. My buddy, Max Fort, and I set out to cycle the entire Natchez Trace Parkway from Natchez Mississippi to Nashville Tennessee (444 miles). I can’t wait to tell you all about our ride but today I want to tell you about my friends and family. People whose support and encouragement carried me through this challenge. These same friends have come to know what this annual challenge means to me and have showed up year after year to stand by my side and support me in these challenges.

Max Fort

First and foremost there is Max. A year ago when I dreamed up this challenge I think Max was a little apprehensive about the challenge. The plan was pretty ambitious and I think there were a few things that he wasn’t sure about (like sleeping in hammocks). He was interested but not sold on it. But when my family put their foot down and said I wasn’t doing this alone Max said alright I’m in.

Preparing for the challenge wasn’t easy for Max. First, he had to spend a few hundred dollars on the equipment he would need for the ride. Then, he had to try and squeeze training into an incredibly busy schedule with his new job. When the day came to leave for Natchez, Max was admittedly undertrained and I know that had him worried but he didn’t back down.

Then came the ride. On the first day we rode for ten hours in brutal heat and pulled into our first campsite in the dark, dehydrated, and completely exhausted. As we setup camp that night we talked and both were very concerned about our ability to complete this ride. I don’t think either of us believed we had a shot at finishing this. We got a little bit of sleep that night and started day two worried but hopeful. Day two was a little bit easier – mainly because it was a shorter day and we had access to cold water and supplies along this stage of the ride. In camp, I slept pretty good on the second night – so soundly that when Max had a bad asthma attack it didn’t wake me up. We woke up well before sunrise the next morning so that we could pack up camp and be on the road when the sun came up. That third day literally broke Max. We were on the bike for over eleven hours that day. Most of that in blistering heat with no access to cold water or food. By midday Max had developed pressure sores that were so bad that he couldn’t sit on his seat. Anyone else would have thrown in the towel at that point but Max kept pedaling. He tried to compensate by keeping his rear off the seat but that caused his back to strain. With two hours to go before we reached our stop for the night it got dark and started raining. At first it just sprinkled and it was a bit refreshing. But then it started pouring rain. It rained so hard we could only see the white stripe marking the shoulder of the road. Every time a car approached we were completely blinded by their headlights. It was unsafe and we needed to stop but there was nowhere to stop – no shelter for 25 miles. Max was exhausted and suffering but he kept pedaling. At one point he drifted back a hundred yards or more and I didn’t notice. I slowed and let him catch up and asked if he was ok. He told me that he was about to pass out. I watched him closely after that and kept telling him to keep it on the road, don’t crash now, and we’re almost there. Finally, we made it to Collinwood where we had rented an Airbnb for the night.

Rest and refueling at Tishomingo State Park

It was an extremely long and difficult day. Once we got dried off and got some food in us (our first meal since breakfast) Max told me he was done. I knew it was coming. He had fought so hard for hours through heat, lack of water, hunger, pressure sores, darkness, and rain. I completely understood and was just so thankful that Max had been there by my side for the first three days. I thought about that first night – how dehydrated, tired, and defeated we were. I know with absolute certainty that had I been alone I would have quit then. Max had supported me through 379 long hard miles and I will remember that forever.

Andy Johnson and Tony Alger

With Max out my family and friends knew that meant that I would be riding the last stage (90 miles) alone. With thunderstorms in the forecast it looked to be another difficult day on the bike. I didn’t want to ride in thunderstorms and darkness so I planned to leave Collinwood at first light. But when I woke up at 5am and saw that the forecast had changed I hurried and got dressed and hit the road – alone and in the dark. Shortly after sunrise I was pedaling up a hill when an oncoming car slowed and stopped out in front of my path. As I approached they rolled down the window and it was my friends Andy Johnson and Tony Alger. The night before Andy had offered to drive down and pick us up in Collinwood. I wasn’t ready to quit yet and Max’s wife would be on the way to pick him up in the morning so I told him “thanks but no thanks”. But Tony seized on Andy’s offer and told Andy to pick him up in the morning and drive him and his bike down to meet me so he could ride in with me. They must have left Franklin at 5am and met me about ten miles outside Collinwood. They brought me coffee, snacks, and plenty of water for the ride in. Tony unloaded his bike and we started pedaling. For eighty miles Tony rode along side – listening to the stories from our first three days on the Trace and offering encouragement when my legs wanted me to quit. Seven hours later we reached the terminus and were met by my family at the Loveless Cafe. I invited Tony to join us in a meal at the Loveless but Tony politely declined and hopped back on his bike for the ten mile ride home – his job was done and he needed to get back home to his family. But shortly after we arrived Andy and his whole family showed up to congratulate me and share a meal with us. I am so blessed to call Tony and Andy my friends and Brothers in Christ.

Kristen Fisher

Anyone who knows Kristen knows that she is one of the most encouraging and supportive people you will ever meet. Whatever your goals are in life Kristen will be there to cheer you on. Kristen had participated in five of the preceding challenges – only missing the one that predated our friendship – and had always been a huge supporter of me in these challenges. This year she had planned to join us in riding the final stage but due to kids activities and other conflicts was unable to do so. But, that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to support us. Knowing that water, food, and encouragement would be greatly needed on this final stage Kristen drove down and met us 50 miles into the final stage. She brought a car load of food, water, coke, and gatorade. We pulled off and refilled all our water bottles and ate a snack with Kristen and her daughter Riley and then got back on the road. As we started moving again we began to see messages that Kristen and Riley had written with sidewalk chalk on the road – some were funny and other were encouraging. It made us laugh and picked me up.

Is your bum sore?

About 25 miles from the end we stopped at Garrison Creek and followed the sidewalk chalk messages directing us to a picnic table where Kristen had left a cache of water, ice, snacks, gatorade, and cokes. This last refuel was much needed and lit the engines for the last 25 miles. As we approached the terminus we saw two helium balloons tied to the roadside signs with a final message written in chalk on the road – a funny reference to the night before when riding in the rain and how I ran over hundreds of frogs that had hopped out into the road. We laughed, tied the balloons to our bikes, and rode on to the Loveless Cafe where we were greeted by my family. I am truly thankful for Kristen’s encouragement and support. She is an amazing example of how we should lift each other up in life.

Food cache

My family

For seven years now I’ve been taking on these crazy challenges. Every year they get more and more difficult. Each year they require more time, training, preparation, and sacrifice. I try my best to work these challenges and the training they require into our family’s schedule and try to maintain a good family/work/training balance but I know sometimes they sacrifice. I know that with each year they increase the stress and worry on my family. But they know what these challenges mean to me and they offer me so much support and encouragement. They are always there to cheer me on and my kids always write me the sweetest notes of encouragement for the times when I’m struggling. This year their notes picked me up several times during the ride. I hope that they truly understand what these mean to me and hope that they find some inspiration in them. To my mom and dad, Alison, Riley, Ellery Kate, and Witt – I love you all so much and I’m so thankful for all of your support and encouragement. I could never do this without you.

Finished

Just keep swimming

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The 2012 Inaugural Witt’s Warriors Challenge was planned and training began month’s in advance. It was such an amazing experience that I began to plan the 2013 challenge while still covered in mud standing at the finish of that first challenge. With each year since I’ve planned and begun training a year in advance. I feel like this gives me purpose – a goal to work towards all year. But last year was different. I had registered for Ironman Wisconsin and it fell less than two weeks before the challenge. Unless you’re the Iron Cowboy it takes a minimum of two weeks for your body to recover from an Ironman. I struggled to come up with something that would be challenging yet be physically possible while still recovering from an Ironman distance triathlon. So I decided to spend the year training for Ironman Wisconsin with hopes that somewhere along the way an idea for a challenge would come to mind.

Already thinking about the next challenge

I trained hard all year in hopes of beating my time from the 2016 Ironman Chattanooga race. With the exception of a knee injury that kept me from running for a month my training went pretty well. During my training, I had personal records (PRs) at the Ironman 70.3 and Half Marathon distances and was feeling pretty good going into Ironman Wisconsin. But I still had no idea what I would do for the 2017 Witt’s Warriors Challenge.

Then, despite all my training and hopes, Ironman Wisconsin didn’t go well at all. Early in the swim I was crippled by horrible cramps – cramps so bad that I thought at one point I would have to flag down one of the emergency boats. Several times during the swim I had to float on my back and wait for cramps to pass. On top of the cramps I was kicked in the face, punched in the head, stiff armed, and swam over a couple times. This swim became more about survival than a quest for a a PR. Ninety minutes later I reached the end of the swim and was happy to be moving on to the bike. But unfortunately the cramps would follow me onto the bike and then later on the run I became so nauseous that I couldn’t take any more fluids or fuel. Instead of a PR I came close to quitting but eventually finished an hour behind my time from Ironman Chattanooga.

Wisconsin swim start

Back in Tennessee, I thought a lot about my race, what had happened, and where those cramps had come from. I had never experienced cramps like that during a swim. I kept coming back to the thought that the swim had derailed my entire race plan that day. When you train for a year for a race like this and go into the race with such high hopes it can be hard to move on after a bad performance. And that is when it came to me… I needed to put this swim behind me – to erase the thoughts that the swim had beaten me. For the 2017 Witt’s Warriors Challenge I would swim – swim a lot. I wouldn’t just swim the 2.4 mile Ironman distance. I would bury that distance and the thoughts of that Wisconsin swim that I couldn’t get out of my head. I would swim twice the Ironman Distance – 5 miles.

With the challenge now decided I began to think about the logistics. Ideally I would have liked to do the swim in a lake. Five miles in a swimming pool seemed pretty monotonous and boring. But to do it in a lake would require a boat and a support person and that just wasn’t going to be possible on a school/work day. So I decided that the monotony and boredom of the pool would just be part of the challenge and planned to begin my swim at the Williamson County Indoor Sports Complex at 5am on Witt’s Heart Birthday.

The day of the swim came and I arrived at the ISC a little bit before 5am so I could start as soon as the doors opened. I estimated that it would take me three to three and a half hours to complete the swim. A few of my friends showed up to get their swim workouts in and support me. I grabbed a lane, lined up my hydration and fuel (mainly gels), plunged into the water, prayed, and began my first trip across the 25-yard pool. Before the day would end I needed to make this trip 360 times. The longest I had ever swam was 2.4 miles so I had no idea what this was going to be like.

Years ago, when I first started lap swimming I had to keep my lap count in my head. If I didn’t focus on that count I would quickly forget what lap I was on. But now I had a Garmin Triathlon watch that counted my laps for me. Now my mind was free to think, dream, and pray. I settled into a rythmn – 15 strokes, touch the wall, turn, and do it again. I spent a lot of time reflecting on what Witt had been through, what a blessing these last eight years had been, and what God had done in my life through all of this. There are so many amazing facets to Witt’s story and I thought about each one of them. Most of all I thought a lot about the sweet child whose gift had made all of this possible.

The minutes and laps went by and soon I entered hour three. Other than aching in my shoulders I was feeling pretty good. Freestyle is the only stroke I can swim well and all of the shoulder rotating strokes (over 5,000 in the end) was starting to take its toll. That last hour was tough but 3 hours and 42 minutes after I started I touched the wall one last time and I was done.

This was a tough challenge for me. I spent equal amounts of time thinking, praying, and battling boredom. I got tired and my shoulder ached badly in the end. But it was the perfect challenge to close out my 2017 racing calendar and go into the offseason with the Wisconsin swim in the rear view mirror. Now my mind was free to dream, plan, and train for next year’s challenge.

Ironman Wisconsin – For Gary

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On Sunday I stood on the shore of Lake Monona nervous but confident as I waited for my wave to enter the water at Ironman Wisconsin. Nervous because in a 140-mile race there are so many things that can go wrong. Nervous because in July I had injured my knee and wasn’t able to run for four weeks. Nervous because this course was known to be more challenging than the Ironman course I raced in Chattanooga a year ago. But confident because last year I survived and finished one of the toughest Ironman races in the history of the sport. And this time I had trained even harder and my training for the most part had gone really well. Confident because the weather forecast, other than a little wind, looked ideal compared to the 100-degree temperatures I had raced in last year. Confident because the inspiration that I brought to the race that day would get me through the challenges that I would face that day. I believed that if I just executed the race that I had planned and visualized in my head I would improve on last year’s performance by an hour or possibly more.

Race morning sunrise on Lake Monona

After a long twelve month training buildup I waded out into the cold waters of Lake Monona ready to race. After treading water for a few minutes the cannon fired and we were off. At first it was a big relief to finally be racing but it didn’t take long to realize this swim was going to be tough. With 500 people all starting at the same time I expected it to get a little rough and I expected there to be some contact. What I didn’t expect was a full on MMA fight. By the time I reached the half way point I had been kicked in the face, punched in the head, grabbed several times, stiff armed, and swam over a couple times. I had drank quite a bit of water and all I could think about was just surviving this swim and getting on the bike.

Swim start

And then the cramps started. Just past the half way point my calf muscles started cramping pretty bad. I had dealt with this before and knew that if I just eased off on my kicking they would go away. But this time they didn’t. Instead the cramps spread and before I knew it my calves, hamstrings, quadriceps, and groin muscles had completely seized up. I thought… Ok… I’ve either got to get rid of these cramps or I’m going to have to tap out or I might drown. I rolled over on my back and just floated hoping that if I just rested they would go away. A minute or two later the cramps had subsided enough that I was able to roll over and ease back into some swimming. I continued to take a beating and the cramps came and went throughout the second half of the swim. As I reached the final turn buoy all I could think about was just taking it easy and making it to the swim exit. An hour and a half after the cannon went off I reached the swim exit – about five minutes longer than I had expected.

The end of the MMA fight

After a quick transition into my bike gear, I hopped on my bike for the 112-mile bike ride through some beautiful Wisconsin farmland. The Wisconsin bike course was known to be more hilly, more technical, and overall one of the more challenging Ironman bike courses. But I had trained for the hills and trained for the distance so I was confident that I would have a great bike ride – and should be able to save some legs for the run. Or so I thought. The bike started out ok. But then came the hills. On the notorious Barlow Hill I watched as riders one by one dismounted and started to push their bike up this ridiculously steep hill. I watched the lady just in front of me lose momentum and just fall over. I kept peddling – one slow crank at a time. After finally cresting the hill on Barlow I breathed a sigh of relief but the reality was I was going to face a relentless barrage of hills all day long. And as the day went on the headwinds grew stronger and stronger – to the point that even on the flats where I should have been able to recover my legs I was working pretty hard. The cramps that haunted me during the swim would continue to haunt me on the bike. At times my hamstrings would completely lock up and I’d have to stand on my pedals until I could once again bend my leg. The hills and the headwinds were wrecking my legs and I couldn’t wait to get off the bike.

Riding through beautiful Wisconsin farmland

Seven hours later I was finally riding back into the city of Madison and as I approached the city I began to formulate my run strategy. I knew my legs were tired but I viewed the transition to the run as an opportunity to salvage my race – to get back on track. So after changing into my running shoes and grabbing my run gear I set out on the run course attempting to stick to my original running plan. For the first few miles I was encouraged and seemed to be getting back on track. But then around mile seven I started getting more and more nauseous. The more I ran the more sick I got. I tried for the next two miles to run/walk through it but at mile nine I was feeling defeated. My legs were cramping, hurting, and completely spent. And I couldn’t run without getting nauseous and if I was nauseous I wasn’t going to be able to eat and drink enough to keep moving forward. So I started to walk. By mile ten my spirits were totally crushed. My race goals were out the window. And my legs hurt so much that I just wanted to quit. I passed a man lying by the road in the fetal position vomiting everywhere and I couldn’t help but wonder if that’s where I was headed. All I could think about was “how am I going to do this for five more hours?”.

Running through Camp Randall

The Wisconsin run course is a 13-mile two-loop route. At the end of the first lap you literally run down the finish chute and about 50 yards from the finish you have to turn around and start your second 13-mile lap. As I walked I thought about how difficult it was going to be making that turn and doing another lap. I began to think that if I could just make it back to the capitol – to the turn around – that I would just quit. I rationalized in my head that quitting would be ok. But I got to the capitol where competitors pick up their run special needs bags before starting their second 13-mile lap. I opened up my bag, decided to pass on the snickers bar that I had packed, and pulled out the envelope that I had put in my bag. I opened the envelope and there was the picture of my friend Gary and my son Witt. Gary and Witt had both fought through so much adversity in their lives. Witt, the inspiration for my last Ironman, was a heart transplant recipient that had fought through so much. And Gary had suffered a massive stroke in April and fought through numerous setbacks in his recovery. I was racing in honor of Gary that day and the realization hit me that quitting was not option. So I took that picture and I started my 2nd lap.

The heartbreaking 2nd lap turn around point

Witt and Gary – the picture that I carried with me those last 13 miles

With another four hours ahead of me I started to come up with ways to pass the time and motivate me to keep moving forward. I spent a lot of time looking at that picture of Witt and Gary. I spent a lot of time praying and talking with God. And I spent a lot of time trying to put my present suffering into perspective. Yes, my legs hurt and my feet were killing me. I was exhausted and starting to get really cold. I still couldn’t eat or drink anything and was growing more and more dehydrated with each passing hour. But I began to look at it from a different perspective. The realization hit me that in a matter of hours I would, God willing, run or walk down a finish chute lined with people cheering me on as I crossed the finish and my present suffering would be over. But there are plenty of people facing challenges far more daunting than this. And for them their race was a life long fight. I thought about the race that lie ahead of Gary and what he would have to overcome in his fight. And with these thoughts my burden got a little lighter and my pain a little more bearable.

I kept moving forward, walking a good bit with my friend Kevin, and eventually the capitol building came into view – signaling that my race was almost over. I rounded the capitol, began my walk down the finisher chute, stopping along the way to congratulate my friends Max, Tony, and Kristen on their finish, and then continued my walk down the chute. As I stepped on the red carpet I was overwhelmed with emotion thinking about this race and thinking about my friend Gary. Gary has always talked about God’s faithfulness and it was never more real than in that moment. I stopped there at the edge of the carpet, took a knee, and prayed for a minute. As I stood back up I took one last long look at my picture of Gary and Witt and walked the last 25 yards across the finish line.

Overcome with emotions

Ironman Wisconsin was tough. It took everything I had that day. During the race I hit lows that I’ve never experienced in a race before. But there were also some really special moments. The Ironman camera crews captured the moment when I knelt on the red carpet and when I look at that photo today I can still feel the emotions that I experienced that night. This race was for my friend Gary – a man that faithfully and honorably lives out Hebrews 12:1 every day of his life. I love you Gary!

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us,  fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. Hebrews 12:1

 

For you Gary

My faithful friend Gary

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Gary and Diane – celebrating Witt’s 1st birthday

This is my friend Gary – Gary Benz. Chances are you know Gary already. I met Gary sometime after we moved to Franklin in 2004. For a few years we were merely acquaintances. I knew him as our very friendly neighbor that loved to make people laugh and would do crazy things to put a smile on someone’s face. But then in 2010 I started to get to know Gary better and over the years he has become a big influence in my life. Let me tell you about the Gary I know.

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One in one hundred

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By now, you’ve probably seen Jimmy Kimmel’s emotional monologue where he talks about the recent birth of his son Billy. Within hours of his birth Billy was diagnosed with a severe congenital heart defect (CHD) known as Tetralogy of Fallot with Pulmonary Artresia. At three days old doctors at Children’s Hospital of Los Angeles performed open heart surgery on Billy to repair one of the defects in his heart. Some time in the next six months Billy will face another open heart surgery and then later in his teens he’ll need another less invasive procedure to further repair his heart.

I was glad to hear Jimmy share the story about his son’s CHD. It gave CHDs a moment in the spotlight. For a few days everyone was talking about CHDs and writing about CHDs. I’m sure it prompted a surge in contributions to CHD related charities. But the thing is… CHDs have been and continue to be the #1 form of birth defects – affecting 1 in every 100 babies born. It continues to be the #1 cause of infant deaths in the U.S. Every year 100-200 children die due to undiagnosed heart defects. There currently is no cure for CHDs – only palliative surgeries and treatments. CHDs need more than just a moment in the spotlight. The CHD community needs your support in an ongoing way – with a dogged determination to change this picture. They need you to help spread awareness. They need you to donate to organizations that support CHD research, funding, and legislation. They need you to know that for every story that hits the national spotlight there are 1,000 other children fighting CHDs that need your help.

So here is what I’m asking you to do today. First, share this blog post. Share it on your social media. Share it in conversation with friends. Share it so that everyone understands the fight that is being waged against CHD. Second, I need you to give. This Sunday, Tony Alger, Max Fort, and I will be racing in the Ironman Chattanooga 70.3 triathlon. And then in September we’ll be racing Ironman Wisconsin together. We race because we enjoy the challenge. We race to honor warriors battling CHDs and angels whose fight is over. And we race to raise awareness and money for oganizations like the Pediatric Congental Heart Association (PCHA) – an organization that supports CHD education, research, and advocacy. Our goal is raise a total of $2,000 for PCHA between now and September and would like to hit $1,000 before our race on Sunday. Right now we’re $475 short of our goal for Sunday. Please join us in this fight with a tax deductible contribution to PCHA.

Racing for CHD Awareness and Funding

Racing for CHD Awareness and Funding

I will give them a heart to know that I am the LORD

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Today we’re celebrating Witt’s 7th birthday and thinking about what a blessing his life has been. Two things stand out about Witt’s life so far. First, it has been obvious from his birth that the hand of God has been on Witt. Second, while Witt is only seven years old and often seems distracted and in his own world he is wise beyond his years and often surprises us with a level of understanding about things that blows us away.

And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. Ezekiel 36:26


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My Ironman Journey

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Twelve months ago I began a journey. A journey more physically and mentally demanding than anything I’d ever done. For twelve months I had trained harder than I ever have. For twelve months my thoughts had been dominated by the journey I was on and the goal at the end. For twelve months I had answered the 4am alarms. And I had pushed through the pain of torn bulging discs and aches and pains in my knees, hips, and ankles. I knew in my heart that I had put in enough training and was ready to finish this race strong. Over the last year I had swam 106 miles, biked 4,469 miles, and ran another 850 miles. But after seeing the race day forecast of 95-100 degree heat my confidence was shaken and my mind was constantly occupied with doubt and fear. I desperately wanted the answer to the question… Will I cross this finish line and be declared an “Ironman”?

Ironman Chattanooga Finish Line

Ironman Chattanooga Finish Line

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