No matter your job, you will have great days and you will have those that do not measure up to your expectations. My race at the new Boise Ironman 70.3 on Sunday fell into the latter category. It is just as important to learn from these days as it is to celebrate you’re your best performances. I finished the race 14^th overall; however, I fell short of my expectations for the race. So it is just as much my job to understand and embrace Sunday’s race as it is any other race, to reflect, and move on.

     I must say that I did truly enjoy my trip to Boise. I always feel fortunate and blessed to show up to a race in a new destination, healthy, against great tough competitors, with my friends and family showing their support. It was also very nice to see my friend Desiree have a great day and take 2^nd in the women’s field. I had a great time in Boise and really fell for the city. I love its atmosphere, attitude, as well as the outdoor resources and beauty it has to offer. Had I thought about it before the race, I would have brought my training gear and stayed a few weeks after the race to train in this marvelous city.

     The highlight of the trip and race for me was being able to spend time with two of my closest friends, Jamey and Ehron. I’ve known both of them since elementary school and we’ve remained very close for the last twenty years. Ehron moved to Boise after college and Jamey, currently in Detroit, flew out to spend the weekend with us and watch the race. Next to my parents, Jamey has traveled to more of my races than anyone else. He came to my first Ironman in Lake Placid in 2002 and since then has come to Ironman Arizona, Kona, Steelhead Ironman 70.3, and now Boise. We stayed at Ehron’s for the weekend. Being around my buddies really made me feel at ease and took away a lot of the nerves I sometimes feel in the days leading up to a major race.

     Ehron’s house is about a five minute bike ride from downtown Boise, so we had perfect access to the race’s main venues except for the swim. The race began with the swim about twenty minutes outside of town in Lucky Peak Reservoir. Then the bike took us south to the flatter and rolling areas out of town, ending with a different bike-to-run transition directly downtown about three blocks from the state capital building. The run took us on a predominantly flat and winding paved trail around the Boise River called the Greenbelt, finishing directly in the center of downtown Boise. I thought the course was very fun. This was the inaugural Ironman Boise 70.3 so there were a few logistical glitches in the race production, but overall, I thought the race production staff did an amazing job putting together a fun and beautiful course. The support from volunteers, the city of Boise, and spectators was second to none of any race I’ve done. I think Ironman really did a superb job and have a ‘keeper’ when it comes to this race.

     Race morning was fairly cool and windy in transition perched above Lucky Peak Reservoir. The day before I had swum and it had been fairly calm, but the wind on race day kicked up a bit more surface chop. The reservoir is known for its wind and is a local kite-surfing destination. Idaho had seen record snowfalls this winter and an unseasonably cold spring so in the weeks leading up to the race, rumors circulated that the water temperature was in the high 40s or low 50s. In the ten days before the race, the water temperature had warmed nearly a degree per day giving us a starting temp of 59 degrees which is FREEZING, but very doable. I have never been a fan of cold water (to put it mildly) and in the past have intentionally avoided certain races notorious for cold water. Needless to say, I was feeling anxiety in the days before and the morning of the race due to the water temperature.

     The race organizers let the pros warm-up in the swim for about 10 minutes before the starting gun, so I got in the water and paddled around to get myself to the point where my body no longer went into the involuntary “panic gasps” that one experiences from placing your face in the cold water. In St. Croix, I felt that I had gone out too hard on the swim start, so this race I decided to ease into it a little more and let the race come to me. When the starting gun went for the male pro field, I started at a controlled pace, but immediately found myself swimming alone; it seems that I’d been in that position before. I thought I was swimming pretty well, but I the lines I was picking were not spectacular. It seemed that every time I sighted, I was well off course. I was also pleased that the lead female pro swimmers (who started two minutes behind the men), didn’t catch me until nearly the end of the swim, where in St. Croix they had caught me much earlier. When I exited the water, cold and a bit dazed, I was pretty surprised to see 32:something on my watch – my slowest half-Ironman swim in four years! I was not a happy camper.

     I’ve been swimming sets in the pool faster than I’ve ever before, my checkpoints in training have been showing improvement in the water, but for some reason in my first two Ironman 70.3 races of this year, I have been unable to translate those gains into race scenarios. I get harassed by my friends in Austin for my swimming (mostly by former competitive swimmers), but very few people know how hard I work at my swimming, how much time I spend in the water, how much instruction I’ve gotten, and the amount of effort I’ve devoted. Anyone who really knows this understands my frustration from these last two races. I was very flustered entering transition again seeing only a couple male pro bikes left on the rack. So I got on my bike and did the only think I could, tell myself that the race starts now and it was time to bike hard; that is what I did.

 
     I started the bike in 23^rd position and finished in 12^th position. I thought Boise’s bike course was a really fun time. I loved the terrain and scenery. The course started with a major descent, but then became a mixture of flats and rollers separated by a couple descent climbs. The course was fast, but I think the terrain variation prevented the packs of cyclists and obscene drafting that inevitably happens on purely flat courses. I really had fun out there. The scenery varied throughout the ride, with highlights like the Birds of Prey conservation area, a maximum security prison (I didn't pick up any hitch hikers), and a National Guard amory. For some reason, rolling by a line of M-1 Abrams battle tanks really makes you want to pound the pedals!! After my swim frustrations, everything was clicking and I entered transition feeling like I was back in the race and within striking distance of the placement I wanted.

     I haven’t gone over all the results with a fine-tooth comb, but it appears that I may have had the fastest or one of the fastest transitions from bike-to-run of anyone in the race. I was ready to go. As I ran out of transition, Jamey and Ehron were there cheering as well as the largest crowd of spectators I’ve seen around a transition area before. My friend Adam was the race announcer and was pumping up the crowd over the loud speaker. As I ran out of transition I pointed to Adam and as I turned the corner towards the run course, I heard from the loud-speakers Adam say “he’s got a lot of time to make up, but if there is anyone who can do it, it’s Pat Evoe.” Just hearing Adam announce something that cool to the crowd gave me chills.

     The first mile of the run, I was determined and felt strong. I had a few tight muscles and spots in my legs, but nothing that’s too out of the ordinary from biking hard. Then at about mile one, I felt gastrointestinal distress and unfortunately I had just passed a port-o-jon. This was not good. It’s one of those gory details about racing. Running to the next bathroom at mile #2, I started to slow and one guy passed me.

“Okay, keep him close and then after the ‘john’ I’ll pass him back again.”

     After the necessary stop at mile two, I saw that two more guys had passed me in that period. I was thinking it was time to pass them all back again. But I couldn’t get my legs turning over. I didn’t feel overly tired, but I just couldn’t get my pace back again. I was in this zone of just “blah”; it wasn’t happening. I had another unscheduled pit-stop around mile four and my stomach started to settle. For the next two and a half miles, the negative thoughts took over. I was in that place you never want to mentally get in while racing, but it happens. It’s that place of self-doubt mixed with depression. You just don’t want to be racing any more. It happens sometimes in races and once it sets in, it moves from your mind to your body and affects your racing. If this happens, the most important thing to keep telling yourself is that no matter how much you’re hating this moment, it’s not an option to drop out. At this point, I don’t think there was anything physically wrong, but I just wasn’t ‘there’. I was just cruising without purpose but didn’t feel like I could push it any harder.

     Something happened at the run turn-around. As I ran across the timing mat to start the second loop, something clicked in my head. I got mad, I mean really angry. I was angry at myself for letting myself get down on the first half of the run. I got mad at my performance. I got mad at the Pat who had run those last six miles. I got mad at all of my negative thoughts. I had let myself down and was madder at myself than I can remember. Suddenly, I clicked out of apathy. I decided that I was going to run so hard that I’d either salvage what’s left of the run, or completely blow up and walk the end. I had nothing to lose?! I had averaged a little over a 7 minute per mile pace in the first half, now as if the race was just starting, I started rolling at or under 6 minute miles. 

     I’ve never bounced-back like that in a race. It showed me how much my mental state affects my racing. I held that pace for the rest of the run and finished in 14^th place. I was frustrated with the overall results of the race, but was really happy about my biking and the way I was able to run the second half of the race, it meant there was a lot more left in the tank. I felt bad for being frustrated, but then when I thought about it, it's okay because that's the competative drive. After some post race reflection, kicking back and relaxing with my friends over a couple pints and a burger made me get over it fast. Since then, I’ve examined the day’s events, reflected on them, and have moved on. I am really excited about my upcoming races. Buffalo Springs Ironman 70.3 is in a few weeks and Ironman Lake Placid is coming in July.

     As with any job, we have to take the good days with the not-so-great days and keep perspective on life. To me, that means to be thankful that I’m able to do what I’m doing and be appreciative of those people in my life who are here to help and support me, whether they be sponsors, my family, or my friends.

     I would like to thank Little Caesars Pizza for their belief in me and my racing. I’d also like to thank Jack and Adam’s Bicycles for their endless assistance. Additionally, I want to express gratitude to Source Endurance and my personal coach from Source, Derick Williamson for our continuing work and helping to foster my growth as a person and an athlete. I am also grateful to Patrick and Tim McGrath for their support of my racing. I’d also like to thank Xterra Wetsuits, Trifacts.com, Advanced Rehabilitation, The Genesis Agency, Hill Country Running Company, and Lewis Signs, I’d also like to thank my long-time close friend Ehron for opening his home in Boise for me to stay and for being such a great host. Also a thank you to Jamey for traveling to Boise to cheer me on as he has for several other races. Without the support of my family and friends, it would not be possible for me to continue my pursuit of racing; I am appreciative of their unending support and encouragement.

Pat