I love to compete. There is nothing like training your body to perform at peak level, or learning to perfect the skills of a sport to beat other competitors. But at a certain point, you realize racing offers something more profoundly personal. It is an opportunity to evaluate how you approach everything you strive for in life. This, to me, is the true gift of racing.

As I head into the last stretch of the 2019 international surfski racing season, I find myself reflecting on why I am racing and what motivated me to take surfski so seriously in the first place.

In 2012, at the age of 22, I failed to qualify for the London Olympics in whitewater slalom kayaking. The Olympics had been a dream of mine since I was 12 years old and after a decade-long pursuit, I fell short at the Olympic Trials. Despite my many successes in several years of racing, and the incredible journey I had taken, I saw my paddling career in as a complete failure. What’s more, my goal had become so blended with my identity that not reaching it left me feeling like I was a failure as a person.

To fill the hole whitewater kayaking left in my life, I found the sport of surfski through my good friend DJ Jacobson. I instantly fell in love with surfski and delighted in the trill of learning a new sport and progressing quickly. However, when it came to racing, I still felt the residual burnout from whitewater. I needed a break so I stopped training and racing altogether, but after a year without either I realized that I still did have a hunger to compete.

In 2016, I made the life decision to dedicated myself to surfski racing for three years and see how fast and competitive I could become. I set a goal to see if I could win an international race, but this time, unlike my whitewater career, I would appreciate the journey and truly revel in the chance to live the life of a professional athlete.

In the beginning it was easy. As I returned to training my fitness improved on almost a weekly basis. Since I had few expectations of myself in racing, every event felt like a success regardless of how I placed. As time went by my expectations for myself slowly intensified and it became hard to cope with poor results. Despite my intension to right the wrongs of my whitewater racing attitude, it was hard not to feel shaken by my perception of failure.

Every serious athlete has to deal with the mind game if success and failure, and no two athletes go about it the same way. This is where the sport teaches you how to overcome your own demons — or not. For me, the journey hinged on my goal. Like the Olympics, I set a difficult goal to challenge myself, but my mood, motivation, and outlook on my journey were externally governed and rose and fell hard with each race results.

To combat this roller coaster, I turned inward and focused each day on simply improving as much as I could. Each day was a personal challenge and if I gave everything I had to progress towards that goal, my day was a victory. This was a hugely important piece for me, but even this transformational element felt like only part of the solution. When it came to race day, instead of the confidence and pride I felt during training, I became afraid. I worried that poor results might shatter the feeling of “success” my days of work had cultivated in isolation.

I felt stuck. I needed a goal to push myself to the limit and get the most out of my training every day, but if this goal was such an important driving force, how could I not be devastated if I fell short?

It wasn’t until I came seconds away from winning the Gorge Downwind Championships this past year that I realized the piece that had been missing. Coming just 7 seconds from winning (and thinking at one stage that I was going to win) gave me the clarity to ask myself what would have been my next step if I had won? After achieving my ultimate goal of winning an international race would I have just quit on the spot? Would I have been satisfied and never set myself another goal? Of course not! There would have to be another goal, to win the World Championships, for example, or win three international races in a season.

And there it was. My goal would never be some holy grail of achievements, acknowledged by the entire world as the true measure of my success. My goal was simply a tool. A tool I could use to get the most out of myself, push that little bit further when I hurt and get back up after falling short.

My problem had come from confusing the tool of having a goal with the purpose of the entire endeavor, which was to see what I was capable of doing and be happy with myself for trying - “win” or “lose.”

And so, as I approach the final races of the 2019 season, I am revisiting the intentions I set in 2016 to motivate my racing. I have done everything in my power over the last 4 weeks to prepare myself and I am ready to chase the podium and ultimately the win. This time though, my hunger to win is my tool. I will not be afraid of falling short, because if I use the tool correctly and give the race my all, then my finishing position has nothing to do with my success. I will have already achieved what I set out to do when I started this journey.

The 2019 Lighthouse to Lighthouse Race (L2L) was a fun weekend celebration for watersport athletes and those who love the ocean. This is my 3rd year competing in the L2L and each year it gets more exciting. 2019 saw over 150 athletes competing in everything from rowing shells to outriggers, SUPs to surfskis all determined to  test their skills against athletes from all over the East Coast. While international racing is one thing, watching surfski rise in popularity in the united states is a personal thrill for me. With the L2L surfski event holding the title of East Coast Surfski Championships, the L2L is a key race in the US inspiring and encouraging new athletes to come out and try the sport.

Created and run by Gary Williams, the L2L welcomes all crafts, spreading a variety of events over two days of racing. This year, the two days could not have been more different. Saturday dawned with dark, ominous, cloud-filled skies and winds that churned up Long Island Sound. The Coastal Rowing events slated for Saturday were not for the faint of heart as brave crews battled stormy seas throughout the day. I didn’t race on Saturday, but I went out for a training paddle and battling upwind was like running on a treadmill, very little forward progress was made.

Even though I didn’t race, I was able to be a part of the racing, I hosted a surfski clinic on Saturday. Thanks to PTX Partners, who sponsored the L2L, my clinic was open and free to anyone who registered for the race. I structured the clinic like a Ted Talk breaking down what I believed to be the most vital elements of surfski, everything from the basics of the flatwater stroke to how to create and structure a training program.

When Sunday came around, it couldn’t have been more of a contrast to Saturday, clear, blue skies, brilliant sun, warm-almost hot weather and not a puff of wind. The sound, which was a choppy mess the day before, was a mirror on race morning, not a puff of wind to be seen. It was going to be hard work to get through the 14miles course. My goal for the race was to start hard, dictate the pace from the front early and then modulate my effort from there. The race started well.

Flavio Costa had an impressive start, frustrating my desire to easily take the lead. We were head-to-head for the first minute and then I ratcheted up the pace to take the lead. Flavio dropped to my wake and after another minute I kicked again. I was just able to peel him off my wash. With another hard push I entered clear water and distance myself from Flavio and my pursuers. Alone and with 13.5 miles left to go, I brought down the pace and settled into a comfortable rhythm. I was able to maintain control of the race and finish with a comfortable lead. Flavio stamping his authority on second place.

What was special about the L2L this year was not the beautiful scenery, not the two iconic lighthouses, nor was it the thrill of the lead, it was the people. My next hour of paddling was a testament to Gary’s incredible vision and hard work. As the race was released in waves (surfski athletes being one of the last groups to race), I was able to paddle with over a hundred people in boats of all different kinds. Moving up through the field and seeing many racers twice, as the course was an out and back, gave me a true appreciation of how many people had come to compete in the ocean. Gary once told me, “there are few things more satisfying to me than seeing folks out in open water – in any craft. Gets in my bones.” I couldn’t agree with him more. Being in the midst of a mass of excited athletes was truly the most gratifying thing about the 2019 L2L.

Summer racing is over and my heavy volume training is back in full swing. I started gearing things back up in early August to get ready for the Fall races (Lighthouse to Lighthouse and Irish Coast Paddling Championships). With Lighthouse to Lighthouse coming up this weekend, I thought it would be interesting to write about how I fuel my body during these weeks of high volume and high intensity training.

Before we dive into my nutrition, I want to explicitly say that this is not an attempt to convert anyone or push my “diet” as the be-all and end-all solution. This post is merely a chance to share the nutritional approach that I use and how it’s worked for me the past two years.

As an athlete, I have always eaten relatively healthy, trying to avoid processed foods and stick to organic, whole foods whenever possible. Until a few years ago, however, I struggled to know exactly what and how much my body needed to not just be healthy, but perform optimally. I eventually contacted a friend and nutrition/health coach (Kelsey Graham) and asked her opinion on what to do.

She had me log my eating for two weeks and, after taking a look, she deduced that I was undereating in an attempt to stay “lean.” Beyond that I wasn’t consuming nearly enough carbohydrates to fuel, sustain, and recover properly from my training. I was shocked, but intrigued. I took a leap of faith and over the next few weeks I implemented her suggestions, while tracking my energy levels, training performances and weight. After a month of testing, it was pretty obvious; she was right!

With a higher-calorie, carb-focused diet and intentionally consuming at least half my calories before noon, I was I was able to lose fat, sustain energy levels throughout the day and perform at a higher level in afternoon training sessions. Since then, I have used this fueling approach for all of my demanding training blocks and I find that sticking closely to it can really be the difference between absorbing a hard week of training and falling apart.

As boring as it is, I try to keep my diet as regular and easy as possible. Below is a rough outline of what I eat on a typical training day.

Training Day

Breakfast:
Oatmeal
Milk
Granola
Coffee
Berries

Lunch 1:
White rice
grilled chicken breast

Lunch 2: Burritos
Veggies
Black beans
Eggs
Tortillas
Avocado
Salsa

Lunch 3:
White rice
Grilled chicken breast

Dinner:
Grilled salmon
Grilled veggies
Watermelon
Mixed salad

Snacks (usually after workouts):
Banana
Milk
Apple
Rx Bars

Total Calories: 3800

Macro Breakdown (approximate)
Carbs: 575 – 60%
Fat: 90 – 22%
Protein: 165 – 18%

The Gorge Downwind Champs (GDC) is a festival and celebration of downwind paddling and racing. Thanks to the visionary efforts of Carter Johnson (the event creator and organizer), the GDC has become a colossal event in our sport with over 750 spots selling out within 48 hours. Athletes travel from all over the country and the globe to compete in what has become the largest downwind event on the planet.

I have raced this event every year since its debut in 2015. That first year, despite not feeling fit, managed a shocking 4th place finish. Since then, I have returned every year, fitter, faster and hungrier, hoping that I would finally finish on the podium. I finished 4th place in 2016, 2017 and 2018. Coming to the race this year, I once again hoped for something different.

Race Morning

From the moment I woke up race morning, this year felt different. Usually, the excitement and anxiety from the race defeat me before I start. In years prior, I had slept horribly the nights before the race and felt a near panic about messing up my race. This year, I slept well and awoke relaxed and refreshed. What’s more, I didn’t feel worried about making a mistake in the race, I just wanted to be out there competing. When the race finally did start at 12:45pm, I had been ready to go for hours!

This year, the wind wasn’t the legendary 35 knots from 2018, but with consistent 20 knot wind over the whole course, I knew we would be surfing from start to finish.

Ready, Set, GO!

As soon as the start was called, Macca Hynard fired off the line. He jumped the first wave, linked onto the second and left the field scrambling behind him. Kenny Rice, Cory Hill and I tore after him down the middle of the river. Despite his lead, Macca settled in a rhythm, giving Cory the opening to pull up even with him, Kenny and I in pursuit just behind. Shocked that no one else was around us, I realized that this might very well be the four person fight for the podium. But my assessment was premature. A quick glance to the left revealed Sam Norton absolutely flying on an inside line. This was going to be a dog fight. In years past, this frantic pace off the line was where I would lose touch with the leaders. I ramped up my pace, determined to stay in the fight.

Sam’s speed and inside line proved to be more than just an early threat. He hammered into the lead and at one point looked like he would leave us behind. Cory not wanting to let him get away, cut left and joined Sam on the inside line, leaving Macca, Kenny and I to battle up the middle. I decided to not follow them and stick with my race line. The waves weren’t massive, but they were enough to keep me from chasing Sam and Cory in the river eddy. I hoped that with over an hour left to race, surfing well and conserving some energy would pay off more than a slightly quicker line.

As we rounded the first major bend in the river, marking 4 km into the race, our lines converged. Macca, Kenny and I pushed hard around the bend and closed Sam and Cory’s lead. Suddenly, we were all back together and we weren’t just close, we were comically close. Sam was still holding onto the lead, but Cory and Kenny were surfing just one wave back, flanked by Macca and I one wave further back. The top five positions had all converged into a flying V pattern. I could practically touch everyone but Sam with my paddle.

For the next few minutes we stayed in this tight formation. Every move made by one athlete was countered by the other 4. However, because we were all so close, the others were limiting the options of where I could surf and neutralizing my biggest advantage. What’s more, with 5 athletes so close, if we stayed like this to the finish, a simple mistake could see any one of us in 5th place instead of on the podium. I decided to take a gamble. I cut left and surfed into my own water. I knew these waves and I knew I was capable of challenging the others in the surf. It was time to prove it. I put the others out of my mind and just focused on the wave patterns around me.

I settled into a trance, scanning for openings in the waves, pushing when I saw one, then immediately relaxing again after my sprint. I pushed over and over again until I pushed over one too many waves and watched my heart rate peak to 181 beats per minute (bpm). “Calm down,” I told myself, “you are not even half way!” With my lactic threshold at 178 bpm, I knew that a sustained push in the 180s could be catastrophic to my race. I gathered myself on the wave and took the opportunity to check in with my competitors. To my surprise, I was sitting in second. Kenny had come with me on the left line and we had separated ourselves from the group. Cory and Macca were still close on our heels, but we had definitively moved into the lead. What’s more we had reached the point in the race where Kenny, two time defending champion of the Gorge, had made his definitive break for the lead. If I could just hang on to him, I might be able to hold onto this second place.

I surfed over to him, pushing hard to keep in touch. With my adrenaline spiking, I managed to push onto the wave next to Kenny. My momentum kept me moving and, spotting another opening, I sprinted again. I crested over the wave and, wait … I was one wave ahead of Kenny. I looked around stunned. There was no one else around me. I WAS WINNING!!! The thought struck me like a physical blow. For the first time in my life, I was in the lead of a major international race. I almost let out a yell of excitement. It only lasted a second, however, as Kenny jumped up beside me and then skipped ahead. I shook my head to refocus. While leading a race had been a long time goal for me, there were more goals on the table and if I wanted to finally break onto the podium, the half way point was hardly the place to celebrate.

Kenny surged hard again and his one wave lead became two, then three. I looked around and Macca and Cory were right on my heels. “Ok, Austin, focus!,” I hissed to myself. I pushed Kenny from my mind. He was charging ahead to his third Gorge title and that was fine. His lead was no longer my concern. I needed to focus on surfing. And maybe, just maybe, I could hold onto this second place.

I surrendered to the pain of the race and the rhythm of the waves and gave it everything I had. Once again, I forgot my competitors and fell into the trance of downwind surfing. I pushed for every opening, giving my sprints all I had and using every ounce of speed the waves offered. I made no mistakes. I let the kilometers slip by, only registering them as lap beeps on my watch, indicating another had passed.

When I finally did look around, I couldn’t see anyone. From what I could see, none of the top guys were near me. Kenny wasn’t in sight ahead, but at the same time I couldn’t see the athletes behind me. Wait, what was that to my right? I finally spotted a black boat off to my right, “it must be Macca,” I thought and my heart sank. Though we were roughly even, he was maybe a wave ahead and having made up that much ground on me, he was clearly going to leave me behind. I looked over again to check his movement. Wait, that wasn’t Macca, it was Kenny! I had somehow reeled Kenny back in. I was still in this race for the win!

I put my head down and went back to surfing. Every few waves I would look over at Kenny, expecting him to have pulled ahead, but every time I looked he was right there. We held even for the next three kilometers. It was extremely hard to tell who was in first on such radically different lines, but with a bottleneck in the river approaching, we would soon see who was leading.

When our lines finally merged, we were dead even. Kenny looked so strong. It was obvious why he had won this race twice in a row. I was pushing my limit to stay with him, but if I could just hold on, I was less than 16 minutes away from possibly winning. The next three kilometers of racing were surreal. Kenny and I seemed to be perfectly matched. I would push hard and surf ahead, only to have him answer with a surge of his own. We traded the lead back and forth, weaving to the right and left of each other. Each one of us trying to make a move that would solidify a win, neither of us able to shake the other. It looked like we were destined to battle it out to the last seconds of the race.

And then with the race finish in sight, I made the mistake that cost me the race. The media boat that had been following our battle moved up ahead of us. I was focusing on the runs and didn’t pay attention. Kenny, who was aware of his surroundings, pushed hard catching the boat wake and jumping ahead. I had been just behind him, almost tapping his stern and suddenly he was gone. My heart sank.

I pushed hard to try and catch back up, but I had run out of waves and time. The conditions flattened out in the last few minutes and Kenny’s dominance could not be denied. He held me off, despite my best effort and I finished 6 seconds back in a close 2nd place.

Though, gutted to have come so close and finish the race just feet away from my first win. I could not have been happier! I had taken the King of the Gorge to the line, held the lead of the Gorge Downwind Champs for the first time in my life, and gone wave for wave in a race battle I will always remember. A huge smile split my face and I claimed it.

Final Results:

1. Kenny Rice
2. Austin Kieffer
3. Cory Hill
4. Macca Hynard
5. Sam Norton

Surfski races are usually far and wide apart, occurring on different continents around the globe. So it is a treat to be able to compete this summer in two back-to-back international races in North America: the Canadian Downwind Champs in British Columbia and the Gorge Downwind Champs in Oregon. While conditions always differ, I took this opportunity to fine-tune my strategy for both races in hopes of going neck-and-neck with the best paddlers in the world. This is my goal in every race, to prove to myself that I am capable of being a top competitor. When I first began surfski I was excited to inch up the ladder of success, but being routinely within the top five or six paddlers to cross the finish line seemed an impossible dream. After spending the past couple of years honing my skills, working on my weaknesses and refusing to give up despite setbacks, I finally feel a measure of confidence — but anything can happen. This is why I love to race.

With a solid field of international competitors coming to the Canadian Downwind Champs race, I knew I would need a fast start and well-executed race to hope for a top 5 finish. Before the race, I decided on my strategy. First, I would line up next to the reigning leader, Sean Rice, and bank on his speed to help me to the hotspot. I also wanted to make sure to line up on his downwind side so I could maximize any waves and then easily surf back to his wave while still staying on his side wash. The wind was expected to blow. From the hotspot (1.5km into the race), my plan was to gather myself in the waves then push my surfing threshold. I was feeling confident after my recent training trip to Hood River and I was hoping to test my downwind racing and not my flat water endurance.

After my warm-up, I was greeted by an absolute mess at the start line. Everyone was bunched up, knocking paddles and boats, and refusing to give an inch as the field tried to line up. After several failed attempts at getting a spot near Sean, I eventually gave up. Ruining my start because of athletes boxing me out or paddling over me was not the way I wanted to start my race.

I swung out wide and lined up on the far side of everyone. Finally, in a bit of calm space, I prepared myself for what I knew would be a furious dash to the hotspot. When the horn sounded, I took off hard and gravitated to Mackenzie Hynard (Macca) and Sean to my right. The three of us were head-to-head and leading the charge. Macca quickly deferred to Sean and dropped to his wash. He slid into the spot I was hoping for and I settled for Macca’s wash, dropping back slightly. I felt strong, but I was nervous about the position (I was upwind, on a second wave and not drafting the person leading). In the heat of the moment, I decided that a better draft position was worth burning some energy. Worried that Macca would block a surge past him on his left and we would waste energy competing for the same spot, I slowed down enough to move behind Macca then surged right of him. With a big push, I was able to catch up to Sean and settle into the pace.

About 500 meters into the race, I saw Tom Norton’s bow and then (his brother) Sam Norton’s boat. They looked strong. I held to Sean for a kilometer, but after surging at the beginning and again to pass Macca, I was beginning to feel cooked. I knew things would get worse if I didn’t back off just slightly. I slowed and the four leaders slipped away. Sam showed his form and not only surged to the lead, but held on to take the hotspot with Kenny, Tom, and Sean all in close formation around him. I rounded the hotspot just behind them in 5th position. I looked down the course and saw the moment of truth … the waves were much smaller than I hoped. In fact, they were tiny!

In surfski racing, small waves are of no help at all. Ideally, big waves assist your pace while giving you a bit of a rest. With small waves, however, you have to exert more energy to pull over each one if you want to keep your race speed up. And with the wind so mild, traveling with it feels more like you are in dead calm conditions rather than getting cooled off by a breeze.

My flat water skills are decent, but I had been training for the Gorge race and hoping Canada would be windy. Despite Kenny, Tom and Sam charging on the inside direct line (the line I had originally planned on taking), I decided to aim wide. My hope was that if the wind built, the waves would be best in the center. I tried to find a rhythm, pushing at every opening I could see and milking every ounce of speed out of the bumps. I kept tabs on the other four ahead of me and though we were all on different lines, we seemed to be holding pretty even. I was on the widest line in 5th position, Kenny, Tom and Sam battled for the podium on the inside line and Sean was between us in 4th.

It was hard to pay attention to my paddling while constantly watching the others, so I refocused on what I was doing. After the fast start, I knew it was reckless to try clawing and climbing over everything. If I went over my lactic threshold my body would soon crash. While trying to snake my way through the waves as quickly as possible, I also had to keep an eye on my heart rate to stay in my desired race zone. After a few kilometers of heads down paddling, I looked over to see that I had pulled level with Sean. Further out to my right were Kenny, Tom and Sam but they were on such a different line I couldn’t tell if I was gaining or losing ground against them. And then the wind started to build, my cue to start pushing my pace. I knew how to surge hard to make more ground and rest on the waves while still making good progress through technical steering. Just before the point (marking 13km in and 8km to go), I pulled ahead of Sean. My speed spiked and the waves were finally good!

As we began to round the point, we all came together again. Kenny had a slight lead, but Tom, Sam and I seemed to be roughly even. They were on the inside of the turn, but the waves were definitely better where I was. I figured that if I used the waves to slingshot the outside of the turn, I might be able to surf into second place. And that is when the waves began to die. They didn’t just die down, they disappeared! Suddenly, in nearly dead flat water, I found myself on the outside of a big turn. Cursing, I tried to close down the turn and pull into the other paddlers’ line, but by the time we finish the turn, they are comfortably 50 meters ahead. Plus, Sean powered up and pulled just slightly ahead. I thought about slotting in behind him, but he was too strong in the flat conditions. We were all in a line, shockingly close, maybe 30 seconds separating Tom in 2nd place from me in 5th. The race directors advised that the fastest line was the slightly longer line that took races off course, but allowed them to avoid the oncoming river current.

As the top three swung wide, Sean and I chose instead to take the direct line to the finish. It was a risky move to go against conventional wisdom, but it was the only possible way to catch the leaders. Sean and I started to push. Any hope I was holding in the back of my mind for the wind to pick back up was gone. We were in for a slog to the finish. After grinding away for 3km, I realized our line not going to pay off, but Sean’s “fire up” had more kick than mine. I doubled down and kept pushing for the last kilometers. Each stroke was painful, but I finally made it to the finish line and punched my ticket for a solid 5th place performance. In less than a week I would be coming to the Gorge Downwind Champs race ready and excited to put myself to the test once again.

Surfski, like any sport, requires hard work and discipline. But just as importantly, an athlete has to learn how to lose. Success doesn’t come without setbacks, as any champion will tell you. You have to keep looking forward and not let those moments define you. Once you have the physical skills to win, you need the mental fortitude to keep fighting.

This is one area I find most challenging. I have never had a problem making myself train hard. I can set up outrageous workout programs, sometimes to the point of overtraining. What I have learned over the years is the importance of knowing how to train my mind, especially after a disappointing race. The goal is to stay physically balanced as well as mentally tough.

If you aren’t blessed with an innate bloodthirsty desire to crush your opponents, then you have to go to battle with yourself. Rather than beat myself up with punishing workouts after losing a race, I had to learn a new strategy that worked for me, what I refer to as “reset.”

The Molokai Challenge in Hawaii this May is a good example. After spending months pursuing one of the best training build-ups of my life, finishing the race well below my potential was a huge blow.

In the past I would immediately start training hard after a disappointing race to tackle things I needed to fix, convincing myself that harder was better. This typically delayed my ability to bounce back. I have since found more appreciation for the time it takes to properly heal the body and mind.

When I returned home from Hawaii this time, I made a point of giving myself plenty of time to recuperate. Knowing that I would need a lot to physically recharge (and maybe more to overcome my mental dip), I programmed a week of full and active recovery. But when I finally got back on the water, my sessions were way off my standard paces. Plus my confidence and mood refused to rebound.

More and more, I am finding a strong link between my mental and physical state. I know now that when I find myself in the weeds I need to totally reset. With this year’s surfski race season now in full swing for the Northern Hemisphere, it was crucial for me to bounce back as quickly as possible.

Four Step Reset:

1) More Time Off

Despite my initial desire to get back in the flow of training, I forced myself to take another 3-4 days completely off. The key for me is to trust that even though I want to be faster and fitter, rest is actually what I need. I put my boat away and didn’t think about training or racing or even paddling for at least 72 hours. The only thing I tried to focus on were my nutrition, my sleep and the other wonderful things in my life.

2) Enjoy Paddling

While I love solo grinding, my favorite paddling is competitive sessions with friends. After my time off, I asked a friend of mine in San Diego if he wanted to go out for an ocean paddle. While we were not paddling on the same level, he came out with his competitive spirit blazing, I strapped some resistance weight to my boat, and we had a battle.

It was a gorgeous day and we were treated to an unexpected downwind and a pod of nearly 50 dolphins joined us. It’s hard not to enjoy a paddle like that. As usual, I couldn’t help appreciating how lucky I am to compete in this sport and live in a place where I can take advantage of the Pacific Ocean on a daily basis. The joy was back. Now I could start training again.

3) Build Momentum

Whenever my confidence is shaken, one of my go-to mantras is “start with small wins and let small wins build to big wins”. By that I mean, instead of expecting to go out and smash a time trial or marker workout with a personal best, I need to start with daily, easily-attainable goals. I started small, with goals like nailing my nutrition for the day, sleeping 8+ hours, meditating, working out any tightness on the foam roller, mobility work, prehab shoulder exercises, and simply completing the workouts on my schedule (not caring about pace).

Once I started knocking down wins, I let the momentum build by setting more ambitious goals. For example, instead of just completing a workout, I tried to improve my paces from the session prior. Or instead of daily nutritional success, I aimed to stick to my nutrition routine three days in a row. The goals gradually built.

By the time I traveled up to the Columbia River Gorge in Oregon to train for the Downwind Champs race, I was competing in Race 3 of the Vortex Series and feeling like my old self. In fact, I crushed my personal fastest time ever on the Viento to Hood River course there.

4) Fatigue Buffering Training

The final piece of the confidence puzzle for me was not to let myself slip backwards. I knew that with the latent fatigue from the Molokai race, overdoing it could not only be disastrous physically but would seriously shake my confidence. Therefore, I structured a very conservative training program.

Instead of a full week of intensity and volume and one rest day on Sunday, I switched to an on/off training schedule: one day on, followed by one day off. For the on days I would go hard, completing a challenging interval session in the morning and pushing with what I had left on the ocean in the afternoon.

On the off days, I would only do active recovery. This varied depending on how I felt, but the rule was to not do any workouts or intensity of any kind. When I was feeling good, I would go out for an easy 10km paddle, but if I felt beat down, I would stick to just foam rolling, mobility stretches, and light yoga.

The first week felt excessive with three rest/active recovery days following my chunk of off days during my “reset.” However, while I may have left some fitness gains on the table, I accomplished my goal and was able to get back to feeling like myself without backsliding into overtraining.

In the end, my restrained programming allowed me to crush a brutal week-long training camp at the Columbia River Gorge. Now I am feeling charged and ready for the races ahead.

The Conditions:

One of the things that makes Molokai so challenging is that the conditions can vary so dramatically. It can be punishingly hot and flat where athletes must grinding across a mirror like ocean or the wind can blow like a tropical storm and churn the channel into a frothing mess. This year conditions were nearly perfect. Temperatures were in the mid 80s F ( high 20s C) with winds from the East/Northeast pushing at 15-20 knots across the channel. The wind was strong and consistent enough to generate possible record breaking speeds, but not so strong as to send the ocean into chaos. The launch from the starting beach was a little trickier than usual with big swell rolling in on race morning, but luckily there was plenty of time between waves and sets and if timed properly getting out to the start line was straight forward. This year, anyone lucky enough to line up for the Molokai Challenge was in for a treat (I’m not saying it wasn’t shaping up to be a soul crushingly tough battle, I’m just saying at least you would be happily surfing while you suffered).

The Race:

When the gun finally did go off, the field tore off the line. With near perfect downwind conditions and a big cash prize for the man and/or woman who could win while setting a new course record, everyone shot out hard from the word go. The first few minutes were rough. Of course they were not “rough” found in traditional surfski races, the too-fast-for-comfort rough that comes after a healthy dose muscle burning speed and money on the line for athlete with the fastest first kilometer to the hotspot. No, the start of the Molokai was a different kind of rough. A rough that comes after. After a scramble out to a leading position, after checking around and feeling comfortable that the race favorites were in touch, after trying to find a surfing rhythm in the early building downwind ripples, after overcoming a panic because the usual fire I have in training was absent from my stroke, after feeling constricted by athletes around me who weren’t cutting left and right on the waves like they should, after deciding that despite feeling flat, the start was going much better than last year, after reconsidering and thinking “maybe not, am I going too hard?”, after throttling on and off that pace to see what was absolutely necessary to maintain contact with the leaders, after thinking ok this pace is about right, after deciding to look at the watch to see how much longer I had at this pace, and after looking down to see 2 minutes and 48 seconds on the elapsed time. Less than three minutes of a 200 minute race?!? That kind of rough. It was going to be one heck of a long race.

The race had a strong showing of the world’s top competitors and there were at least ten who could podium on the right day, it was going to be a war of attrition and tactics. Who could hold a race winning pace the longest and make all the right tactical decisions along the way. Last year, I had made a major mistake by trying to set off on my own. The lead pack took off on a more northerly course planning to take advantage of later wind and currents that would be directly behind them. I decided that I could beat them to the finish if I took the most direct line point to point. It paid off early and technically I pulled ahead of the leaders on the more direct line, but it was a foolish gamble and the top 6 competitors all passed me in the last third of the race to finish. Leaving behind and crossing the finish in a stunned 7th place. I still wasn’t confident in my knowledge of the tides, currents and optimal lines, but I decided to put my money on Cory and Hank. My plan this year was to follow them. Let them grapple with the tactical decisions and simply play a game of follow the leaders. Sure enough Hank and Cory pulled out into the lead early with a charging Pat Dolan beside them. All three of them set off on the Northern line and the rest of the field gave chase.

The start went much better than it had last year and I felt comfortable and in touch. But I worryingly, I didn’t have the snap and fire I had hoped for on race day. I tried to push those thoughts of doubt out of my mind and focus on my own rhythm.

As a swarm of chasing athletes surfed around me, I found my attention wandering. I was focusing my competition and my overall standing the field instead of the wave in front of me. I shook myself to refocus. I was finding it harder than usual to find my surfing rhythm. Maybe it was the armada of escort boats confusing the water or maybe I had lost some finesse in bigger ocean conditions since my training camp in Hawaii. I needed to find my own clean water where I could escape the boat washes and the athletes around me. Despite the voice inside screaming that I was an idiot to willingly make the mistakes of last year, I dipped south and surfed away from the lead group. I knew it was a tactical error I might not recover from, but I also knew that if I didn’t sort out my surfing, I had no hope at all.

I put my focus on the water around me, tried to push the frustration out of my mind and immersed myself in the waves. Slowly, much more slowly than I would have liked, I felt myself connecting with the rhythm and pattern of the downwind. I was no longer just surfing a wave and then paddling until I caught the next wave, I was maintaining the speed and energy of the ocean whether I was on a wave or not. Finally, I was surfing and paddling the way I needed to. Time to see if I had a comeback in me.

I looked north to the escort boats dotting the ocean, each one indicating a competitor. I could see that even though all athletes were north of me, they were starting to spread out. Some were still pushing north while others had dropped closer to me on a more southern line. Seeing those athletes, I remembered the two goals I had for this race: one, give every ounce of effort I had to crossing the channel and two, I wanted some kind of a battle. Even though my race plan had quickly diverged from the race win, both of my goals were still achievable. I had two things to do. I needed to make my way back north and I needed to hunt down some racers.

I surfed down waves and cut aggressively to the right, trying to harness the speed and momentum of the downwind to slingshot myself north without losing too much ground on those charging straight ahead. I worked away on my push North. It’s funny because while the first three minutes of the race are seared into my brain with startling detail, the rest of the entire downwind crossing seem to occupy about the same amount of memory real-estate. I don’t know if it was the focus or if I tried not the think about the suffering and the passage of time, but I only remember flashes and key tactical moments. For example, I remember finally coming north enough to line up with my competitors. After pushing hard north, I had lined up behind Ali Day with Clint ahead of him. I was depressingly far back, maybe 500 meters or more behind Clint with Ali between us. “Ok,” I told myself, “you’ve got two incredible athletes ahead of you. Let’s get to battling.” The next hour of racing was worth the whole trip.

I had found my rhythm in the waves and it was on. I was finally surfing well, attacking and surging for openings and efficiently using the energy of ocean between attacks. I made ground on Ali and Clint both. I drew close to Ali first and out of the corner of my eye, I watched him paddle. He was paddling a lot more than I was. I had never raced Ali before, but I knew him to be one of the most decorated ocean endurance athletes in the world. Watching him paddle, I could see that if I had any chance to beat him, it would have to be now in the waves. He clearly had the fitness and fire I lacked and despite surfing so well, he somehow was overpowering my finesse to stay level with me. I focused back on the waves and tried to focus on Clint out ahead of us instead of the animal charging beside me.

It worked, focusing on Clint out in front, I was able to drop Ali and with every attack I was gaining on Clint. He had kept ahead of me for so long, but as I chased openings and bigger swell, I began to hunt him down quickly until I was suddenly even with him as well. I jumped onto another wave and just like that, I surfed past him. He surged back on me and for a while we fought wave for wave. I was euphoric. This is how I had wanted the race to go, battling with legends. I was surfing so well, I had momentum and with another push, I left him. We only had about 12km to go (9 in the waves and then 3 in the flat). I looked back I could see that I had pulled a gap on Clint. And I didn’t know it at the time, but over the course of the last 30km, I had pulled myself from 10th in my southern regroup and was now sitting in 4th. I doubled down to bring it home. That is when both my elbows cramped.

Luckily, neither elbow fully cramped, they just spasmed as I pulled hard to accelerate. I had heard many stories of people cramping at the very end of the race and losing it all, I needed to sort this out. I backed off the pace a little and tried to focus in on surfing as efficiently as possible. I was still surfing well and hopefully I could keep Clint at bay while I processed a solution. Since I still had the mental drive and desire to push, I decided it must be electrolyte deficiency and not a fueling issue. I needed salts. I only had water in my bladder, but I knew a place where I could find easy salt. I cupped my hand and splashed three small swallows of ocean water into my mouth. I kept surfing and paddling. I held off from major pushes, but hopefully I could keep the pace high, fight off the cramps and stay ahead of Clint.

I don’t know if it was because my pace really backed off that much or if Clint and Ali saw me slow and mad surges of their own, but a few minutes later they pulled even with me and I was once again locked in a battle. Despite, the elbow cramps and fearing to push too hard, we three had an amazing battle over the next few kilometers. We wove around each other and at one point we all dropped down on the same wave. After 45 km of open ocean crossing, we converged on the same wave and were within touching distance. It was definitely a moment to remember.

We danced around each other for a while longer and then Ali made another push ahead. Neither Clint or I could answer. It was all I could do to hang on. I seemed to have handled my cramping issue, but I could feel myself fading. I dug in and fought to stay with Clint.
Just as we reached China Wall, marking the end of the downwind and the final crux move of the race, Josh Fenn surfed up and passed Clint and I on a tight line close to the cliffs. We came to the final breaking wave at China Wall in a line, Josh in front, Clint a boat length back and me two boat lengths behind Clint (Ali had pulled ahead in the final few kilometers). The wave was massive. Unsure of what to do and where to go, I backed off. The last thing I wanted to do was make a mistake here and destroy my Fenn boat on a reef.

Josh took the opportunity and the lead and capitalized by catching a wave and leapfrogging ahead. Clint put a little more distance on me in my uncertainty between waves. I finally decided to let Clint do the worrying and line choice. All I had to do was paddle as hard and trust he was making the right choice. We got past the major breaking wave and as the finish loomed closer we just had a series of smaller waves and reefs to navigate. Using Clint as I guide I was able to put my head down and catch him. On one of the final waves, we pulled onto the same wave together and we surfed until it petered out. As we revved up for the final kilometer of flat water, Clint then started one more push, but sadly, I was done. The last of my fire was spent. I gave it my all but Clint pulled away and it was all I could do to limp across the line for another 7th place.

It was a heck of a race and an incredible experience. I can’t say I am proud of my result (I was definitely hoping for a position much higher than 7th, but I am certainly proud of not giving up and I am so grateful for the amazing downwind battle I had with Clint and Ali in the last third of the race. Racing well continues to prove an elusive goal, but I will keep trying.

Next stop, the Canadian Champs and the Gorge Downwind Champs!

Results:

1) Hank McGregor
2) Cory Hill
3) Pat Dolan
4) Ali Day
5) Josh Fenn
6) Clint Robinson
7) Austin Kieffer
8) Mackenzie Hynard
9) Michael Booth
10) Nick Gale

1) Training with Others for Speed Sessions

For me, the speed oriented lactic sessions have always been challenging. I love to grind and I will happily punish myself through longer threshold or tempo intervals, but when things get shorter and enter into the realm of lactic pain, I just struggle.

The best example of this personal struggle is my 30/30s workout (3 sets of 10x30sec on/30 sec off with 10min recovery between sets). I have used this workout as a training tool since my days as a whitewater athlete and if done properly these sets become really brutal around 6-8 reps in. In set one, despite the pain, I am usually able to complete all ten and feel proud of my effort, but after that I typically stumble. Even after the 10min recovery, I usually only get 5-7 reps into set two before the excuses overwhelm me. Something like, “your first set was so fast, you deserve to call the session here” or “you pushed too hard on set one and you might actually hurt something if you continue.” Whatever the excuse, I usually find a way out of completing the session and will spend the rest of the day beating myself up about it.

Since moving to San Diego and training a few times a week with the local sprint team, I have almost solved this problem completely. I plan my training week so I can join them for their hard lactic sessions and am always pleasantly surprised by how much deeper I am able to dig in a competitive setting. To drive the point home even further, my 30/30s workout actually came up in the training program for three weeks and for three weeks in a row, I finished all three sets with the quality and speed I can usually only muster for one and a half sets. Everyone is different, but for me, I have come to realize that I need someone else to push me in the lactic sessions and this year, I have been lucky enough to have company for nearly all of them!

2) Making Long Sessions a Priority

This one seems like a no-brainer, but you would be surprised by how easy they are to deprioritize. As the biggest time commitment, the most logistically challenging, the least fun (unless you magically have a downwind and a driver), and the one session that I don’t include in any other part of the year (since all my other races are 90 min), it’s easy to get to Saturday and shorten the session or drop it completely. The hardest part is that many times dropping the session was even the smart choice, not just the easy one, since adding a 4 hour paddle to an already brutal training week could easily tip the balance into overtraining. As a result, in 2018, I only finished 4 out of my intended 10 long sessions leading into Molokai.

This year, I vowed things would be different. I structured my week around my long session, making sure I was rested enough to hit it hard and not push myself into overtraining. I prioritized the session and didn’t count a week successful without a long session in the books. The result of the shift was extremely notable and not only did I complete all 10 of my long sessions leading up to Molokai, but they were some of the sessions I was most proud of this year.

3) Heat Adaptation

Racing in the heat has always been a challenge for me. My body tends to be quick to overheat, sweats profusely and enjoys colder climates for exercise. That, combined with living in the colder weather of Bellingham, Seattle and San Fran for the last three years has made sure that I wasn’t going to adapt to the heat organically. Despite this glaring weakness, my strategy before 2019 has always been to hope that I got lucky with the weather or simply tell myself “I am actually good in the heat.” This year, I wasn’t going to leave it to hope and self-talk.

The first prong of my strategy was to start overdressing for sessions. I have never been able to do this before, because if you start this out of the blue, your quality will take a real hit for the first few weeks and it was always hard for me to watch my speeds take a prolonged step back. This year, however, I started in my first session and it helped blur the line between what was caused by the heat and what was caused by weeks of inactivity and shoulder rehab. Over time, it became easy and I now reach for at least one more layer than I normally would out of habit and comfort.

The second prong of my heat adaptation was Sauna sessions. I did a bit of research and I learned that Sauna sessions can be strategically to adapt to hot environments as well as provide host of other benefits for endurance athletes. I started with 3 times a week for 20 minutes and over the course of 5 weeks I have built up to 4 times a week at 45 minutes. This year, I already feel ahead of the game. It might be hot and it might not be, but the temperature will be the last thing I need to worry about come race day.

4) Cutting Out the “Easy” Miles

For the last two years, I have been a believer in the 80/20 philosophy of endurance training. This essentially boils down to a theory that the most effective training for endurance athletes is a result a large volume of training with 80% of that training done at an moderate/easy aerobic pace and 20% of training performed at extremely fast near maximal paces. This philosophy is championed by many elite runners, cyclists, triathletes and cross country skiers.

Last year, I structured my training around weekly volume and a typical training week would put me somewhere around 200km. The problem was that even though I patiently waited for the superior benefits of my training program, I always felt like it never translated on race day. I don’t know if I did it wrong, surfing/paddling in the ocean is technically different at fast speed versus an aerobic speed, or if there is something physiologically different occurring in surfski when compared with other endurance sports. Regardless, it never worked the way I wanted it to and this year I made a pretty dramatic change.

In 2019, I dropped my overall volume dramatically, finishing weeks somewhere between 130-150km. At the core, I dropped all but about 30km of my easy aerobic miles, instead focusing on tempo or “sweet spot training” (an intensity just below my sustainable race pace). I can’t really say if the effects are going to pay off (as I will probably need the cumulative effect of a season of training to truly judge my shift), but I can definitely say that I am having more fun and feeling extremely strong at a pace quite close to my race pace.

5) Seeking Opportunities to Mentally Prepare

When finishing the Molokai last year, the final 5 km of the race were agonizing. Yes, it was partially to do with a lack of preparation, but at the end of the day, if you are planning to give a 3-4 hour race your absolute all, you are going to hurt. My philosophy in the past has always been, “train as hard as you possibly can so the pain is a little less for you to accomplish more.” But ultimately, this is a flawed approach. Racing will always be painful and any attempt to change that is either a form of denial or a failure to give your best effort. This year, I sought out the pain and changed my relationship with those pivotal/painful moments.

Whenever I got to a point in a session or a training week where I just didn’t want to go any further, hit a wall or felt either too tired or in too much pain to continue, that was when my training truly began. I decided that every time I arrived at one of these moments I would smile and say, “this is where I earn it.” I relished these moments and used them as opportunities to plumb deeper into my mental reserves than I ever had before. Am I saying they became easy and I always rose to the occasion? No. They still sucked and despite seeking them out, there were times when I gave up and wasn’t able to push through. But I rose to the occasion a heck of a lot more than I ever had fearing those moments. I am excited to come face to face with that feeling crossing the channel and I am excited to see if I will be able to rise to the challenge on race day.

What a race!? The conditions were about as good as any surfski race could ask for. The wind was lined up perfectly and blowing 25 knots, the weather was mild for Maui and a merciful layer of cloud cover had rolled in to shield racers from the punishing Hawaiian sun.

My race plan was simple. First, I wanted to hold back my excitement and keep the pace controlled for the first 5 minutes. Second, I wanted to lead as much of the race as possible so I could keep Dolan out of a comfortable surfing rhythm and hopefully force him to make mistakes. And third, I wanted to stay on his line in case he had local current knowledge that I didn’t know about.

I found Dolan in the start line and pulled up next to him. Before I knew it, the gun went off and the race was on. Despite my focus on Dolan, Borys Markin was the one who took off the line. Dolan and I were both intent to let him go and start at a controlled pace. With the wind blowing hard, the waves built almost immediately. We both found our rhythms, linking the waves and ramping up our speeds. We soon caught the charging Borys and in the next few minutes we distanced ourselves from him and the rest of the field. It looked like 2019 would once again be a two person match race.

We began to work out into the larger ocean swell that was traveling south down the channel. I was worried most about the first half of the race because the big ocean swell was something I didn’t have much practice in. To cross the channel well, the fastest athletes would need to harness the speed of the large swell, but also continually bank off to the right to keep on the race line.

I had expected Dolan to lead and dictate this section, but as I started to open up my race pace, I found myself pulling ahead. Despite my fears, I felt smooth, strong and shockingly comfortable riding the swell and still staying on the race line. For the next 45 minutes, I lead the race. I thrilled at being out in front and couldn’t keep the grin off my face. He would put in efforts and catch back up to me, pulling up beside me, but I felt unstoppable and could easily answer with a push of my own to surge back into the lead. I was dictating the pace, but I was always wary of Dolan making a dramatic line change. I didn’t want him using his superior course knowledge. So I kept looking over my shoulder, taking my directions from behind, marking any changes in his direction.

With an hour of racing down, I was still leading and had yet to be seriously contested. I was tempted to truly fire it up and make a serious bid to leave him for good. However, the memory of blazing my own trail at last year’s Molokai only to have 6 others pass me on faster lines still haunted me. I wasn’t going to let the win be dictated by line choice this time. I doubled down and decided I would match his every move. We practically flew across the channel, me leading and Dolan making the directional decisions.

With about an hour to go, Dolan surged, but this time his surge didn’t stop when he pulled even with me. He kept going. Shocked by his push and behind for the first time, I stumbled mentally. Was he just playing with me the whole first half? Was he simply biding his time to drop me? The self-doubt started to creep in. One wave became two and two waves grew to five. He was now convincingly ahead.

I shook myself mentally, I had to reset. “You can answer this,” I told myself, “you’ve been leading the whole time, go get it back!” I focused on the wave ahead, looking for openings. I spotted one and took off at a sprint. I jumped one wave, then two, letting my momentum carry me over a third and fourth. And just like that, I was only one wave behind. My rhythm carried me past him and before I knew it, I was once again in the lead. I kept pushing and with a look over my shoulder, I saw that I was now leading by the same five wave gap. I steeled myself. I was in contention for this win just as much as he was, but I could feel that it was going to be a mental battle till the last stroke.

As I hardened my resolve for the fight ahead, I was reminded of what Cory Hill had told me once about downwind racing. He said, downwind racing is like a boxing match. When a competitor makes a move in the waves and pushes ahead, the distance they put on you is like a physical blow. You know the pain and effort it will take to make up that distance and if you don’t stay strong that blow will knock you down for good. But, just like boxing, in downwind you always have the opportunity to return the blow. To win you must absorb your competitors attacks, retaliate with your own and make sure that your attack is the final one before the finish line. This race was shaping up to be an epic downwind boxing match.

Sure enough over the next hour, we went back and forth in a series of moves and counter moves. Each of us surging to land our “punches,” leaving the other reeling from the blow. The strange part was that instead of just pulling one or two waves ahead, we seemed to gap each other by four to six waves every time. I don’t know if it was the rhythm of the surf or if we would work too hard and then need a longer recovery, but the gaps were big on each exchange.

We battled back and forth like this and we practically flew over the final kilometers to the finish. As we neared the end, the race was far too close for comfort. I realized that the winner would likely be decided by the timing of a surge. Dolan must have been thinking the same and timed his final surge near perfectly. We were so close to finish and I didn’t think I had it in me to counter in that short a distance. I shook myself mentally. I was so proud of my racing so far and there was no chance I wasn’t going to give it my all to the very last stroke. If he beat me it would be after I wrung out every drop of effort I could.

Right then the lead media boat pulled up beside me. With spectators and cameras on me, I felt suddenly a bit stronger. I could do this and they were going to catch it on film! I looked head to Dolan. He was still a daunting five waves ahead, but we had been changing leads like this the whole time. What’s more, I was on the outside in the better waves, heading directly to the turn buoy while he had to angle out to his left. It was a lot to make up in the last 500 meters, but if I gave it everything, I just might be able to catch him by the turn and dice the flat for a photo finish. Time to go.

I dug in and sprinted over the first wave. One wave down, let’s do this! But tragically, the escort boat took off moments later. Seeing Dolan and wanting shots of him too, the boat pulled up ahead and crossed directly in front of my path to pull up beside Dolan. NOO!!! The escort boat wake chopped up the water, ruining the rhythm and flow of the waves. I tried to wave and yell to get them to move, but they were focused on Dolan. I decided to push anyway, I had to try. I was bounced and pushed around in the confused water. I watched the speeds drop on my GPS and my heart fell. Dolan closed the last few hundred meters to the turn buoy and rounded the turn first. It was over.

We each pushed to the finish but you can only make up ground like that in the downwind. Dolan crossed the finish in a well-deserved first place and I followed him in, crossing the line 30 seconds behind.

As I drifted to a stop, I couldn’t help but feel bitter disappointment well up inside me. This had been the year, I had paddled so well. I was fit, dialed into the waves and had been more than ready for the distance. My frustration wasn’t at losing, Dolan had raced superbly and timed his final surge like a true champ. I was frustrated because though I had been on the back foot, the final chance to contest his lead was taken from my control. What’s more, despite the closeness of the battle for the entire 42km, the only record of the race would be a result that failed to tell the story of our battle.

I sat with my disappointment and I remembered what I had written just a few days prior in the pre-race blog. I had written that my two objectives for this race were to prepare to the best of my ability and give it my maximal effort. Had I not done both of those?

With a few more moments of reflection, I realized I had. Sure there had been some things I would change about the race in hindsight, but I had given it my all and done both of the things I set out to do. Despite the second and the way the finish played out, I was proud of my race. I wouldn’t have changed a thing and it was an honor to compete with an someone who had brought out the best in me and still won. I smiled … he might have won, but I would be back in May for a rematch.