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.

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.

With over 250 boats registered for the 2019 Maui 2 Molokai (M2M) and incredible winds predicted for the iconic 42km island crossing, the race is shaping up to be one for the record books. I have raced the M2M twice before, in 2017 and 2018. Both years, I came in feeling cocky and unstoppable and on both occasions I was beat soundly by Pat Dolan (local Hawaiian and big crossing surfski legend). Both years I came in thinking I could win the M2M and both times I made major mistakes that kept me from having the race I wanted. My mistakes boiled down to a lack of respect.

The first year, I failed to respect the distance. This race is 42km and even in incredible winds the winning times tend to be somewhere between 2 hours and 20 minutes and 2 hours and 30 minutes. In 2017, I was fit, strong and, after a two week training camp on Maui, I was crushing blisteringly fast downwinds leading up to the race. I may have been ready for the speed and intensity, but I was not prepared for the distance. In 2016, all the races on my calendar were around 90 minutes and with a near identical season lined up for 2017, M2M was the one long race of my year. I reasoned that I was strong enough and surfed well enough that I could handle the extra hour of racing with little to no changes in my preparation. I planned to just take plenty of fuel and, if I was well fueled, my fitness would do the rest. It feels stupid looking back at my thought process, but hindsight can only save my future races.

I lined up on race day and the event unfolded just as I anticipated. I was dictating the pace off the start, easily taking and found myself in a comfortable rhythm. I wasn’t pushing my limit (effort-wise) and the race felt comfortably within my control. This lasted for about 90 minutes. That was when Pat Dolan made his move to take the lead. I scrambled and though I countered his move and caught back up to him, the effort felt distinctly different from the first 90 minutes. I could feel my body was not responding the way I wanted. Over the next hour, I slowly lost my fire. I was able to hold it together enough to finish a strong second, only losing about a minute to charging Dolan, but it was a humbling defeat and it was not the finish sprint I had hoped for. In 2017, the M2M taught me my first lesson: in the heat and humidity of Hawaii, you need to be well and truly prepared for a 42 kilometer race or you will be left behind in the latter stages of the event.

Not to be denied, I vowed to return in 2018, ready for the distance. I spent January through April logging plenty of longer paddles and come race day, I was once again feeling confident and cocky. I was all over the distance and as that was my only handicap from the year prior, why didn’t I deserve the gold? And that is what lead to my second mistake.

I became so confident that only a single weakness stood in my way that I turned my attention towards the more prestigious Molokai Challenge in May. I decided to use M2M and my trip to Hawaii to train for the Molokai. My plan was to fly in to Maui right before the race, pick up my boat race morning and start my Hawaii training camp with a win. This time, I failed to respect the challenging conditions of Hawaii.

I have come to appreciate the fact that the water, waves, and climate of Hawaii are not things that feel natural right away. It takes time for me to adjust to a new place. Unfortunately, I used the 2018 M2M to remind myself of this fact. I received my boat on race morning (without a single Hawaii training session) and though set up went well, I was unstable, hot, and lacked surfing rhythm in the warm up. When the gun went off and the field tore across the channel, my race start was truly dreadful. In 2017, I was confident and strong from stroke one, but in 2018 I began to lose ground to Dolan almost immediately. I hemorrhaged time over the first 30 minutes of the race and slowly lost about 90 seconds before the halfway point. I finally did manage to find my rhythm and though I raced and surfed beautifully in the second half (exactly what I was missing on year one), I couldn’t gain back the early ground lost to Dolan. I once again finished a strong second place, but 90 seconds off first. I had respected the distance, but once again failed to fully respect this race.

This year, I am coming at the event with fresh eyes. I am no longer dismissing the event as a minor training race on my calendar. And I am no longer downplaying how truly impressive Dolan is as a waterman and athlete. I am coming into this event full of respect for the race, the conditions and Dolan. Don’t get me wrong, I still want to win and I hope to. But this year, I am focusing on what I can control versus the outcome. I can control my preparation and I can control my effort on race day.

The preparation is all but complete. I have executed numerous paddles of 2.5 hours or longer and I am putting the finishing touches on a quality two-week, Hawaii training camp. I feel dialed in to the waves, the climate and ready for the distance. All that I have left is to show up race morning ready to leave everything on the water. Hopefully 2019 is the year.

Thanks for reading and if you want to follow the results, I will have a post out recapping the event on Monday!

Happy paddling!

Race day came with a torrential morning downpour. Though everything cleared up well in time for the start of the long course, the race organizers decided to remove the ocean section of the course and reroute the race completely in the protected flatwater, just in case.

Due to an extended shoulder warm-up in the locker room, I got on the water a little later than I intended. I did my best to get in a full warm up, but my biggest priority was lining up next to Tim Burdiak. He was the athlete I had backed to win the long course and I had planned to mark him from the word go. When the start horn blew, however, it was Jesse Lishchuk, the sprint specialist, who turned on the gas and easily shot out ahead of Tim and me.

I scrambled onto Tim’s wash and hoped the pace would settle. Jesse, however, kept at it and started to slowly pull away. As the gap began to grow to an uncomfortable distance, Tim was forced to put in a kick of his own to avoid losing Jesse completely. I scratched to keep up and it was only thanks to the assistance from Tim’s wave that I was able to pull up directly behind Jesse and pull onto his back wave slotting into the half diamond daft. Gathering myself mentally, utilizing both of their washes to recover, I had two revelations. First, I realized that after that show of speed I might not have the goods required to win this race and second, I love racing. I know it’s a strange thought after an ugly start, but there is something truly special about putting your fitness, cunning, and guile to the test against athletes who have you on the back foot from the first stroke. I couldn’t help grinning.

A quick look around confirmed that we had shot well clear of the rest of the field and it was now a three horse race. It time for the tactics to begin in earnest. Almost on cue, Tim took the lead dropping Jesse back to his left wave as I shifted over to draft behind the new leader. I was certainly enjoying the respite provided two waves, but I realized I couldn’t hang back much longer. The position is very beneficial to recover, but it’s also a place of weakness. First, any comfortable athlete would be on Tim’s open side wash, so I was showing my competitors a weakness I would rather they forgot. And second, if Tim was to kick again, there would be nowhere for me to drop back to. I would simply be out of touch and out of the race. Knowing I needed to make this happen sooner rather than later, I conserved as much as I could in the next minute before pushing up beside Tim.

At about the ten-minute mark, I knew it was time for me to take a pull. It felt like a mistake (I could easily cook my race or expose further weakness to Tim and Jesse), but from a sportsmanship standpoint, I didn’t feel like I could contest a finish sprint without taking at least one pull in the race and after Jesse pulled the first kilometer and Tim the second, it was my turn. I moved up beside Tim and then slowly I pulled ahead to take the lead. I was careful not to make my turn of speed not too taxing, just enough to show that I was moving up and capable of going faster. Tim dropped back to my side wash and Jesse remained on Tim’s. I opened up my stroke, focusing on long, powerful, efficient strokes. I tried to think about technique and not how bad I was feeling, but as I finally checked in with my body, I realized that I was feeling strong. I pulled for the standard kilometer and then I dropped back to let Jesse take back the lead. To my surprise, it was Tim who surged ahead after a moments pause. I slid onto his wash and looked over at Jesse. I could hear his breath coming quick and ragged. He was hurting and not in a place to comfortably pull. I checked in with my own breathing. It was slow and relaxed. At that moment, the dynamics shifted and I realized the race was now between Tim and me.

When next Tim slowed, I moved up to take the next pull. As the race lengthened, I became more and more comfortable, regardless if I was pulling or riding. As we rounded the first sharp turn marking a third of the race finished, I decided to test my competitors (I was curious to see if Jesse could hang on and I wanted to gauge how strong Tim was feeling). As we came up on the turn, I held the lead longer than usual and forced Tim (on the outside of the turn) to take a wider, longer line around me and the turn marker. Jesse took advantage of the opening and snuck in for a tight turn. As we completed the turn, Tim was slightly behind on my left and Jesse tight on my right. There were tiny little bumps rolling in from the harbor mouth and picked up the pace just slightly, riding bumps when I could, curious to how my competitors would react. Tim diverted to the side in an attempt to find his own line and Jesse hung on tight. I didn’t let off the pace and Tim dropped back slightly. Jesse stayed with me but his breath became even more labored. I knew all I needed to know. I backed the pace down just slightly and at the same time, Tim realized it was a mistake to strike out on his own. He put in an effort and bridged the gap back to my tail.

Now it was a game of patience. I knew now that I was probably the fittest over the distance. And while I was itching to put in an attack to break them, I couldn’t risk Tim hanging on and passing me after I redlined. I had to stick to my initial strategy: keep playing the game until the last few kilometers and then try to neutralize their speed with a longer sustained push to the finish line. And so the tactical game continued. Tim completely regained his composure and we traded wash leads with Jesse drafting. Jesse took a short pull around the 50-minute mark, but Tim quickly took back over and it seemed that Jesse’s efforts could not change it back to a three horse race.

After a few more lead changes, we finally came to the spot that marked 2 kilometers to the finish. It was time to make my move. It was a maneuver I had watched Hank execute in the 2017 World Marathon Champs (though I would be attempting it at a much slower speed). My plan was to take the lead with 2km to go and crank up the speed. I would keep the pace hot and contest/block Jesse or Tim from taking over the lead. The thing about wash riding is that while an athlete conserves a good deal riding the wave of a competitor, to pass someone you are drafting you have to climb up and over their bow wave (and to successfully jump the bow wave you have to be going significantly faster than the leader).

So I settled in for some pain and I went to work cranking up the pace and keeping an eye out for Tim or Jesse to make a move. As I expected, it was Tim who came for the lead and he tried three times. The first was subtle, perhaps just to see if I was purposefully taking the lead 2km out. I contested his move with a surge and he dropped back, not wanting to truly put down the hammer so far from the finish. His second move came with about 750 meters to go and it was much more forceful. I was able to again deny him with a surge, but our change in speed was enough to drop Jesse off the wash. Tim’s final move came with about 300 meters to go when he realized that I was trying to finish it now and not let it come down to a final sprint. As he surged, I was able to deny him one last time and though he wasn’t in jeopardy of falling off my wash, my final 100-meter sprint to the finish was uncontested.

The race was an absolute blast and I was so honored to battle it out with friends and fierce competitors. What a start to the season! In the next blog post, I will break down my strengths and weaknesses from the race and discuss how it will guide my training for the next few months. Thanks for following!

The 2019 season has begun in earnest. This January has been one of the lightest volume training months of my surfski career, but it has also been marked by quality, sustainability and self-improvement. Coming off an injury in 2018, I spent much of December resting and rehabbing my injured shoulder. Luckily, everything seems to be functioning properly, but it is frustrating to come off an injury or an extended break from the water.

Over the years, I have found that I routinely start my year with too much intensity and volume. I begin my New Year with the best intentions, focusing on my lofty goals and remembering all the glorious weeks of training I logged in the year prior. I usually sit down to write myself a training program and inevitably, I bite off much more than I can chew. Last year was so bad that after only 10 days of full volume training I imploded into a horrific bout of the flu. During that week I vowed that I would never again fall into the trap of starting my season off too aggressively. I even wrote out a “transition” training block archetype to use as a reference for all my years to come. It’s a 4-week building program.

This year I started with a pre-week of crosstraining, then a week of just getting on the water once a day (no workouts, nothing hard, and nothing over an hour, just paddling once a day). With week two I stretched things a little longer and added a few gym sessions. Week three I filled in some structured workouts and added some intensity to a few paddles. Week four, I reintroduced the concept of two sessions a day on the water. And now finally I am feeling ready to start a training week that looks and feels somewhere around 75% of my dream week of training. I have never used such a gradual and slow progression to start the year and I was worried about more than just losing time.

I was worried that with the first month of 2019 being so measured, I would feel unproductive or even incompetent. I have a terrible tendency to compare my every interval and session to all the incredible competitors and fellow paddlesport athletes around the world. Despite my fears, these last few weeks have been a much-needed reset for my training and life. While being an athlete mostly certainly requires week of heavy volume and brutal sessions that illicit huge amounts of fatigue, being a successful athlete is also about building healthy and sustainable routines, finding consistency in daily rhythm that moves you towards your goals and uncovering all the little 1% - ers that optimize your training and life.

For me, this has taken many forms. I have reset my food and water tracking to better dial in my nutrition for 2019. I have started a new practice of beginning each day with cold water immersion and meditation for mood and productivity. I have returned to my strong belief in a complete and dynamic warm up before any training. I have reintroduced a daily practice of soft tissue work and mobilization on a nightly basis to aid in recovery. And finally, I have been able to dedicate more time to honing and exploring the mental side of being an athlete.

Even though I am not hitting the speeds I usually do around the end of January and I am well short of the requisite volume for an ideal week of training, I feel more confident than ever about my 2019 season. I am building a strong base and I am excited to see how high I can build my season.

The next race on the calendar is the NAC Classic in Newport California on February 9th. I am really excited for this early season tune-up. It will be an excellent opportunity to honestly and objectively gauge my early season fitness, identify any weaknesses and it is serving as great motivation to maximize every session on the water with only two weeks to go.