This has been among the hardest weeks of my life. I’m facing my first injury of the season, but that’s not my source of stress. A week ago I learned that Bob Havrilak passed away. He had been fighting an aggressive form of myeloma and died from complications. Bob and I became very close friends after his son, Adam, passed away in a motorcycle accident two years ago. I wrote the following as a tribute to Bob and what he meant to me. I’m not sure I could have done all of this without him.

There’s never an easy way to describe our most meaningful relationships. Bob Havrilak was introduced to me as the father of a great friend. Bob was never a quiet acquaintance, however, and he came into my life the way he did with every endeavor in his life, with a stampede of presence. I remember the first day I spent with Bob. He and Adam were in Waikaloa for the Lavaman Triathlon. Adam came up to me beaming, Bob in tow, and introduced me to his father in a voice that boomed with pride. Later my family would join the two of them for dinner and I quickly learned where Adam had inherited so much of his character. The two of them shared a lustrous laugh that echoed through the resort. In just two nights the hotel staff had come to know both men by name, and their jovial demeanor seemed to spread to everyone lucky enough to be nearby.

Over the next two years Bob was persistent in his communications with me. The three of us spent Christmas together that year, during a time when I was struggling to find my own path. Bob and Adam helped push me to believe in myself and I left Hawaii feeling invigorated. That year Adam returned to China and I began racing professionally. I planned a return trip to Hawaii for the following year and planned to stay with Bob, hoping that Adam would be able to join us. But that previous Christmas was the last time the three of us would be together. When I returned to Hawaii Kai it was just a few weeks after Adam’s accident. I was uncertain where I fit into the post-Adam life of Bob, and I remember worrying to myself about being a burden on him – a sentiment that shows how little I knew about Bob at the time. I nearly cancelled my trip, but something pushed me to be there. Bob picked me up from the airport, and with tears in our eyes he swung a pair of heavy arms around me and hugged me for what seemed like an hour, but was neither too long nor too short. Then, in just a few words, as if he had read my mind, he squandered my worries, “Ben, up until now we’ve had a relationship that was centered around Adam. In the next eight weeks we’re going to get to know each other differently. We’re going to develop our own relationship without Adam. We both miss him, and we can mourn together, but you and I can’t make that the center of our relationship with each other.” And over the next eight weeks that’s exactly what happened.

Bob took an immediate interest in my training. He would ride his bike next to me while I ran; he would drive me to the track and take videos of me running. He would tell people, “Ben runs his ten ‘K’ while I run my tenth ‘K’”. Bob brought me to a Honolulu Rotary Club meeting for an inspirational speech and bragged to the room about accomplishments I still had not achieved. Bob was quick to show his pride in the people around him, yet forever modest about his own qualities.

Bob treated me like family even though he was going through one of the hardest periods of his life. Many times I would return home and find Bob curled up on the couch, a bear of a man with the body language of a helpless child, torn apart with grief for Adam. The pain I saw Bob dealing with was so powerful it can’t be put into words. I know with certainty now that such grief as losing your child can only be understood by going through it. It was clear that Bob’s participation in my life did not come easy, but when I asked if he needed time to himself he insisted that I was keeping him from drowning in his grief. And that’s the way he was. Even in the darkest time of his life, he coped by opening his heart.

Bob gave unconditionally to the people around him. He was selfless to a flaw – unwilling to ask for help but forceful in his giving. A couple years ago I incurred an injury that put me on crutches and kept me from racing for almost six months. I was depressed and feeling lost, but within days of hearing about it Bob showed up at my door in Seattle with a plan. We road tripped to Canada. He talked a local pilot into giving me a ride in a tiny airplane through the mountains of British Columbia; we hit up the Vancouver nightlife, and feasted on bowls of mussels at my favorite seafood restaurant. I was on crutches, but everywhere we went he introduced me as a World Champion. We took a ferry to Vancouver Island and drove down the coast to visit Scott Mihalchan – a partial quadriplegic triathlete who Adam had introduced us to in Hawaii. Bob’s intentions were blatant and effective. I couldn’t help but be lifted out of my depression, and as the ferry whisked us back toward Washington we found ourselves uninhibitedly laughing, feeling ready for whatever unexpected adventures lay ahead.

Bob showed me that one person’s love is infinite. His love for Emily, Barbara and Adam was overwhelming. He spoke of his daughters with a sparkle in his big blue eyes and a smile across his broad cheeks. He would stop everything for a phone call from his kids, and do whatever he could to help them. And even with all that love for his own children he always found more love for the people around him, as if his heart grew in size with every person he met. Bob embraced the idea of ‘Ohana’ and never hesitated to adopt another member with the same love he had for the rest of us.

Adam, Ben and Bob - January 2007

After all the time we shared together I still cannot find a name for our relationship. I called him “Uncle Bob”, he called me “Benny.” At times he acted like a father, and at times like a friend. He was a teacher, a companion, a supporter and source of inspiration. If we all strive to be half as giving as Bob the world will be flooded with good deeds, no mouth will be unfed, and “stranger” will be a word without meaning. If Bob could live another day for every person he helped, he would be immortal because there was never a day in his life when he didn’t give his heart to someone. Bob is no longer with us, but we can embrace his life by making our love infinite, sharing unquestionably with those around us, and always remembering what a difference we can make in each other’s lives. I feel blessed to have shared part of life with Bob Havrilak. I will always have a clear memory of Bob’s smiling face, his hearty belly-laugh, and those extraordinary blue eyes that welcomed us all into his life.

Well, my latest World Cup was a bust. I felt great going to Edmonton, and was pretty confident. I swam really well, leading the first half, and starting the bike with the leaders. I conserved energy and stayed out of trouble near the front of the bike pack, and I felt great starting the run. Unfortunately, I messed up my nutrition and after about 500 meters of running all I could think about was finding a toilet. Lesson learned: make sure you have enough fluid for the amount of sugar you take in on the bike, and error on the side of too little sugar because you probably don’t need much for a 2 hour race. Also, a 4pm start time means you need a more substantial breakfast than two packets of oatmeal and a Powerbar. At least I figured this all out in Canada so I have time to practice proper nutrition before Hy-Vee (also a 4pm start time), which is coming up quick – September 4th.

After Guatape I flew straight to Seattle. It’s always hard going home during the season, or anytime really. Whenever I travel someplace for an extended period of time I try to get into a training routine as quickly as possible. (The routine makes training take less time, you have a time for each workout set, you know where to run and where to swim and you have a typical bike course, so the day goes more smoothly and you miss fewer workouts than if you’re constantly looking for lap swim, looking for a new run route and trying to find a group to ride with.) But in Seattle there are so many variables that get in the way of being able to jump into a routine that I end up having to adjust my schedule for each individual day. First, I’m only home a couple times this year, so I need to see the dentist, see my friends, spend time with my 18 month old nephew, spend time with my mom, my dad, my friends, visit my favorite bike shops… And then there’s the issue of transportation. My parents have two cars, mine is in Colorado, so if they’re gone all day I’m stuck at home, which isn’t exactly close to anything. (My parents moved out of the city right before I went to college. I hate the suburbs.) The bike trail is closed for reconstruction by my house as well, which means there are no soft surfaces to run on from my parent’s house – I need a car to get to the state park. What I’m getting at is that visiting home is a cluster*&^% of compounding logistical problems that make it really hard to settle into any kind of routine. So I don’t, and it always ends up being a great time.

My first day in Seattle was the quietest. Just my parents and myself. My sister and brother-in-law (BIL) were working and the nephew was in daycare (they all live in the same house), so I was able to sleep in, do some light training and then head to swim practice with Cascade Swim Club. It was great. Then next day was also quiet, except the nephew was at home with my mom, and I had to finish training super early because my massage therapist refuses to make an appointment after 3pm (he’s good enough that I don’t really care, but he’s also busy enough that I won’t tell you his name unless you promise not to schedule while I’m in town). It was the Thursday before the Monroe Pan American Cup that all hell broke loose. My aunt and uncle came into town with my two cousins, and Tommy Zaferes arrived and was staying with my family for the Monroe race. Rory and Mojdeh also came over to see me, as they just moved to Seattle from Boulder and it had been over a month since I’d been able to visit them. So just to clarify, I was trying to rest and prepare for an ITU continental cup with seven adults, two teenagers, and an 18 month old child living under the same roof and two very close friends making frequent visits, and everyone seeming bummed when I skipped out on the party for a swim/bike/run. It was awesome.

The first day with everyone in the house my cousin, Boomer, came with Tommy and me to the state park for a run. I thought it would be a learning experience for a 17-year-old surfer from Hawaii to try to hang with us, even for an easy run, and it was. Boomer was shocked when we told him that in the entire triathlon we don’t ever stop, walk, or otherwise take a breather. My other cousin, Caitie, was smarter and stayed home.

The day before Monroe the beautiful clear weather Seattle had experienced my first few days back changed and became grey rainy crud. It finally felt like home. Tommy and I did a course preview and attended the prerace meeting where, I have to admit, I was a little surprised to see that Hunter Kemper was actually present. Hunter’s been having such a great season, I thought he’d stick to world cups and the Lifetime series. It was good to see him though, as I feel like I learn a little from every race I do with him. He just exudes experience. Everyone in the field watches Hunter when he races, and Hunter – even as a marked man – is always in the right place at the right time.

Everyone competing in Monroe seemed to agree that for a first year race it was done incredibly well. The course, while boring, was safe and quite spectator friendly. The swim was in a small lake that could have been confused for a flooded drainage ditch (only with clean water), the bike ride took us out and back on the main road along side the lake and featured three 180s and two 90 degree turns on every pancake flat lap, the run – also flat – was four laps on a paved path around the lake that totaled 10.4 kilometers. It was not a course for breakaways. The one unknown going into the race was the quality of the swim field. There were more people I would classify as “super swimmers” in Monroe than any other race I’ve done. Zaferes, McClarty, McCartney, Darling, and Bird are all people who routinely win swim primes over the slightly slower – though often better on land – swimmers like Potts, Dye, and Kemper. Even with a wetsuit we all knew it would be tough to keep up with those guys.

The swim started off fast. Tommy helped me improve my beach starts by having me practice over and over the day before the race, so I was able to get a pretty good leap off the line. I broke out and was almost instantly in third behind Zaferes and McClarty. I stayed right there with only Bird passing me in the first lap. McCartney got ahead at some point and Tommy and I lost those guys feet and led in a large pack about 20 seconds down from the three leaders. Tommy had a terrible transition and lost the lead group, Hunter was right next to me out of the water and with his help we instantly caught the super swimmers within a kilometer from T1. The lead pack became 12 guys with a small lead over the next pack of five that was mainly guys who struggled getting off their wetsuits. 12 to 5 is not really an even race and our lead grew significantly without any of us really pushing that hard. There were a few feeble attempts to get away, but on that course it would have taken a superhero, or someone that nobody cared about (perhaps a wooden leg?) to get away. I followed Hunter’s lead. He and I have talked a little about working together, so I asked if he wanted to try anything, but he confirmed that it was smartest just to wait. I still spent my share of energy at the front. I hate leaches. So I felt good about taking the lead into T2 next to Hunter. We racked and I popped on my KRuuz way faster than Kemper (take that old man!) so I had the edge on the field starting the run. Rory was there wearing his “I [heart] BC” t-shirt that my buddy Tai made for us, and as I started the run with Hunter he was yelling “GO BEN, STAY WITH HIM, STAY WITH HIM, STAY WITH HIM!!!!” I tried to stay with Hunter as he came by me, I tried as hard as I could to run as fast as he was. I’m sure I was going well beyond any speed I’ve maintained in a workout, and I could only hang for 400 meters. After that I just tried to keep the gap from growing too rapidly, and in doing so I put about 10 seconds onto a group of four runners by the second kilometer. I was now being hunted by a pack and I was out in the wind by myself. I kept running, for once I was actually in the race, I had put down the start speed I didn’t think I had and it put me in position to do what I love: RACE!!! At the end of the first lap that group of six lost three people to the penalty board (Personally I think the ITU should stop changing the sport through the advent of new penalty-worthy rules and let the sport change through allowance of tactics like what the Brits did at the Euro Championships this year.) but I was gaining ground on them ever so slowly. On the second lap I had 20 seconds, on the third it was 25, but the group was only two. On the fourth lap Andrew Russell dropped the rest of them and closed the gap on me to just under 20 seconds. All the while, we all lost over two minutes to Kemper. I finished second with Andrew behind me for third.

At the finish I was greeted by a massive group of friends and family and an asthma attack that almost caused me to pass out. I’m not sure how I made it through the final lap without being able to breath, but I was certainly glad the EMTs were at the finish line to hold me up and give me oxygen until I could breath normally. I’ve never had an asthma attack like that before, but now that I have I feel like I’m officially past the point of no return on the nerd spectrum. Seriously, I wear glasses, I’m good at math and science and now I need an inhaler? Where’s my calculator watch? Oh wait; I have one with GPS instead.

The award ceremony was also a highlight thanks to all the supporters present. When I stood up on the podium a large segment of the crowd started chanting, “COLLINS, COLLINS, COLLINS…” When Hunter stood up there was polite clapping, and after it quieted down he turned to my fan section and asked, “where’s my cheer for first?” To which they responded, “COLLINS, COLLINS, COLLINS!” He can run two minutes faster, but he can’t win the hometown crowd.

Tomorrow I race the Edmonton World Cup. I’m here with my parents, and I’m hoping I can convince all of Paula Findlay’s hometown friends to come cheer for me. I wonder if they have t-shirts to show their support? Maybe they could call themselves the “PF-gang”.

Click the thumbnails below for more pics from Monroe. A HUGE thanks to my BIL, Matthew Lamb, for being my star photographer at the event. All the photos are from him.

I’m here in Edmonton, the capitol of Alberta, looking over the past few weeks down south. I’m really enjoying myself this year, and the past three weeks have been no exception. After Cartagena I flew to Guatape, a small mountain town near Medellin in Colombia. The week between races felt like an eternity because there was very little to do. The town of Guatape is beautiful. One of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been, and I loved riding my bike through the mountains. Guatape is in the middle of a man made lake where every piece of land shoots skyward or drops straight down. Nothing is flat, and there is very little land suitable for building on. Most of the buildings were precariously hanging off the side of a cliff waiting for a mudslide to whisk them into the lake.

Each day in Guatape I would eat breakfast with Arturo Garza and the twins from Puerto Rico, Melissa and Militza Rios (yes they look the same and have names that are very similar, it took me a few days to figure it out). Sometime before lunch I would go for a bike ride and a run, and finish with an afternoon swim in the lake. Between workouts I read Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand (if you haven’t read it, you need to.), wrote emails, called friends through Google Voice, and slept more than a lazy house cat. By the time race day crept up to us I was more than ready to race and head home to my family. Still there were things I wanted to do in Guatape that aren’t wise before a race, and I was glad for a 10am start time so I could spend the afternoon being a tourist.

The race itself was not as I had hoped. I lead the swim at a pace I thought was quite strong, but there were still about 15 men in the lead group for the bike. I first tried an immediate breakaway, but on the first of six 1km climbs I was caught. Every time we reached a hill the group would string out, but as soon as we crested and descended the string would ball back up. I put in far more than my fare share of the work because I didn’t want the chase pack to catch us, as did fellow American Nick Vandam. We worked hard. Then, with about 200 meters to go on the bike two Spanish men came to the front. Now, race etiquette says that if you’ve been sitting in the back the entire ride, you stay in the back into T2. At the very least leaches should NEVER take their first pull at the very end and block the people who did all the work. I was irritated, but these two Spanish riders were not done being rude. One of them was racked next to me in transition, he cut me off going to my space and carelessly racked his bike by one brake lever. The rest of his bike fell sideways and hung in such a way as to block my transition box and the space for my bike. I had to stop, hold my bike, move his bike, rack my bike, and only then I was able to reach my shoes and get my helmet in to the box. By the time I had my shoes on I was already 10 seconds back from the lead runners. Start speed on the run is already my weak point, and starting from that far back took me out of the run race. I was running by myself, and not feeling particularly good. I probably couldn’t have hung with the two Spaniards (they ended up 1st and 2nd) on that particular day, but I certainly would have like to start with them and try.

I ended up 7th, which was better than the previous week’s 10th place, but still not the result I was looking for, considering I felt good and I like to think tough courses suit me well. I’ve made the mistake of working more than my share before, but at this race I really though the hills would be an equalizer, making everyone in the pack work. Still, I swam quite well and rode strong. My run was sub-par, but overall it was a good experience. I learned and raced hard, which is what it’s all about.

After the race I tried to rent a jet ski, but the price tag was more than I was willing to pay after finishing short of the prize money. I did make it to climb the stairs to the top of Guatape’s scenic rock. It reminded me of Diamond Head monument in Honolulu, though the view was nothing like Hawaii. I also got to try a local dish called Bandeja Piasa, which includes red beans, rice, pork, ground meat, pork rind, fried egg, fried plantain, chorizo, arepa (corn bread type of thing), hogao sauce, black pudding (glad I didn’t know that at the time), and avacado. I bought a t-shirt, walked through a cathedral, and took the colorful, three-wheeled taxicabs around town. I don’t often get to be a tourist, and I felt that I needed it. Sitting around for a week doing nothing didn’t seem to help me run faster either, so I was hoping that relaxing and having fun would lead to a better race just six days later back home in Washington State.

It did, but that will be my next blog post, which I’ll publish before I race the Edmonton World Cup this weekend. Below is an image gallery from Guatape, click on the images to see the full size.