Party Tour

Wildflower rates the Party Tour because of the magnitude of its party. Fifteen to twenty-five thousand people congregate over three days, there are parties into the night, sirens signalling the start of the day at four-thirty each morning, live bands, food, expos, and the housing and feeding of more volunteers than at any race I've ever attended.

Yet Wildflower takes heat from the occasional competitor, and I understand this. The logistical difficulty in producing this race is matched by the difficulty in doing it. I don't mean doing the race, but doing the weekend. It's just not easy to be part of a 20,000-person happening and necessarily be adjacent to the transition area, the showers, electrical hook-ups, and so forth. It takes a special kind of person—one of whose traits is preparedness—to do Wildflower with grace and ease.

Then there's the pre-race prayer. One must understand that Terry Davis, Wildflower's owner, is a Christian. And not an age-group Christian, he's a pro. He podiums. When he prays before the race, it's a serious, comprehensive all-business prayer. Considering the many thousands of people on such a variable bike course, negotiating 50 MPH descents, and braving the heat on the run, I don't begrudge Terry his prayer. Heck, I don't know what's true in the universe, and because Terry's God may in fact really be God, it seems prudent for Terry to ask, please, for no drownings or spinal cord injuries.

On the other hand, there is this verse found in the book of Jonah:

And it came to pass, when the sun did arise, that God prepared a vehement east wind; and the sun beat upon the head of Jonah, that he fainted, and wished in himself to die, and said, "better for me to die than to live."

Which brings me to my own race. I placed third in the AG last year (the once-in-a-decade cold day at this race) and entered the run six minutes ahead of my last year's time. I was a lock for the podium, shoot, maybe the win (since the run is my best event). Then, however, the sun beat upon the head of Slowman, that he fainted, and wished in himself to die, and said, "better for me to die than to live."

How bad was it for me? I was passed and dropped at mile-10 by a woman walking her two children in her double stroller. I could also not keep pace with a woman in street clothes, running with her purse, next to her husband/boyfriend. I almost joined the club of rare performers whose races are hallmarked by run splits that exceed bike splits.

But I don't mean to complain. If Jonah, chosen by God as the prophet to the Ninevites, was made to endure the sun beating on his head, why should I feel so privileged as to expect less? Plus, nothing swallowed me during the swim.

Chris McCormack won the men's race going away, second and third went to Belgian Rutger Beke and Aussie Luke Bell, heirs apparent to Reid, DeBoom, et al, when they move onto the next chapters in their lives. Natascha Badmann's Cheetah didn't arrive in one piece, and Bicycle Sports (big red truck in attendance) built up a Griffen to be ridden as a replacement. The change of bikes didn't appear to bother Badmann, who had an overwhelming bike split and smiled her way through the run.

Swedish bike monster Björn Andersson's fork cracked pre-race (a Spanish mechanic installed a star washer into the carbon steerer last month; a no-no). Bicycle Sports installed a new Reynolds fork as a replacement. Then, one mile into the race, Björn's Italian-made stem broke. He was forced to abandon. But, he didn't crash (Terry's prayer?).

I understand and sympathise when hearing that Wildflower has just become too much trouble for those who've been doing it year after year. For those people, best to gravitate over to something new, smaller, yet still epic like Worlds Toughest. If you're newer to triathlon, however, and you want to experience our sport's answer to Woodstock and Burning Man, you've got to make the pilgrimage to this race at least once in your life.