rich roll

Here’s the final video Jason made recapping his Ultraman experience with some nice footage from his crew captain Odie, some still shot slides, cameos from Julie and all 4 of my kids and topped off with some cool video at the end of the Zen House pad Jules and I rented for a couple days of post-UM relaxation with the kids. Enjoy!

To pick up where things left off, when I finished the Day 2 / 170 mile bike, I was sprawled out on the grass at the finish line, being tended to by Julie and a doctor, trying to determine the extent of my injuries caused by my bike crash. Honestly, I was just glad I had finished the day. I had not yet begun to entertain the prospect of the Day 3 52.4 mile run.

Julie, Alan and the boys hoisted me into our van and we followed Jason Lester and his crew Odie and Annette to the house in Hawi we rented for the night. They helped me unload and hauled me into a bath to clean my wounds. What I didn’t expect was a 2 story house — what were we thinking? I could barely make it up the steps — my legs were shot, my knee was aching, I could barely lift my left shoulder and worst of all — I was winded!

I cleaned up, forced some food into my system and bid goodbye to Jules, who headed back to Kona for the night. I told Jason that I really didn’t think I was going to run the next day. I couldn’t fathom it. He just shook his head. “Dude, you’re running.” My head sank. I knew I had to show up but with my knee barely mobile, how was this going to work?

I forced myself to submit to the punishment that is the ice bath, which served to numb my legs out sufficiently so I could ignore the pain for a bit. Then straight to bed. I’ll just see how I feel in the morning. I was out in 2 seconds.

The 4:30 alarm went off and I gingerly raised my body out of bed, flexing my knee and rotating my shoulder. There was pain for sure, but not enough that I could scratch the day with my head held up. I was going to have to show up and give it a go. As I walked downstairs I saw Jason, his head sagging in his cereal from exhaustion. “C’mon bro! Are we doing this or what! Get up! We got work to do! Let’s get to the office!” The motivational rant was more for me than for him, but it seemed to do the trick. he looked at me like “Who is this guy and what happened to Roll-dawg?”

We quickly fed ourselves and were out the door late on the way to the start. More rain, but that’s early am in Hawi. I knew it was going to be hot today.

We arrived at the start with a flurry of tension as we were the last to arrive. Julie, Alan, Mike Field and my stepson Trapper thought I had decided to bag it!

I rushed to the forming ritual prayer circle that commences the run each year. This is a beautiful ceremony that epitomizes Ultraman. As the competitors all held hands as elder blessed us, the Island and our journey with a culminating blow on the sacred conch shell, I began to well up in tears. This was not the plan. But I felt a deep growndswell of emotion — of the commitment to be here that was shouldered by my family. Of the pain I had suffered the day before. Of just how much this experience meant to me. Win, lose, finish or not, I had to give this day an honest try without excuses.

I shoved the pain away, lined up on the road and focused. Today is it. The conch shell sounded and we were off. Ribeiro, Kotland, Le Roux, Kregar and company shot off like it was a 400 meter dash. I honestly couldn’t believe it. Spinting away on a 52.4 mile run!?!? On the other hand, I began to jog very gingerly to ascertain how the knee would hold up. Some swelling and pain, but I think its going to be OK. For now.

I found a comfortable pace running in the cool pre-dawn alongside Shanna Armstrong, whose happy-go-lucky chatter kept me entertained for the first 8 miles or so as I continued to warm up and monitor the knee. I still couldn’t really move the left shoulder, but I found a way to make it work. I was feeling more comfortable with each mile, which was a great relief.

My goal going into the race was to run 7:30. I big leap from last year’s 9:00 effort. I knew I could do it, but didn’t think today was the day – it was going to be about surviving in the wake of the accident. That said, I knew Shanna had run around 8 hours in 2008 so if I could keep pace with her I would be OK. The original plan was a progressive walk run — 10 miles run / 1 mile walk, 8/1, 7/1, 6/1, 5/1 and then 4/1′s to the finish. But today I would need to modify and improvise according to how I felt.

At 8 miles I knew I could get in 10 comfortable before the first walk. I picked the pace up ever so slightly and began to push past Shanna. And when I hit 10 miles I was feeling very fresh and light. The knee was ginger but the running actually seemed to loosen it up.

Julie expertly navigated the van and provided amazing encouragement as my paddler Mike Field was on nutrition handoff duty today. I took in my water and CarboPro 1200 on the walk and embarked on the next run segment. Feeling good at the half-marathon mark as the sun came up I finally and for the first time felt like I could actually finish the run. I was holding a steady 7:45 pace without any issue, which I would have been very happy with under the best circumstances.

The greatest joy of this experience was having my family crew for me. To have my wife by my side as well as my stepsons was not something I originally felt was in everyone’s best interest, but in retrospect I would NEVER have it any other way. In so many countless ways that defies words, it unified our marriage and brought me closer to my boys in so many ways. Today was my 13 year old Trapper’s big day to shine. As he paced me on and off throughout the day by running alongside me, I experienced a bonding and a joy by having him with me that is difficult to describe.

Mike did the heavy lifting running alongside me and kept my mind off the pain by telling me the history of every rock formation, every hill and every beach we passed. It was like a moving documentary! And before we knew it, I was already at 26.2, clocking a cool 3:42. Not bad considering the copious walking and the fact that I actually felt like I had just warmed up. At this pace, I could still hit my 7:30 mark!

At around this point began an odd and rather unexpected sort of cat and mouse game with Rip Oldmeadow, who I had caught after his fast start. For quite some time he ran just ahead of me. A couple times he slowed but everytime I made a move to pass him he would surge. I couldn’t play this game. Even though he was my closest competitor (with a minute lead on me I believe in the overall) and the one guy I needed to be focused on, I just couldn’t let him dictate my pace or how I would run. With hours to go, I was not in a position to “race” – I had to just maintain my pace, run my run. Either he was going to blow up or he wasn’t, but it would have been unwise to get caught up in tactics. When I reached a “walk” phase, he pulled away. I figured I would either catch him down the line or I wouldn’t. Turns out I wouldn’t see him again. C’est la vie.

Then things started to unravel. The fatigue from Day 2 and the trauma from my crash started to catch up to me with about 15 miles to go. Commencing the run after a walk phase became increasingly difficult. My legs were seizing up. My feet felt like I was running on hot coals. The intense lava field heat was beginning to take its toll. Every hill felt like a mountain. Mike continued to pace me (he must have run 20 miles that day!) but my cadence slipped and I was running now more in the 8:30 range. Not the plan. The amazing Kathy Winkler passed me. Just….Keep….Going…

Once the airport is in sight, a delusion overcomes you that you are almost done. But looks can be deceiving. On the lava fields you can see for miles and miles. And once past the airport there is still about 9 brutal last miles to go. I had to narrow my focus and remove all distractions just to stay upright. Just to keep the legs moving. My 4/1 strategy turned into 2-3 miles with 1/2 mile walk in between. But everytime I slowed to a walk, returning to run became almost unbearable.

By way of background, back-half running is my strength. I may not be that fast, but I am one of the last guys to slow down. I negative split basically every training run over the last year — including my 2008 Ultraman run. This means my second half is faster than my first half. I pride myself on this ability to finish strong. I train for it. I love it. But on this day? It ain’t happening. The wheels were falling off the wagon.

As I shuffled passed the airport, a mysterious body appeared out of the bushes. It was Jochen Dembeck of Germany. This is not a guy I expected to see as he had an amazing Day 2 and is known for his running strength. He was suffering from some intestinal issues. He was not happy to be back with me, as he had been up in 4th place for most of the run. But again, that’s Ultraman. “C’mon Jochen — run with me. We’ll finish this together.” He matched my stride and we ran alongside each other for the next couple miles. But as we passed the Marina with the final turn in sight, I had to stop for a moment — the legs were really giving out. I waived Jochen off. What I didn’t realize is that he only had a couple minutes on me in the overall. If I could beat him by a couple minutes then I would place higher. Not that it matters or that I could have done anything about it — he was off ahead and I wasn’t going to catch him unless he needed another adventure in the bushes.

The last 4-5 miles is the most suffering I have ever felt on a run. In retrospect I actually can’t believe that my legs were able to keep going. The mind really is an amazing thing — I was very in touch with just how much more we can do than we think we can. The mind is the barrier — not the body.

I checked my Garmin and realized that I still had a shot to finish under 8 hours. If I could do this, the day would be more than successful. But its hard to trust the Garmin as the clock stops when my pace falls below a certain pace (i.e., when I walked) so I was not sure exactly where I stood. For all I knew I was well above 8 hours. Plus its not like the brain was working all that well at this point anyway.

As I made the descent from the Queen K towards Old Airport for the final stretch, I was literally elevated off the ground by my wife, by Mike Field, Trapper and Alan — all cheering wildly for me. I began to tear up (again!) — the emotion of this moment was almost unbearable. All the sacrifice. All the pain, early mornings, extremely long training days, time away from my kids and Julie — it was all cascading down on me. For this moment I had perfect clarity. Not just a sense of personal accomplishment, but a clear idea of a mission, of a life path, of a calling. Not just for myself but for so many others out there I know I can help. I know I can inspire.

As I rounded the last corner I could see the clock. 7:51. Not bad. Not bad at all.

But the best part was the embrace of all my kids and Julie at the finish line. Words cannot express my love for this woman. My admiration for a strength that exceeds mine tenfold. Without her I am nowhere. Without her I would probably be drunk in an alley somewhere. Without her I can assure you I would not have been here. She not only pushes me and challenges me out of my comfort zone on a daily basis, she inspires me in every minute of every day to aspire to greatness — not just physically but more importantly spiritually. To think outside the box. To live life fully beyond the constraints of what society dictates. To tap into my intuitive self. To trust the God within. To follow my heart in the face of obstacles and dissuasion. To pick myself up when I fail. She is my partner in all things, my rock, my guru, my greatest love. She is the real deal. Let’s give credit where credit is really due. She is the true Ultraman.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. It was a perfect race. A perfect experience. A perfect journey. I reached the highest of highs and sunk to lows I didn’t think I could recover from. But together — as a family — we persevered. As a unit marked by the shared love between us, we came together and completed what seemed like an insurmountable task, coming out on the other side stronger. More bonded together. More in love.

5th, 6th, 7th place — whatever. It is meaningless. The value is in the experience. In the journey. In the demons faced and overcome. In the communal effort of my family working together. Without any reservation I can say it was a perfect 3 days. I experienced everything that Ultraman is about — the Aloha and Ohana of my fellow competitors and crews. The Island in all its beauty power and glory. The suffering, the victories and defeats. It was a beautiful thing, and I wouldn’t trade one minute of it for anything in the World.

What an honor! EverymanTri.com just announced that I have been awarded as one of the top 10 best Endurance Blogs of 2009. Quite an honor to be listed alongside the (now very famous) Fat Cyclist, the amazing Bree Wee and many other talented athletes and writers. Very humbled!

But if you have enjoyed this blog, gleaned any insight, inspiration or helpful information, it would mean a lot to me if you would take just a moment to vote for me, as they have now opened up the voting to determine the top 3 blogs. To vote, please click HERE.

Much appreciated!

Day 1 ended with a walk in the clouds. But on Day 2 I found out what I was really made of. I found true meaning. I found purpose.

To recap, on Day 1 of this year’s Ultraman, I handily won the 6.2 mile swim and held my lead all day on the 90 mile bike up to Volcano National Park to win the day outright, finishing with almost a full 10 minute lead on the entire field. It was truly a dream come true.

I knew that it would be close to impossible for me to hold my lead when the Day 2 / 170 mile bike was done. With multiple UM champ Ribeiro (Brazil) fast on my heels, followed by LaRoue’s (Australia) fierce bike skills, Kotland’s (Czech / USA) unrelenting pace and Kregar’s (Slovenia) mad experience, it was an order beyond tall.

My realistic goal was to hang on to the lead pack for the initial torrid draft legal 20 mile descent down Volcano and then manage my effort in an attempt to limit the damage to about 20-30 minutes. I felt this was a reasonable goal and if I could achieve it, I could finish the Day top 5. Best case scenario top 3.

Things don’t always go as you plan. At least not my plan.

As the competitors lined up on the road in the dark, the gunners jockeyed their bikes for front position amidst nervous chatter. I have never seen anyone as serious as Rip Oldmeadow, who placed himself in the very front, wound like a spring ready to explode on his ferocious black P4. It was more than clear that he was going to blast it straight off.

When the gun sounded, all the top guys lept like jaguars. It was a velodrom match sprint, all endeavoring to establish a quick lead and form an organized front peloton. I made the drastic error of not warming up before the start and thus was caught completely off guard by just how fast the pace would be straight off the line. Rookie mistake. I did my best to get into the pack, but my legs quickly bloated with lactate and I simply was unable to hang on to the back of the pack without risk of exploding. The pace was so fast that even the experienced Kotland looked over at me and said “What the hell are they doing!?” But the difference between him and me? He made the jump into the group and I didn’t.

This left me slowly falling off the back of the lead group right from the outset. Scurrying alone in no-man’s land. In the rain on slick wet pavement. Feet soaked from the start. In a draft legal situation, the last thing you want to do is get caught alone. The lead pack slowly pulled away and yet I was far in front of the next pack. This meant I was left with a choice. Either work the descent (while most could coast in the comfort of an enveloping draft and thus save precious energy), or slow down and wait for the next pack to pick me up and blow some time. I chose the former, pushing the descent alone all the way to the bottom, hitting an average pace in the 40-45 mph range. That meant I was already exerting more energy than most right off the bat.

The lead guys (with Oldmeadow blasting a fierce lead off the front) had about a 90 second – 2 minute lead on me by the bottom of the long descent. Ce’st la vie. But again, this was about minimizing damage, not doing something stupid and expending too much energy too early in a 170 mile ride.

At the bottom of the descent I made the hard right turn south as the sun struggled to come up and warm my frozen wet body. But unlike last year, the rain not only continued, it accelerated. In fact, it pretty much poured rain all day long. Hardly my favorite thing. I don’t mind the rain so much, but I can’t stand wet feet. Should have put rain covers on my shoes. Too late now.

Riding alone, I couldn’t see anyone either ahead or behind me until I passed Gary Wang, changing a flat on the side of the road. He would go on to suffer multiple flats that day. What a bummer.

But I was finally beginning to feel warmed up by the time I made the turn onto the “Red Road” – a stretch of terrain along the south-east corner of the Island that is some of the most beautiful landscape I have ever seen anywhere. This section is the one part of the entire course that is “off limits” to crew support. For 15 miles, you are on your own. Should a mishap arise, you are likely left to fend for yourself.

Little did I know this would be my plight.

As I turned onto the final very bumpy stretch of the Red Road (which is actually red), the downpour increased, with nobody in sight either in front or behind me. And like that, I hit a bump. My left hand slipped off my wet handlebars, I lost my balance and before I knew it, my body was sailing over the front of my bike. I went down. Hard and alone. Sprawled on the pavement with crumbles of Red Road now quite literally coursing through my bloodstream, I slowly ambled to my feet and surveyed the damage. Blood was running down my left arm from my shoulder and elbow due to some pretty severe road rash. My left knee was also battered and bleeding. Then the bike. A broken left pedal. Damn. I could probably live with some blood and swelling. But I can’t ride 140 more miles with a broken pedal.

My race was over.

Seeing no need to rush, I gingerly got back on my bike and began to pedal with my right leg. Slowly making my way about a mile to the end of the Red Road where an array of crew vehicles awaited their riders.

I rolled up and disembarked. “Its over. My race is done.”

Julie came to my aid and before I knew it, I was surrounded by crew members from the various competitors, all scurrying to help. Peter MacIntosh, crewing for Kathy Winkler, asked what type of pedal I needed and before I could blink returned with an identical Look Keo. Peter, Vito Biala and a host of others (its all a blur) tended to my wounds and worked on my bike with rapid fury. It was like Johan Bruyneel himself had suddenly appeared in the Astana Team Car as a crew of people I either barely knew or hadn’t even met worked on me and my bike like it was an Indy 500 pitstop. In case you missed it, this is the true epitome of the Ultraman spirit. The meaning of “Ohana” in action. Its what this race is all about.

“You’re not done. Get back on your bike and get it done”. The words of Peter MacIntosh.

But that switch had flipped. I would later thank my wife, Peter and Vito for the encouragement, but at this moment I actually wanted it to be over. Physically and mentally I had decided I was done. It had only been about 15 minutes or so since I went down, but I had already adjusted to this decision. In fact, I was feeling relief. I didn’t want to continue. I was glad I had an excuse to call it quits.

But this was no longer an option. Yeah I was in pain. But my bike seemed to now be operable. How do you turn the switch back on? I looked into Julie’s eyes. Forget about all my training. I thought about how much she and my kids had sacrificed to get me to this point. There was no way I could quit. But how was I going to get back into it? I could barely lift my left shoulder and my knee was quickly beginning to swell. But the bigger issue was adjusting mentally to the idea that I now had to ride hurt for another 140 miles in the rain after losing so much time. All the verve had drained from my body and spirit.

Time to meet your maker.

I did what I had to do. I turned off the mind. I got back on the bike. Yeah it hurt. And yeah I was slow. It was minute by minute. Second by second. I just tried to stay in the moment and dispense with the pity party. But in truth, it ended up being a long hard sufferfest of a day. I just wanted it to be over like never before.

As I managed to get through Hilo and head north up the Eastern seaboard, I struggled with slipping gears. My bike derailleurs were seriously out of alignment and I was having difficulty not only shifting but preventing the gears from slipping all over the place. Then to add insult to injury, Shanna Armstrong appeared out of nowhere looking fresh as a daisy as she handily rode by me with Swiss ultra-sensation Trix Zgraggen right on her wheel. I won’t get into the details, but let’s just say I am a material witness to some of the most egregious drafting I have ever seen. I warned her off. Shanna’s crew warned her off. But Trix hugged Shanna’s wheel tight for the next four hours as I tagged a coupled hundred feet behind, closely observing the ongoing transgression. The fact that she was not disqualified for her behavior is beyond me.

Shanna is an amazing athlete and an amazing spirit — not once did she complain or say a peep about it, going on to crush the Day 2 bike record. But that’s Shannon.

As for myself, my heart continued to sink, as during last year’s Ultraman I rode with Shannon through this very same stretch of landscape. Despite countless hours working on my cycling over the last year, I was right back in 2008. I didn’t realize she was riding 45 minutes faster than she had in 2008. And I didn’t want to credit my crash for my position.

As you head towards Waimea, you are faced with a long climb that was more than enough to crush my dying spirit and soaking wet body. It took everything I had to stay focused. Just keep pedaling. Just get this day behind you. As I headed into town I was greeted by increased downpours but a welcome descent before the final backbreaking 6 mile climb up the Kohalas. There was no attacking this climb. Only toleration. As I crested the mount, I just prayed that the pavement would be dry for the final very fast and wicked 15 mile descent into Hawi. I could not afford to crash again at a high speed. My prayers were answered as I mustered a final push to cross the finish line.

It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t fast. But I got it done. From 1st place on Day 1, I dropped to 6th.

As I collapsed on the ground seconds later, I realized that as much as my Day 1 victory meant to me, today was far more meaningful. The fact that I was able to complete the day at all, boosted by the love of my wife, children and crew member Alan will hold a memory far more palpable. Far more resonant. And far more lasting.

I promised that should I win Day 1 I would do everything in my power to use what was given to me to inspire others. In the wake of what has happened since my return home, I can only now appreciate that what transpired on Day 2 would prove far more inspiring than what occurred on Day 1. Like I said, careful what you wish for.

If God had spoken to me directly and said: “OK dude. Here’s the deal. I’m gonna give you some glory on Day 1. But you’re gonna have to pay for it on Day 2 by going down hard. Then you’re gonna have to pick your sorry butt up and finish the job.” I’m fairly certain that I would not have signed that contract.

And therein lie the beauty of Ultraman. And in point of fact the beauty of everything. God’s plan is ALWAYS better than my plan. That is a fact.

I can truthfully say in retrospect that I don’t regret a minute of Day 2. I would not change one thing about it. Because I know that by being forced to meet and overcome some unexpected demons I am that much stronger. And that much more capable of carrying a powerful message for others. Isn’t that what the Ultraman journey is truly all about? And wherein lie the value of a journey if not fraught with unforseen and seemingly insurmountable obstacles?

In short, it was a perfect day. Absolutely perfect.

But as I was tended to by the medical staff and subsequently carried away by loving wife to our rented cottage up in Hawi, the day’s adrenaline was quickly wearing off. I could barely walk, let alone move my left arm. As my knee was quickly swelling, the prospect of running a single mile the next day, let alone 52.4 miles was quite gravely being called into serious question. Guts alone would not be enough….My plan had already been derailed. The only question that remained was what God had in store for me.

Until then…

Its official!

I’ll be heading down to Aggie country (college Station, TX) do participate in the Zen Triathlon Base Training & Nutrition Camp, January 15-18.

For more information and to sign up, click HERE!

Its going to be an epic experience — great training, amazing nutrition and excellent camaraderie. I’ll be hosting a swim clinic at one of the world’s most amazing aquatic facilities at Texas A&M, will be working with holistic health expert and food guru Christine Lynch on nutrition tutorials and training along with the campers and pro triathlete John Hirch.

Don’t miss out on this fantastic opportunity to blend fitness with nutrition in a beautiful setting. Spots going fast so sign up now!

Here’s some info:

ZenTri Training and Nutrition Camp will focus on building base endurance and nutrition for four continuous days. This is like four days of epic workout cake layered with special-saucy classes on how to perform at your very best. We will have a pro, a nutrition expert, a medical expert, Rich Roll and Brett Blankner leading workouts and classes (listed below) that will turn you into the smartest tri-geek around. Join us at this quiet, small-town retreat and get away from it all to learn to conquer this sport for good!

When:

January 15th – 18th, 2010. This is MLK weekend, so many people will already have that Monday off from work.

Where:

College Station, TX. Rolling, mellow terrain and temperate winters make this the perfect training ground. Add in the world-class Texas A&M swimming pool and endless country roads to make this place unlimited in potential. Average temperatures for January are highs in the 60′s and lows in the 40′s.

Who:

Well, YOU, of course! And pro triathlete John Hirsch (also a coach and another camp host), myself, and holistic health expert and food guru Christine Lynch. Nurse Emily Rhodes (LVN) will also be on hand to teach and help with medical issues.

Cost:

The training camp fee is $265, to be paid via PayPal to texafornia@gmail.com. If you fail to show up, you only forfeit $100.

Special skill building events:

How to eat like a triathlete. Too many of us train like triathletes, but eat like something else. Maximize your potential by eating right.
Bike fitting like a pro. Biking shouldn’t hurt! John and I will go over your bike fit to help fix many common issues.

Minimalism in triathlon. Learn how to do without many things that overcomplicate the sport.

Periodization and strength training. John will detail how periodization works best and how to build core strength.

Grocery store tour. The very first day, Christine & Rich Roll will take you through a grocery store and teach you how to pick out healthy foods. Learn what is truly healthy and what isn’t.

World famous “Push Runs”. Master how to integrate essential core workouts right into your runs to get you lean and ripped quickly. This strength makes endurance events a piece of cake!

Zazen. Learn the traditional Japanese method of meditation to clear your mind and live your best life.

Base – how to build it. Going long takes patience and pacing. Learn the tricks to keep from blowing up in all three sports.

Daily Cooking classes for the best triathlon foods.

Proper bike gearing for long events. Practice pedaling the right way to make sure you can run your best when you get off the bike.

How blood sugar works. What causes you to put on fat, how energy gets to your muscles, and how to prevent bonking.

Common triathlon injuries and medical issues and how to treat them. Our medical expert will tell you when to take asprin vs. tylenol, how to treat road rash, how to prevent blisters, and much more.
Fear. That swim got you freaked out? What fear really is, how to overcome it, and how to use it for your benefit.

Hill training. Hills are your friend! Learn how to use them to make you faster.

Swim technique evaluation. Figure out in five minutes what others may not in a lifetime.

And more! We will be taking lots of long bike rides and runs, which are great opportunities to ask questions and get answers.
Special notes:

This is ZEN training camp, so we will TRAIN. There will be no fluff, no extra, just pure and simple triathlon. When washing dishes, only wash dishes. When training triathlon, only train triathlon!
College Station? Exactly. Should we get in some real training or should we waste time in traffic in a big city? You bet we have a real airport, used on a regular basis by past and sitting presidents and other world leaders, so you should be fine. It is listed as CLL, or Easterwood Field.

OK, I promise I will be uploading my Day 2 and Day 3 Ultraman Recaps this week, but please bear with me. After being in Hawaii for a month I am quite backlogged on my responsibilities to my legal clients so I need to put my focus there for a bit. So updates coming soon.

In the meantime, below is a reprint of the piece that’s currently up on the VEGNEWS MAGAZINE website.

Dedicated, hard-working, and completely ripped, this ultra-endurance, veggie-fueled athlete is competing in the name of health, fitness, and the animals.

Appearing in the pages of Men’s Fitness, Rich Roll was deemed one of the world’s 25 most fit men in the world. A devoted husband, father, full-time lawyer, and personal coach, Roll recently completed his training for the 2009 Ultraman World Championships —a grueling race comprised of a 6.2-mile swim, a 261.4-mile bike ride, and a 52.4-mile run. “Fit” might be an understatement. An unwavering work ethic combined with Roll’s balanced, vegan diet helped Roll finish the November race in an impressive sixth place overall. While it seems like the superhero-like athlete wouldn’t have a moment to spare, he found a way to fit in some quality VN-time for a closer look at his successes, challenges, and upcoming projects.

VegNews: Do you now consider yourself a professional athlete, or is practicing law still your “day job”?

Rich Roll: Although I have an array of very supportive product sponsors, to date I have never been paid by a sponsor or to compete. I am working towards a more professional approach to my mission, but I am currently very much an amateur despite the fact that I train a bit more than most, putting in an average of 25 hours weekly. I make my living as a full-time entertainment attorney, managing a boutique law firm I founded several years ago here in Los Angeles.

VN: In your coaching, do you encourage clients to adopt a plant-based diet?

RR: I find that preaching is counter-productive and therefore I focus on simply sharing my personal experience—what has worked for me, what hasn’t, and why. I encourage experimentation with a plant-based whole food regime, but the extent of the encouragement often depends upon a client’s openness. I’m happy to say that I have played a small part in helping a variety of people transition away from animal-based foods.

VN: What’s the most rewarding thing about your life as an athlete? The most challenging?

RR: What has been most rewarding is the unexpected response I have received. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people have contacted me, sharing the intimate details of their health struggles and thanking me for the inspiration and the motivation to change. The most challenging is balancing the training regimen with not only my professional obligations, but my role as a husband and father of four children. It has forced me to become very organized and efficient in all my affairs, excising all non-essential distractions from my life.

VN: How does veganism affect your training?
RR: What I find most striking is my ability to recover very rapidly between workouts. Despite a very heavy volume of training, my appetite does not spike, which I attribute to the high nutritional value of the foods I am eating.

VN: What projects are you currently working on?

RR: My wife and I are finishing up the first edition of a self-published cookbook entitled Jai Seed, which will be available for purchase through my website this month. I am also working on a longer biographical/inspirational book, and I have a television project in development. It’s an inspirational reality-based program where I help others actualize their health, nutrition, and fitness goals.

VN: Tell me about your company, Jai Ultra Multisport Training Camps, Retreats, Nutrition Products & Garments. Do you already have camps or are they coming soon?

RR: Prior to the births of our two daughters, my wife and I produced high-end yoga retreats in five-star international locations with well-known LA-based yoga teachers. This spring, we are re-launching as “Jai Ultra” and will be offering retreats and training camps that will entail plant-based nutrition, cooking, yoga, healing, and multi-sport training. My wife is also experienced in the garment industry and had a line of high-end women’s attire many years ago. With her experience, we are developing some simple, branded garments, including t-shirts, and running, cycling, and yoga sportswear, which we intend to slowly roll out by mid-2010.

VN: What role does veg activism play in your life?

RR: Over the last year, I have begun to educate myself on issues ranging from factory farming to greenhouse gas emissions and animal rights. This is slowly translating into advocacy, including a video interview with PETA. I think this is a wonderful time—an unprecedented period in our history when people are more responsive than ever, ready to not only hear the message but willing to implement change.

I’m back in LA, greeted with rain showers, cool temps and dark clouds. Normally I would hate this but after a month on B.I. (“Big Island”), its a welcome novelty.

Its Monday and I feel like I’ve been thrown under a bus with all the backlogged legal work that lay dormant the last 2 weeks while I was in Hawaii. Not to mention responding to all the amazing e-mails I received from all sorts of people — both friends and people I have never met — who took the time to follow along on the Ultraman journey. I promise to get back to all of you in due time!

What a trip.

To kick things off, I was pleasantly surprised by this nice piece in VegNews Magazine today, which explains why my Twitter following suddenly spiked again today! Click HERE to go to the article.

And now to the recap. I won’t bore you with the boring blow by blow. Rather I hope to simply capture the essence of the experience. Ok maybe that’s a lie. Some blow by blow. Hopefully not too much.

The first thing I need to say is that I had the honor of sharing this race experience with my little brother from another mother Jason Lester. We lived together. Trained together. Ate together. Breathed together. Made videos and laughed together. We shared highs and lows. Our pains and struggles. Fears and plans for the future. Of course, we raced together. But most importantly we inspired each other. To have my man right there was a very special experience. Even he doesn’t know how much he has helped me. I will never forget the amazing month we spent together. I love you Jason and I could never have done what I did without you in my life.

OK, the race. I promise.

My wife Julie, our kids and crew help Nicole and Alan only arrived in Kona the afternoon before the race. Literally only hours before the start! This made for a very tense evening, given that my own crew — inexperienced would be an understatement — missed the only pre-race briefing in which the race directors review everything the crew needs to know, every turn, every pothole, every rule. i cannot imagine how much information the crew must absorb in order to just perform adequatelty. Until you’ve done it, its hard to describe just how tough this job is. This left me responsible for making sure they had all the info they needed to help me. All in a VERY short period of time.

We started our own pre-race briefing around 4pm, laying out the basics. I had a map of the Island completely outlined as well as a notebook primer with every turn, every nutritional potion and every conceivable pitfall and cure written out in excruciating detail. How many calories per hour. CarboPro vs. Perpetum vs. Nuun vs. H2O intake. Multiple labeled bins separating out race nutrition from spare parts to extra clothes. Remember, everything you need for 3 days has to go in the van. Not only that, you need to know exactly where everything is at a moment’s notice. We had to go through everything so swiftly while tired heads trying to focus nodded — “wW got it. Don’t worry.” But I was hardly convinced. To me, it was increasingly clear that this was going to be a total crap shoot. Unlike any other triathlon, I can only be as good as my crew. They are the athlete just as much as me. And if they fail, I fail. End of story. I was trusting those I love the most with a full year of my preparation for this race. I was very worried that I would blow a gasket over some transgression (things never go as planned) and damage my marriage or alienate my boys. This was a very real fear. I never doubted their total commitment to the cause, but there was only so much briefing I could do to prepare them for just how intense this experience would be. Unless you’ve done it, you just simply have no idea how difficult it is to crew this race. And nobody other than me even knew the difference between Ali’i Drive and the Queen K (inside joke). Just ask Julie – now she knows. Big time. But that afternoon? I was a rubber band on the verge of snapping.

Despite knowing they were only about 1/2 prepped, I had to call it a day. What will be will be. The work is done and I had to try to sleep. And Day 1 there is only one turn, so at least I knew they couldn’t get too lost. I hit the sack, but of course, there was no sleep to be had. I tossed and turned, waking before my 4:30 alarm. Awake, I took in as much nutrition as I could. Almond butter toast, a Vita-Mix with veggies, fruit, chia and maca. Compton’s Ascended Health brew. I was stuffed. I really didn’t want to eat but with 8 hard hours ahead I had to get in as much as I could.

My team came by my condo, we loaded the van and headed down to the swim start, buzzing with silent but violent nervous energy. Even though there are only 37 competitors, it was still quite chaotic at the Kailua pier. The gate was locked. The bathroom was locked, leaving me scurrying to the nearby hotel. It was all such a rush as Mike Field prepped the canoe, I got my wetsuit on and got in the water to warm up in the dark. The last few minutes went by in seconds, as total fear overcame my entire body. If I can just avoid a seizure….

All week people had been talking about how strong the swim field would be this year — 3-4 guys all capable of taking the swim. Fast guys everywhere you look. I deflected, certain to let everyone know that I was not focused on the swim this year. Not a lie. I only swam 2-3 times per week over the season and lost alot of pool time due to my 2 crashes. I was completely focused on improving my cycling and running. As a result, I lost a copious amount of upper body mass and strength (I’m about 12 pounds lighter than I was in 2008), leaving my swim as a complete unknown. I knew I could swim long, but my power per stroke wasn’t what it was in 2008 when I took 2nd in the swim. I honestly had no idea how the swim would go for me. Usually I am confident about this segment. But on this day I was a wreck. And of course as much as I shrugged off my chances on the swim, the truth was I wanted to win it. Badly. And yet I found myself second guessing my prep — I should have swum more….I’m too skinny….What was I thinking….

I lined up next to the one sure bet on the swim, Jamie Patrick. A former collegiate swimmer and previous Ultraman competitor, we share coach Chris Hauth. So I knew he would be strong on the swim. We shared some words of mutual support and Jamie let me know that he would be taking it very easy — its a long day, baby. No need to do anything crazy.

The gun went off and Jamie took off! So much for taking it easy! I got on his feet, but he was quickly pulling away. I lifted my head and noticed 3 or 4 other swimmers all gunning. But I didn’t alter my plan. Steady and easy. Remember — this is not about a swim victory. This is about optimizing a 3 day performance. 24 hours of racing ahead. Like Hauth always says, victory to the last guy to slow down. There is absolutely nothing fast about this race. Its all about managing your energy. If I get 3rd or 4th in the swim, that’s fine. My plan was to bust out on the bike.

But after about 1500 meters, the others fell back. I swam side by side with Jamie for a while, but then miraculously he began to fall back. I didn’t surge. I just held steady. The plan was starting to work.

By this time, my super star paddlers Mike Field and Ed Dougherty were by my side and expertly guiding me to the most favorable currents. They had studied the tides, the moon, the maps and their trusty Navigator and knew EXACTLY where to put me. Inside. Inside. Inside. As the others drifted out, they were always pulling me towards the shore where the currents were working in my favor. Soon my lead was a true gap, growing kilometer by kilometer. A safe wide lead. So I just buried my head and focused on the weighted ribbon we draped from the rear of the canoe – a device to focus my mind like a metronomic mantra. A means to avoid having to lift my head and gain my bearings. A moving meditation.

At about the 1/2 mark, two obstacles began to develop. First, I began getting stung by jellyfish. Nothing too severe but enough to distract me. Then the gut began to revolt. Uh oh. Too much breakfast. With all the ocean jostling, the food began to come up. At first it was just a minor barf here and there. I continued to take in water and Perpetum. It would settle, then happen again. I must have thrown up 15 times. And with about a mile to go, Mauna Kea. I rolled on my back and erupted. Two gigantic upchucks, brown fluid streaming, staining the pristine aqua bay. Mike and Ed became concerned. I thought this could be it. If I can’t get this under control immediately, I am in big trouble. But after the “cleansing” I was fine. I rolled back over and powered it home, running up the shore at Keahou Bay in 2:21. The 6th fastest swim split in Ultraman history. A full twenty minutes faster than last year on a fraction of the swim training. A 10 minute lead on next in Jamie Patrick. How do I explain this? Mike Field and Ed Dougherty. They deserve the credit. And I guess cross training does have its benefits. Aerobically I was fine. And I think my arms were just too skinny to get tired. No muscle, no lactic fatigue.

Last year I fumbled the transition, but this year I was very focused on not unnecessarily blowing my lead by being a bumbling idiot getting on to my bike. I blazed it and was off. My best transition ever.

I didn’t see another competitor all day. But that doesn’t mean it was easy. The first 30 minutes are straight climbing. First a very steep 500 foot / 2 mile climb up Kam III to Route 11, then another 1000 feet or so up through the town of Captain Cook. I had trained this climb many times with Jason in the previous weeks, so I knew just what to expect and how hard to push. Too hard and you blow up, leaving you with dead legs and 85 miles to go. Not hard enough and you blow a lead and likely exert almost as much energy. But training that climb gave me the perfect sense of how to approach it. After that its rolling hills for miles and miles. Dodging traffic, eating and drinking, keeping the pace high and steady. Generally my HR will get up around 145 when I push VERY HARD. But today my HR was between 157 – 167 all day. I had never sustained such a high HR for such a long period of time. I feared I would hit the wall, but despite doing everything I could to bring it down and under control, it was racing. C’est la vie. Go with what you got. Keep going….Dodging cars, blasting potholes, avoiding that cliff just to my right that never seemed to go away.

As I rounded the southern tip of the Island, I was faced with the fiercest head winds I had ever experienced. I was almost blown off my bike a couple times; on other occasions the wind almost stopped me in my tracks. When I’m in this position, I tend to think I am the only one dealing with this problem. The other riders know how to cut the wind. Its only a matter of minutes before they destroy me. I kept looking back for Ribeiro, Kotland, La Roue… Where are those guys? Nobody knew. My crew kept me motivated and fed, but even they had no idea where I stood. How far back the next guy was. I yelled to them: “What’s the gap?!” But they thought I was asking for the map. Oh well. Just head down and focus. Hammer.

After a ridiculously fast and windy descent, I faced the toughest challenge of the day. A 27 mile 4500 foot climb with an average grade of 3.5% up to Volcano National Park. It doesn’t look like much from the car. Its not super steep. But it is unrelenting. Unforgiving. It never gives you a break, intent on breaking your back. And if that’s not hard enough, the headwinds were blowing like a tempest. Right in my face. Nothing to do but soldier through. Again, craning my neck, sure to see the predatory LaRoue, Ribeiro and Kotland nipping at my heels any minute.

The photographer cars starting pulling up to me, but each one had a different story about where I stood — 2 minutes ahead of Ribeiro. No wait, La Roue. No 2 miles, not 2 minutes. All the stories conflicted, exacerbating my fear and propelling me forward with abandon.

Then there it was. A speck of a rider behind me, gaining swift ground. Damn. I could have been a contender. He inched closer with every pedal stroke until finally he was right on my heel. I’m done. So much for Day 1 glory. But wait a minute. This dude isn’t even in the race! He’s just some guy out riding! He pulls up next to me and wants to chat. What the hell is going on? Turns out he just began a ride a couple miles back. he starts peppering me with questions about the race. Dude — I’m in a race right now! I’m leading! No offense, but I’m not in the mood for a friendly chat at the moment! And you need to either pull ahead or fall back because I don’t want the officials to think I’m drafting! Meanwhile, my crew is deflating, not realizing this guy is not part of Ultraman.

The dude rides up and pulls over to chat up my crew, parked on the shoulder. They think – what is this guy doing? He’s just going to let Rich take him like that? He’s just gonna roll over and let Rich win? Literally minutes elapsed before they got the drift.

And back to business. I felt like I just dodged this huge bullet. Meanwhile I’m only riding about 8-14mph max on this damn hill with these crazy winds. 10 miles to go….8…5…A two minute lead? That’s nothing to a guy like Ribeiro. And I knew it. I redoubled, determined not to let happen what happened last year when I was literally passed by 3 guys (Josef Ajram, Miro Kregar and Peter Kotland) in the last mile of the day. Peter actually passed me with literally 100 meters to go last year. Not…gonna…..let…that….happen.

I called in my Spirit Guides for help. I called in the Kahunas, Whales and Dolphins. I called in Ganesh, the remover of obstacles. I called in Grandma Chandra and Chief Golden Eagle. Even Paramhansa Yogananda and Nithyananda. Every guru and highly evolved being I could think of. I called in God and the God within. There is nobody that I didn’t call. Its out there. Big time. Yeah, I know. But I needed all the help I could get and I wasn’t going to be sheepish about asking.

And the message — Please. Please let me win this today. Not for me (OK a little for me, I admit) but for everyone out there that has supported me. For all those that are following my journey. For all the people that took the time to e-mail me, relating their struggles with health, weight and fitness. For all those that cast shadows of aspersion and doubt on the viability of a plant based diet for athletic performance. Let me have this. For them. And I PROMISE I will do everything in my power to use the victory to inspire positive change in others. Anything and everything I have. Anytime. All the time.

I know what you’re thinking. Don’t make deals like that. But I couldn’t help it. Plus I was really really tired.

Just then race photographer Rick Kent pulled up next to me in his racy red convertible and told me I had the day locked if I just maintained. And yet I couldn’t let myself believe that. I had to stay focused, boosted by Rick’s cheering and comment that he had just been on the phone with our mutual friend and my Plant Strong guru Rip Esselstyn, author of THE ENGINE 2 DIET. He told Rip I was going to win the day. Rip was thrilled, which gave me chills and just the pump and focus I needed to get the job done.

I crested the last hill, and made the final turn to the finish chute. is this really happening? I’m actually going to win Day 1! This is the 25th Anniversary of this amazing race. The field is completely stacked. And I’m the guy who is going to be in the proverbial Maillou Jaune? Impossible. I crossed the line as my crew van followed.

Victory. Sweeter than I could have ever imagined.

I dropped my helmet and bike as my 14 year old stepson Tyler ran into my arms, more thrilled to my stunned self. Tyler worked his butt off taking care of me all day and it was truly a lifetime moment to cherish him in my arms, knowing this experience has changed him forever. Julie jumped in and joined the scrum. Then Alan, dubbed Chief Running Elk for his ferocious running bottle handoffs all day, grouped in. We cried, we laughed, we kissed, we hugged. Just one of those rare moments in life you want to last forever. The ones you will never forget. Ever.

A full ten minute lead on the entire field, I maintained the gap I built on the swim all day. Unreal.

I have done many things in my athletic life, including participating on 2 NCAA Division I Championship winning swim teams at Stanford in the 80′s. But I always seemed to be the also ran. Close, but never quite the champion. In truth, I was pretty much a bench warmer at Stanford. Yes, I have won many swimming races. But nothing huge. Good, but never GREAT. Just decent. A lot of second and third places in my life when it really counted. Somehow, I was never top dog. So I had never experienced an athletic victory like this. Simply put, it was the single greatest achievement of my athletic life. And I’m 43 years old.

I’m proud that I won the swim. I am more proud that I had the 3rd fastest bike leg that day. But I am most proud of my wife Julie and my boy Tyler for fearlessly taking head on the challenge of getting me there and carrying me all day for this win. My strength is nothing without theirs.

As long as I live, I will never forget this day.

But Day 2 would hold a different story…….And I will be reminded of the promise I made…The responsibility I agreed to shoulder in exchange for this sweetness….And it would come in a most unexpected form.

Until then….

Its over. Wow. What a mind-blowing, spirit bending, physically debilitating challenge. I have so many thoughts to express and am overflowing with emotions I want to relate. I’ve been recouperating the last few days and am now just resurfacing, hobbling around and tending to my wounds. I need to focus on my professional life for a couple days so I don’t have the time to write at length at the moment, but expect a lot of posts coming in the next few days.

For now, I just want to thank the countless people who made this life-altering experience happen. You all know who you are, and its an understatement that I could not have done this alone. It was a complete team effort, pillar to post.

Just a few names I want to credit right now. Dave and Nancy Roll (my parents), for their endearing and enduring love and support. Vylna and Larry Mathis (Julie’s parents), who are always there. Molly Roll (my sister), Lloyd, Teresa, Chris, Carly, Sean, Jo and Robert at Triathlon Lab for the bike & tech support, Compton Rom at Ascended Health, my nutrition and healing guru, Marc Katz at Sportiva Importare for the awesome shades, Zoot for all the gear, James at Sandbox for his custom gear designs, Squadra for the custom race gear, Tai Blecha for the run & crew gear, the Plan B crew for the training support, Chris Hauth for his supreme coaching, Vega for the nutrition products, Lucy for the Sunwarrior products, Stacie Turk and Peter Forelli for their tireless efforts to promote me, Rick Kent and Timothy Carlson for their wonderful photos and Tim’s laudatory articles, Alan & Nicole for their complete dedication and peerless examples of service, Chris Uettwiller & Dan Halsted for always being there, Mike Field, Ed Dougherty for their expert paddling, Odie & Annette for their crew strength, and my boys on Montcalm for spiritual grounding.

But most of all to my astounding wife Julie and my kids Tyler, Trapper, Mathis & Jaya. You all sacrificed in countless ways and were there for me day and night over the last year and on the course as my tireless and dedicated crew.

I thank you from the deepest place of my spirit and love all of you dearly.

All the details soon to come.