WHEN YOU'RE NOT READY TO BE A FULL IRONMAN, YOU CAN ALWAYS BE HALF

Competition has always been a part of my life. It drives me...makes me tick. I can't imagine life without it. It's the reason I don't just exercise. It's the reason I have to participate in events that push the limits of strength and will.

My first Half Ironman Triathlon could not have gone any better. I would have been pleased with a 5:30 finish but broke the five hour mark on a beautiful day in sunny Galveston.

After a tough year that saw me finish the 2007 White Rock Marathon in an ambulance, battle hip and foot injuries and struggle through my first venture into triathlon, it's been nice to have a couple of races with near perfect conditions and great results.

The Austin Half Marathon was a perfect day that allowed me to post my personal best in that distance, and I couldn't have written a better script for the 2009 Lone Star Half Ironman Triathlon.

A 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike followed by a 13.1 mile run.

My main worry was the humidity. Sunday was forecast to be in the mid 70s with 67% humidity and a strong wind out of the north. I had trained in cold, dry, windy weather. During my 12-week program, every training session I had which lasted longer than three hours was in near-freezing temperatures. My body was not used to warm, humid weather.

The 2008 White Rock Marathon was warm and humid and I finished about 35 minutes off my goal pace after training in dry and cold conditions. I was worried that was going to happen again.

The swim started about 100 yards off shore...an open water swim. There were about 60 guys in my wave. All the men under the age of 29. We were all clumped up together like a bunch of dumb-looking seals.

When the gun sounded for our wave to start, I was immediately grabbed by the shoulders and thrust under water as the perp propelled himself over me towards the first buoy.

After regaining my composure, I set out myself. I wanted to get out of the water in under 40 minutes, but would've been happy with a 45 minute swim. Nothing is more frustrating than coming out of an open water swim and being several minutes slower than you were hoping.

I came out at 38 minutes and broke into a wide grin. The next step was to strip my wetsuit down to my waist and flop down on the ground in front of the "peelers" so they could peel my wetsuit of my legs. The fastest swim of the day was just under 27 minutes...unbelievable.

That being done I headed to my designated area to get ready for the bike. I spent a little less than 3 minutes in T1 - Transition 1 - putting on my helmet, sunglasses, race belt/number and shoes.

I navigated through the winding course up to the seawall where the majority of the course took place and got into my groove. I ended up averaging 22.8 mph through the 55 mile course...it was supposed to be 56 but a small part of the road was washed out due to Hurricane Ike.

At around the 15-mile mark, I noticed a water bottle on the ground. A few miles later I passed a guy with an empy water bottle cage and the exact same bottle I'd seen on the ground in a second cage. As I passed him I yelled out that I had seen his bottle a few miles back. My intention was to share in his disappointment for dropping his vital fluid.

He must have thought that I was annoyed to have to steer around it. He apologized. I think he was from Australia because he called me "mate" and had an Australian accent.

About thirty minutes later I came up out of the saddle to rest my weary bum, and when I looked down at my legs, nearly lost control of my bike. I went squirrly all over the shoulder before finally gaining control. That would have been bad.

I saw three guys stopped on the side of the road fixing flat tires. I prayed out loud to the God in Heaven to please keep my tires inflated throughout the duration of my ride.

Out on the course I started doing the math and realized that if I kept up my pace, I might be able to break five hours. That was exciting.

I came in from the bike about 22 minutes ahead of where I'd hoped to be so I took it easy in T2 taking just about three minutes to prepare for the run. I took my helmet off, put my hat on, switched sunglasses, turned my race number around to face the front, grabbed a sip of water and put my shoes on...without socks.

It's hard to come off the bike where you're averaging 23 mph and start running at a 7.5-8.0 mph pace. Your brain wants to go a lot faster, but you have to keep it slow.

The run was four laps around hurricane ravaged Moody Gardens...each lap about 3.25 miles. The first two were a breeze. I was keeping a little better than an 8 min/mile pace.

However, the wind picked up during the second and third laps making the going much more difficult. I ended up running a 1:47:25...a little over an 8 min/mile pace.

I've run some shorter distances without socks so I decided to save six seconds and not put on my socks...big mistake.

At about the four mile mark, I felt the blisters starting to form. I kept looking down thinking I was going to see blood on my shoes but could never get a good look. Plus I thought "there's no way blood would show up on the OUTside of my shoe with all the sweat and water diluting the substance." I was wrong.

After the run I had blood visible on the outside of the shoe from the six blisters on my right foot. Three on top, one underneath, one on my pinky toe and one on my heel. There were five nasty ones on my left foot but they weren't bad enough to leave blood.

I can't explain what it feels like to finish a race of that magnitude and physical "hugeness." You feel like you've been hit by a truck. But it hurts so good because you know you've done something special...something you'll remember forever.

It also helps to have supporters watching you and cheering you on. Tyrrell and Krystle Henley, my mom and dad and, of course, Jenn stayed out in the hot ocean sun to watch me go by at every stop.

Their presence would give me a boost and make me go a little faster when I'd see or hear them. I can't imagine doing an event without my support team.

My ultimate goal is to complete a full Ironman someday, and I really think I have it in me.

But until then I'll spend time training for and competing in shorter events to stay in shape and keep my competitive thirst quenched. I think it's in my nature to to always have something in my life that makes my heart race and my stomach hurt...the feeling before a football game or speaking in front of a large crowd.

I think it's kind of like a drug...an addiction. Competition.

My next goal? Breaking a five minute mile on my birthday...about 2.5 months away.

Thanks for reading...