NewsWilliamson Swims Just Fine, Thank You
Matthew Dale catches up with Ironman 70.3 World Champion Kelly Williamson
Published Wednesday, February 6, 2008
The teenage boys had been hiking and climbing rocks for hours and now they were heading home when they came upon a pond. From shore to shore, it couldn't have measured more than 100 yards. They could have walked around, scaling more boulders. But you know what they say about two points and a straight line.
So they dived into the water. Halfway across, Kelly Williamson panicked. "Take my shoes!" he yelled to his friend. The friend laughed and kept on swimming. By now, Williamson, 13 or 14 at the time, was thrashing about, vertical in the water.
The boy made it to the other side, but not without his psyche absorbing a blow. When friends invited him water skiing or to be dragged behind a boat on a tube, Williamson always passed.
There are many reasons people dip into the triathlon pool. Step out of the road-racing rut. Cross it off life’s to-do list. Social networking.
Williamson’s reasons were a bit different. A talented Cat 1 cyclist when he started racing triathlons in 2004, he wanted to sample something different. And he wanted to face his fears.
“Any time you face your fears and conquer them, I think the benefits carry over into your normal life,” he says. “You’re either a doer or a non-doer.”
At the Ford Ironman 70.3 World Championship last November in Clearwater, Fla., Williamson clearly stated what category he belongs in. Despite the screaming road rash he endured after going down near the end of the bike, Williamson brushed himself off and won his age group in 4 hours, 2 minutes.
You might say he did just swimmingly.
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Williamson lives in Manassas, Va., about 30 miles southwest of Washington, D.C. A process engineer, he’s in the middle of completing a two-year stint for a technology company.
Idaho, though, is home. He grew up in Twin Falls, attended the University of Idaho in Moscow, settled in Boise and plans to return there when his two-year stint is up.
He ran cross country and track in high school but was not a star. Williamson and a friend saved their money and before graduation bought identical mountain bikes. Rather than taking his knobby-tired ride offroad, Williamson clipped on aerobars, added slick tires and headed to the pavement.
He took to time trialing in college. By his mid-20s he jumped into mountain biking, working his way up to the expert class, then shifted to road racing in 2000. Within two years he was riding Cat 1 races.
Williamson, though, tired of the road-racing scene. At that level, Williamson says many of the cyclists are not into the sport for the pure love of pedaling a bike. He remembers going to a masters national championship road race, thinking there would be plenty of time to hang out with other riders and talk cycling. Instead, he said many of the cyclists, once out of the race, quit. Not many cyclists stuck around after the awards ceremony.
At an Oregon race, he remembers the Mercury cycling team ganging up on him.
“They were pretty aggressive at physically moving me out of their pace line, getting me to the back. It was definitely interesting.”
Asked how they were physically aggressive, the 5-foot-10, 145-pound Williamson says, “They’d pull in front, then put on the brakes. That does slow you down.”
About the negative road-racing atmosphere, he says, “I’m not saying every road cyclist is that way. But my experience was there’s certainly more of that than not.”
Before entering his first triathlon in 2004, Williamson swam a one-mile workout three times a week in the pool. He bought a wetsuit, headed to local ponds and the buoyancy
assuaged his fears.
“I felt semi-confident,” he says. “Confident enough to do the race.”
Maybe 25 meters into a three-quarter-mile swim at his first triathlon, Williamson was getting bumped. Swimmers converged on both sides.
“I had a panic attack and missed a couple breaths,” he says. “I got low on oxygen, had to dog paddle and literally thought I wasn’t going to finish.”
In a race that attracted about 65 entrants, Williamson recovered and won the event. He competed in four races that year. The next year he jumped up to Ironman Coeur d’Alene, threw down a 4:48 bike split and, at one time, was in 10th place overall.
But late in the run, he was felled by excruciating side pains. After stopping for some self-massage, it took him 40 minutes to cover miles 19 and 20. He recovered, finished in 9:57 and placed seventh out of 286 in his age group, good enough to qualify for Kona. He finished 58th overall.
The result served as a precursor for Williamson’s experience at the Ironman distance. He’s good (10:21 at Hawaii), but the run has given him fits. Dehydrated, he dropped out of Ironman Coeur d’Alene in 2006 about 16 miles into the run. A heavy sweater, Williamson has not yet solved the water-retention and water-absorption equation.
“It’s kind of a love-hate relationship,” Williamson says about the Ironman. “The bike distance works for me. The run is fearful.”
Williamson’s wife, Shirley, is proud of Kelly’s feats but more proud of the way he comports himself. He thanks Kelly for her support when he comes home from races, thanks family members when they’re in attendance.
He’s quick to loan his bike pump, willing to offer his mechanical skills if needed. It’s part of the triathlon vibe he savors. “The camaraderie is 10 times better than road racing,” he says.
Williamson is not sure if he’ll return to Clearwater to defend his title, but he has entered two 70.3 races, in Boise and Rhode Island.
As for his world championship trophy, it’s not prominently displayed at the Williamsons’ apartment, just resting on a bookshelf in the living room.
Says Williamson, “I don’t sleep with it under my pillow or anything.”
It doesn’t need to be. He’s proven enough to both himself and the triathlon world.
You may contact Matthew Dale at mdale@ironman.com
