Kona - Race Report

Another Kona in the log.

Reader’s Digest Version: swim was better than expected (yes, I think the speedsuit actually helps!), bike slower than hoped for – partially due to needing to pee more than I’ve ever peed in the first half of an IM (3 times on the way out), but mostly due to the tactical decision of going easy with the tailwinds expecting massive headwinds the entire way home from Hawi, but weren’t as bad as expected coming home – and a run that, aside from some nasty cramps and a couple of port-o-pottie stops went better than I thought it was while I was running, but was slower than I’d hoped for going into the race.  But I suppose when you hit mile 4 and are thinking how nice it would be to trip and break your leg so you won’t have to continue, I did okay.  9:39:12 official time (1:03:50 swim, 5:05:18 bike, and 3:21:11 run with some conservative transitions just over 4’ each).  It was good conditions in Hawaii – more than 250 people broke 9:30.  Memories of the winds of 2004 might have cost me this time.

 

Non-Reader’s Digest Version (yes, I know I’m long-winded):

The week leading up to the race was much busier than normal for me.  I met 3 of the original 15 Ironman participants, got to break one of the original IM trophies, even.  Happily they said that happened all the time.  Got a couple of rides, including a windy ride home from Hapuna together in the days leading up to the race.

 

I had the opportunity to participate on a panel discussion on behalf of the Ironman Foundation (that's me, on the left in the sun), broadcast across the Ironman Expo a few days before the race and relate my story to the folks ambling around the area.  Given that this year I raced in no small part to raise funds for research into athletes with Multiple Sclerosis, this seemed a perfect cap to that effort.  And with over $14k raised as of right now, I cannot be happier with this prong of my 2013 IMH adventure.  While my story seemed to pale in comparison to some of the fund-raising stories of others (“Raising funds to fight cancer after being given 2 months to live”, “Raising nearly $100k to benefit research into Autism after my son was diagnosed”, “Deciding to do and Ironman so that I would suffer a bit while my mother was going through chemotherapy”, etc), feedback seemed quite positive from folks who I talked with afterwards, inspiring me further to “give it my all.”

 As usual, it was hot and windy, but winds were a bit more favorable than usual – which lead to an error in my tactical decisions on the bike.  More on that later.  Some thin clouds came in across the Ali’I portion of the run – welcome news for me, as I had 3 thoughts keeping me nervous coming into the race: 1) the joys of a mass swim start; 2) the heat – heat has definitely affected me more this year with the MS, fatigue is higher, tingling abounds, the feeling that someone is incessantly rubbing sandpaper on my wrists, tightness down the back and into the quads whenever my head tilts below neutral, general irritability of mood; and 3) the thoughts of another day like the Pac Crest ½-Iron race from late June – where food poisoning 3 days before the race dropped 6 pounds from me overnight, and I fought through glycogen depletion starting by mile 6 on the run to finish my slowest ½-iron race ever.  I never – ever – want to repeat that mental digging again, and the thought of maybe needing to go there again really did put a chink in my confidence.  But my training had been good, I was prepared for the winds, there was nothing more I could do except execute the plan.

 BANG!  Swim start found me most of the way out to the left, right on the start line (I actually bumped into my old CU Triathlon team coach on a paddle board out there!), and while there were a few bumps and kicks (including one that made me quite happy I had Aquasphere goggles with a large gasket and not my older swim goggles that fit pretty close around the eyeball).  But with the exception of the turns (at mile 1.1 and 1.2), I could hold good feet, and maintain my stroke.  My speedsuit seemed to help nicely, as I came out over a minute ahead of my fastest predicted time.  Swim = 1:03:50 (82^nd AG, 535^nd overall).

Easy T1 with nowhere to sit, but lots of sunscreen put on.

(Bike caveat – I found, upon getting my bike from TriBike Transport, that my seat had somehow angled down 3deg.  In getting it back, I misjudged the angle, and while I thought it was about 1deg down, it turned out to be 1.5deg up.  I wonder if this altered my power production.  Regardless, it certainly provided me with the worst chaffing in … undesirable areas … that I’ve ever experienced.  Ever.  Fortunately, I was able to pigeon-hole this during the race, and just accept that it was uncomfortable, and the shower post-race would be unbearable.  Soldier on…)

Heading out on the bike, 2 things occurred to me: 1) ~65 minutes into IMH is a really popular time to be heading out on your bike, and 2) tailwinds moved us along heading north towards Hawi.  At this point, I made my errant tactical decision of the day and dropped my effort with the expectation of having nasty winds coming home from Hawi (based primarily on the misery of riding here in 2004’s terrible winds).  By the turn around in Hawi, I had dropped 119 places.  I told myself all along that letting folks go was okay – I’d see them later in the headwinds that would have overall bike times 20’ slower than expected. And if not, though, I was on pace for a PR bike time, which also convinced me that it was a win-win decision to have eased up.  Nutritionally, I’ve never done better on the bike.  I was spot on plan throughout the ride.  Unexpectedly, I had peed 3 times before the climb to Hawi, and again on the way down.  I’ve never peed more than twice on the bike in an IM, and it occurred to me that I was well-hydrated, it was also an annoyance to seriously coast down the hills to do my business.  The winds did pick up some, and people did start to come back to me.  Across the last 37 miles (the return portion of the Queen K), I found myself passing 114 folk.  Unfortunately, the winds were far less than expected, and I only passed 120 folks total.  (losing 12 places on the bike in an IM is something that has also never happened to me - fortunately I didn’t find that out until after the race.)  While I didn’t know how poor a choice I had made regarding pacing it had been, I was aware it had been a mistake.  But still – I’m heading out of T2 looking like sub 9:30 is still possible if I can nail the 3:10 marathon I think I’m capable of producing.  Bike 5:05:18 (and now 109^th AG, 547^th overall)

 

Again – thin clouds over Ali’I (the first 10 miles of the run) helping out.  All week I had noticed that I LOVED the shade, and did NOT like the direct sunlight.  It always amazes me how different my symptoms are between the two, even on warmer days.  Direct sunlight is not my friend.  Thus heading down Ali’I, I’m feeling pretty good.  Except that I cannot, no matter how hard I try, get my form right.  I remain sway-backed, no matter how hard I try to get my shoulders up over my hips and in front of my landing feet.  Maybe it’s something to do with the bike seat?  Well, not much I can do – just keep on trying to get it back, and keep on keepin’ on.

People are now steadily coming back to me – in all, I would pass almost 190 people en route to the finish – and that helps, certainly.  By mile 3 I decided it was cooler with no hat on.  Suit unzipped as far as it could go, ice dumped down it every aid station.  I took to dunking my own sponges each aid station – sinking my arms as far to the bottom of the ice water and sponges as possible (which worked until there was no more ice on the Queen K).   But already by mile 4, I really felt … hot.  Sharp reminders not to tilt my head down came whenever I forgot – nothing like the feeling of a jolt of electricity is zipping down your back, reaching to the tips of your fingers and wrapping around your hips to your thighs to remind you to keep your chin up.  I’m beginning to weigh the benefits of finishing versus breaking my leg so as to have a decent excuse to stop here.  Reminder of the time of day – near 1:30.  AKA “The Witching Hour”.  Nap time – mental state breaks down, I get, shall we say, irritable.  Bad enough on a normal day, really not good when 2/3rds of the way through an Ironman.

I take a quick break with the family at mile 7.  My parents once again made the journey to support me, as did my amazing wife and son.  Thinking of all the sacrifices they have made so that I could be here kept me going at this point.  Upon resuming, I consciously thing, “OK, pity party’s over – no more DNF talk.”  And it worked.  By the time I get up to the Queen K, I’m mentally feeling better, but now getting some nasty cramps in the abdomen.  Yet again – something I’ve never really had in IM.  Will these lessons never cease?  I stop at a port-o-pottie to see if I can’t just get rid of whatever’s causing it, but someone’s inside.  Unfortunately, as I’m stopped, it was just easier to wait, and wait I did.  Even the guy at the aid station on the bull-horn noted that “the guy on the Jon’s better hurry up”.  Finally he comes out, I go in, and nothing comes out.  Off I go again having simply wasted a few minutes.  But at least, I note, my form seems to be coming back.

Continuing to focus on the moment, I note that this year, they don’t allow spectators past mile 15 or so.  It gets quiet.  Breathing, foot falls, and that’s it.  Honestly, the folks who donated to my cause kept me moving through there.  They gave – now it was my turn.  But I’m beginning to consider that I never want to do this race again.   My wrists hurt, my hip flexors are cramping, my pace is slow, and do not look down (zap!).  Head into the energy lab, make the turn-around, and finally, whatever’s in my guy wants to come out.  Another minute in the Jon and the world is SO much better.  I look at my watch – 8:35 race time, and I’ve got 8 miles to go.  7:15’s seem so possible to get just under 9:30.  Then reality sets in, and my times are slower.  I still think I might be done with this race.  Maybe even IM.   I lose track a bit with a few miles to go, just knowing I’ll break 10hrs here.  That, regardless of conditions, was high on my list of goals for this race.  But then I note with about 1.5mi to go that sub 9:40 is still possible if I hurry.  Funny how you can sometimes find that extra bit, even then.  It wasn’t there in New Zealand – I was moving for all I was worth the entire run.  But here, there was that little bit extra that Kona (and a big net downhill final 1.1 miles) can get out of you.  I’m slapping hands with all the kids I can find along Ali’i.   It’s a terrific feeling (always is) to run down Ali’i.  Every time I do it, it’s more cherished than the last time.  And maybe this is my swan song.  Probably. Run time 3:21:11. 

 

 

9:39:12 and 358^th overall, 49^th AG (of 282 finishers).  Content, if not satisfied.

 

Out at midnight at the finishing chute, watching my wife dance with Chrissy Wellington.  A special place to be, no doubt.  Midnight on Ali’I the 2^nd Saturday of October is magic.  And probably it’s my last time. 

It’s now over a week later, and my amazing wife has firmly planted the seed of letting me race an early IM next year.  I’m looking at IM Lanzarote, as it is on my Ironman Bucket Lest. I ran the other day and felt good.  I rode today and felt terrific.  I hope I can qualify for Kona again.  I’d love to race there again. 

Amazing what a week does to the memory of agony.

 

Show Time Approaches

The race starts tomorrow.  As of last night, my nerves have started to become a bit more on edge.  The "what if's" and the doubts have started to creep in.  I have found myself dolling out advice to others that I am continually now needing to practice - "the hay is in the barn" or "plan for the worst, hope for the best" or "have plan A, plan B, and plan C, and ways to recognize when to switch between them" or "you've accomplished the goal of getting here - now enjoy the experience."

I have enjoyed seeing some new sights on the island (sunset on top of Mauna Kea, with the horizon nearly 14,000 feet below), catching up with friends going as far back as high school (good to see you, Melanie) and making new ones as recently as a Dutch guy just 5 minutes ago (thanks for the use of your pump, Bart).  I was honored to participate in the Ironman Foundation panel at the race expo yesterday along with some other amazing fund-raisers.  I have enjoyed having family here in town.  But I was reminded by my wife that tomorrow is the entire reason for all the sacrifice made by family and friends across the past 13 months - training and racing in New Zealand in order to qualify for World Championships and and then all the training leading up to this race.

And that brings me to my thank you's.  Regardless of the outcome tomorrow, I can only begin to thank  my wife, Micha, for all her support this past year.  It has been tremendous.  And my son, Mattias, who generally continues to practice patience with his always-tired Papa (well, as much patience as a 4yr old can possess).  My parents, who have flown both to New Zealand and here to Hawaii to once again cheer me on from the sidelines like they did throughout my younger days in school.  To my friends who've both teased and supported (that's kind of the same thing, right?).  To the folks at Therapeutic Associates, Athlete's Lounge, and RestWise - you've all helped me achieve goals that even a year ago I wasn't sure were possible.

And to the many many folks who have made my dream of raising money for a first-of-its-kind study on athletes with Multiple Sclerosis (something obviously dear to my, well, brain).  Together we will put over $14,000 towards that project, and I will be the first voluntary subject! 

To all of you, Thank You.  I am humbled, and encouraged, and motivated. 

As for the race itself, it looks to be sunny, air temperature in the mid 80's on the coast (which means low 90's on the Queen K highway, and pavement temperatures approaching 120 degrees), and likely to be a headwind on the way home from Hawi (at about mile 60 of the 112 miles on the bike).  Humidity will run in the 68-70% range.  Not horrific, but sweat will certainly be running down the body more-so than evaporating off.   I am nervous for really only two things tomorrow - the heat, and the swim.  I have noticed that heat has really started to bother me more this past year, increasing fatigue, and exacerbating my prior symptoms.  There is even a difference between being in the shade vs being in the sun.  And little shade exists on the course tomorrow.  As for the swim, starting a race with 1800 people all at once, all of relatively equal ability, makes for a crowded swim at the World Championships.  In the triathlon world, the swim start commonly gets the nickname, "The Washing Machine" because of both the way it looks, and the way it feels.  Once again I will position myself far out to the side, hoping for less crowded water.  I hope to finish the 2.4 mile course in 65-68 minutes.  The 112 mile bike I hope to come in around 5 hours, though the winds here can easily add 15 minutes to that time.  And on the run, I would be jumping up and down (well, maybe raising my arms a little bit) with a 3:10.  All told, including transitions, I think my fitness is there for a 9:25.  On this course, that can easily balloon to a 10:25.  Only Madame Pele, the Goddess of the island of Hawai'i, knows for sure.  I do hope she is in a kind mood tomorrow.

So that is that.  My race number is 1277.  You can track my progress on www.ironman.com.  I am excited, nervous, and mostly just ready to get the show going out of the water and onto the road!  Thank you all for following.  I'll be sure to update next week on how things actually went!

Good Racing, and Good Night!