First, I am glad I waited to arrive home in Houston before publishing this. While I was in Kona, for some reason, I was struggling with my time(11:32:13) and place (over 1,000th) in the race. It is a difficult switch to turn off; you don't get to race in Kona by just finishing an Ironman, you generally have to place really well to get a spot. So to go to Kona and try to "take the day in" and not be overly concerned with the completion time is a real challenge. After all, it is the World Championship. Everyone wants to know where you qualified (9:49 2007 Ironman Arizona, 34th place overall and my first Ironman), what goals you have (as if finishing doesn't really count), your bike and wheelset choice, and what you look for when dissecting food labels. It is crazy. After spending the last ten months just trying to get to this race, the last thing I wanted to talk about or hear about was the pace of my last long run or who was getting up at 2:00 a.m. to train. As we left "Ironman Island", I started to feel better about the accomplishment. I did the Hawaii Ironman, one of the hardest one-day events in the world. I didn't puke, get hurt, go to the medical tent, or even feel too bad after the race. I just enjoyed it.
Here is the report:
Arriving in Kona was surreal, just incredible. It was wonderful to feel the heat as they opened the airplane door. It was absolutely presidential walking down the airstairs to the tarmac. It had all come together. The race was approaching, we were in Kona, this was gonna happen. I can't wait until it happens to you - yes, you the reader! It was like viewing a picture through a magazine or television program and then seeing it through your own eyes. It was awesome.
Every aspect of the race was an eloquent production. Athlete registration, the welcome dinner, and bike check-in were like slow-motion events with the perfect amount of pomp and circumstance. The volunteers were endless, enthusiastic, organized, and from all parts of the globe. Spectators were everywhere; some showing up and hanging over the railings just to watch the bike check-in. How cool.My bike check-in the day before the race had been an adventure in itself. The check-in time was between 2:30 and 5:30 p.m.. Andrea and Julie were shopping in the afternoon and were aware of the my check-in time. While they were shopping, I locked myself in the bathroom and did the pre-race body shave. Legs and chest, that was it. I cut my legs to pieces while trying to shave around all the Ironman creases. There were little bloody spots everywhere. And it stung! Very unIronmanlike. I knew I would be the one the Tiger shark picked out for breakfast. I left the hair on my arms because I knew I would need as much propulsion as possible. You know, basic pilot turned wannabe swimmer stuff, the hair on my arms would disrupt the water flow and help the water follow the contour of my stroke. Just like a wing right? After I finished the butcher job, Julie and Andrea were still not back from shopping.
Uh Oh.On the way back to the condo, they got stuck in "bike check-in traffic" and then became "directionally challenged" trying to short-cut their way back to the condo. They called to tell us they were "on their way." So, I asked a stupid question. "What street are you on?" All the streets in Hawaii have Hawaiian names, and since I have lived in Hawaii, I feel pretty comfortable pronouncing the words. The response I got from the minivan crew was like a drunk person screaming "hula-hoop" really fast. It was hilarious. I figured we weren't going to be able to communicate with street names. None of us knew where they were, and 5:30 p.m. was getting uncomfortably close.
It quickly made sense to ride my bike (about 5 miles) to the transition area. Fortunately, about halfway to the transition, the blur of a minivan and a blaring horn caught my eye. It was my wife in desperate search of her lost Ironman. I loaded the bike in the minivan and despite careful procedures, still got chain oil all over the seat. In the back of the minivan, I saw wood and posterboard to make signs of encouragement for race day. I felt very loved. Andrea peeled out (a very unAloha thing to do) and drove like Steve McQueen downtown. By then, the "traffic" had subsided. Very Interesting . . . .
After finally arriving at the bike check-in, I had a personal volunteer walk me through the whole transition sequence on the pier. Every bike seemed sort of cookie cutter: Expensive, Carbon Fiber, Zipp Wheels and Aero Helmet. My wonderful volunteer helper answered all my questions and fully explained the details of the transition. I was way in the back of the transition area; just so you know where to look when NBC airs its special in December.
But, we made it before 5:30 p.m.! Yipee! Then off to dinner.
The highlight of my pre-race dinner (pesto pizza) was the 2.5 foot high individual beer-dispensing mechanism brought to our table for my brother Matt and father-in-law Mike. They polished it off, while I sat there and drank water. They enjoyed each sip, and boy, I was tempted. The lowlight of dinner was the wicked, wicked, wicked, long wait for food because of the huge crowd. I couldn't imagine why an Italian place would be crowded the night before an endurance event. Matt and Mike just about finished the beer before the food arrived (at least an hour). The funniest thing about dinner was having a waitress trip and spill a salad all over my back. We were both O.K., but it was another reminder that endurance sports can be dirty and dangerous.
So, here are the final results of the pre-race dinner: I was soaked in lettuce and didn't get to drink any beer. Matt and Mike were giddy and were ready to go to Hooters. And who, again was going to drive me to the Ironman World Championship the next morning (Matt)? We had a great time.
On race morning, I woke up before the alarm clock and felt well rested. I immediately started eating some plain, salted-pasta (made by my very thoughtful mother-in-law, Julie), bread, and a carbohydrate drink. I had a little coffee and did some paper work. I could tell my body had plenty of stored salt for the day, and I felt very balanced. Excellent.As the morning progressed, there was an eery sense of anticipation building. I was a few hours away from setting all reason aside, and going and going and going until 140.6 miles were behind me. It can be difficult to be excited about willfully hurting for that long. You really have to prepare for the mental part of the race. What are you going to think about when things are tough? Why are you doing this? These questions have to be clearly answered prior to starting the event. I had my answers, and I knew they would get me through the day.
My brother Matt and I arrived at the race start very early. We walked through the growing crowds on Alii Drive absorbing the raw energy of the morning. Near the finish line, we stopped to admire the huge stage and bright lights. After snapping a few photos, I left Matt and walked to the transition area to get body marked with my race number and to drop off my nutrition bags for the day. While in line to drop off my nutrition bag, I was behind a young girl with one leg. Wow. Further down the line, I was next to Luc Van Lierde, one of the day's top pros, and previous Ironman Hawaii winners. Inspirations abounded everywhere. Cameras were running and the air had a buzz of nervous excitement. The pros and legends were all within an arm's reach. Ah, the pressure to perform. It was so cool. I thought about how the day would end. Where would everyone place, and what stories would emerge? Who would win?
The body marking was unique. The volunteers used numeric stamps on each arm. After stamping the number, the volunteer filled in the "holes" with permanent black magic marker. What I didn't realize is the body marking served as the ultimate sun block. Since washing off the ink, I still have a skinned toned tattoo of my race number - 1460 - on each of my arms. How Ironman is that? Matt snapped some photos of the evidence.
After pre-race chores, it was an honor to walk into the transition area and see all the great triathletes in the world. Craig Alexander looked like a wax model out of an anatomy book. Lean muscle, just add skin. He ended up finishing second place in his Hawaii Ironman debut. I saw Mark Allen, who won the race six times, but failed to win it in as least as many. Strange of me, but I actually was looking at his hands to see if he was married. No, I didn't want to marry him, but I wondered what the cost of winning such a race would be. It has got to be unfathomable. Don't be fooled. There is a huge cost just to get there and participate. Regardless, I respect what these great athletes have done for the sport and their tenacity is something worth discovering.
I walked over to my bike, checked the tires, filled up my aerobar mounted hydration system (aka water bottle) with Orange Gatorade, and that was it. Ready to go.
There were lights, cameras, and reporters everywhere. None of them were following me, but their presence was felt and everyone was watching everyone. I walked out of the transition area to find my brother Matt and people were watching my every step. If I didn't have my triathlon shorts on, I would have checked to see if the fly on my pants was down. I couldn't find Matt in the sea of people, so I went back to the transition area to relax.
But I couldn't relax. I couldn't sit down, and just sit. Cantrelaxitus. I walked around and looked at the flury of activity at every spectrum. Every time I would sit, I was up walking around again aimlessly. There was so much to see. I looked for some sunscreen in the medical tent, and as I walked by one of the young volunteers said "Hello, relax." I guess I was tense. I never did get the sunscreen. I tried to relax, but the anticipation and juggernaut of the beginning of the race was inescapable. I sat down again. I got up again. During that whole time, about an hour, I don't think I said much. Besides, normal courtesies, I was lost for words and I didn't really want to talk. It was getting closer. In the background, I could hear Mike Reilly's voice, and the lights and sounds of activity. The sun started to peeks its wondrous light, and Hawaii's beauty was slowly revealed.
Just then, I looked up and saw a Coast Guard C-130 aircraft circling overhead. In it, I knew there were some Navy SEALs preparing to jump and land in the water along the swim course. For them, their anticipation and exercise would last an hour or so. For us, it would be a full day. Most of the participants didn't notice the SEALs jump overhead. I watched the whole sequence.
Realizing it was time to think about my race a bit, I ate a gel and drank some water. :30 minutes to go.
Once the SEALs landed, we had a moment to observe the singing of the National Anthem. Now that, brought tears to my eyes. Unfortunately, it took a while for the crowd to "get it" and silence to a respectable level. Shortly thereafter, I heard the sounds of the famous Hawaiian Horns. (I know that is not the proper term). A few minutes later, the crackle of the starting cannon. The pros were off.
After a minute or so, I thought of how they felt, how hard they were pushing, who was taking the lead. My thought was interrupted by Mike Reilly's voice, "Age Groupers get in the water, and swim away from the beach!" Sounded like I was in the Army again. Just like a good Army soldier, I stepped over the green mat and walked into the slightly cool clear Hawaiian water. I dove in and swam slowly to the starting line. I had mixed emotions. I wasn't excited. I wasn't hungry to perform. I was sort of blah. The anticipation was numbing. I was a little nervous about finding a good spot and wasn't too excited about getting pummelled. So I started about 15 people back somewhere in the middle. I didn't even warm up. I looked around and marveled at the rays of sunlight splitting the sky. There were swim caps everywhere. Time seemed to freeze and it was eerily silent. Each person tried to quietly find there spot; their comfort space.
Not for long.
The sound of the cannon. Swim! Oh it was beautiful. I didn't rush too much, I tried to find some feet and bubbles to follow. No problem. There were feet and bodies everywhere. I looked down and caught a glance of a cameraman filming us from below. There was pushing and swimming over bodies in awkward positions, but everyone seemed sportsman-like and concentrated on moving forward rather than drowning their competitors. I concentrated on my stroke the best I could, but lost concentration to another challenge: avoiding massive salt water intake. My breathing was rhythmic, and off to the right side for most of the swim. I was able to go pretty straight and it kept my eyes out of the sun.
A few times, I felt like I was getting pulled under, so once my legs dropped, I backed off and found a spot to lay down and swim again. I pulled off to the right and found some cleaner water. I don't think that was a great move, but there was a girl even farther to the right than me. It probably would have been better to stay in the chaos to feel the effects of the draft, but for a while, swimming to right was fine. Once we hit one of the buoys, I got back into the melee and swam along pretty comfortably. I didn't kick much at all. I just tried to stay streamline and enjoyed everyone tickling my feet. It was fun. The water was the perfect temperature, and the coral and colors were fantastic. I didn't see many fish, and I must have out swam the Tiger Shark because I still have all my appendages.
About :20 to :25 minutes into the swim, I started to cramp in my right side a bit. I had a few negative thoughts about not finishing the swim - but they were smashed with determination. They were thoughts like "Oh no, this shouldn't be happening this early!", and "Crap, what if this overwhelms me?" Whoa hold on, there will be none of that! I wasn't going to cramp up and quit! No way! I knew I wasn't going to drown! Swim on Ironman!
After slowing down a bit, the cramp worked its way out. We finally arrived at the "Ford" turn buoy. By now, it was too deep to see the bottom of the ocean and at the buoy the swim resumed to "full contact mode". Bodies everywhere again. I wondered what the view was like from the top of the water. It was so fun. On the way back, the sun was in my eyes, so I started breathing to my left side. After zig-zagging and bumping into a few of my swim mates, I decided to deal with the sun and breathe to my right. It felt like I could make better progress. I felt real good going back towards the pier. I could tell some people were fading, I still felt fine. At one point, I winced, and thought "Wow, that was close!" I think I magically sensed an imminent kick in the face, but somehow moved just in time to feel just a rush of water by my right cheek.
I found a few packs of swimmers to follow. We worked well together but a few times, it seemed like were were trying to develop some new underwater Yoga techniques. I actually thought of trying "surge", because that is what the pros do. But there wasn't much need too. I am 5'8" and bow legged. If I were to "surge", I would probably swim in circles. I knew the best swimmers would be out of the water in under an hour. Even though I had completed a full body shave, I knew I wouldn't swim under an hour. As we approached the finish, I saw the funky hotel off to the right. I think I was still zigzagging a bit; it was hard to navigate to the buoys versus just following the crowd. I did my best to get to each buoy. At the funky hotel, I figured I had about 800 meters to go. The weird thing about this race and many triathlons is you try to finish each leg so fast to get to the finish, you forget to take it in and enjoy it. As I write about this, I can reflect back to each moment, and I remember thinking several times "I can't wait to get out of the water, I can't wait to get on the bike" even though I was trying to enjoy it. Strange. But, I said it many times! So I must have been working pretty hard and it must have been pretty rough. It was a constant battle to find my space.
I finally saw the pier up ahead and the picture is frozen in my mind. I looked up, saw the changing tents, and sprays of water and swim caps speckled with sunlight. "Boy, I am way back there" I thought. Looking back down, I saw more bubbles and the ocean floor emerging into sight. I could actually see progress as I swam over the coral beds. I felt good! I looked to my right and saw a guy with one of the $200 Blue Seventy race suits. I wonder how much that helped. Then again, if he was swimming with me, he probably needed the help. Nevertheless, I smirked underwater because my clean shaven torso and hairy arms easily matched his .002 coefficient of friction.Swimming along the pier towards the swim exit seemed to take forever. I enjoyed it and followed a guy for the last 100 to 200 meters. I started to see the beach sand and put my foot down. Phew. I looked up at the clock, Oops. 1:10. Ouch. Maybe I should have spent the $200 on one of those suits.
I hustled up the infamous steps of "Dig Me Beach" and under the rinse tent. I sucked down some "sweet water" and rinsed the salt off quickly. I heard Greg Welch and Paula Newby-Fraser in background announcing over the loud speaker. Pinch me, I am in T1 at the Hawaii Ironman. After changing and getting a mild coating of sunblock, I ran out and saw something I wasn't used to seeing.
Most of the bike were gone. Boy, I do need some swim practice.
I did the "ski boot" shuffle over to my bike and hustled it to the mounting area. It happened so fast, I barely had a chance to look around. I jumped on board and started the ride of my life! The bike starts with a left turn, and quick right, up a hill, another right, down a hill and left onto the Kuakini highway for a few miles. It was screaming mayhem. Pure Adrenalin. I looked at my heart rate and it was about 157 or so. I felt fine, but wanted to get it down to around 145 for the first 60 miles. As I road through town, the race reminded me of the Boston Marathon. I always thought a 3:00 marathon time was pretty good. But at Boston, that just gets you in the middle of a crowd of people, with hundreds in front of you all moving along in unison. The start of the bike was the same way. I definitely wasn't aggressive and since I didn't have a bike computer, I just rode by my heart rate data.
While riding to the turn around, I noticed a few things.
First, there was a lot of drafting. I did my best to stay clean. I mean it. I definitely did not sit on any one's wheel. I either passed, was passing, or was doing something to keep my four-bike lengths distance.
Second, Initially, there were so many bikes, it was tough not to be stuck in the draft.
Then I started to see some of the top age-groupers coming back. They were flying, and there were a lot of them. Hundreds. If you want to compete in this crowd, you better be riding more than 300 miles a week. I saw my heart rate stabilize and decided the best I had was to settle in and ride. Anything else would be a waste of energy. I knew it would be hot, and 112 miles is a long way. I didn't want to start too hard, especially since I was so far behind, and had so far to go. It is hard to appreciate the bike ride unless you drive or ride the course. It is hot, desolate, and windy. My favorite morale crusher of the day was the visibility was so good, once out of town on the infamous Queen K highway, I could actually see the contour of the Big Island all the way to the bike turnaround in Hawi about 50 miles away.
The ride out was pretty uneventful. I started my nutrition right away. One Powerbar and as much gatorade as I could tolerate. I took my two salt tablets on schedule at every hour and continued along trying to stay out of people's draft and within my target heart rate. I never got down to 145, but the low 150's felt fine so I stayed there.
I came up on one compteitor and noticed he had a Kuota bike like Norman Stadlers. "I thought I was catching Norman" I said. So I must have been in good spirits. He laughed.
There wasn't much fan support because the roads were closed. There were media vehicles everywhere. At some of the key towns like Waikaloa, I saw small crowds of people. It started to get hot, and my choice of fluid was Gatorade. I started taking in gel and my carbohydrate drink - Perpetuem. There wasn't much, let us say, any cloud cover, so it started to get even hotter! I was a little sloppy with the nutrition. I think I took in too much too soon.
The referees were out in force, and seemed to be policing things pretty well. I still think there was too much drafting, but where I was in the race, it didn't matter. Many, many times, I would ride off to the right of the white line to stay out of the draft. I passed a few people on the right mostly going uphill, and got yelled at once by the referee. I acknowlegded, apologized and carried on passing on the left per the rules. As we turned toward Hawi, I still hadn't seen any pro men. I started the climb and the wind started to blow. It wasn't horrible or suffering. In fact, I felt pretty strong. I could climb in the aerobars and pass most people while in the big chain ring. My legs didn't burn, I just didn't have the heart and lung fitness to go much faster.
Finally, I saw some of the pro men. They were flying, and then a sea of age groupers. They were still flying. I just kept spinning my way up to the top not knowing where the turn around actually was located. I took in the scenary and just enjoyed the ride, while humming along with the 150ish heart rate.
Once in Hawi, I turned around and shortly thereafter stopped to get my special needs back. I actually grabbed my other Carbohydrate bottle and some Fruit Punch Jelli Bellies. Pedaling on, we started a fast downhill. By this time it was near noon time and the sun was hot and bright. Still no cloud cover. The downhill was very windy. I had low-profile rims, so I had no problem controlling the bike, but some people were wobbling all over the place in the gusty crosswind.
Nearing the bottom of the climb I saw Sister Madonna Budda just starting to go up. I only got a brief glimpse. I also saw the double amputee Scott Rigsby. He looked good. At the bottom of the hill, I passed by a guy and asked "Does it seem hot to you?" He said, "Oh, let me check." On his bike computer, he had a thermometer. "94.8" he responded. "Thanks." Yup. It was hot.
Riding back I had a few weaker periods of less exertion and lower heart rate. Generally, I was happy and as the miles clicked down, I started feeling some pain in my lower back. It felt like dehydration pain, so I kept intaking fluids, and it subsided to a noticeable, but manageable discomfort.
As I passed the airport and the Natural Energy Lab, I saw the pro men. Chris Lieto was in front, Macca next, Craig Alexander, and Tim DeBoom. Michael Lovato was up near the front as well. I saw the 2007 Ironman Arizona winner Rutger Beke walking (remember this). Then I came across a GUY dressed in a Hula skirt and a coconut bra cheering us on from the side of the road. "That isn't right." I mumbled. I swear I saw my Aunt Margaret and my cousin Eric, but I know they weren't there.
Riding back into town was fun and handing my bike off to the volunteer was a pleasure. Going into T2, I had a personal volunteer help me along. I also stopped by the medical tent to get some Vaseline for a hot spot on my foot. They said "Sure, C'mon in." I said "Your gonna let me out, right?" "Oh, Yeah, of course". I got my gooey Vaseline and headed into the change tent. Once there, my volunteer helper got me a cup of water. He was trying to help as quickly as possible. I said "It's OK, I am not in a rush." I put some vaseline on my foot, changed my socks, had some water, put on one of my 35 KonaSpeed hats, took some more sunscreen and headed out for the run.
The crowds were great and my stomach felt knotty and bloated. I think I saw my brother Matt at the top of one of the hills. He was snapping some pictures, and I was still in good spirits. The run did some twists and turns and ended up going south on Alii Drive. It was beautiful. Mostly flat with some small rollers right along the ocean. There were people everywhere cheering us on! I can't remember much up to mile three. But I remember seeing the 3-mile mark and thinking "I really do not want to play anymore." I was so far behind, tired, and back to one of my weaker events. I mentally cracked and said, "I really don't feel like running another 23 miles. I am sick of long runs and I don't want to push myself to run any faster." My stomach had sort of locked up, and I couldn't take any carbohydrates. I didn't need any!! I had overdone eating while on the bike (I think). So water and sponges were it. I wasn't going to quit. I just wasn't going to hurt to get a certain time or try to place 500th in the race. I was going to enjoy it. The only little mental deal I made with myself was: don't walk. shuffle, slowdown, but don't walk. I also had the comfort of knowing this was the last long run I had paid to do!
About the same time, I saw my family off to the right. I ran over and gave Andrea and the baby a kiss. I chatted a little bit and read all the supportive signs they had made for me. I told them to go to dinner because I was going to be a while. Seriously.
I continued up the street some more and saw the "GU" nutrition condo, so I said hi to Brooke and her crew and thanked them for the free stuff they sent me. The run continued along aid station to aid station. I don't know why I ran so slow. I probably wasn't in the best of shape, but I couldn't seem to go any faster. I can't remember much of it, but I kept going. Ice in the hat, and water at every aid station. I tried a few pretzels and promptly decided, "Oh, that is not gonna work." Sucking the juice from sliced oranges was great, but bananas where too heavy. A very fickle stomach. Ice in the hat and water. Repeat.
After turning around on Alii drive, I really was mentally not in the mood to go all the way out to the Energy Lab. Can you believe it? Not in the mood. All that work, and I was not in the mood. I thought of my friend Scott serving in the Middle East and the people I said I would complete this for, and I kept going.
I found a beautiful section of the beach and asked the photographer to snap a photo. He said "Sure, just run along the white line." Snap. Snap. I must have been delirious. I continued and once again, Andrea and the family drove by in the minivan. I asked "You'll be at the finish line right?" She said "Yes." "O.K., thanks I will wait for you there!" I said. "Oh, you'll be waiting for me, huh?" she replied. Thanks honey.
On the way back into town, I saw some drunk Aussies with a race program. They had looked up my name and said "Go Dan, Cmon Dan, Push it!" Well, I wasn't going to run any faster, so I pumped my arms like I was pushing the ceiling. They cracked up histerically, and I had enough of a laugh to keep going.
I don't think I passed but a handful of people on the run. I didn't even want to think about it! At one point I came up along side an older guy and we chatted for a while. I can't even remember what we talked about. Meanwhile, some gal on a Mary Poppins bike started riding next to him telling him how "Hot" he was. I thought she knew him. Actually, I think she was one of the infamous Ironman groupies. Since I am married, I kept going.
Once into town, I started up the hilly Palani Road. There were people everwhere and they were very encouraging. A girl, let's call her "Sarah", was just in front me. She really slowed down on the hill, and then pulled of to the right and started puking. I kept going. At the aid station, I took my hat off and my sunglasses fell to the ground. One of the volunteers said "Ah bro, your glasses!" as he picked them up. I said "Its alright dude, they were only $4.99." More humor. I kept going.
I started the left turn onto the Queen K and began a journey towards the Natural Energy Lab. Sure enough "Sarah" passed me again, and sure enough she started puking again. Then a guy came up behind me, or maybe I passed him. In either case, he read my shirt "140.6 Miles of Honor? How about 140.6 Miles of HORROR?" I continued on and passed gas like I was the only guy in the room.
I don't know what my pace was, and I don't remember it being oppressively hot, but I do remember ice in the hat worked really well and all I could drink was water. I started seeing the pro athletes coming back to town. I missed all the real fast guys, but I did recognized some of the others. My stomach continued to churn and I actually felt like I had to go to the bathroom.
At one of the aid stations, I refueled and then hit the porta potty to download. Boy, that felt good. I continued along the highway and hit each aid station with vigor. I saw the pro Rutger Beke still walking. Thanks Rutger, you are the man. He walked the whole marathon. Not many pros will do that. I also saw the female pro Desiree Ficker. She was walking too. It was a hot day out there and they did the best they could, faltered, but still finished. Thank you.
I passed another guy who was puking his brains out. He was throwing up so much and so productively I stupidly asked him "Are you alright, man?" Of course he looked at me as I expected him to (no, you idiot), and he said "Yah, I will be alright." I kept going.
Then I saw it. The entry to the Natural Energy Lab. And yes, there were still cyclists arriving from Hawi. Once on Energy Lab Road, I ate some of my Jellie Bellies with some water. They were great and didn't bother my stomach at all. I thanked the volunteers and kept going. There was an Emcee and the Ford Miracle Mile van was out there encouraging everyone. The Emcee said it was only a mile to the turn-around and then five miles back. Yah right, it was more than that! Sure enough, steady "Sarah" passed me again and promptly started dry heaving a few hundred yards up the road. I kept going.
As I made the turn to the north in the Energy Lab, I saw the set-up for a beautiful sunset. It was still light, but the sun was getting lower in the sky. At the end of the road, the Japanese volunteers were doing a shift change, and all I heard was "Sponges". Then next thing I knew, all these Japanese volunteers with latex gloves were swarming the race course picking up sponges. It was too funny. The sponges didn't have a chance. I almost didn't make it to the turnaround, but when I got there I said "Oh, do I have to go back?" The volunteers laughed. I kept going.
I passed the special needs station and didn't get my bag. I was still on the water and ice program with the occasional sip of cola. I continued up the Energy Lab hill to the Queen K highway once again. I was starting to feel better, and made the right turn south on the Queen K towards the finish line.
At one of the aid stations I said asked one of the children volunteers if he was up past his bed time. His parents though that was hilarious. I thanked him, apologized for keeping him out so late, and kept going.
Just then, I heard some steps coming up on me pretty fast. As the athlete, Doug, passed by me, I asked "Were you drafting off me?" He said "I didn't know there was a 7-meter rule on the run." I responded "Well, if you knew what was going on in my stomach, you wouldn't want to be any closer than 7-meters behind me!" He laughed, and we became running partners. Doug was a little faster than me, but he enjoyed my company and we spent three or four miles talking about "stuff". He's married, 2 children, and will be moving to Singapore soon. He was wearing a jersey Chris McCormack wore in a race some time ago. I asked him if he washed it before he wore it. He said no. I asked him if his wife supported his Ironman habit. He said no, but he found creative ways to get the training done. At each aid staion, Doug would walk, and I would shuffle. He was drinking from a water bottle and I asked him what was in it. "Coke."
By this time, I had been drinking Coke too. Just sipping it. Its magic after a long day, and sure enough Doug and I picked up the pace a bit. He was nursing a muscle injury, and finally told me to go ahead. By this time, I saw the outbound runners wearing luminescent rings around the necks. I didn't want one of those. At the next aid station, I heard they were serving the "infamous" chicken soup. I had been real good about my salt tablets, so I didn't think I was low on salt, but I wanted to try the chicken soup for the sake of the experience. It was delicious. Very delicious. It was worth staying out there to taste!
I finally arrived back at Palani Road, and had patiently watched the mile markers tick upward. By now I felt human again; I think the impact of the setting sun, cooled things down enough to actually run a bit. I took my sweet time running down Palani, and scanned the crowd for my family. Everyone was so encouraging, and I really felt alive. I could have run faster, but just cruised along. I completed the right turn down Hualalai, and the final turn on Alii Drive. Yes, I said the final turn on Alii Drive. Alii Drive. I found Mike and Julie, but not Matt or Andrea. I spoke to them and they said Andrea was up the road a bit. Mike had the baby, and he was NOT HAPPY that daddy was finishing the Ironman.
I scanned the crowd, and like magic, I saw Andrea and plucked her onto the road. We started running towards the finish line hand-in-hand. I asked her if the pace was O.K. and she smiled and said "Yes" (but her backpack was driving her nuts). It seemed like quite a jog down to the finish line, but WE did it. I crossed the finish line with my arms raised. We did it. We did it.
Click here to watch it: http://boss.streamos.com/wmedia/ironman/video/2007/kona/2007finish.wvx?starttime=3:33:21.00&endtime=01:00:00.00
Thank you for following along! I appreciate everyone's phone calls, e-mail messages, and good wishes. I want to thank Andrea for putting up with it, Julie and Mike for helping so much in Hawaii, my brother Matt and his wife Jen, our fantastic neighbors Mike and Olga who watched Penny and Paxton, my friend Josh at RMS triathlon, my brother-in-law Shawn, all the donors to our charities, The Tewksbury Crew, Matt Perkins at Headsweats, Brooke and the team at GU. Thank You!!!Please remember and pray for our Cancer fighters and the soldiers who are still out there "racing."
Now its your turn.
KonaSpeed!
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