Ironman - Here's the deal...

For me, it started about seventeen years ago. Kevin (my brother) and I used to watch the television intently as Mark Allen, Dave Scott and Scott Tinley would battle it out in the heat, then we would be out riding our bikes and talk trash about racing Kona one day. Back then, it was an adolescent dream that I know got lost over the years. About four years ago, I found it again. Last week, it came true. My mom has always worried about me since I started this crazy sport but she has the Julie Moss finish etched in her memory. This is the one you see on all the highlight reals of the woman crawling across the finish line. More on this later...

This has been a long year for me for a number of reasons, I'll try and stick to the running and triathlon aspects of this here. About a year ago, I ran the Chicago Marathon. In the spring, it was off to the Boston Marathon. July was Ironman Austria, August Ironman Canada, and finally October Ironman Hawaii. IM Hawaii, aka Kona, is by far the biggest triathlon in the world. It's the World Championships for some, but for the sixteen hundred other athletes not trying to win, it's one of the hardest things you can do in life. 3.8 km Swim, 180 km Bike, 42.2 km Run. To date, my fastest time is just over ten hours, my Dad likes to joke that he has trouble staying awake for ten hours. We all know it's no joke.

I arrived in Kona on Oct 6 which gave me plenty of time to get used to the heat. I met Dale and Cailla Paterson on the plane who are both triathletes and had come to watch the race as a holiday. Super nice people, Cailla would later be my "catcher" at the finish line to which I'll be eternally grateful to her for.

I had heard so many stories about the bike course, how hilly it was, how hot it was, the lava fields etc etc. So, I decided on day 1, that I should ride a good part of it. I was soon struck by the desolate nature of this place. The endless lava fields went on as far as the eye could see and emitted a heat that took your breath away. After two flats and a rescue by a Danish/German coach, I found myself back on the road and riding with my new friends AJ/Lisbeth and Michael. (Lisbeth is a machine, she came eighth overall for the women) AJ is a pro-triathlete who races short-course, but for this week, he was to be my surfing buddy.

Fast forward to the day before the race. A lot of cool stuff happened in that time but I'll have to come back to that later. On the schedule is an easy swim and optional run. For some reason, I was dragging my butt and I told Cal (my coach and roomie) not to wait for me. I decided to swim out to the course from the hotel, instead of walking down to the race start. Serendipity defined. After about twenty minutes, I was swimming back to the hotel and as I looked up, I saw a Barracuda swim by. It wasn't huge so it didn't really phase me and I kept swimming. The next time I lift my head to sight, I see a very big and very dark object swimming in front of me. This stops me dead in my tracks. I was quite relieved when I realised that I had swam into a pod of pacific dolphins. I spent the next half hour or so, floating, swimming, and giggling to myself as I watched the dolphins swim and play. It was an incredible experience and left me with a euphoric sense for the rest of the day. Of the people I told, most said this would be good luck.

Race morning arrived and I had a quick look outside to check the surf. I was joking with myself all week that if it was really good on race morning, I might consider not racing. I had my morning protein shake and bit of fruit, then I was out the door. Earlier in the year, I was late for the IM Austria start and didn't get a swim warm up so I wanted to be sure to get down there with time to spare. The line for body marking was huge and I think I was there for the better part of half an hour. They stamp your race number on both arms and one of your legs so you can be easily identified if they find you passed out somewhere on the course. After this, I made my rounds to the porta-potty, dropped off the last of my food, pumped my tires, then ditched my clothes to head for a swim warm up. I saw Tracey in the transition area, we had a bit of a high school reunion the day before, she commented on how calm I was.

The interesting thing they did this year was start the pros 15 minutes ahead of the age groupers. Since age groupers are traditionally sneaky bastards, they also kept us out of the water until the pros were long gone. I don't think anyone from the race organisers ever did the math on getting over 1600 people into the water down a four-foot wide stair case in less than ten minutes. I was oblivious to the time and found myself at the back of this line. As I entered the water, I was imagining a nice easy warm up out to the start line. About 30 seconds later, I heard the boom of the cannon signaling the start of the race! I thought to myself: "I guess that's the end of your warm up!"

The swim in Kona is notoriously rough, not ocean-swell rough but physically rough. From what I can tell, there are two reasons for this: the fact that the race starts in the water (1600 people treading water, waiting for the gun to go off) and the fact that it's "World Championships." The standard advice from those in the know is to start on the left and swim wide to get away from the crowd. My advice might now be to start from 150 metres behind the line and swim right up the middle because I was by myself until about 400 metres before the first turn. It was great. I rounded the turns and tucked in behind someone going about my speed to save some energy for the bike. Because the water is so warm, wetsuits are not allowed. Add the ocean swell and a few other factors and generally times are five minutes slower than normal. For me, I was ecstatic with the 1:06 I posted as I exited the water. Even better, was that I finally had some swim photos of me, something I had missed out on in my previous races.

After the quick change and slathering of sun screen, I was off on the bike. The course winds through the streets of Kona, up and down a few hills then you finally hit the Queen K highway and head north. On my way through town, I had my first mishap: my gel flask ejected from my bike as I hit a pothole. Ironman is an interesting race because it's not about going all out. It's a management sport; get enough calories, don't go too hard, drink enough fluids, etc. The cardinal rule is: don't do anything new on race day. So there I am, two miles into the bike and my food plan is out the window. As it was still early and not too hot, I decided that I could eat solid food (power bars, bananas) for the first half of the bike and still be ok. God I love hindsight...

The race got interesting when the winds really picked up. This was one of the worst head winds I've ever ridden in and several of the seasoned pros were quoted as saying it was the worst conditions ever for the race. I found myself with my head down, peddling my ass off, and barely turning a gear that I usually ride on a steep hill. I was watching my splits and calculating time to the turn around, and it was not looking good. I calmed myself down by reminding myself that the conditions were the same for everyone.

The climb up to Hawi where the race turns around, was pretty tough as well. The winds were doing all sorts of things and none of them pretty. As I turned around I decided it was now my time to ride and I was going to take advantage of the tail wind and kick some ass. My bike split at the turn around was just under three hours, it had been about two and a half in Canada... The Hawi climb is famous for breaking people's will to live and violent cross gusts (up to 60 mph) I'm usually quite relaxed when I ride but on the descent I was white knuckling the whole way as I pushed 80 km/h getting hit with the occasional gust of same speed. A guy in front of me was forced right into the ditch as he locked up his breaks.

So I eased up a bit and tried to get some food in me as I came toward the bottom. I had picked up a second gel flask at the turn around but it was not with me long. While reaching for it, I managed to hit a cat-eye and it went skidding into the ditch as I looked back in dis-belief. I had another little chat with myself and kept going. By this time, I was getting used to the taste of power bars and thought things couldn't get much worse. Ever meet Mr. Murphy? Well, he lives in a lava field in Kona. As we headed back toward town, the wind shifted and we were faced with yet another head wind. This had happened to me when I was riding with AJ and Lisbeth the week before so I was not entirely surprised. Pissed off, but not surprised.

I cruised into transition #2 with a bike split of 5:49, about 40 minutes slower than Canada. Leading up to the race, I had hoped to crack 5:00. I shrugged it off and put on my running shoes. I have this joke with myself as I run out of T2 and it never fails to make me laugh. I say to myself: "and how far do I have to run now? Twenty six miles!!! It didn't say that on the brochure..." I know, this is a sick sport.

The run was to really test me, not so much physically but mentally. As soon as I was out there, I knew it was going to be rough. My stomach started to cramp and I felt like I had a balloon being inflated somewhere in my small intestine. The pain was definitely related to how hard I pushed and was not getting better. I spent the first ten miles of the run wondering what the hell had gone wrong. The rule of nothing new on race day is there for a reason. I'd never eaten power bars in a race and now I knew why. It was just too much solid food for me to digest and now it was all lumped up in my guts somewhere. I started wondering if I would finish. Then I started questioning if I wanted to finish. I was walking through aid stations and just shaking my head, thinking: "why am I here?"

I have this little trick I do when I'm having trouble getting out the door for a tough training session. I call it the bitch-slap, it goes like this: "Listen you lazy son-of-a-bitch, get your ass out that door and get it done!" I was down pretty low and it would seem that this is what I needed. So, it was:"Listen you SOB, you better have a pretty damn good reason NOT to finish this race, you're out here because you CAN be here"

I don't know if it was the bitch-slap or the massive fart that I let rip at about mile ten but this is when I started to feel better. I started to think positive, I know this sounds cheesy, but I started going through my head and thinking of all the people I know that had told me I inspired them. Although I knew they would somehow understand if I didn't finish, it would still be disappointing. First there was my Dad. If you know him, you know he would never come out and say it directly but I know it does give him a boost. He's in the middle of chemo right now so I just tried to put myself in his shoes and imagine what it's like. Then, of course, there was my Mom. Enough said. Then I went through the list of friends: Sean, Lloyd, Carrie, Kris, Nicole, Kathryn, Jim, Kristin, Abby, Josephine, Svetlana, Gundula, Ben, Michel, Rhod, Pieter, Michelle, Chris, Jenny, Sharon, Roseanne, Cindy, just to name a few. (I know I've forgotten some so I apologise!) These are all people who at sometime have told me that I've inspired them. Whatever I've given them, I took it back ten fold out on that course.

This is the part where if it were a Hollywood movie, I would have clocked 5 minute miles for the remainder and won the race. Truth be told, I was lucky to squeeze in some eight minute miles and be in the top third of finishers. The turn around for the second part of the course is with about seven miles to go. You climb a big hill, then it's six miles to the finish or about ten kilometers. By this time, I was feeling pretty good and started doing the math on breaking eleven hours. I gave it a shot but fell four minutes short.

The hardest thing to explain to someone is what it feels like to finish a race like this. Not just an ironman, but a race where you've battle with yourself, knowing you were just trying to cross the line. I had been 68th in Ironman Canada, but somehow being 527th in Hawaii was just as sweet or perhaps even sweeter. The feeling of absolute joy, relief, and exuberation as you run into that finish chute is incredible. The crowd is going wild, the announcer is yelling your name and all the pain of the day is gone.

I think the catchers have the best job as volunteers. They get to tell you to stop: yes, it's ok for you to stop running! Ok, some of them get barfed on but overall I think it would be pretty was gratifying. Cailla was there for me and I swear, if her and Dale ever have kids, I'm on the list for free baby-sitting.

After I managed to find all my pre-race clothes (this took the better part of two hours) I rode my bike back to the hotel. Yes, it was not the most comfortable ride but it was better than walking. I had a shower, cleaned up and then tracked down Cal. I think he was a little surprised when I said I wanted to return to the finish. We had a bite to eat then shuffled slowly back down to pier. I had the worst set of blisters I have ever had in my entire life so I was moving slowly.

The race for the cut off, to me, is the essence of Ironman. This is the only sport where joe-public races next to world-champion. The 17 hour limit is an incredibly long day and I have so much respect for people that race for this. We watched a 75 year old come plugging through with about ten minutes to spare. Another older guy ran through with a young girl who held a sign: "this is my grandpa!!!" I'm not sure if I'll still be doing this when I'm 75, but it is nice to dream.

Although this has been quite long, there's a ton that's been left out. My good friends Kim and Trevor got married, my surfing adventures with AJ, snorkeling off the coast, the post-race party, my trip to Maui just to name a few. All said, it was the experience of a life-time and I wouldn't trade it for the world.

D