KONA

Hot hot hot. As I was walking to our rented condo to get another load of bags to put in our rented car for the trip to the airport, Iran into another Kona competitor who finished his 16th World Championship on the same day that I finished my first. I asked him about the wind and the heat. He said that the wind has always been unpredictable, and that this year was nothing remarkable. The heat was all together different. It was the hottest he had ever experienced.

Before, I get to the race, or perhaps I should say the experience, because any idea of a race ended for me about 20 miles north of Kona as I headed back from Hawi on the bike leg, let me give you some details of the best vacation I’ve ever had.

Polly and I had plenty of time to plan for this trip. I qualified for the Ironman World Championship, (I’ll refer to it as Kona from now on) at Ironman Wisconsin 2008, 13 months ago. Her skills acquired as a travel agent several decades ago have not diminished, and she found us the perfect condo in Kailua Kona. It was about a kilometer from the race start and featured a lani, (deck) above the ocean. When sitting in our living room, looking out the window it seemed as though we were in the Pacific.

When I got off the plane, a week to the day before the race, the humidity amazed me. It felt heavy. I was inhaling water. I immediately drove to the bike shop to which my Trek TTX SL was shipped, and then headed to the condo to set up race central. That evening, I had dinner with John Post, my coaching client and Kona mentor and Bob Scott, the legendary Ironman. Bob has held several Kona age group records, and is still looking great and going strong at age 78. The three of us with a combined age of 201 years drove up to Waimea for great barbecue the next evening. We met an old friend of John’s, Lindsay Barnes, who is the headmaster of Hawaii Prep, and who as a volunteer handed me a bottle of water at the Hawi turn around during the race.

It was amazing to see the spirit of Kona build over the week. Driving from the airport on Saturday, I saw one or two bike riders, no runners and several signs warning drivers about athletes training on the Queen K. By the following Thursday, 2 days before the race, there was a steady stream of cyclists on the Queen K. Ali’i drive was sleepy the day I arrived; on Friday, the day before the race, as Polly and I strolled back from our morning swim, the street was brimming with some of the most amazing and intimidating bodies I have ever seen. The finish line, including a massive 3 screen jumbotron was under construction. Men and women pros were being interviewed and participating in photo shoots for their endorsers. What had been a sleepy tourist strip had been transformed into a Felliniesque festival.

My routine during the week was pretty regular, an early morning swim in Kailua Bay followed by a visit to the massage tent, breakfast, and then a ride along the Queen K (major portion of the bike course). Some days included short runs after the bike. It was a bit unnerving riding along the apron of the Queen K. Traffic was constant and fast, and with the cross winds at times blowing me into the rumble strip that separated the apron from cars, the rides were often a bit uncomfortable. I felt very strong with surprisingly high wattage for me, (230’s) at IM pace efforts. The heat was intense all week, but I was adapting. I felt great.

Polly arrived on Thursday, and the pre-race excitement really began to build. We strolled around downtown Kona, and I was able to buy yet another Kona t-shirt. I think I now have the world’s largest collection. I pointed out all the Ironman celebrities, and Polly was completely unimpressed. On Friday morning, she went swimming with me in Kailua Bay, and later that evening, we had a nice pre-race dinner with Curtis and Sue Weinstein who flew to Kona to watch me do the race. As arduous racing may be, watching it is perhaps more difficult. Polly, Sue and Curtis hung in for the whole day.

Okay, here it is...the race. I had my usual two Ensures at 1am, tossed and turned until 4am, and got up to chug another. The bike and transition bags had been checked in the previous evening with remarkable ease. All I had to do was pull on my trisuit, gather my swim goggles, skinsuit and sports drinks and head to the transition area. Polly kept me focused, and waited patiently for me to get body marked and pump up my tires. I gave her the pump, and headed back in to transition. I wouldn’t see her for another 8 hours.

I forgot to hand her my ipod, but fortunately ran into Jennifer Takata, my doctor, and an accomplished veteran of Kona who had come down to watch her friend Michelle Lanouette compete. She generously held on to it for me, and returned it to me back in Racine. Serendipitously, later that day, Sue and Curtis were standing on the “hot corner” waiting for me to come out of T1 when they started talking to a woman at the same spot. After a few minutes of conversation, they learned that she was from Wisconsin, and was there to watch a friend. When they said they were there for the same reason, and mentioned my name, Jennifer let them know that she was my physician. It’s a strange world.

I felt very calm and confident. Everything including my swimming had been going remarkably well. I was not afraid of the heat. I couldn’t wait to get started. I can’t quite remember the order of the following events, but there was a distinctly Hawaiian version of the National Anthem, Navy Seals dropped out of the sky, and the canon went off for the pro start. They began the race 15 minutes before the rest of us. At the sound of their start canon, I eased down to the water and stood watching for a while before I paddled out to the start line. To avoid the battering of faster swimmers rolling over me, I seeded myself about 50 yards behind the line. When the canon went off for the age groupers, I began swimming steadily but easily. After a few hundred yards, I picked up the pace. At the same time another swimmer went by me. I latched on to his feet, (not literally, but drafted behind him). For the first 7/8’s of the race we continually passed other swimmers. As we did so, each would try to get in the draft of the swimmer I was following. I kept saying to myself, “those are my feet.” At times, I would have to be quite aggressive in maintaining my position. A few hundred yards from the finish, “my feet” slowly vanished as their owner picked up his pace. I was sure that I was completing the fastest ironman swim ever. When I exited the water, I was shocked to find that it was in fact the slowest by about a minute, at 1 hour and 19 minutes. I have no explanation. Perhaps relying on the pace of the swimmer in front of me was a mistake. Lessons learned.

During the swim, I was a bit miffed at one of the kayakers who placed his boat in the middle of the swimming pack. As I tried to maintain my position, I was a bit nervous about being slammed by the hull. It was only after two minutes of concern that I realized that it was not a kayak, but a dolphin frolicking with these slow moving thrashers. The amazing thing about the swim at Kona is the amount of sea life that is visible during the race. Especially in the shallows, the colorful fish are teeming.

The 8 minute difference between my best time, and what I swam was not of great concern. The chaffing that was caused by my skinsuit was. 20 minutes into the swim, my neck and under arms were feeling the effects. I still have scabs in both places 10 days after the race. Fortunately, vaseline and the protective wing, (a white garment that had sleeves connected by a thin shoulder covering) minimized the discomfort from these abrasions during the race.

T1 was the site of the first Dicker Dufus move. I headed out of the changing tent without the skull cap that was supposed to protect my tonsorially challenged head from the sun. I realized too late that I had forgotten it. When I went back to get it, my bag had all ready been thrown into a sorting pile. Not even the expert help of my friend and savvy volunteer John Post was able to locate the bag. Oh well, the racing striped sun burn on my head was a badge of honor.

The first 65 miles of the bike were perfect. I kept to my wattage plan, and if anything, felt like I should be going harder. I knew it was hot. I kept dumping water on my head and arm coolers constantly, and stuck with what I thought was my conservative approach. My running was going well in training, and I wanted to make sure that I left enough in the tank to take advantage of that training. A modest wind was in our face all the way out to Hawi. It was less than I had experienced on any training day. I was looking forward to a supporting tail wind back to Kona after the turn around. FOOL! I had heard about the Mumuku, “the wind that blows both ways.” But, we all know that those urban or in this case island legends are pure BS. I was sure that I was on my way to a great day. I rolled down the 7 miles that I had climbed up to Hawi. I was flying, at least for me. I certainly wasn’t passed by anyone. Then, just as the road flattened out, it hit me in the face, a rude and unexpected slap.

At times on the way back to Kona, I was was in the small ring up front and the 25 in the rear cog set while riding downhill. I kept pushing, and kept cooling by dumping water on my head, arms and back. I picked up two bottles at every aid station for the purpose of external cooling. It was about 20 miles outside of Kona that my race was over. I suddenly realized that If I had any hope of finishing the, I had to shut it down. Until that moment, I actually thought that with a great race, I might have a chance to be 5th in my age group. No chance for that now. I took it very easy for the rest of the ride. As I crested the hill marking the entrance to the airport, the wind let up a bit, and made the last few miles a bit easier.

I actually ran through T2, a long way, all around the entire pier. I slathered my feet with Vaseline, pulled on my running shoes and headed up Palani. After a right turn on to Kuakini, I saw Polly, Sue and Curtis. Polly yelled, “you’re in 7th, come on, pick it up.” I smiled and told her the day was pretty much done. I was shuffling, and knew that was the pace for the rest of the day. Wrong again. As I turned to head back down to Ali’i drive to make my way out to the 5 mile turn around, I could not believe that I had not yet reached the first aid station. I was dying for some ice to put down my singlet. I started walking and finally made it to the first of the 25 aid stations manned by the fabulous volunteers. I stuffed my singlet, hat and shorts with ice, and tried to start shuffling again. I made it about 100 yards to the base of a hill and started walking. This was the closest to the edge I have ever been in a race. I was extremely overheated. At each aid station I managed to shuffle a bit further after the ice stuffing frenzy. By mile 8, I could run almost a kilometer before walking. At that point I was almost back to the spot that Polly, Sue and Curtis were waiting for me. When I saw her, I told Polly that they were going to have a long wait before they saw me again at the finish. She walked along with me for a while, and it was a big lift. I turned back on to Palani for the long climb up to the Queen K. No question about running up that monster. When I reached the top, I had about 15 miles to go. When I reached the infamous Natural Energy Lab, the hottest spot on the course, the sun was almost down. There’s a silver lining to every cloud.

Before that, as I headed out the Queen K, a guy with my colored wrist band, (the colors of the bands identified the age group of the competitor.) walked by me as I was stuffing ice. I caught up to him in a few strides. Steve Brown is from Perth, Australia, and was in the process of completing his fourth ironman of the year. His day like mine had not gone according to plan, but, for the next 14 miles we walked, jogged and finally ran to the finish together. We shared our training histories, and the huge debts that we owed to our wives for what they had to put up with. At the finish, Polly and Helen actually met each other. I probably walked more than I had to at that point, but time was really no longer a consideration. Those last miles were much more manageable and pleasurable because of the conversation with Steve.

While running down Palani with about a mile and a half to go, I asked Steve to help me pull off the protective wing that spared my arms and shoulders from the sunburn that seared my legs and head. I explained that even though my race time was not what I had hoped it would be, that I was going to get a great finish photo for the effort that I had put in. About 400 yards from the finish, I tossed my wing and the glow ring into the bushes and prepared for the finish. Evidently, in the 2 minutes between that toss and the finish line, I forgot what I was about. This last picture is worth a thousand words. DUFUS! LOOK UP!

At the finish, I told Polly that even though I had signed up for Lake Placid next year, that I was officially done with Ironman. I never thought I would qualify for Kona. I did, and I finished even though it took me 13 hours, 7 minutes and 15 seconds, more than 90 minutes slower than what I had hoped. By the next morning, I was planning my return to Kona. I learned more in this race than I have in any other. But, that’s another story for my new blog.

Polly is a saint. The different versions of me that she has had to get to know and put up with are absurd. She hangs in, supports me and allows me to keep on going. The happiness and peace I have achieved is largely due to her, “the genius of everyday life.” I would also like to thank Curtis and Sue for coming out to share the experience with Polly and me. It helped make Kona even more special. Of course without the effort that Adam Zucco, my coach, put in, not only to focus my training, but to deal with my constant questions, I would never have completed my first ironman, let alone qualified for this one. Kathy Howell kept treating my different muscular and skeletal issues while Heidi Fannin worked to keep my soft tissues soft. My thanks to both of them. Finally, I want to thank John Post for all the information and support both before and after we landed on Hawaii together.

And, I certainly thank anyone who has managed to keep reading to this point.

ROAD TO KONA

Okay, okay....so it’s not me. But I can ride a bike.

It’s been a long time since my last post. Before I recount the highs and lows of the Ironman World Championship at Kona, I thought it might be a good idea to give a brief synopsis of the training year leading up to the big day. Skip this if you are the type that likes to turn to the last page of a novel. It will still be here after I post the story of Hawaii.

I previously described my first race of the year at Oceanside. I beat my previous time, but only came in 7th. Following that race, I went down to Portsmouth, Ohio in late May to do my 4th Triple T. That’s the 4 triathlons in one weekend that together total a full ironman distance. I did well, but not exceptionally so. The weather was cooler than usual, and I managed to hold my dufus moves down to a single boneheaded instance. I forgot to pack socks for the afternoon olympic distance race and ran without them., I managed to produce abrasions on both feet within the first mile of the run. Massive foot binding with gauze at the first aid station allowed me to walk and jog it in with Tom Geldermann who caught me as I was finishing the application of my vaseline poultice.

With the end of the school year, training picked up significantly, and it went well. My confidence grew with better and better running workouts. My next race was the Kansas 70.3. It was a great experience. I stayed with Ben Schloegel, an amazing athlete who lives in KC. We had great barbecue and a lot of fun. I came in second in my age group behind Steve Smith, probably the best American in the 60-64 age group. It wasn’t a close second, but it was a new 70.3 record for me at 5:24. I also got a hug from Chrissie Wellington as I crossed the line. So did everyone else that crossed the line after her. If you don’t know who Chrissie is, that’s her next to me. If you’re interested in why she’s amazing, email me, and I’d be happy to tell you and point you to websites that might be helpful in informing you about this amazing woman who happens to be the best triathlete on the planet.

Training continued going well. In late June, I competed at the Bigfoot olympic distance triathlon held at the Lake Geneva end of Geneva Lake. (Don’t ask about this inversion.) I won my age group, although my run was disappointing. Two races, Kansas and Bigfoot, and no major blunders. Training was going well, and I could feel my fitness and confidence rising.

In late July, I was back at the starting line of the Spirit of Racine. The trademark vigilant World Triathlon Corporation will not allow any event to use the term Ironman. So these half and full ironman distance races that are not part of WTC or pay WTC for the privilege have the odd sounding “full distance” or “half distance” descriptor after their names. Incidentally, the Spirit of Racine is rumored to be entering the fold, and will be a Ironman 70.3 next year, (70.3 being the total swim, bike and run miles of a half ironman). Anyway, this was a good race for me, everything, or almost everything went according to plan. I was under 5 hours for the first time in a half ironman. Unfortunately, the swim was a bit short. The one thing that did not go according to plan was the swim preparation. As I was talking to Bill and Jenny Schmitt, I tried to pull my wetsuit on my jamming my leg through the arm hole. I shredded the wetsuit, and had to swim with a gaping hole under my arm. It’s always something.

My final race of the year was a local sprint. I won both my age group and the one below me even though I had a usual dufus blunder. This time, I forgot to pack my running shoes, and had to do the 5k in my sandels. At least I didn’t get any blisters.

I was feeling great, and continued to train hard for the next 6 weeks leading up to the world championship.

In a couple of days, I’ll post the description of Kona.

SORRY

First of all, I’m sorry for doing this.  I have never asked friends for a donation before.  But this project got to me on a couple of levels.

Year after year I have been solicited by friends for their charities.  I usually come through.  Many of them have been in the form of solicitations that state they are doing a ride, a run, a triathlon to raise money for -----.  Let me say that I am competing in The Ironman World Championship in Kona for myself.  As my sainted wife Polly describes my life, “It’s   all about me.”  But after hearing about Puppies Behind Bars  http://www.puppiesbehindbars.com  I decided to give the race fundraising idea a try.

Back to the ways the puppies got to me.  Polly trains therapy dogs and brings them to nursing homes to cheer up the residents.  It works believe me.  She also brings them to reading programs to sit and listen to children read who might otherwise be intimidated to read before other children or adults.  Not only is Puppies a great effort all on its own, but it resonates with me because of her work.  It also uniquely redeems both the giver and receiver.   You see, 8 week old puppies are given to people incarcerated for serious violent crimes.  They are taught to train these dogs to help veterans who have traumatic brain injuries or have suffered extreme psychological damage.  The prisoners become more human as a result of their connection to the animals.  The soldiers who receive the dogs are able to make a loving relationship that they seem incapable of developing with other humans. They are twice blessed.

If you can, I would really appreciate any donation you can make to this effort.  They have their own donation page, or you can go to my Facebook cause page   Click Here   and click on the donate link above the comment box.  Please feel free to tell me what jerk I am, especially if you give a couple of bucks.

Feel free to forward this to any dog lovers who might be suckered into giving something.  The puppies always get them.

I also promise never ever to do this again.  

Who Are Those Guys?

Sitting here at San Diego Airport with the SoCal sun streaming in I can hardly feel the saddle sore acquired in yesterday’s California 70.3. This is one of the two great U.S. triathlon centers, the other of course is Boulder. CO. This morning driving down from Oceanside, the site of the race, I must have passed at least 500 cyclists and literally thousands of runners doing their pre or post outdoor coffee house exercise. I’m green with envy.

You can read about the competition won by Matt Reid, (a 1:11 half marathon!!!) and Mirinda Carfrae on any number of sites, I’ll just stick to a description of the course and the day. It started off quite chilly, about 46 degrees which made the 56 degree water seem inviting. The swim left from the harbor at Oceanside and took a dogleg out to the ocean and back. Evidently, I was worried about the possibility of enemy submarines as I zigzagged my way for about 1.5 miles of the 1.2 mile course. On the way back in, the sun was a problem. I had a big problem finding the buoys. Andy Potts avoided this problem on his way to setting a course swim record of 21:27.

The air temperature made some upward progress as the swimmers came ashore. The bike leg’s most technical part was right at the beginning as the athletes made their way out of the marina and up to the roads that lace through Camp Pendelton. Sharp turns and quick climbs kept the riders alert. The gently rolling hills and flats encountered a major shift at about mile 30 when in the distance what appeared to be a relatively long slope with hundreds of ants crawling up it loomed in the distance. They weren’t ants; and there was nothing relative about about the slope. Just as you thought you were reaching the summit, the road curved and continued up. It was there that you came upon some walkers, all men in my case. It’s probably the length of the hill and not the slope that got to them. It was a tough hill, but nothing like the legendary Beast of St. Croix. There were some more steep hills through about mile 40, but at this point it was the wind that played a greater part in slowing forward progress. It was on one of these hills that I felt a friendly tap as Adam Zucco of TrainingBible coaching passed me on his way to a first place finish in the impossibly competitive 30-34 age group. (Obviously he was in a wave that started about 40 minutes behind me.) Finally, it was back to the marina, T2, and the start of the run.

There were two surprising aspects to the two loop half marathon. The first occurred at the beginning and happened three more times. The runners had to get off the road and run on the beach around a condo development. The soft sand between the road and the harder sand near the water made for a real trudge. The competitors got to experience and think about this sandy march as they went out and back and out and back. The other surprise was the hilly course that sprung up on a beach and town run. Just before mile 2 and 8 of the run, the course took a sudden turn up into a residential area of Oceanside. The turn was a short steep climb, from that point on it was up and down to the turn around. Those expecting or hoping for flat run along the water were disappointed.

With the exception of the chilly start, the day was perfect. For those coming from the chilly regions of the U.S. and beyond competing with the sub-species evolved in California presented a daunting challenge. Who are those guys? This was the most competitive race in which I’ve competed. This includes, Vineman 70.3, IM Louisville, and IM Wisconsin. If you want to see where you stand in the grand scheme of US Triathlon, this is the race for you. I was 7th of 24 in my ancient 60-64 age group, this, after breaking the course record for that age group in Wisconsin by 34 minutes. Who are those guys?