Ironman World Championship Recap, October 15th 2010

Well maybe the third time's the charm. I've tried two ther times to get something suitable for print and think I'm actually there. These race reports of mine tend to be entertaining but for the life of me, this one's been challenging. Not because I didn't enjoy the race but I think more because nothing went appreciably wrong which significantly reduces the number of potentially entertaining and humorous vignettes. So with that disclaimer and the disclaimer that sorry, it's long, here it is... you are always welcome to skip to the punchline. no hard feelings on this end. If you are tagged, it's because I actually mentioned you in some way and not because I thought you had a spare hour to read a novel on my GI issues :) Training and racing leading up to the race was text book. I was faster this year than I ever expected to be so going into the full Iron distance, expectations and hopes were high. And regardless of people will tell you, there are always goals inside that we only share with ourselves or one other person. So yeah, I had high hopes. With the right day and weather conditions, something really good would happen. I've heard sage advice that says don't burden your family with your disappointments as they don't know the difference between a 16:30 and an 11:30. In order to be honest in my race report, I will admit that my time was a few minutes greater than what I wanted but as usual (think "cruise amnesia" and "deployment amnesia") post-Ironman amnesia has set in. Cruise Amnesia means you forget all the bad stuff and remember only the good stuff. As in, you forget that the ship was dirty (uh, filthy....), port calls were few and far between, laundry came back dirtier than when it left (if it came back at all), there was jet fuel in the shower (when you had water to the showers), and you swear that lettuce wasn't supposed to be yellow and chicken wasn't supposed to be green. Ironman amnesia includes things like you forget that it was hottern' hell, you nearly drown at the start line, had about 3 minutes of the most overwhelming anxiety because you couldn't find the body marking, you saw some guy naked in transition (ok, that was 2008 and apparently I still haven't forgotten it), Europeans are the most bizarre people on the planet now add spandex, is Canada really a country or just another county (albeit LARGE) north of Michigan, NY and Wisconsin, eh? I arrived on Oahu Tuesday before the race to break up the trip a little (I know...that extra 100 miles to the Big Island would have put me over the edge). This also afforded an opportunity to hang out in Kailua for a day before heading into the insanity that is Kona during the week prior to the race. After a quick stop at the beach, the Green Market and a run, I headed to the circus. When I stepped off the plane, it was HOT and WINDY. Gooooood times. Not that anything different was the expectation but it's always an eye-opener even when I lived on Oahu. The leeward side of Hawaii is damn near desert. At least the coffee is good. I don't remember a lot of the following days except that I enjoyed being back in Kona, enjoyed a jog or two, enjoyed a swim from Dig Me Beach and did a short ride down the Queen K. Haysoos was busy drinking Big Wave Ale. Slacker as usual. It never ceases to amaze me how big this event is. OK, maybe not Super Bowl in terms of total people and $$ gross intake but it serves as a reminder of the entire infrastructure if you will that has grown up around triathlon. Watching the 2010 US ITU Championships on Versus yesterday, they commented that triathlon is the fastest growing sport in the nation. They do have this marketing thing down to a science. Lest you think this is meant as a negative comment on capitalist athletes, on the contrary. It's a reminder how endemic the sport is and how many people it reaches on absolutely every level of athletic ability. OK, endemic was the wrong choice of words, pandemic is probably closer since triathlon in truly global. In any case, it's a disease :) Winner Chris McCormick ran by my on Palani on his way to victory just a mile down the road. How many people can say they've competed in an athletic event along side the pros in this manner. Of course I still had 25 miles to go when he had 1 but I did spot him 30 minutes at the start. Ha. Ha. Um, yeah. I don't change my diet during race week except that there's less of it. No different the night before the race except that I eat dinner wicked early. Pizza from the Kona Brewing Company and a beer. No, I didn't eschew either beer or caffeine in the making of this film and if you have to ask why not, then you must me new and this your first rodeo. Training is such a burden that it's the little things in life that assist you in making it through. Coffee and beer/wine among those "little things". There are more but that info is TS/SCI. Race morning. In the way of background, I've gone minimalist this year. Paring down material items as well as trimming my life such that if you saw my desk at work, you'd be hard pressed to guess as to whether someone actually worked at the computer. I didn't pare down bikes of course but my promise to myself was not to add a fifth bicycle. Or a second motorcycle. Or a 1980's era Bronco. Or a dog. Heading out on training rides was minimalist as well with two bottles and a couple of gels. This led to only one Deliverance moment so it worked out well. Fast forward to race day and I was pondering the wasteland that was my nutrition plan (one bottle of highly concentrated product and one bottle of water) for 6 hours of riding. Not only that but I've been minimalist with my time as well. Meaning I'm not going to rush and I'm not going to get there a second before I have to. Many race reports talk about athletes getting up at 3 am. Whuh? Really? Yeah, me not so much. That's just more time to stress. A 5 am wakeup was plenty topped off with Kona coffee and a 6# bran muffin from the Kalapawai provided by Ted the Super Sherpa. Minimalist is good until you can't find body marking. It's on the other side of the King Kam hotel so if you don't know where you're going, this can be interesting and the warning label should read something along the lines of "may cause anxiety attack" when you can't get there from here. I was so late that they were closing up shop and putting all the stamps away but good news was I wasn't the only minimalist that day. Body marked and anxiety attack complete (so much for my zen feeling), it's now off to transition to check my bike one last time. People are everywhere and many are just sitting around transition on the ground chatting with other athletes. I feel grateful that my time line is so short that I don't have to pretend to be social, am not burdened with the requirement to be social and give myself free rein to be completely ANTI-social. It's in the genes so why fight nature. Into the water. Last year I watched from the sidelines of the sea wall. This year, it was so very rewarding to be IN what I watched last year. In the water with 2000 other athletes knowing that while there were plenty of spectathletes (you wild and crazy athletic spectators - it's a full on SPORT you know) there were only 2000 other people on this planet of 6.5 billion that would experience what you would experience this day and this day will never be again. You may come back to race again but this one is special and you are surrounded by people who get it just like you. No matter where you end up (on race day or in life), when you cross the finish line, it's officially part of your "no one can ever take this away" kit. Much could be said about the Kona swim but suffice it to say only, it's Kona and it kicks my ass. Moving on... My coach set up a very specific (yet simple...minimalist if you will) plan for the bike. It must have worked because when I was finished 6 hours later, the thought was I should have gone harder. This is good because it means there's plenty of gas in the tank for the run. Yes, it was disappointing but only because I felt fantastic coming into this race and have never been stronger on two wheels. On the up side, the climb to Hawi almost felt easy. Scary cross winds but nothing unusual. In typical fashion, I didn't get my special needs bag. The sage ones tell you not to count on them and I didn't but when you get handed a bag that ends up being the wrong bag, it has a tendency to flip a switch so my goal of not uttering the F-word went right out the F-wording window. Instead of my brownie and red bull, I got the race bag of one 40 yo Andrew Buchta. What little he put in his special needs bag tells me volumes about him that I will remember for all time. Apparently F-wording Andrew (who OBTW finished light years ahead of me and I should have taken his bag after all) likes candy and Pez so he must be a whimsical and happy go lucky 40 year old. PEZ????? ARE YOU FREAKIN' KIDDIN' ME???? AGH! At least the poor sucked who got MY bag ended up with a brownie and a red bull. I feel F-wording CHEATED! Pez. Sigh. Andrew, if we ever meet, I have a few things to share with you my friend. Other good news on the bike (aside from the bonus Pez) was that I didn't get stung this year. I've done the trip up to Hawi numerous times and never fail it seems to get tagged in the chest with a bee that digs in deep. The jury is still out on whether this is good or bad because if one DOES get stuck by a bee, it totally takes your mind off the wicked cross winds and aching disc in one's back. Good news for me was that the disc took my mind off the winds which took my mind off my back. Do the psychology math on that one. Powered by Pez-induced anger for the next 30 miles, I picked up the speed nicely. There was an unexpected tailwind for a while and the headwinds passing Kohala and Hapuna weren't as bad as usual. I had already lost all the time I would and finally things would be downhill from here....metaphorically speaking that is. Each event is so long that by the time you get done, it's like the greatest feeling ever. Hot spots on my feet, an already blistering sunburn and a back that wouldn't be quiet made provided ample motivation to get moving on the run. With visions of 2008 running through my head of starting out a 8 minute miles, I dialed it back significantly and headed out at what felt like a comfortable pace. Best news all day was no side cramps or cramps at all for that matter which have plagued me all year. Of course, I was a walking pretzel from all the salt tabs but no worries. Headed out of transition to the first right turn on Kuakini, Chris McCormick passed me at the speed of light. That little bit of excitement in the rear view, it's on with the marathon. The first ten miles were really tough this year. Ted caught a picture of me looking miserable. I didn't quite feel that bad but if you didn't know better, you'd say I was having a bad day. This is always about the time my stomach starts protesting so I stopped eating until 6 miles in (just under an hour). The turn-around seemed to take forever and in fact take so long (or so it seems) that people that were cheering you on the way out are either drunk or taking a nap by the time you come back around. I passed by a familiar spot overlooking the ocean and again reflected on the fact that my picture had been taken here two years ago during the race and how cool is it to be back. That picture has been a constant reminder and motivation to keep going with the training, keep going with life and it kept me going again here. In order to complete an Ironman, one really needs to be able to compartmentalize and cordon off sections mentally. The swim is one, Hawi another, T2, the Energy Lab, etc. Another is the short climb up Palani hill. It doesn't seem short of course but it's a steep hill. Once you get up Palani, you turn the corner and then all you hear is the breeze and are convinced that tumbleweed will be blowing by any time. There are pockets of civilization in the way of aide stations but as darkness falls, you wonder, "if I end up dead, will someone be able to find my carcass?" I've heard that IM Florida after Katrina was the worst due to the fact that FEMA took all the portable lights for New Orleans. Once you headed out into darkness... Thankfully it was still light even if a bit on the desolate side. Everything hurts at this point and you just want it over with but my mid games enable me to stay engaged. "Will I get my special needs on the run in the Energy Lab" and "Who will I blurt out the F-word to because I don't?" Folks, it's aaaallll consuming. About halfway up Palani, someone from the county of Canada passed me at a blistering pace. I wanted to shout, "YOU SHOULD HAVE GONE FASTER ON THE BIKE!" Into the pit of death. OK, way too much is made of the Energy Lab. It's not that hard especially after everything you've already been through. Down the gradual hill, right turn to the lab, hit the timing mat and head back. Low and behold, they had my special needs bag waiting. I had scrawled on it the day before, "I WANT MY RED BULL!!" and apparently the guys found this funny. As I rolled up, before I could say anything, they yelled, "HEY WE HAVE YOUR RED BULL!! WOOOOOOO" God. Bless. You. Son. While in 2008, I found that anger and adrenaline will carry you about, oh, 6 miles, this year I found that my shot of energy in the form of caffeine, sugar and chocolate (yup, brownies too) will do the same. Mo' bettuh too. Heading back up the hill, most of the race is in the bag and you're finally realizing that this may happen. Up until you get to this point, there are always doubts on if you'll be able to finish. There are so many variables - injury, winds, heat, nutrition, penalties, blah, blah, blah... With only 6 miles to go, it seems real. Up the Energy Lab Hill, right on Queen Ka'ahumanu, and head towards town. In terms of the military competition, I had pretty much written it off because I never saw Air Force (she finished in 10:40 or so), Coast Guard was about 2 miles ahead and Army was a mile ahead. With only 6 miles to go, it seemed impossible. Enter Ted the Super Sherpa at about mile 138. I hadn't seen him once on the course (or at least that i can remember - it's a haze) so seeing him ride up on the Scooter of Justice was a welcome sight. We chat briefly and I asked if he would have Haysoos ready for me as I round Ali'i drive so he can cross with me. He moves on and next thing I know, he's back saying the Army girl is walking only 4 cones (about 100 meters) ahead. Once again I fail on my goal not to say the F-word but at least this time it's a good thing as in YGBFSM! And "Holy sh!t!" I crank up as much juice as I have in the tank praying desperately that I have enough blood sugar on board to support my heart rate that is now borderline red-zone for the next 20 minutes. After about 5 minutes I see her ahead, tell her good luck and to finish strong and pass without a look back. Unless you get the Army/Navy rivalry, this wouldn't mean much but just understand that this one pass made 11 hours and 44 minutes of pain worth every last effort and it entirely erased any bad feeling I might have had about the race. Navy football can be 0-10 but if they beat Army, all is forgiven. I ended up besting her by a mere 4 minutes and big-picture, the Air Force was unstoppable, but at least Jonser and I put out the best we could with a small victory, however so slight. One last jaunt down Palani which is just as painful as up mind you (creaking joints, sore knees, screaming quads) and right on Kualalai, it's time for the victory lap. Ted was waiting with Haysoos. I'm sure that climbing Mt. Everest would be cool and trekking the Himalayas is inspiring but to someone who had spent the last two years on a journey to this spot, it's the most wonderful feeling of accomplishment I can imagine. All the hours on the trainer in Kuwait, all the laps, Saturday rides, 4:30 wake ups (not often but enough...), it's all for this moment. It may strike some people outside this spectacle that it's narrow how we define our identities on this race but it's not just the identity of the race but the identity of a lifestyle that celebrates not just physical but mental and emotional endurance like few other sports can. Not only that, but more importantly it's a lifestyle that celebrates accomplishment within our lives meaning the greater majority of the 2000 in the race are employed with full-time jobs, families and children. We aren't taking off two months to climb Mt. Everest or trek the Himalayas. We are putting the period on our season long sentence with a more than a little bit of flair and gusto. Except for the Honu of course who once again rode in on my coat tails. This is getting terribly long but I would be horribly remiss in not mentioning my Armed Forces siblings. The military was featured in the October edition of Triathlete as an occupation that is friendly to training and racing (triathlon specifically but really for most all sports). Yeah, the job is conducive to start with but we also grow a product/person that is more inclined to have that passion and fire demanded by the Ironman event. Not that I have anything against civilians but I have surrounded myself with military or those in close contact with the military voluntarily. Both of my coaches have been military the current being a Navy Reserve Captain and Naval Aviator who drinks from the same koolaide bowl as I. I've been far more excited about racing for Navy than I ever have racing for myself and it so much more motivates me when I have Sailors who want to talk sports and triathlon than anyone else. We work, sleep, deploy, fly and go on liberty together and at the end of the day, we still love and respect each other. Not true about my entire military experience but certainly the huge majority and particularly in triathlon. With family and "family" rooting for me all the way from from Hawaii to CONUS, and Italy to Kuwait (God bless you Liston!), it's humbling to know that so many care regardless of the final score. It is also incredibly humbling to be accepted as the face of All Navy Triathlon and Ironman not once but twice despite being the decrepit age of 40. It's an expensive gig and the Navy can always pull the plug (as well as the IM corporation for that matter) and yet still here we are. So to my intrepid spouse Gonzo (Navy Ironman stud and Fighter Pilot extraordinaire), the Cooks (Jerald - Navy Kona Competitor, Molly Navy tri stud), Dave Haas (Navy Kona Competitor), John "Sea Bass" Marinovich (Navy Kona Competitor), Lee Boyer (Navy Kona Competitor), Nick Brown (Navy Kona Competitor), the Cocanours (Spencer - Kona Military Representative to the Armed Forces Teams), the Ferreiras (Mike - USCG Kona Competitor), Brent Joaquin (Navy Tri stud), Belinda Wray (Navy tri stud), the Springers (Navy and USCG tri Studs), the Kauns (Kurt - Former Navy and current tri stud) and Doug Marocco (USMC tri and marathon legend), thanks for your inspiration, motivation, dedication to military triathlon and dedication to being military members involved in triathlon. If I've missed a few my apologies; there are so many. A special thanks to Ted Nugent (Former Army and current Xterra tri stud) and Olwen Huxley (athletic stud across the board and philosopher extraordinaire) both associated with military and triathlon who have been some of the best mentors I have in this sport. Additionally, your friendship (and sherpa services) have been far above and beyond the call of duty and I owe you a debt of gratitude for not only supporting me in triathlon but in life as well these last few years. To my coach Scott Jones, fellow team mate, fellow Naval Aviator, fellow Kona competitor, you never ended up on a Wheaties Box like Doug but I respect you nonetheless simply because you and I speak from the same source and breath from the same atmosphere of personal responsibility and passion for self improvement. Plus you use the F-word too. Thanks for taking me in when I was lost in the woods :). I owe you big and one day hope to grow up and be a sherpa at your summer camps. Lastly, your wife Teresa continues to be an inspiration as she belts out sub-11 hours at 53. Fifty-F-wording-three. We are not worthy. To my family both by blood and by Ohana, Hawaiian and otherwise (Val, Julie and Jen specifically), I can try several ways to express my gratitude: 1) Using one word - "cowbell!!!" (Or maybe "THERAPY!!") 2) Using two words: "you rock" or probably the most suitable for your support for me: 3) Using three words: "I love you" :) Mad Dog and Meggie, Gracie and TJ, aim high and I hope I've given you something to shoot not only for, but beyond. Aloha, Kristin/Rosie