Lessons Were Learned

As I sit down to write my final blog, I find myself taken back to my final steps (or should I say small shuffles) along Ali'i Dr on October 10th.  Those steps were as foreign to me as triathlon was in 2005 when I had my first race at Bellwood.  Never before have I been brought to tears before crossing a finish line.  But never before have I suffered like I did in Kona.  I don't know why, on the day I wanted the performance of a lifetime, my body deserted me.  I have gone over it a million times, but I have no answers.  I also have no excuses.  My stress fracture had clearly healed and it was solid throughout the race.  I prepared properly.  I was rested and hydrated.  I will search for the "whys", but as the days pass, I realize that sometimes it simply just "is".  This is the nature of the Ironman.  So I will review my race for several reasons:

1.  As on ongoing search for the "whys".
2. As a resource for my friends who, with hard work and some luck (always some luck), will inevitably find themselves making their final journey down Ali'i Dr in the years ahead.
3.  To resolve this race in my mind and to make peace with myself.  To recognize small successes and to be thankful for the opportunity I was given.

I arrived in Kona on September 30th.  We stayed at the Sea Village and the condos there are beautiful.

View from the lanai:

There was no air conditioning, but that was necessary as air conditioning may be comfortable, but it will do very little to help you acclimate to the conditions in Kona.  I assembled my bike, and on October 1st, I was fortunate enough to have the chance to tag along with Brian Keast, Kim Fabian, and Chris Kraemer for a ride from Waikoloa to Hawi.  This was a 90km ride and the first of many eye openers I experienced regarding the IM course.  The ride went well and I had decent power throughout the ride.  I was, however, shocked by the winds, the course elevation, and the heat/humidity (HH).  I should not have been shocked.  Everyone knows that this is what Kona is all about.  I knew it would be "challenging" but not like this.  I was told by EVERYONE, go to Kona with no expectations.  Aim to finish and enjoy the experience.  Sadly, however, I am nothing if not competitive.  Despite the years of experience that was offered to me, I wanted to do much more than just finish and enjoy the experience.  MISTAKE # 1.

The following day, I met Brian, Kim and Chris at the pier/swim start.

A typical day at the pier:

 We were going to swim the race course.  No big deal I thought.  My swims this year have all been between 3800-4500m.  The majority of them over 4000m.  I am an AVERAGE swimmer, but have always considered the swim as a means to an end in the race ... to get it over with and get on the bike.  To me, the swim was always the easy part.   I don't mind the contact and I have always felt pretty strong coming out of the water.  The first 2000m were great.  However, MISTAKE # 2.  I did not use body glide or vasoline.  At all.  Skin suit plus salt water plus no lube = disaster.  At 2000m, I told Brian that the sharks were coming because my armpits were bleeding.  They were bleeding alright, and the salt water added insult to injury.  But that wasn't the worst part.  I started to feel nauseous and completely fatigued as we headed back to the pier.  On the way in I thought about drinking a beer and making milkshakes.  I was clearly dehydrated.  The water was rough, and I felt like my arms were cutting the water like butter.  By the time I staggered in to the shore, I asked Brian, "What is this course of hell you have brought me to."  A serious serious wake up call.

On day 3, I participated in the Ho'ala Training Swim.  This was an organized swim put on by Ironman.  It was timed and there was a mass start for the participants (Approx 400 of us all together). The chaffing was bad, but I knew I had to do everything I could to get used to the ocean.  Although my swim time was a disappointing 1:16, I felt much better and figured I would survive the swim on race day.

My final training session of note was my hour run in the Energy Lab.

  Now the entire run course is HH, but this Energy Lab business is not from this world.  I am not even going to attempt to put into words what I experienced that day.  But I am thankful that my friends Marlene and Daphne accompanied me, by car, and provided me with fluids every 9 minutes as was required.  Sadly, as fate would have it, I did not see the Energy Lab during the daylight hours on race day.   This was, however, a blessing in disguise.

Fast forward to October 9th.  I had now spent 9 days in Kona.  My eyes were wide open as to the challenges the race would present.  I was strong mentally and ready to race.  I honestly believed that no matter what the race threw at me, I would have the day of my life.  I was expecting to suffer, but I was also expecting a solid performance.

I met Kim and we rode down for bike check-in.  This was an experience I will never forget.  The energy at the pier was like a drug.  At that instant, I understood that I was having the opportunity of a lifetime.  No other race is like Kona.  Everyone is treated like a professional.  For every athlete, there was a volunteer to escort you into transition.  And the transition area was mind blowing.

As we walked towards the transition area, various representatives handed out shirts, bags, water bottles, etc, as a thank-you for using their equipment.  Thank-you Powertap for the gifts!!  Other reps were furiously taking stats on what bikes and components were entering transition.  It was nuts.  I knew there would be no sleep that night.  But that was fine.  I slept well on the 8th, and I am pretty sure that hardly anyone sleeps well the night before Kona.

RACE DAY

I was up at 4:00am.  No alarm clock required.  My gear was in order and I was out the door by 4:45am.  Once body marking was completed we entered transition.  The normal preparations were completed and I felt strong mentally.  The helicopters and the screaming fans certainly did not deter from the excitement.  At about 6:50am, I entered the water and swam to the swim start.  At 7:10am, we were off.  Between myself and Kim, I would comfortably say that we have participated in close to, if not more than 100 swim starts.  So when Kim later described the swim to me as a "Vicious Mosh Pit", I knew I was not delusional.  Brian had told me that the Kona swim start was aggressive, and he wasn't kidding.  For the first time ever, my goggles got kicked off my right eye.  That was inconsequential as I stopped for about 2 seconds to drain them and readjust.  Nothing lost there.  I will suggest, however, that when racing in Kona, don't stop.  DON'T EVER STOP.  A quick peak at the buoys or a slight pause means that you will hammered.  KEEP SWIMMING.

All in all, I felt like I was having a great swim for about an hour and 5 minutes.  I managed to draft off of someone who I felt was the perfect match for me.  I even thought to myself that I would have her to thank for the swim of my life in the ocean when all was said and done.  I stayed on her feet for a huge portion of the swim, but as we started to catch some of the slower males, things got a bit dicey.  she either accelerated or I slowed down.  Either way, I finished the swim on my own, and it ended poorly.  For some reason, my calves started to cramp with about 5 minutes left to go.  I also felt a bit fatigued.  I was shocked at how quickly things started to nose dive, but I was content to ease up, save the calves and exit the water in 1:15.  I had hoped to be between 1:10 and 1:15, so I should have been pleased.  But I am never pleased.  I always want more.

I entered the transition tent and the K tape and bandages I had used to shield my chafing was hanging off of me.  A volunteer assisted me as I pulled the tape off and she gasped.  My arms were a bloody awful mess.  It did sting a bit during the swim, but I had a tube of vasoline in my transition bag and I used most of it on my arms.  It worked, and the chafing problem was solved for the day.  I would post pics, but you can use your imagination.  I am certain I will have permanent scars.

I was surprised to also find that, in transition, I just felt off.  I felt like I had just stepped off of a cruise ship as I was unsteady and fatigued.  I took my time then exited transition.  I was certain I would regroup and have a great bike.

This is where things went terribly wrong.  From the moment I got on the bike I had no power.  After racing IM Arizona twice,  and after completing a ton of other distance races, I am used to seeing my power sky rocket right off the bat.  I go out way too hard and have to really hold myself back.  On Saturday I was struggling to reach 130 watts.  This is just unheard of and something I can't get my head around.  I routinely produce more power on my casual 200k rides than I was able to produce on race day in Kona.  My average power was about 120 watts.  I knew I was in for a disaster of a day at that point.  I decided that I would just survive the bike, and that maybe I would feel great on the run.  I closely monitored my nutrition and fluids and stopped at every aid station.  But things just kept sliding.  It never got easy.  At about 100km into the ride my stomach was in knots.  I tried everything to relieve the cramping but could not solve the problem.  I tried more salt, less salt, more water, less gatorade, coke.  Every possible combination I tried failed.  I can't remember the exact moment, but I know I was on my way back from Hawi.  I knew I had to force the nutrition as I would be done without it, but as fast as it went down it started to come back up.  I am officially turned off of gatorade and I may never consume it again without dry heaving.  Hard to say.  But right now it's a no-go.  The bike was just agony.  The strong headwinds into town magnified my pain by 1000.  I was so happy to get off of that bike, but so deflated with my bike split.

As I sat in transition I honestly wondered how in the hell I was going to get through the day.  I took my time then headed out on the run course.  It was during my run that I really needed and drew upon the support that everyone had given me in the weeks leading up to my race.  I thought about every message I had received.  I thought about everyone who had told me they were going to follow my race on line.  I was so sad imagining what must have been going through everyone's mind as I carried on at a snail's pace, but it was just enough to keep me going.

As I turned onto Hualalai Rd, I saw my friend, Tracey Miernicki.  I started to cry.  All I remember saying at that point was that I didn't feel good.  It was so comforting to have her there at the instant I really needed her.  Miernick cheered me on as I walked/jogged and kept moving forward.  A couple of minutes later I saw Susan Cooper.  Again I broke down and I told Sue that I didn't know if I could do it.  Sue proceeded to tell me that I was in fucking Kona and to get in the fucking head space and smarten up.  Sue I really do love you and it was exactly what I needed.  It woke me up and that was the end of the crying.  

By the time I reached Sea Village I was searching for Mar and Daphne and as always, they were there  for me.  I was suffering, but not crying.  I apologized to them and told them I would finish the race but that I was going to be out there for a LONG time.

As the run (walk) progressed, my stomach started to straighten around.  I continued to drink coke and water at every aid station, and I hit the chicken broth the moment it appeared.  That was the real turning point for my stomach.  My body was completely done, but I tried my best to shuffle along and walk as little as possible.

The Energy Lab is an interesting place at night.  It is not punishing, and, ironically, it is where my stomach really took a turn for the better.  Maybe it was the live music.  I did appreciate the selection of  "Earth, Wind and Fire" tunes.  There were glow sticks, light shows and chicken broth.  A fond memory in my day of misery for sure.

I headed back along the Queen K Highway and saw Miernick with just over a mile to go.  I couldn't really speak at that point and she knew it.  She ran beside me and told me she would see me at the finish line.

As I rounded the final corner and headed up Ali'i Dr, I was completely overcome with emotions.  I am sure I cried the entire way and didn't stop when I crossed the finish line.  I can't say they were tears of joy.  They were definitely tears of enduring something that I have never endured before.

The support crew at the end of the race were amazing.  All I wanted to do was sit, but that was not an option.  I remember them saying I was shocky.  I remember not being able to form sentences, and I remember getting extremely cold and showing the nurse my goose bumps.  Nothing that a little time could not fix though.  I actually turned the corner fairly quickly and was allowed to carry on without supervision.  I think.  I am not sure if I was with someone or if I was alone when Miernick found me. I will ask.  Either way, Miernick got my bike and took me home.  I am forever grateful for her friendship and support.  I am also so thankful to have shared this experience with Mar, Daphne, my mom, and the other friends that were also racing in Kona.  Congrats to Kim Fabian and to Scott Cooper on your podium finishes and your wooden bowls.  Thanks for also letting me touch said bowls.  I admire and respect you both beyond words.

And that was my Kona.  For me, it was a day of survival.  It was not a day of racing.

I have pondered what the future holds for me, but after October 10th, I am certain of one thing.  I will return to Kona.  It may take a few years but I will be back to finish what I went there to do.  This is not the end.

Support Crew:

Thank-you, thank-you thank-you to everyone who has shared my journey with me.  Other notable mentions go to my mentors Brian and Mr. Chapman, Kirsten (you got me into this shit show) and Cam, Ann, Joyce and Becky, Rosemary, Jodie, Heather, Mandy, Chris Helwig, Scott Cooper, the Fitzpatrick clan, all of my family/cousins, and of course you, Ken.  #RideHincapie

In closing:  "You desire to know the art of living, my friend?  It is contained in one phrase:  Make use of suffering."  - Henri-Frederic Amiel