First things first, Kona is bleeping awesome!! It lives up to ALL of the hype...every ounce of it. No matter how this blog post is interpreted, please don't think for one second I'm not grateful to be writing it.
Pre-race.
I did my pre-race prep in Honolulu and for that I'm very thankful. I had good runs in the heat but without the insanity that surrounds an IM event, particularly this one. We got to Kona late Wednesday afternoon after 5 days of family vacation. My bike was delivered to the hotel by Nick at Velofix (if you're travelling here I highly recommend the package offered by BikeFlights.com and Velofix). It was a bit too late in the day to get out on the Queen K to do my ride and quite frankly we'd already heard 4 athletes had been hit by cars while training, so I wasn't eager to get out there. After checking in, we went to the Slowtwitch Gathering. Many teams, companies, and sponsors rent big houses on Ali'i Drive and host parties throughout the week, the Slowtwitch party was co-hosted by Gu and was in an incredible 3 story house right on the water. We didn't know anyone but enjoyed a beer and some snacks. I think I was the only athlete actually drinking a beer though. Sadly, shortly after we arrived it was announced that Tim Don had been hit by a car on the Queen K, not far from town, was in the hospital, and out of the race. Further confirming my decision to ride the next day and drink a beer instead. At the end of the party, they raffled off a ton of incredible prizes. I ended up walking away with a free entry to Rev3 Barrelman 2018!
On Thursday Mark and I did the Underpants Run. For people who spend 90% of their time being too serious, it was fun to see everyone dress in crazy under-roos and run down Ali'i. The jokes wrote themselves but were hilarious. People yelling "on your left" (if you've never seen this, you basically run/walk a mile packed shoulder to shoulder), comments about heart rate, course congestion, and the most aero underwear available provided lots of laughs.
I was able to see everyone I knew in Kona as well. Amy Farrell - Very tippy-top AG athlete who is from the same town as my husband's parents and went to college with me despite us not knowing each other. Justin Ehring - PPT athlete from Philadelphia who once helped me get through the worst tri camp I've ever had. Russell Marks - A friend of my best tri friend who races on the Rev3 Team and captured an emotional roll down spot at IMLP. And Laura Straub - The girl who took the other spot in our AG at Maryland and who has become a friend and training buddy. I learned that Russell also hadn't tackled the Queen K by bike yet so he and I made plans to meet up and go out together after a quick swim to the coffee barge.
I was able to see everyone I knew in Kona as well. Amy Farrell - Very tippy-top AG athlete who is from the same town as my husband's parents and went to college with me despite us not knowing each other. Justin Ehring - PPT athlete from Philadelphia who once helped me get through the worst tri camp I've ever had. Russell Marks - A friend of my best tri friend who races on the Rev3 Team and captured an emotional roll down spot at IMLP. And Laura Straub - The girl who took the other spot in our AG at Maryland and who has become a friend and training buddy. I learned that Russell also hadn't tackled the Queen K by bike yet so he and I made plans to meet up and go out together after a quick swim to the coffee barge.
The first ride on the Queen K was terrifying. Strong winds, including a gust that knocked me from one edge of the shoulder to nearly off the road (about 3 ft). I ended up talking to myself out loud, "You have control of this bike, you have control of this bike..." The construction also provided some challenges, as you had to hop on and off a 4 inch curb repeatedly and traffic wasn't friendly where the road narrowed. I breathed a huge sigh of relief when Russell and I met back up and both safely finished our respective rides!
The rest of Thursday was chill. The banquet was good with the typical motivational stuff, mediocre food, and inspirational videos. Jack arrived late in the evening and we went out for (gasp!) a beer.
Friday was another swim to the coffee barge. The swells were much larger, the water was less clear, and I was a little concerned about what race day would bring. I spent the afternoon with my mom and mother-in-law touring a chocolate plantation. There was another athlete there who refused to taste the chocolate - we're talking a single bite of the most delicious chocolate ever because he wasn't eating junk food until after the race. Seriously. Spent some time at the expo (which is basically the entire town), did a pre-race shakeout run with Jack and discussed strategy. What we were targeting for power and pace seemed totally doable, if not downright fun!
The bike racking process was cool, everyone is treated like a pro. I had my own volunteer escort. We walked to my rack and it turned out that the channel my back wheel was supposed to fit in was a bit too narrow. Within 10 seconds, a man with a crowbar had widened the space, taped it back up and my bike fit perfectly. I had the best rack you could hope for with no other bike in front of mine. My escort and I then went and hung up my bags, also great positioning and easy to find! I gave my volunteer the IM "thank you" bracelet and left transition feeling confident that I could easily navigate on race day.
Race Day.
Race morning seemed as if it would be a cake walk. Our hotel room at the King K Marriott was directly above transition. I saw lots of people milling about but figured I had plenty of time. My plan was to go downstairs, get body marked, inflate my tires, put nutrition on my bike, then come back to the room to hang out, eat, and use a proper restroom. I thought it was a little odd that I was at the very back of the line at 5:30am, but figured I still had two hours so it was no big deal. As I entered transition a volunteer asked me where my cap and goggles were. I replied that they were in my hotel room and she told me I better hurry back to get them because once I was in transition I couldn't leave. Say, WHAT?!? I frantically called Mark, he came running down with my cap, goggles, swim skin, took my phone from me, wished me good luck and I walked into transition absolutely panicked! I didn't get to eat my breakfast, but thankfully Mark also grabbed a piece of croissant for me to shove in my face.
The marking numbers were too big for my arm so I had to go to the "special body marking" area and have them cut and readjusted which took a bit of time. I finally got to my bike, got air, calibrated my computer, and loaded nutrition. I seemed to be the only person still in transition. I wandered towards the grass where everyone was hanging out and noticed athletes going in and out of transition towards the hotel. The volunteer there told me that I was welcome to come and go, but had to be back in transition by the time my wave was going to go off. Sigh. I went up to the room, completely surprising Mark and Jack. Mark had already eaten my breakfast so I had a few more bites of croissant and used the bathroom. As people started to line up, I ran back down. As luck would have it, I ran directly into Laura and we were able to enter the water together, which was perfect!
Swim.
The swim was everything they say. A dog-fight, grudge match, full-contact smashfest. I took a heel to the lip early resulting in a fat lip, then some flying body part to the right eye (which is bruised and caused my goggles to fill up with water). I stopped at the 3rd buoy to dump the water out of my goggles and heard a woman just screaming at the top of her lungs. Unsure if she got hit, or panicked, but it was really disconcerting. Once I got moving again, I found a bit of a pack, but mostly swam to not get killed. As we made our way around the boat we caught up to the slower men and the full contact activities ramped back up. I exited the water thankful for minor issues, but feeling like I'd been in a fist fight.
T1 was easy and smooth. I was able to see everyone hanging out on the balcony and send off a wave.
Bike.
As soon as I got on my bike I felt something wrong with my neck. I was completely unable to get into aero with pain from the base of my head to my right butt cheek- unsure if I got kicked and tweaked something in the swim but I was in a bad spot immediately. After a few miles I couldn't even grab my handlebars and rode 90% of the course with my hands fully gripped over top of the padded part of my aerobars - as seen in most of my photos. I did see one of the photographers in advance and tried to get into aero for a few shots. They came out okay, if you don't notice the ones right before where I'm obviously trying to lower myself down for a photo opp.
I couldn't come close to the power I was supposed to be holding, even sitting up. I was almost 20 watts low to start and couldn't bring that number up. My speed wasn't too bad though even riding upright so I held what I could. The temperature reached 87 (feels like of 102 in the lava fields) in Hawi by the time I finally got there, I was low on nutrition because I didn't intend to be arriving to Hawi so late, and I'd drank at least double what I'd done in training. By the turnaround I was toasted. I was now 50+ watts off of my power target, I was sun burnt, the wind had picked up, and I was now sick to my stomach. This year was a pretty fast year on the bike at Kona, unless you were a smallish female who was out there later than you thought - then you were screwed. Evidenced here. (Click and scroll down to Wind Speed). On the way home, I stopped twice to throw up, once for sunscreen. The thought actually crossed my mind to quit. We all joke that you quit triathlon at least 5 times during an Ironman, but this time I was serious. My race was ruined, I couldn't turn my neck to the left, I was stuck in a lava field all alone, and now couldn't keep food down. But that's the spirit of this race right? It's tough as shit and you have to figure it out. So averaging 14 mph, I somehow dragged myself back to T2. I have never been happier for something to be over with. I was too much of a mess to even get my feet out of my shoes and just sort of fell into a volunteer half unclipped. As I got into T2 Andy Potts gave me a pat on the back and said, "That's over now, go be a runner."
The T2 female tent was a mess. People laying everywhere, cramping, crying, lots of ruined races. These are the best in the world, all crumbled and broken. I have never seen anything like it. The volunteers were incredible. They made sure we had everything we needed, held our bags while we got sick - again, and encouraged us to leave the tent with a smile. Not one of us, even those in worse shape than me, left crying. They had sponges to wipe the tears, smothered us in sunscreen and told us to just start moving forward. Realizing I was better off than most of the people in the tent I started to run.
Run.
At this point, my race plan was destroyed and I needed to find a way to get to the finish. Jack jumped in a ran with me for a few feet early on and I couldn't stop apologizing; if there's anyone who would never be upset, it's Jack, but he's also the person who knew what we were capable of doing in Kona and I felt sad for him too. Just finishing this race was never the plan - going for a top AG spot was. I held pretty good pacing from aid station to aid station, but walked each one, trying to eat anything that I could - luckily everything stayed down. At Mile 11, Amy gave me a huge shout out as she was finishing up her final mile. I saw Laura headed out to start the run and I knew instantly she'd had a day much like mine. Then somewhere on the Queen K I ran into Russell. We stopped, chatted for a few minutes, mostly just incoherent spoutings of "WTF!?" A high five from Justin just before the Energy Lab got my spirits back up. And then it happened, right as I dropped into the Energy Lab; a huge aid station with some good music. I started smiling, dancing, and running the paces I intended to from the start. Night fell pretty quickly and my pace naturally slowed in the dark. Unlike other races I've seen, you are 100% on your own after dark on the Queen K. There are no lights other than the distant glow of the next aid station and competitors who were smart enough to have illumination. I continued walking aid stations and even just walked because someone looked like they needed a friend. I walked with one woman who was doing her 9th Kona. She asked where my flashlight was. Trying not to sound like a jerk, I said that my day hadn't gone as planned, and I didn't prepare to be out this late. She asked if it was my first time in Kona, I said yes. She started laughing, "Oh sweetie, rookies always finish in the dark." I know this isn't true as I've had friends with great results here in their first year, but it made me smile.
As I neared the final 2 miles I picked up the pace. I knew it was downhill and that I'd be able to stop moving as soon as I got there. I was thrilled to see my family and Jack with a mile to go and then again at the finish. My finisher photo says it all, overjoyed to have been given this amazing opportunity. Ten minutes later in the hotel tells a more accurate story.
Digesting this race has been hard. I have friends that want to celebrate the accomplishment, and I've struggled to see what there is to celebrate because I've only focused on what went wrong, not what went right. It's probably what makes me a good athlete, but also fails to let me see the forest for the trees. But I keep thinking of Johnny Agar quoting John Maxwell in the 2016 Kona NBC show, "Sometimes you win, sometimes you learn." Well, I learned a lot in Kona. I learned that I'm tougher than I think I am. I learned that the Ironman slogan is true, "Anything (including really crappy stuff) is Possible." I learned that my ego shouldn't dictate what I pack in special needs bags. I learned that dreams become reality. And while the reality may not be the vision you had in your dream, the dream was still realized. I learned that a few BLs and a pizza can fix most problems. I learned that I'm more loved than any human deserves.
I gave it what I had, I got to go to a place many people don't get to voluntarily explore. I got to have a gut check in a safe environment, on my terms. I wasn't forced to be tough because I was facing tragedy, illness, or injury and that's the most valuable learning experience one could ask for.
Until next time, Madame Pele...until next time.
Run.
At this point, my race plan was destroyed and I needed to find a way to get to the finish. Jack jumped in a ran with me for a few feet early on and I couldn't stop apologizing; if there's anyone who would never be upset, it's Jack, but he's also the person who knew what we were capable of doing in Kona and I felt sad for him too. Just finishing this race was never the plan - going for a top AG spot was. I held pretty good pacing from aid station to aid station, but walked each one, trying to eat anything that I could - luckily everything stayed down. At Mile 11, Amy gave me a huge shout out as she was finishing up her final mile. I saw Laura headed out to start the run and I knew instantly she'd had a day much like mine. Then somewhere on the Queen K I ran into Russell. We stopped, chatted for a few minutes, mostly just incoherent spoutings of "WTF!?" A high five from Justin just before the Energy Lab got my spirits back up. And then it happened, right as I dropped into the Energy Lab; a huge aid station with some good music. I started smiling, dancing, and running the paces I intended to from the start. Night fell pretty quickly and my pace naturally slowed in the dark. Unlike other races I've seen, you are 100% on your own after dark on the Queen K. There are no lights other than the distant glow of the next aid station and competitors who were smart enough to have illumination. I continued walking aid stations and even just walked because someone looked like they needed a friend. I walked with one woman who was doing her 9th Kona. She asked where my flashlight was. Trying not to sound like a jerk, I said that my day hadn't gone as planned, and I didn't prepare to be out this late. She asked if it was my first time in Kona, I said yes. She started laughing, "Oh sweetie, rookies always finish in the dark." I know this isn't true as I've had friends with great results here in their first year, but it made me smile.
As I neared the final 2 miles I picked up the pace. I knew it was downhill and that I'd be able to stop moving as soon as I got there. I was thrilled to see my family and Jack with a mile to go and then again at the finish. My finisher photo says it all, overjoyed to have been given this amazing opportunity. Ten minutes later in the hotel tells a more accurate story.
Digesting this race has been hard. I have friends that want to celebrate the accomplishment, and I've struggled to see what there is to celebrate because I've only focused on what went wrong, not what went right. It's probably what makes me a good athlete, but also fails to let me see the forest for the trees. But I keep thinking of Johnny Agar quoting John Maxwell in the 2016 Kona NBC show, "Sometimes you win, sometimes you learn." Well, I learned a lot in Kona. I learned that I'm tougher than I think I am. I learned that the Ironman slogan is true, "Anything (including really crappy stuff) is Possible." I learned that my ego shouldn't dictate what I pack in special needs bags. I learned that dreams become reality. And while the reality may not be the vision you had in your dream, the dream was still realized. I learned that a few BLs and a pizza can fix most problems. I learned that I'm more loved than any human deserves.
I gave it what I had, I got to go to a place many people don't get to voluntarily explore. I got to have a gut check in a safe environment, on my terms. I wasn't forced to be tough because I was facing tragedy, illness, or injury and that's the most valuable learning experience one could ask for.
Until next time, Madame Pele...until next time.
