Race Report Archives: Vineman Half 1993

Cleaning out my office, going through piles of old papers, I stumbled across a letter I'd written to a good friend about two years after leaving Charlottesville, VA for my residency in Davis, CA. In the previous year I had thought my running "career" was over thanks to a long struggle with chronic plantar fasciitis. As it turned out I still had my best running years ahead of me :-). My long road to running recovery included the discovery of "crosstraining". Prior to this discovery my only exposure to triathlon was watching the Ironman World Championships on TV every year and to briefly wonder if I could ever do that someday. My discovery of crosstraining also opened the door to triathlon as a sport I could participate in. Although I only dabbled in '92-'93, the triathlon seed was planted. It lay dormant and forgotten for ten years while I played out my life as a runner but sprouted and bloomed in 2004. The letter to my buddy chronicles this discovery which culminated in my first half ironman at Vineman in 1993. I thought it would be fun to post excerpts from the letter as it is chock full of lessons learned. I've added a few current day editorial comments in parenthesis...

Dear Ashley,

Your long lost friend/running partner has not fallen off the face of the earth or died. I've just been negligent about staying in touch. I don't remember when I last spoke to you so if some of this news is "old" please bear with me. I had a lot of trouble with a foot injury the first year I was out here in CA. Finally, in the summer of '92 the foot was so bad I could hardly walk and I was forced to stop running completely. During the subsequent months I spent a lot of time cycling and swimming (or rather trying to swim!) to try to maintain some degree of fitness. After orthotics, rest and physical therapy had all failed to improve the foot condition I began to accept the possibility that I may never be able to return to running.

As fate would have it, I met a South African orthopedic surgeon during a backpacking trip in Yosemite who happened to have a special interest in chronic heel pain in runners. He suggested some modifications to my inserts and a gradual return to running as if I had never run before, and while I should expect some heel pain initially, the pain should gradually lessen with time. Well, I took his advice and what followed was a slow, careful, often frustrating return to running. During this period I learned a great deal about patience, self control and perseverance. I learned to stop comparing my current performance to past successes and to take pride in the progress I was making. But most of all I had rediscovered the real joy of just being able to run. Now, a year and a half later, I am running without pain and without the heel lift. A month ago I ran the Portland Marathon very comfortably and a week ago I ran a half marathon in what turned out to be my first PR in two and a half years. I'm Back! A small area remains on my heel that is tender if I push on it just the right way. I feel this spot every day to remind myself that I can never take my foot or my running for granted.

A major component to my rehab was crosstraining, and I continue to to use it as part of my training. For someone like myself, whose body cannot hold up to high mileage running, it provides a way to improve cardiovascular endurance. Although I rarely run over 60-65 miles per week anymore (aah, youth!), I spend as much time working out with my heart rate in the "target zone" as someone running over 100 miles per week. Another benefit to crosstraining is that it introduced me to the sport of triathloning. While running will always be my first love triathlons are a fun way to add some variety to the road racing scene. Also, a triathlon is one hell of a workout! You are "out there" for nearly 90 minutes during a "sprint" triathlon and around two and a half hours during a standard international distance triathlon.

This summer I decided to try a half ironman distance triathlon. Just training for it got me in the best shape of my life. I joined a master's swim program to improve my swimming, by far my most pathetic sport, and I started riding with some local cycling geeks and participating in noncompetitive, organized distance rides up to 100 miles in length. The triathlon I chose was in Santa Rosa, a wine country community near the coast known for its mild summer climate. Well, it turned out that on the day of the triathlon a record heat wave hit the northern California coast. Officially the high temperature in Santa Rosa that day was 103, reached about the time I was starting to run. Race officials recorded temperatures at 115 degrees out on the unshaded run course. Which ever temperature you want to use it was UGLY out there! The run portion of the course was the most difficult thing I have EVER done in my life. There were aid stations every mile and I literally ran the course from aid station to aid station, stopping at each one to fill my cap with water (there was no ice), drink two cups of water and take to cups of water with me to just to get me to the next aid station. My only thought was "just keep running, no matter how slowly, one foot then the other foot." And somehow I did. My goal for the triathlon, if all went well, was to go under six hours. I was ecstatic with my clocking of 6:01:15 given the weather conditions that day. It was an experience I will not forget soon! And one that has definitely helped my running. You see, now if I think I'm getting tired in a race I just think back to that day and I realize how far from true fatigue I really am...THAT was tired, THIS isn't even close! And no, I have no desire to do Ironman!! (oh, I was so naive :-))

As far as the rest of my life goes, everything is going pretty well. I mostly like the residency, especially now that I'm learning to not let it take over my life, which it tries hard to do. I'm gradually learning to like California (I hated it at first) but I still get quite homesick for Virginia at times (and still do), especially during the spring and fall. I'm finally making some good friends out here, mainly through the running club I belong to, but I miss my old running buddies still...

My annual "pilgrimage" to Kona - 2011

Since my first visit to the Big Island for the 2004 Ironman World Championships I have returned every October, racing or not. The years I am not racing I volunteer (and get a healthy dose of swimming, biking, running, snorkeling, kayaking, etc.). This year, for the first time, I took two full weeks of vacation time to devote to the Island. To try to describe the entire 2 weeks would take volumes, this post will just touch on the highlights. I also can't begin to mention all the great friends, old and new, that I was able to connect with...but they all know who they are and having a chance to spend some time with all of you was fantastic!

Day 1:

I arrived in Kona on Friday afternoon, 8 days before the Big Dance. Stepping off the plane I felt as if I had arrived home: an immediate connection with the Island, a falling away of stress and anxiety, a sense of deep calm, a quiet mind. I swung by the car rental to pick up my "economy compact" ride and found a fire engine red Mustang convertible waiting. How fun is that?

My Red Mustang Convertible

The second thing I did (after a short "shake out" run) was head to Mauna Lani resort to catch the first running of the K-Swiss Pau Hana Sunset 10k being held on the same venue as run portion of the Honu 70.3, one of my favorites half ironman races. I was there as a spectator but it looked super fun and next year I plan to run it.

Start of Pau Hana Sunset 10K

Day 2:

My first full day dawned bright and early, not a problem since I was still on California time and wide awake by 3 AM. I was off to participate in the Kukio Blue Water 1.2 mile swim along with my coach Luis Vargas and a couple of other triathlon team-mates. It was held in a beautiful, protected inlet just north of the airport. I had a little performance anxiety after my disastrous swim at the 70.3 World Championships. My fear of finishing last in a race populated by triathletes and Big Island residents (read: eat, sleep and breathe the ocean) was unfounded. I had a lot of fun and actually swam well...thank you salt water! I highly recommend this event for anyone who finds themselves on the Island the Saturday before Ironman.

Kukio Blue Water Swim course

Kukio swim S/F, Maui visible in the distance

Brunch was served after the swim

Day 3:

Sunday was the PATH 10k run, an out and back on Ali'i Dr. staged from Hale Halawai Park (Ironman expo venue). This was a new Big Island adventure for me but actually the 26th running of this race. A fun, low key race with some seriously fast participants. I had not made any effort to acclimate to racing in Hawaii so after a great 7K of running I melted in the warm, humid conditions and crawled in feeling a bit like a blob of molten lava, but still enjoyed every moment. Something about having that much sweat pouring off of my skin felt spiritually cleansing.

Finish line in Hale Halawai Park

After the race I cooled down by jogging to the pier and Dig Me Beach for my first dip in the hallowed Ironman swim venue of Kailua Bay. With the race still a week away there were not many people swimming. Conditions were perfect! Calm water, 100' visibility. I could have stayed out there forever except I had neglected to bring sunscreen so I limited myself to 30 minutes of swimming bliss.

Swimming Bliss!

After forcing myself out of the water I strolled to Uncle Billy's on Ali'i Drive which was in the process of being transformed into the Rudy Project "hot corner" so I could have a long overdue visit with my cousin Paul (aka Emperor of Rudy) who is president and co-founder of Rudy Project USA.

Rudy Project Hot Corner at Uncle Billy's

Day 4:

Every year I am in Kona in October it is traditional for me to ride the Ironman bike course. If I'm racing this detail takes care of itself. When I'm not racing I have tackled it solo the day before the race. This year was a little different. I had signed up to volunteer at bike check-in on Friday, the day before the race, so I moved my ride up to Monday. I also found a sucker...I mean friend to do the ride with me. I rode the 5 miles down Ali'i Dr. from my condo into town to pick up my friend and team-mate Debbie Potts and we proceeded out onto the Queen K for a little jaunt to Hawi and back.

Views from the Queen K

I had logged mega mileage on my bike in the spring but had done no rides longer than about 65 miles since early summer. Despite this (and the fact I was riding with a stronger than me cyclist) I had no trepidation about what I had set out to do. We were blessed with some of the most benign wind conditions I have experienced on the climb to Hawi and the temperature was moderate, in fact we actually got a bit chilly riding through some little rain squalls a few miles out of Hawi.

Debbie

One cannot ride to Hawi without an obligatory stop at the coffee/ice cream shop before turning around and heading back down the hill.

L'Oiseau wants ice cream!

After yummy ice cream that tastes especially good when you've ridden for it we mounted up for the return trip. About 90 miles into our ride I have to admit the distance began to catch up with me and my legs were losing their pop on the climbs, we also hit that pesky headwind between Waikoloa and the airport that has been the undoing of many an athlete on race day. So even though I was having a great time I was happy to see the airport and the energy lab, markers that there are single digit miles to ride, lessening winds and no more climbing...except I forgot about that extra 5 miles I had to ride to get back to my condo =:-O! When I finally stopped my Garmin I had covered 118 miles at an average pace of 18.6 mph. Phew!

Ended the day with fish tacos, friends and a gorgeous sunset on my ocean front lanai.

Day 5:

The tuesday before the race is really the day that the Ironman action kicks into high gear. Most athletes are in town and the Parade of Nations marks the official opening of Ironman Village. It is also the day that the floating expresso bar from Coffees of Hawaii makes its first appearance. Nothing quite rivals a salty expresso savored while treading the waters of the Kailua Bay. I swam "halfway to halfway" on the IM course then took a detour for expresso on the way back to the pier.

Floating Expresso Bar

Day 6:

Wednesday started with a Mark Allen Online team swim (and another salty expresso).

Coach Luis gives MAO athletes tips on the swim course

Geez, they're acting like the water is cold! A bit rough today, but not cold.

Wednesday also brought some big wave action, some of the highest surf seen on the Island in many months.

Surf's Up!

After the swim, some of Team MAO regrouped at the Natural Energy Lab for the 5+ mile run back into town (specifically Starbucks :-)).

Coach Mark at the Energy Lab, camera always ready.

Team MAO readies themselves to run in the mid-day sun

Perfect ending to yet another perfect day was dinner at Huggo's with a group of people I had never met but felt like old friends from the social network "I Am Tri" 50+ Triathlete Group.

Day 7:

Wow, has a week gone by already? The seventh day began with the Mark Allen Online team breakfast and photo shoot. It is always great to get together with teammates, some that I've known for a while and some new friends. After plenty of good food and good conversation, Mark and Luis shared their wisdom with the group. I always get some pearls to treasure from these talks. Then it was a session of herding cats to get the team lined up for the photo shoot.

Cats herded successfully for a brief moment

After breakfast my Canadian friend Karen Bonham and I headed up island to Waimea for me to do my long run on my "rave run" route, the Mana Rd. I can easily imagine losing myself and running forever on this quiet rural road on the flank of Mauna Kea.

Rave Run

After my 10 mile run we headed to the end of the road north of Hawi and the Pololu Valley overlook. It would be really cool if there was a way to replace that first 10 mile loop of the IM bike course with going further north on 270 to Kapa'au, unfortunately it would trap the local residents in their homes to do so. We watched some outrageous rain squalls for a while then headed to Hapuna Beach for a magical sunset snorkel.

Pololu Valley

Squall on the water

Day 8:

The day before Ironman the chaos of Ali'i Drive begins to wind down. Energy is directed inward, a time for reflection and anticipation. I squeezed in one more swim from Dig Me Beach and one more stop at the floating expresso bar before beginning my two day volunteer stint. Today I was volunteering as an athlete escort at bike check-in. My job was to walk athletes through transition while they racked their bikes and dropped off their transition bags, explain the lay out of the transition area and answer any questions. My athletes ran the spectrum...from amateur to professional, from all corners of the world, from 20 years old to 80 years old, from first time ironman athlete to Louis Alvarez prepping to do his 79th. It was tons of fun having the privilege of spending ten minutes chatting with these amazing people poised on the brink of their big day.

A whole lot of bikes successfully tucked in for the night

'Twas the night before Ironman....

Race Day!:

I was up with the athletes but I had the luxury of lounging on my lanai with my mug of Kona coffee to watch the dawn. I eventually meandered my way to the water's edge to watch the drama of (what I consider) the most famous start in sport.

Pros are off with media chopper in tow

Canon blast sending off age group start

Age group athletes away!

I shifted my position to the sea wall when it came time to cheer in the last swimmers who were swimming their hearts out to beat the cutoff. It was really cool to see the water safety crew cheering them on, willing them to swim faster.

Water Safety crew encouraging swimmer to beat the cut-off

Water Safety crew celebrates the finish of another safely completed swim leg

Spectating done, it was time to get debriefed for my big job as bike catcher in T2. In this race athletes hand their bikes off to volunteers right at the dismount line so they can continue directly to gather their run gear while the volunteers rack the bikes for them. Let me tell you what...this is by far the most intense, most high effort and most fun volunteer job I have ever done. If you are used to racing, but cannot, this is the job you want! After catching an athlete's bike (often on the fly, at some speed) the goal is to recycle yourself as often as possible. So I sprinted my bikes to their place in the racks and sprinted back to catch another, often with just enough time to catch my breath...for five hours! I don't have any pictures of this but if you watch any video or TV coverage, keep an eye out for the bike catchers as the athletes come into T2 :-).

I left my bike catching post a little before the 5:30 bike cut-off to get my own bike to head out onto the Queen K and locate Coach Luis, who would be walking the marathon due to a calf injury. The plan was for me to keep an eye on him, talk him up if needed and relay his progress to his friends and family at the finish. Given that he was walking I was amazed at how far out on the Queen K he had gotten before I found him and luckily I found him just before it got too dark to tell people apart, about a mile shy of making the turn into the Energy Lab. He headed into the Energy Lab sounding very tired, a bit dejected but determined to finish. He emerged 3 miles later totally transformed...smiling and joking, having reached, in his words, "the acceptance phase".

What *really* happens in the Energy Lab?

Luis transformed and transcended to the astral plane of acceptance

Dad is an Ironman and a hero!

After seeing Luis across the finish line and through the post finish mosh pit, it was time to head to my last volunteer task of the day, finish line catcher from 10 PM until midnight. This is the time to be assigned to the finish line. The crowd is huge and pumped up! Every athlete feeds the enthusiasm and is, in turn, fed by it. Finish line catchers sometimes do just that - but mostly we escort the athletes from the finish line to the post finish athlete area, making sure they are going to be ok..and if they are not that they get handed off to medical. Shortly before midnight the finish line crew ran short of volunteers to lei the finishers and the woman in charge of the leis grabbed me by the arm and shifted me to that task. This change in duty had two rewards: I got to lei the great Harriet Anderson when she finished and I *had* to stay right at the finish line, rubbing elbows with the likes of Chrissie, Mirinda, Craig and the tireless Mike Reilly for the final countdown to midnight, a very exciting place to be!

I was one tired puppy at the end of the day! More wasted than I've ever been after racing the thing ;-).

Day 10:

Serious hangover from all the action the day before. Spent a lazy morning knocking around town, visiting with my cousin then a lazy afternoon hanging out at the beach reading and snorkeling. Got a VIP pass to the awards banquet where the highlight of the evening was witnessing Mike Reilly's induction to the Ironman Hall of Fame.

Day 11:

My Birthday! Another day of snorkeling bliss. Sunset Mai Tai's. Birthday dinner.

Happy Birthday to me!

Day 12:

Kona had nearly returned to its normal sleepy little town status. Only a smattering of athletes sighted. I started with a short, uncrowded swim from the pier. I had planned a swim across Kealakekua Bay to the Captain Cook monument and the amazing coral reef there but had failed to find someone to act as my water safety in a kayak. I decided to go out there to at least do some snorkeling but when I arrived I knew I was going to swim across and back solo. The water there is beautiful with >100 foot visibility, but it gets so deep that the bottom disappears. It was an outrageous feeling to be swimming out there alone, unable to see the bottom and, at times, unable to see any land between the swells. I felt very small but very safe. Round trip was probably around two miles. I had a little time to admire the reef before swimming back but there was a setting sun to race!

Day 13:

My last full day. I decided to spend it under the water, SCUBA diving for the first time in 30 years. I went for a 2 tank boat dive and it was my lucky day...I got to dive with dolphins!!!

Pod of dolphins approaches the boat

Let the show begin

Aloha Kona! I'll be back in 2012!

Race Report Archives: The Big Dance - Kona 2004

With my departure for my annual pilgrimage to Kona just around the corner I find myself reflecting on the first time I made the journey.

A combination of a good day and good luck earned me a Kona slot at my first Ironman. The 2004 Ironman World Championship would be my second ever Ironman. From the moment I took my first step off the plane and onto the tarmac the Big Island captured my heart and soul. I've blown the dust off of the race report I wrote after that life changing experience...

The Big Dance

0445 10/16/04 found me and the other athletes standing in line for body marking and access to the Kailua-Kona pier that would be the staging area for the race start and both transitions. My swim cap and timing chip were my admission tickets to the Dance. Dozens of volunteers, using big rubber stamp numbers and ink pads, carefully applied race numbers to our arms and legs. As we filed from the body marking tent to the pier our chips were scanned, recording all who crossed that first timing mat as official starters. I had made it.

On the pier athletes busied themselves with last minute preparations: pumping tires, filling bottles, placing nutritional needs into drop bags. The atmosphere was intense, focused. What little conversation that could be heard was carried out in hushed tones and in many languages. Expressions on the faces around me were a mixture of eagerness and fear as each person visualized what lay ahead on this day. Starting an ironman is always, at least in part, a leap into the unknown. But this is especially true in Kona, where the Island dictates how the day will go and her rules are constantly changing. Mark Allen and Dave Scott, former Ironman World Champions with six wins each, were both on the pier circulating amongst the athletes. After receiving good luck wishes from both, I felt like I would surely be blessed with the best of luck.

This year, for the first time ever, in a controversial attempt to ensure a clean race for the pro women, the pro start would be fifteen minutes ahead of the age group field. The pro start was at 0645, no one else was allowed in the water until they were away. The canon fired for the first time and the pros were off to the roar of the crowd. There were now less than 15 minutes to get 1700 athletes into the water from the narrow strip of sand known as Dig Me Beach and out about 150 meters in the water to the start line. There was no way to pull that off. A huge bottleneck at Dig Me Beach left a fair number of athletes stranded on the pier or just making their way into the water when the canon fired for the second time at 0700. I was relatively lucky and had at least gotten my feet into the water, but was still 150 meters shy of the start line when the race started. Ah well, I had less congestion to deal with in the early going. As I struck out toward the race course and the open sea I caught sight of frantic athletes leaping off the pier in my peripheral vision. I don’t think the race organizers will be making that mistake again.

The swim was beautiful, even relaxing. The visibility was even better than it had been in the practice swims the days before. The sea was calm, no serious chop, just long lazy swells that lifted me upward then gently let me back down. The motion was hypnotic and I kept catching myself losing focus on the race and dreamily admiring the colorful fishies darting around below me. Around three quarters of the way out I lost sight of the bottom and I was looking down into the most incredible shade of deep blue that went down into forever. The brightly colored sail of the Fairwinds, the boat at the turn around, would alternately appear and disappear between the swells. I began to feel very small, not in a bad way, but in an “awed wonder” sort of way. Then I was at the turn around and as I swam around the boats marking the turn suddenly there were spectators, people leaning over the railings, looking down at us, cheering their hearts out. What a trip! It was surreal to encounter a cheering throng in the middle of the ocean.

On the return I was able to bring my focus back onto the race. It helped that I was now in the mix with people swimming close to my pace. It was time to find some slightly faster feet to try to get a bit of a draft. I swam harder coming back. I reached the pier with a smile stuck on my face. The swim had been a blast! Feeling like I’d had a great swim, I glanced down at my watch and was shocked to see 1:33. OK, no wetsuit, an extra 150 yards swum because the canon fired just as I was entering the water, some extra yards because I swam a bit wide…but 1:33?? I couldn’t account for the slow time with anything more noble than just enjoying myself a little too much out there. Oh well, so what? It didn’t bother me for more than a few seconds, then I let it go.

The first transition was smooth. A quick rinse to get the salt water off. A run to the gear bags where volunteers had our bags out and ready to hand off with the help of sharp eyed spotters. Into the change tents where enthusiastic volunteers were waiting to help us switch from swimmers to cyclists. Another run down the pier to the bike racks. Volunteers steered us to directly our bikes, no thinking required on our part. When I reached my bike it was out of the rack being held for me to grab on the fly. A final run across the bike mount/dismount line and I was on my trusty wheels and off on a 112 mile journey into the lava.

The first 10 miles of the ride was an out and back loop through the town of Kona. Throngs of cheering people, tons of noise. Then a short, steep climb up Palani Road (Pay and Save Hill) and a left turn onto the Queen K. Abruptly the noise ceased. The world went preternaturally quiet. Only the sound of spinning wheels, the occasional click of a derailleur, the sound of my breathing. The buildings of Kona gave way to a vast expanse of black lava, the sapphire blue ocean to my left and the mountains rising up to meet the sky on my right. This was my first time on the Queen K in the morning and I noticed that the tailwinds I’d had riding here in the afternoons was lacking. In fact, I noticed flags pointing toward me indicating a headwind. The further I rode the stronger the headwind got. By mile 25 it was downright brutal. I didn’t need any flags to show me from which way the wind blew! Palm trees were bent in half. Aid station volunteers were desperately trying to hold their aid stations together while clutching their hats and loose clothing. A dropped water bottle travelled an alarming distance before coming to rest. Thankfully, my bike computer was disabled so I couldn’t see how badly the wind slowed me. I panicked momentarily. I questioned my ability to ride so far in this kind of wind, even though I train in the windy central valley of California. Then a calmer voice took over, saying “Just deal with it!” As taught by my coach, I shut up the negative chatter in my brain, turned negative thought into no thought and suddenly I was ok. Then, in that space of no thought, positive thoughts found their way in: “I don’t mind wind. I like wind. Bring it on! Come on Hawaii, show me what you can do, hit me with your best shot!” And she did! When we turned toward Hawi we continued to be hammered by a fierce headwind but also got hit with strong, unpredictable cross gusts. Some of these bursts from the side literally blew me across the road, even if I saw one coming (flattened grass or swerving cyclist ahead) and braced for it.

The turn around in Hawi, a small village turned cheering section for us on race day. Mingling with the roar of the wind the sounds of cheering and cowbells as I approached the turn. A brief moment of crowds and cheering that quickly faded behind me as I headed back down toward the Queen K and the lava. For a short time there was a tailwind, but it couldn’t be fully taken advantage of because there was the matter of trying to hold my bike on the road when a gust punched me from the side. It did give me a break from the feeling of grinding against a force trying to push me backward, a short rest for the legs. At Hawaikae the tailwind disappeared and with 30 miles to go the wind shifted. I found myself once again riding against the wind. It’s really true! There is a headwind in both directions! This had the potential to be a very long 30 miles…more headwind and now very hot. It was time to turn the brain off again and just pedal.

I left the loud silence and mystique of the lava and re-entered the frenzied crowds in Kona. Nonstop cheering for the entire final mile of the bike. T2 was more chaotic than T1 or maybe my perception was altered after so many miles of heat, wind and lava. A volunteer grabbed my bike from me. When I first started to run my legs and torso wouldn’t unfold. It was the most alien my body has ever felt transitioning from bike to run. The long run to the gear bags gave me a little time to re-acquaint myself with my legs and regain the ability to run on them. I had a bit too much help in the change tent. Volunteers were trying hard to be helpful but kept taking things I wanted and handing me things I didn’t need. Bless their hearts, they changed my socks for me but in the process, I later learned, removed my timing chip rendering me untrackable by friends and family. I finally got out of the change tent and onto the run.

During the first half mile my ears were ringing from the screaming crowds. Friends and team mates jumped out of the crowd to cheer me on. After a few twisting blocks I was running along Ali’i Drive. ALI’I DRIVE!!! Protected from the wind it was hot and muggy. I found I liked the feeling of sweat rolling off my body, it felt like a spiritual cleansing. I focused on my turnover, drumming a steady beat with my feet.

Around mile ten I ran back up the hill on Palani Road that I had biked up so many hours before and back out onto the Queen K for one more trip into the lava. The sun was getting low and heat was no longer a major factor. It was still warm and muggy but had lost the potential to be debilitating. I was running a bit faster than I had at Coeur D’Alene, I could feel it, but I was also closer to the edge this time. The bike ride had definitely sapped my reserves and by midway through the run I was relying on a pretty steady supply of sugar in the form of cola to keep the engine running. But I kept running. No walking. None. Not even through aid stations. I feared if I allowed myself to walk I’d want more of it.

Darkness had settled in fully by the time I made the turn toward the Energy Lab. I had to laugh at myself running to the Energy Lab a few afternoons earlier in the heat of the day to see what it would be like. What was I thinking? There was no way I would be reaching this point while the sun was high in the sky. It actually did prove to be helpful, however, because it was so dark in there that it was like running into a black hole. At least I had a mental picture of where I was going and I knew what to expect in there.

The turn around at the Energy Lab. I was flying high. As hard as this was I was having the time of my life. Then I came upon a team mate, a pro, she was walking. I was shocked and a bit sad to see her having such a difficult time. I told her how tough she was to keep going when most pros would have quit. She urged me onward toward the finish line saying “I’ll get there, it’s just going to take a while.” I left her and ran on but spirit a bit damped. Then the aid stations ran out of cola. I was relying heavily on this easy to stomach instant energy source. My confidence wavered as I climbed the long grade away from the Energy Lab. My mantras came back to rescue me – “Deal with it.”, “Turn negative thought into no thought.” Deal with it: I replaced cola with GU, harder to choke down but worked just fine once in the stomach. Turn negative thought into no thought: I let my mind go quiet, thought no further than my next step and opened my senses to my immediate surroundings…

I am floating along the Queen K in the pitch dark. Glowing arm and neck bands drift toward me as I approach the unseen runners who are wearing them. Water, GU. Run, run. Follow the white line marking the edge of the road to guide my feet. Run, run. The lights of Kailua-Kona in my field of vision. Run, run. Turn on Palani Road. Crowds, cheering, noise. Run, run. I can hear the announcer. Run, run. Turn left. Turn right. Run, run. Turn onto Ali’i Drive. Run! Run! Mike Reilly is revving up the crowd as the clock ticks. Will anyone else break 13 hours? he asks. I am coming! I know I will! Run! Run! I’m in the final stretch. The clock ticks towards 13 hours. The crowd roars. Arms reach out to high five me, to touch me. I reach back. I throw my arms in the air. I stop for a moment to take it all in. RUN! RUN! Across the line into the arms of my catchers, my angels. A 20 year old fantasy comes true.

“…the winds became the most influential element in each athletes’ outcome. Headwinds, side winds, headwinds, tailwinds, more headwinds…it was never NOT a factor. Slow times? Just add wind. Demoralized athletes? Just add wind; ever present, pushing, shoving wind that forced everyone to concentrate on holding a straight line the entire bike ride. Forget finding “the zone”. Space out for even a moment and a swirling unseen shove can make you look like a drunk trying to tackle a sobriety test…It only takes a quick glance at the carnage to get an idea of what really went on out there on the closed roads of the lava (29% of the pro field and 12% of the amateurs failed to finish, the highest drop rate in race history). And when crossing the line demands focus of such extreme proportions, that singular task placed finishing on this day squarely in the realm of purely extraordinary.”

-Mark Allen on the 2004 Ironman World Championships