KONA RECAP: THE BIKE (PART 3)

When I turned left onto the Kawaihae Road shit got real. There was a pretty steep descent into Kawaihae and I remember whining to myself: Oh man. I don't want to climb that. I knew that on the way back this hill would be a challenge. Right after town, the six mile ascent began.

I was actually in a good mood I had finished two of my nutrition bottles. I looked to my left from the top of a cliff with a view and suddenly was overcome with gratitude. My thoughts were with Jen and I said out loud: Jen you would love this. I pulled out Don Keyote. Don is a finger puppet that Jen gave me before I left. I had tucked him into the back pocket of my kit. Similar to my Pez co-pilot, she always takes a finger puppet along for long rides and races. Don Keyote is a master at fighting windmills and I thought he would be perfect to bring to Kona.

This section of the ride got steeper and steeper and the wind blew harder & harder. I was grateful for a headwind. At least it wasn't side-wind. It also meant that we would have a tail wind on the down hill. I made it to the turn-around in Hawi. It looked exactly me like I thought it would. It looked exactly like it had on the NBC tv special for the 20 years I’ve been watching.

The mile 60 aid station and the personal needs bags were about a quarter mile apart. I stopped at the aid station to refill bottles and my camelbak. I was VERY disappointed they didn't have ice. But, the water was cold. I played bartender with the help of one of the volunteers (I think it was Hannah) and was off to personal needs. Erin had warned me that it was not a real stop, but I was able to pull the ziploc bag out of the orange main bag……then fish out what I needed: DANISH coffee licorice, three gels, gummy colas, chamois butter and a note from Amy. I ate three pieces of licorice, applied the chamois butter. I ditched a lot of mechanical stuff: tire, tubes and canisters on the side of the road and I took the rest with me. I was fine for about 45 minutes and then the darkness fell. Not literal darkness. The sun was still high and baking everything under it. Let me be clear. There is no shade for 112 miles. But, I went to some pretty dark places. The first and major trigger was seeing the aid station at mile 45 being dismantled and cleaned up. I was at mile 70…..but, hadn't I just been through here? Was I that far behind? Are they sweeping the course? Oh my! There's the last athlete on the other side of the road! Crap! I’m not going to make it.

KONA RECAP: THE BIKE (PART 2)

Those first 40 miles were actually beautiful. The whole 112 miles were incredible looking. I can picture the way the sun was rising over Mauna Kea and lighting up all the women from the right. It made their bikes shimmer and sparkle. It was phenomenal. The ocean on the left and the mama mountain on the right was a sensational sight. I could smell the ocean still and see the blues and greens of the Pacific and feel the heat off the dark contrast of black and brown lava on my right.

I passed a few girls and got passed by others. I spent those first miles on the Queen K singing Moana songs. I sang I Know How it Feels to Be an Ironman (see below). I played the alphabet game with movies: About Last Night, Breakfast Club, Cinderella, Dead Poets Society, E.T. I kept an eye out for the pros. Specifically, I kept and eye out for the helicopter. I could see it tracking from Kawaihae and then down the Queen K towards me. At about mile 30ish, I could see it and hear it. I watched as it rose up and around an upcoming hill and right after that, saw Lucy Charles Barclay crest the hill right as I did. It was incredible to watch the fastest triathlete on the plane fly by. Go, Lucy, Go! I yelled. I could hear others behind me cheer her on as well. There was a motorcade around her and eventually another group of cyclists minutes behind her. This was about mile 90 for them. Only 20 miles to go! It was mile 32ish for me. Only 80 miles to go!

Sunrise on the Queen Ka’ahunumanu Hwy.

Kailua Kona in the background. Headed out to Hawi.

The view from the Queen K. On the right, you can see the part of the island that heads up to Hawi.

To the tune of I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For (U2)

I have felt 100 degreeeeees.

I have witnessed the winds and the hills.

Welcome to Ironman. Welcome to Ironman.

I have ridden in rains of a monsoon.

I have swum through a swarm of jellies.

Welcome to Ironman. Welcome to Ironman.

And I know how it feels to be an Ironman.

Yes, I know what it means to be an Ironman.

KONA: Transition One

Way back in 2009, I volunteered for our local half and full distance race: Beach 2 Battleship. I was assigned the women's changing tent. I helped women out of their wetsuits and into drier, warmer gear. It was cold that day and I remember women of all shapes and sizes in a 8×10 tent in various degrees of undress. Smiling, teeth chattering. One woman came to the entrance, opened the flap of a door, raised her arms & shouted BEST SWIM EVER. Everyone paused for a moment and cheered and then it was back to business. It was a loud, muffled din.

Kona T1 was eleventy times louder. Our changing tent was long and was set on the blacktop of the Kona pier. Athlete voices were triumphant. There was some ordering around. Some barking. Laughing. Volunteer voices were questioning - how can I help, here is your bag? would you like a towel? It was a cacophony of chairs scraping, the clickety-clack of bike shoes. The smell of sunscreen. The humidity of salty bodies. Excitement floated and bounced noisily. It was overwhelming. The color inside was golden. I had showered in the hoses & grabbed my bike gear. Top to toe I undressed: cap, goggles, swim skin. From top to toe I dressed: headband, jersey, camelback, socks, shoes.

I exited the tent and headed to my bike. I clicked the latches of my camelbak as I ran; secured the straw to the magnet. Ace was there as I turned into my bike row. I got to Lana and was grateful that she was upright. I clipped on my helmet & headed out at a good clip. The bike chute seemed to take forever but it was a chance to walk and watch. There were sooo many people-spectators, athletes, staff, volunteers. Everything was so uplifting. I couldn’t wait to get out on the road.

This is what transition looks like.

My hat for the day.

And off I go…