KONA RECAP: THE RUN (PART 3)

I look at my watch when I come up out of the Natural Energy Lab. I have six miles to go. The place that can give so many athletes so much trouble - the place that can suck the energy right out of you - had given me a certain calm and a calm certainty. I was gonna be close, but I could make it.

It was 9:30 and I had an hour and 40 minutes to finish a 10k. My self-talk was a little more resolved: I did not come here not to finish. I came here for a finishing time - not just to see the finish chute. This race of all races will not be my first DNF. I can’t come back here and try again. THIS. IS. IT.

It was like my whole race life passed before my eyes. I counted them up and tried to bring up my favorite memory from each. Something amazing had happened at all 16 races and I tried to remember one good strong moment from each.

I also had time to remember my one word for each year I’ve been choosing a word for the year (instead of a new year resolution). Resolve, reflect, maturity, honor, story, fuel, posture, connect, ruah, fix, cultivate, full-circle, congruent, grit, waves, signature, capacity.

I said HOLOMUA to women who were passing me - headed out to the energy lab - or to those I was passing on the Queen K. I sang my made-up song: I know what it means to be and Ironman (to the tune of I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For). I made up a new song (to the tune of Izabella): Kamehameha. See the rays of the setting sun….here they come. Well, I gotta get back out there and fight now, baby. I can’t quit this devil of a run. Gotta run, Baby! This big dream is keeping me strong. I’ll be holding that medal before too long.

Mile 23 was the magic mile. It was the last long downhill before a long uphill to Palani. It was 10:20PM and with a 5k to go at 12:00/mile pace, I could make it by 11:10. If I pushed, I could make it by 11:00PM. I had gone from doing 15 minute miles at the start to 12:20/12:26/12:17/12:49 for these last few miles. By this time, I had caught site of two women running together and I made it a game to try to catch them. They were run:walking, too and I’d try to run 30 seconds longer than they did each time. Turns out, they had an amazing crew that stood at the top of Palani and cheered so loudly I could hear them a mile before the turn. Last long hill and it’s all downhill from here! They shouted. The hot corner is right around the corner! I was so close to them - but I can’t remember if I ever caught them.

I take the right turn onto Palai and I can now hear Maria, Tonya and Ace at the bottom the hill before the left turn. They are screaming my name, the announcer is calling and pointing at me as I make the turn, music is pumping and I cruise through and yell something like ohmygaaaaaaahhhhh. I have a mile to go!!!!!

Get ready!!!!

KONA RECAP: THE RUN (PART 2)

I’ll be back in a few hours, I called out. At this point, I had 20 miles to go.

I walked up the steep hill at Palani and then ran down the Queen K. That first downhill was great - almost 8 minutes of running. If I can run that long, I can run that long, I told myself. The lesson I learned from Sami and put into practice earlier in the year came through: you must get back to running as soon as you can. I started rolling. If I was on a downhill, I would run longer than my 4:1 run:walk ratio. If I was on an uphill, I would run four street lights and walk one. If I was within sight of an aid station, I would not stop until I got to the aid station.

By the time I made it up on the Queen K, the heat from the sun had dissipated, but the tarmac was still hot and the humidity was like a summer day here at home. It was pretty quiet - our side of the highway was still blocked off and the traffic was light on the other side of the road. There were lots of bugs - cockroaches - creepy crawling around. I could hear the shuffling feet of the other runners and muted conversations between them. From up on the hill at one of the intersections a dog barked and barked and barked. I was pretty sure it was going to set off a volcano. The breeze picked up as I finished miles 11 and 12 and a few minutes later, I passed Ashley. I was in a zone and I didn’t even call out to her. I just kept moving forward. In my mind, I still had to finish by 11:10PM to make it on time.

I was happy to see the Natural Energy Lab. In most races, your personal needs bag is stashed at the halfway point of the run. But, not Kona. Oh, no. The personal needs station was way out after the turn-around in the energy lab AT. MILE. 17!!! Seventeen is not 13. You head three miles into the lab before you turn around and then you still have one mile to get back to the personal needs area. I was ready for a stroop waffle and skittles and more Skratch blueberry chews. The surprise treat in that bag was a pack of mustard. Actually, two little mustard packets gave me a little kick!

The saving grace of the energy lab is that it is beautiful at night. You can’t even see the water treatment plant (though you can smell the tell-tale deodorant they must use world-wide to cover the smell of treated water). You can smell the salty spray and I swear the waves were crashing so big I felt salt spray at the turn-around. And the sky…..the sky was incredible. The only lights out there were at the aid stations. In between each there was pitch-blackness. I would look up a bit and see the skies punctuated with stars and planets.

And at just the right time, I saw a shooting star.

I have seen only one other shooting star in a race and that was Coeur d’Alene. I was in a similar situation - running behind the clock. At that race I was about two miles from the finish and I knew I could make it. I was running by a cemetery and suddenly a star streaked across the sky. It was so bright that the handful of spectators at the corner shouted, Fireworks! This shooting star in the sky at Kona was not bright but it burst across the entire realm and fizzled somewhere far over the ocean. I immediately thought of my mom and a flicker of hope caught in my throat.

I have learned in all these years of running that a marathon is the closest thing you’ll come to feeling the stages of grief. It will release the denial, the bargaining, the anger, the sadness and the acceptance. Over and over and over again. The rest of the run consisted of a lot of bargaining, sparks of anger at things beyond my control and the acceptance of a possible defeat.

The bargaining looked like: If you run up this hill, you can walk all the way up the next one. If you run all the way to the next aid station, you can buy an extra shirt the merch tent. If you pass this woman ahead of you, you can have two pina coladas for breakfast. If you pass her again you can have four!

The anger looked like: I can’t believe how stupid this is. You should have skipped all the pre-race stuff - it made you tired. You should have done more Pilates. OHMYGOSH there’s a husband walking with his wife!! That’s cheating! Oh my gosh, Ironman lied! That man has on a bib. He is IN the race. This is bullshit. Women’s only race my ass. (I found out later that that man was the husband of an amazing blind athlete.)

The acceptance looked like: It’s going to be okay if you don’t finish in time. You’ve worked hard just to get to the start line. The finish line is icing on the cake. You can handle this. You’ll be able to cross the finish and get your medal - even if the time reflected is over 17 hours. The funny thing is that I wasn't discouraged. I think that was the true acceptance that I was not going to do what I set out to do.

Right before I came out of the energy lab, I had a moment of panic. My watch was dying. I looked down and it read 5%. It was not going to make another nine miles. I would lose my metronome, my run/walk alerts and the overall run time and the time of day. I wouldn’t be able to do any more math!!!

As I got back on the Queen K, under the street lights, I lifted my wrist right up to my eye and realized it was reading 50%. I laughed. Seriously?! I said out loud.

That (and the mustard packet) turned the tide. Look, Little Old Lady, I said to myself. You can’t do math, you can’t see without your readers. What you can do is run. You run until they drag you off this road. You run until they take your chip. You run and run and run.

KONA RECAP: THE RUN (PART 1)

I headed south on the Kuakini, down Henry and onto Ali’i Drive. That first half mile is a bit fun because there were women coming into their finish. It was also a little disheartening to see the finishers turn right into the finish chute as you head out on your first mile. They were at mile 139 and I still had 26.2 to go!

Fortunately, in that first mile I met up with Ashley from Baton Rouge. We chatted about not feeling well. She was also a little nauseated. We chatted about what we did when we weren't doing triathlon. About how we got into this crazy mess in the first place. This was only her second IRONMAN - she had qualified at Chattanooga in 2022.

At the first aid station, I mixed my go-to Pedialyte concoction with cold water. My first swallow hurt my teeth. You know that feeling when something is too sweet? And my stomach. The sugary fruit taste was threatening. I filled both hands and my bra with ice and ate it piece by piece as it melted away in my tri top.

At the second aid station, I refilled with ice and tried the cola. Oh. My. God. I try not to say that phrase a lot - but, it that fizzy cola was pretty close to heaven. Usually, I don’t drink cola until mile 8 or later, but I had to try something to get in calories and this did the trick. I immediately felt better.

While we made our way to the turn-around we chatted about the swim and the bike and did a little bit of iron math. We were doing 15-minute miles - which is not bad at all and if we kept it up we’d be able to finish just in time.

The highlight here: I saw a Boykin Spaniel! I asked the owner, who was fetching his mail at the street: Is that a Boykin?

She is! He answered. You know Boykins?

I do! I have one, too! I reached down and said I need some Boykin energy right about now. I cupped her head in my hands and she flashed me those tell-tale amber eyes. Ah! Such a lift. He told me her name, but my iron brain has since forgotten.

We reached the turn-around and headed back towards IM Village. The sun was setting and there was a slight breeze. It was still sticky and humid, but the wind helped.

At about mile four we ran into Ashley's husband.

Babe, you have to pick it up. You've got to finish by 11:10PM. After a short discussion and some quick calculations, she decided she’d try running. I was not ready yet. I encouraged her to go. She started running and was soon out of sight.

A few minutes later I talked myself into running. There was a flat section on Ali’i with restaurants and shops on one side and the bay on the left. Waves were crashing and the sun was hanging just over the horizon. I managed to run for about two minutes & suddenly heard: Oh My God- It’s Beth!

Philly Reed - a friend from Charlotte who was there to spectate for other friends - jumped out into the street and hugged me. It was the boost I needed to run another 2 minutes. I kept up a 2 minute run + 2 minute walk until I reached my crew on Kuakini. I was so relieved to see them.

How are you doing? Ace asked.

I answered with the biggest UGH+HURUMPH+GROAN that you’ve ever heard.

How am I doing? Am I going to make it? I asked. I didn’t really want to know the answer. I knew that the tracker would be reading my estimated finish time.

You’ve got to stick with your original plan. If you can get back on track, you’ll finish with time to spare. It was a good answer. Kind of vague, but also a hidden push. I pushed through the hot corner and up Palani and onto the Queen K once again.

Headed out on my first mile.

This is Ashley - my brand new friend.

Isn’t she awesome!?

The sun has set. I am up on the Kuakini Highway and passing Ace, Tonya and Maria for the last time until I get back to town.

KONA RECAP: TRANSITION 2

I WAS SO GLAD TO BE OFF THE BIKE!!!! But, immediately, I felt wonky. As I walked by bike down the red carpet in the chute and set LanaKeli in her block, I could feel the nausea creeping up in my belly. It felt good to walk and I grabbed my bag and headed into the changing tent. By this time of day, the atmosphere in the tent was more subdued. There were fewer women and a lot less noise. It was even hotter now and the humidity was stifling. I sat down in one of the chairs and peeled off my camelbak and helmet and socks. I put on my visor and shades and my prettiest sparkly headband, grabbed my nutrition bottle and Ziploc, and headed for the exit.

When I stood up, I had that wonky feeling again and pictured the classic videos of Julie Moss keening sideways to get to the finish line of Kona in 1982. Did I look like that right now? The queasiness sloshed around in my whole body. Now, if you’d rather not read about bodily functions, you might want to skip down to the last paragraph because for about five minutes, I will share what will happen in a triathlon if your nutrition is off.

I thought I’d feel better if I hit the port-o-john to pee and full disclosure: I peed a lot. Which is a pretty good sign. But, the temperature and the humidity in the port-o made the queasiness worse. I couldn’t bear to puke in the john so I stepped out, took a hard right and saw a trash can. There was a volunteer sitting right by it and I warned him: you may want to move! I’m gonna throw up! I hurled. A lot. It was all liquid and it reminded me of that scene in Stand by Me at the pie eating contest. I stood up tall, thought about walking out and then hurled again.

A medic tapped me on the shoulder. Are you all right? Do you need medical? he asked.

No, actually. l feel much better. I said. But, I have one more in me. You might want to turn around! With that, I turned and let it fly.

Okay. I feel great! I exclaimed. Okay, not great, but MUCH better.

I walked out and found Ace right near the exit. He asked me how I was and I gave him the honest report. I feel better, but I am gonna walk a lot. Text Sami and ask her what I should do after puking.

Fortunately for Sami, she was already asleep on the East Coast and didn’t have to listen to my question. Oddly, I was the least concerned I'd been all day. It was the best I’d felt in hours! Tonya & Maria were on the hot corner with signs & smiles. They walked behind me- cheering & encouraging me.

I'm headed to the turn-around see ya'll in a bit! I called as I walked/staggered away.

My time in T2 was 10:33.

So glad to be getting off the bike.

I look okay here…..but, I am not a happy camper. I’ll post a video of my exit from T2 on Instagram.

This a view of T2 about midday. I think the first pros are coming in from the bike and heading out on the run.

KONA RECAP: THE BIKE (PART 4)

The downward spiral in my brain was an inverse of the upward creep in temperature. By mile 80, the temperatures were above 95 degrees. The highest temp I recorded was 98 right before the turn back onto the Queen K. And, let me remind you - there is no shade on this course. And the side winds picked up, too. I was uncomfortable in my saddle and I was having a hard time eating and drinking. My brain was toast.

I was trying to do iron math and as you'll find out I clearly fail this class. I was at mile 75ish when I saw the aid station at mile 45ish being dismantled and the sweep vehicle behind the last cyclist. And, that’s when I began trying to figure out if I could finish the bike within the cut-off. Athletes are given 10 hours and 30 minutes to finish the swim & the bike. I correctly figured out that I needed to finish the bike by 5:40PM to avoid a DNF (DID NOT FINISH). But, the rest of my calculations were wrong. I mean, story problems were never my strength.

I would look at my computer and see I was doing 9 miles an hour and I would think: I’m at mile 80 and at 9 miles an hour. It’s going to take me 3.5 hours - that means I’m going to finish at 5:30. And if I spent 10 minutes in transition 1 - I’m not going to make it. I finished Coeur d’Alene in 8:30 and I don’t think I can finish this in 9 hours.

Now mind you, I would only do these calculations on the uphills. On the downhills, I would pay attention to the road and my bike handling. On the downhills, I’d ramp my speed to 20mph. My averages - which beeped on my computer every 5 miles - were usually on target at closer to I5 mph.

My self-talk was pitiful. I can’t believe I came all the way out here and I might not finish the bike. I can’t believe you’ve practiced for this and you still aren’t going to make it. In hindsight, I’m most irritated at myself because I thought this way. I’m usually positive and optimistic in these situations.

I went through anger, sadness, frustration, fear. I hit all the lows. And, this went on for about an hour.

Finally I pulled it together. You can keep talking to yourself like this... you can keep beating yourself up or you can ride your bike. What can you say to yourself in this mile that is positive? I thought of being Don Quixote and chasing windmills. I sang songs out loud again: Somewhere over the Rainbow, Shake it Off, Silent Night. I sang Climb from Miley Cyrus for goodness sake!

I used the camelbak water to hose my legs and back. I could barely drink the water in my aero bottle but stayed on my 10 minute alarm-or drank to thirst. I was not getting nutrition or salt out of my frame bottles so I had to up my BASE salt intake and improvise my calories. Gummy colas-can't swallow. Waffles-HARD NO. Skratch blueberry gummies-yes. Coffee licorice-yes. I was able to eat a birthday cake-flavored GU. And part of a lemon GU liquid energy. Best of all - SKITTLES. I had grabbed them at special needs and could eat them slowly.

Although I was afraid to stop…..I did stop at the second to last aid station and got ice for my aero bottle & one of my frame bottles. That cold plain water was the best thing ever. A few miles later, I pulled out my salted watermelon INFINIT and that first gulp was a life-saving thirst-quenching slice of heaven. I drank again and on the front of it- cold and delicious. On the back of it hot, boiling gross­ness. I felt a little queasy. I did not touch it again. I couldn't. The last 20 miles were.... hard. I kept singing. I kept thinking of all the hard rides I've done these past few years-and survived. I kept shouting HOLOMUA (the theme to this year's race) - to no one and everyone who passed me.

Finally, I could make out the town of Kona. Finally, I started seeing runners. Finally, I made it to the spot that Erin and Sami predicted I would reach my limit on the bike: that spot where I HAD. TO. GET. OFF. THE. BIKE. I was still three miles out! But, I was in town and started to see more people. I was thrilled to make all the turns back into town. There were volunteers and runners and spectators again.

I turned right onto Palani and saw and Ace and Maria and Tonya cheering me in to transition. I looked down at my computer and it read….8:02!!!!

I headed into transition and swung my bike over all my bottles. Ah. Solid ground. And then, Uh Oh. I don’t feel so good.

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 RECAP: THE BIKE (PART 1)

The run out of transition was long. I made it past the Banyan tree and down the chute and finally able to mount the bike. The first part of the bike is a little intimidating and an abrupt uphill on Palani. But, the best advice I received in the lead-in was to sit in the saddle and spin easy up the hill.

My biggest fear was to fall over! But, I had set my gears in the right spot and I was able to get up the first section of Palani with no problem. The first few miles were through town and it was fun to wind through the streets of Kona. It was the first sight of the Queen K….and then you head back down Palani to the hot corner and out onto the Kuakini Hwy.

I saw Maria, Tonya, Neal and Ken just after the hot corner as I headed up to the first turn around, Most of this stretch was a gradual uphill. It was fun because there were so many people out there. Spectators, athletes and volunteers lined the course. It was so amazing to see all the bike and the women - even as they passed, were (for the most part) friendly. I was a little tense - the road conditions here were a little dicey and the crowded conditions made me a little uneasy.

I tried to relax and drink some water. It was so delicious to drink plain water and rinse the saltiness out of my mouth. I ate most of my first waffle in those first five miles.

I made it back into town and was excited to see the crew. The turn up Palani to the Queen K was not as bad as I thought. It was a solid climb, but it reminded me of the climb in France. At the bottom of the hill, Maria, Tonya & Ace cheered me on and at the top of the hill I recognized Nick. I felt a little sad heading out on the Queen K because I knew that I was leaving behind my support crew. It was going to be a long day.

The first thing I noticed was that all of my bottles had thawed. I mean, it had been 3 hours since I took them out of the freezer, but their last few minutes of cool water were past approaching. I drank from my camelback. I drank from my nutrition bottle. I took in salt. I ate more waffle. I hunkered down as the morning sun rose over the lava fields & fire grass.

Up Palani to the first part of the bike.

Off I go! I think this is on the Kuakini Hwy headed to the first turn-around.

I am constantly trying to get my picture taken.

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…