Since this blog is titled ‘bikingwithmike.com’ and was originally started to chronicle my bicycle adventures, I decided to actually post something about one of my bicycle adventures that I wrote 30 years ago. It is quite lengthy so feel free to skip today. I just wanted to post this somewhere so I have an electronic copy of this since I only have a paper copy now. It is part of my ongoing effort to purge my files and reduce the amount of ‘stuff’ I’m carrying around so I am more flexible and mobile in the future. And the fact is, I was just tired of writing about politics today so I decided to do this instead. Stay safe out there. (And forgive some of the formatting as I had to scan it into a pdf and then convert to a word file so it is still a work in progress).
The IRONMAN
“Slaying the Monster”
The IRONMAN triathlon in Hawaii was first run in 1978 by fifteen people. It was done pretty much as a dare and credit is usually given to Commander John Collins (now retired) of the U. S. Navy for dreaming up this idea.
At that time, there were three separate endurance events that took place at different times on the island of Oahu. These were the 2.4-mile rough water swim which took place off of Waikiki Beach, the “Round the Island” bike ride (112 miles) and the Honolulu marathon (26.2 miles). Commander Collins came up with the idea to try to do them all in one day.
The first race was very informal. The fifteen people just got together and did it. There was no prize money and the trophies were homemade. The next year, however, Commander Collins found that there were a few more people who were interested in attempting this new challenge. At that point, most everyone thought these people were all insane.
The event continued to grow and in 1980 it was first covered by ABC Wide World of Sports. During this whole time the sport of triathlon was quietly growing but it wasn’t until the 1982 Ironman race that the sport of triathlon was really put on the map. During the race that year, a young lady by the name of Julie Moss collapsed just yards from, the finish line. The ABC cameras were rolling as she valiantly tried to crawl the last few yards. America was held spell—bound as this gutsy woman, who had lost control of all of her bodily functions, was trying to crawl the last few feet of a race. It was very dramatic and it was that race that made the Ironman world famous.
As the sport of triathlon continued to grow, more and more people aspired to what was then the ultimate triathlon challenge — to run the Ironman in Hawaii. Even though there are now a few longer races, the Ironman in Hawaii is still considered the most prestigious triathlon in the world. The race began to get so big that it was moved to its current home in Kailua—Kona on the Big Island of Hawaii since there were far fewer traffic problems to deal with.
As more and more people from around the world tried to enter the Ironman, a system of qualifying races was developed and a limitation set on the number of entries. The last few years has seen the race peak at almost 1,400 entries.
Since the Ironman in Hawaii had proven so successful and so popular, “Ironman ‘l distance races have been established in other countries. These include Japan, Germany, New Zealand, and Canada. These races are now qualifying races for the World Championship Race in Kailua—Kona that is held every October.
I had watched the Ironman race on Wide World of Sports for several years. I was fascinated by it and in my usual way told Francine, “I ‘d like to try that someday. ” (She hears that a lot!)
Finally, in 1988 1 entered my first triathlon. It was an Olympic distance event – 1.5 K (0.9 mile) swim, 40 K (25 mile) bike and 10 K (6.2 mile) run — nothing on the scale of an Ironman race. I didn’t finish. I got dehydrated during the bike ride, got very bad leg cramps and had to stop and pull out of the race. So much for my introduction to triathlons.
Fortunately, later in the year I ran in another triathlon in San Diego and finished. 1 felt great! I had fun! This was a good sport! I didn’t run any races in 1989 and then decided that I ‘d start again in 1990.
During the first couple of months of 1990 1 sent away for an application to the Ironman in Hawaii (without telling Francine!). I was pretty sure that I wouldn’t really do anything with it at that time, I got the application in February and read it over.
In order to get into the Ironman, you have to qualify in one of the designated races, or they have a lottery for 150 of the race slots. In order to qualify, you usually have to come in first or second in your age group. I knew that would be close to impossible for me given the amount of time I had to train so I knew if I was to get in, I ‘d have to get in through the lottery,
The entry fee for the race was $225. However, if you don’t get picked in the lottery, they refund most of your money so you don’t really lose much. After thinking it over for a while I decided, “What the hell I “, and mailed in my application. 1 figured there wasn’t much chance of getting picked so it was all kind of done for fun. I still hadn’t told Francine.
The literature that accompanied the application said that lottery winners would be notified around the first of May. 1 went on about my life secure in the knowledge that I wouldn’t get picked and I could at least say that I ‘d applied to the Ironman.
Around the first of May, I returned from a trip to Los Angeles, collected the mail, and went up to the apartment. Francine was at school and wouldn’t be home for a while. I was thumbing through the mail when I saw a letter from the Ironman Race. The letter was very thin so I figured it was a form letter stating that I hadn’t been picked in the lottery.
I opened the letter and I ‘m sure my mouth dropped open. There were only three sentences.
Congratulations!
You were selected in the 1990 lottery.
Full details will be mailed to you in late May.
What now! I poured myself a nice stiff scotch and sat down on the couch. I was excited and afraid all at the same time.
I was still sitting on the couch when Francine returned home later that evening. I showed her the letter. She looked at me and said, “Does this mean we get to go to Hawaii?” She wanted to go to Hawaii. I wanted to do the Ironman race and it looked like we were both going to get our wishes.
Once I got over the initial shock, I decided I ‘d better lay out a training schedule and get serious. I told Francine that she might not see me much until after the race. She told me to do whatever I had to do. She’s great! (I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that doing this race would be impossible without the support of your spouse or ‘significant other’.)
I decided that I would continue to swim three mornings a week before going to work and then I would alternate between running and riding my bike after work. In addition, I decided I ‘d use Saturday for a long run and Sunday for a long bike ride.
At the beginning of the year, I had made a resolution to run at least one event a month, i.e., an organized race like a 10K, a bike ride or some swimming event. Consequently, I had been swimming, running and riding to some degree up to that point so it wasn’t like I was starting from “square 1.
| I laid out a schedule that looked somewhat like the | |||
| following: | |||
| Morning | Evening | ||
| Monday | Swim | (1,500 – 4,000 Yds) | Run (6 |
| Tuesday | Bike (30 — 40 miles) | ||
| Wednesday | Swim | (1,500 – 4,000 yds) | Run (6 |
| Thursday | Bike (30 — 40 miles) | ||
| Friday | Swim | (1,500 – 4,000 yds) | Run (6 |
| Saturday | Run (8 — 15 miles) | ||
| Sunday | Bike (50 — 100 miles) |
This all seemed fine and good but there were many weeks that I didn’t quite make this schedule for various and sundry reasons. There were times I was travel ling. There were other times when I was hurt. And there were other times when I was just plain tired.
On the mornings I went swimming, particularly as my yardage increased beyond 3, 000 yards, I would have to get up at 5 a.m. in order to get to the pool, do my swimming and get to work by 8 a.m. Then I t d leave work at 5 p.m., rush home, change into my running or biking gear and take off. Every evening I ‘d get done somewhere between 7 and 7:30 p.m. By the time I got done showering, I ‘d end up eating dinner sometime around 8 p.m.
I attempted to keep a journal throughout my training. The following excerpt is fairly representative of how the summer went. “It’s been almost two months since I first found out that I was selected in the lottery for this year’s Ironman race in Hawaii. The reality has begun to sink in as I have made hotel and airplane reservations.
I vacillate between feelings of excitement and fear. My biggest fear is that I will not finish the race — that I will not be mentally tough enough to do it. If I become physically disabled that’s one thing, but if I just mentally give up at some point — that will be the worst.
At times I don’t feel like I ‘m pushing myself hard enough,
i.e., I should be running further, biking further and swimming more yards. completing this race will be far more of a mental challenge than a physical one.
In training, I find that overcoming the inertia to get out the door is harder than actually doing the training. Once I ‘m on my bike or on my way to the pool, I usually have a pretty good workout. However, so often I just want to rest. I just want it to go away.
I guess the relentlessness of the pressure is the worst thing. I get done riding my bike a hard 35 miles after work one evening, come home, shower, eat and vegetate for a couple of hours, all the while thinking that I have to get up at 5:00 a.m. so I can go the pool and swim 2,500 – 3,000 yards. And then there’s running tomorrow night, and on it goes. That’s the hardest part.
On Sunday I rode up to Mt. Hamilton (60-mile round trip, 4, 000 ft. of climbing) and had a pretty good ride. I have decided that I should do the ride twice in one day as part of my training. Right now it seems so intimidating. My legs already hurt. Things to look forward to!
Just before I left for a business trip to Germany the first week of August, I developed a sharp pain in my left knee. I ran a couple of times while in Germany but the pain didn’t really go away. It finally got to the point that I stopped running altogether in the middle of August. It didn’tseem to bother me when I rode my bike but it hurt like hell when I ran.
My knee seemed to be better around the first of September so
I started cranking out the miles again. I just decided to run really easy and see how it went. At about this same time I decided to take every Monday off so that I could concentrate more on training. This went well for the first couple weeks of September and then I caught a terrible cold. It took me a couple of weeks to finally shake it and by then it was time to leave for Hawaii. I knew I was in trouble! During that whole two week period I had gone swimming once, bicycling once and running once.
Saturday morning, September 29th, Jim Sealy knocked on our door at 6:20 a.m. and the “Sealy express” hit the road to San Francisco International Airport at about 10 minutes to seven.
The bicycle box that I bought from American Airlines was huge. This necessitated all of us sitting in the front seat of the station wagon. All the while Francine and I were speculating on how we were going to get this monster box from the Kona Airport to the hotel in our “compact” rental car. Ah, the joys of travel ling.
The trip was relatively uneventful and, although it took two trips to the Kona Airport, we did get all of the luggage and the monster bike box to the hotel. We were staying at the host hotel, the King Kamehameha. The hotel was 0K but our room had a view looking right onto the roof. Oh, well!
Arriving in Kona had really begun to make everything very real. There were “Ironman”signs everywhere. This was no longer just a dream. Francine could see that I was having serious misgivings about all of this and gave me a present that she had brought along with her. She had an engraved plaque made with the words “No Balls — No Blue Chips”. An old friend of ours who had spent several years in the Navy in submarines used to say that. He said when they used to play poker the blue chips were always the most expensive and so it basically says if you ‘re not willing to take the risk, you won I t reap the rewards! Francine told me to look at it every day before the race.
9/29
“It’s night now (the view looks better!) and I feel much better. I wasn’t really psyched this afternoon but now that my bike is together, I’m beginning to get more into it.
Tomorrow I plan to go swimming and try a 50-mile bike ride in the afternoon. We t 11 see.
I ‘ve included a sketch of the course just to give some idea as to what this is all about. The swim is the first leg of this odyssey and probably the easiest (if you call swimming 2.4 miles in the ocean easy!)
The swim start is just off of a little beach to one side of Kailua Pier (which was, conveniently, right next to our hotel). The beach is very small and when the tide is in, like it was on race day, there is no dry sand. The actual start is about 30 yards offshore and is marked off by a banner that runs from the sea wall on one side to the pier on the other. The water at that point is over one’s head so the people who want to be in front must tread water until the start cannon goes off.
The swim course is essentially a rectangle which is just short of 1.2 miles on its long sides and 100 yards on the short side. The long sides are marked by bright orange buoys every two hundred yards. The corners where you turn are marked by two large boats that are anchored in position.
The bike course starts at Kailua Pier and once out of the transition area you immediately begin a two block long climb up to Queen Kaahumanu (“Queen K”) Highway where you make a left turn heading out of town. There are only a few scattered buildings and very little vegetation between here and the airport which is about 7 miles away. The terrain is gently rolling with no significant uphills or downhills.. This are is generally a bit windy and in evening. this wind reverses and blows (rom the mountains. From the Waikoloa area to Hawi. you will be biking into the legendary mumuku winds which blow 5-35 mph and in to 55 mph. After. turning around at Hawi. you will usually have these winds at your back to Kawaihae and then side winds again along HWY. 1
Once past the airport, things get pretty bleak. Between the airport and the small town of Kawaihae, about 25 miles away there is nothing but lava fields. Along each side of the road you can see nothing but black lava. Again, the terrain is rolling hills.
The course turns at Kawaihae and begins a 19-mile climb to the turnaround at the small town of Hawi. There is a little more vegetation throughout this stretch but is consists mainly of grass and scrubby trees. It looks more like the Southwestern United States than what you’d expect to see in Hawaii.
The climbing through here is not particularly steep. The maximum grade is 6% but the real killer is the wind. The last seven miles into Hawi is right into the wind and if the tradewinds are blowing, which they usually are, it can make life pretty miserable.
The bike course turnaround is right on the edge of Hawi and, at that point, you are going downhill and the wind is at your back. Heaven!
The course retraces the route back across the lava fields to Kona and then proceeds about six miles along the ocean front on Alii Drive, through a residential neighborhood to the Kona Surf Resort Hotel.
The run course begins in the parking lot of the Kona Surf and immediately begins with a climb up a fairly steep hill for about a quarter of a mile. The course then goes down a fairly steep hill for about half a mile and then turns around and goes back up the same hill.
The run course then proceeds back along the ocean front on Alii Drive to Kona. The course winds through Kona and then heads back out of town on Queen K. Highway towards the airport.
9/30
I got up about 7:15 a.m. and got ready to go for a morning swim. Francine got up and got ready for a little jog and off we went.
About five or six miles from town the course turns down a road to the Natural Energy Lab. This little detour is two miles down and two miles back. The course then returns to Kona on Queen K. highway. The finish line is on Alii Drive just a few yards from where it all begins in the morning with the swim.
There were already other athletes at the beach so there was not much danger in swimming alone. The water was warm. I waded in, donned my blue Bud Light swim cap (a souvenir from the Oxnard race), put on my goggles coated with “Cat Crap” anti—fogging solution (this is for real folks!) and off I went.
I decided that since I hadn’t been swimming for a while I t d just swim out 20—25 minutes and return. The water was warm and clear (and salty!). I was really neat to swim along and see the fish swimming below. The water was about 20 in most places. All in all, it was quite enjoyable and I felt pretty good.
We I re off to breakfast now. And then this afternoon, I going to go for a fifty-mile bike ride (that ought to be interesting).
Interesting is definitely the right word. God, what hell! Riding out across the lava fields is really a bitch. Hot! Windy! Nothing! I decided to ride out 1 1/2 hours and then turn around. It turns out that it was about a 63-mile round trip. Did it in just over 3 1/2 hours. Boy was I feeling poorly towards the end. I was running out of water so I t m hoping race day will be better since there will be aid stations every five miles on the bike course.
I was actually thinking at one point that if I could just get to the airport (about 7 miles from town!) that I could call Francine and she could come and get me. Then it dawned on me that I didn’t have any money with which to make a call! (I could beg! — I was sorely tempted!)
About three or four miles from the airport, Dave’s Bike shop had a stand set up with several big buckets of Gatorade. Yea! Hope! There were a couple of people stopped there including one lady who appeared to be in her late fifties. One of the other riders asked her how many miles she was putting in that day, she replied, “Oh, about 75—80. ” So much for my dose of humility for the day. Just for the record I passed her on the way back to Kona. (I guess that’s kind of like bragging about beating up on your Mom!)
When I finally got to the airport, it started to rain and it rained pretty hard all the way back to town. It felt wonderful I It’s like the gods looked down on my poor wretched body and took pity on me. It was so refreshing my pace picked up; ray spirits picked up and I just pedaled on into town.
I wrote at that point, ‘1 1 have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into, but it’s going to be painful!
It’s surprising how fast one recovers, I got back to the room, slurped about half a bottle of Gatorade, ate a banana and started to feel human, I took a shower, drank a Miller lite, ate some oatmeal cookies and the bike ride didn’t seem like such a big deal.
We lolled around the room for a couple of hours. Around 5:30 p.m., the rain stopped and we went down to the hotel restaurant, the Moby Dick, for dinner. There was a guy sitting at the table next to us with a T—shirt that said “El Salvador Triathlon, We’d already heard other people from Denmark, Germany, England and Australia. It was still unbelievable that I was a part of this.
10/1
“Got up for my morning swim. Felt pretty good! Swam for about 30 minutes out and was not too far from the turnaround buoy so I think an hour and 1/2 swim is doable.
We went to breakfast back at the Banana Hut cafe (or something like that!) Stuffed ourselves. We then took off for the Kona Coffee Mill and the City of Refuge for the only real sight—seeing’ we did the whole trip.
On the way back, Francine dropped me off at the Kona Surf so I could run the first part of the course. The run was OK but it sure is going to be a long run. The heat makes a real difference. Back in San Jose I could take off and run 8 – 10 miles with no problem at all. This run in Kona was only about
7.5 miles and by the time I got home I was shot.
10/2
For whatever reason, I feel more confident tonight. Who knows why? Tomorrow I plan to ride out to Hawi, the turnaround point, and have Francine come out and pick me up. Should be interesting
The ride out to Hawi wasn’t going too bad until I got about 33 miles from Kailua at Kawaihae. That’s the beginning of the nineteen mile stretch to Hawi. The terrain is either flat or uphill; there doesn’t seem to be a lot of downhills in this part. The hills aren’t really all that steep (maximum of 6%). They’re mainly an irritant. The worst part was the wind and the heat. almost
During this part of the ride, the winds are blowing head on. Combined with the heat and the hills, no matter how small, it was pretty demoralizing.
Francine caught up with me about five miles from Hawi. She stopped to give me some new water bottles which was good since I was almost out. I rested for a couple of minutes while we talked and then she took off for Hawi to wait for me. It was hard to see her drive away since I was pretty hot and tired and would have preferred to just get in the car. In any case, off she went.
The last five miles were terrible. I was having a real attitude problem. The wind was blowing pretty good and it seemed as if I was crawling up the hill. There were times I even thought about just pulling off the road and waiting until Francine came looking for me. What a weanie! Anyway, I finally did get to Hawi and the car.
From that point on, the bike ride had me very intimidated. I had gone for two rides since getting to Hawaii, each roughly half the distance l t d have to go in the race, and at the end of both rides I was shot. I really and truly didn’t think I could make it at that point.
And to pour salt in the wound, on the way home we passed several people who had ridden out to Hawi and were riding back home. They were riding almost the entire bike course for practice while I merely rode half of it and was shot. I began thinking that I was definitely in over my head.
That evening we went to a restaurant that was having a special Triathlete “All You Can Eat Buffet”. The food was OK but it was like a shark feeding frenzy. A lot of the athletes showed up and the amount of food consumed was amazing.
10/3
‘t I went out for my morning swim this morning and felt pretty good. I swam for almost 1 1/4 hours and felt pretty reasonable when I got out of the water. I didn’t feel nauseous at all which is really my biggest fear.
Today was a run day so at about 1 o t clock I had Francine take me out to the airport so I could run over the last 7 miles of the course (back to town). She dropped me off and headed back to the hotel.
It was hot, hot and hot as I took off for town. I was carrying a water bottle and figured I ‘d just take it easy. About a mile from town, I ran out of water and I ran out of gas (figuratively). I walked the last mile back to the hotel.
I knew I t d probably be doing quite a bit of walking if I made it to the marathon so I thought l t d see how long it took me to walk a mile. I clocked it at 13 minutes. t‘
At that point it’s probably a good thing that I walked because I figured out that if I could average 13 minutes a mile then I could finish the run in 5 and 1/2 hours. That convinced roe that if I could just get through the bike ride, there was a chance of getting to the finish line. I figured then that the bike ride would be the key.
Thursday was a rest day. My training had ended. I had decided not to do anything Thursday and Friday except rest. At this point, at least, I began to feel calmer. It was out of my hands — there was nothing more I could do. I told myself that I would just start the race and go as far as I could.
We relaxed most of the day. That evening there was a mandatory pre—race meeting and carbo—loading party. It was held outside on the hotel grounds and was slated to start at 6:30.
People started showing up at about 5:30 so by the time we got there, most of the “good” seats near the stage had been taken. The food, however, was good and we had a nice time. We met some nice people and had an enjoyable evening.
The bikes had to be checked in at the swim bike transition area on Kailua Pier Friday. My assigned time was between 11:00 and 2:00 but I got out there about 10:45 so I didn’t have to stand in a long line later.
Each bike was given a quick safety check and, once approved, was taken away and put in a numbered rack. We were all told to deflate the tires somewhat so they didn’t burst while sitting in the hot afternoon sun. We knew that we would be able to come by in the morning and pump up the tires to their normal pressure.
Once the bike was checked in, I knew it was too late to not do the race. My attitude at that point was still, 1 8 11 start and just go as far as I can.
We spent the remainder of Friday trying to relax and just wandering around Kailua. At about 5:30 we headed out to find some pasta, the pre—race food preferred by endurance athletes because of its high carbohydrate content. (It’s a good excuse for eating a lot!)
We found a nice little place but because we were not the only ones with this idea, it took us about 40 minutes to get a table. It was worth the wait. The food was excellent. Then it was back to the hotel to do one last gear check and try to get some sleep — ha!
On the morning of the race, I got up at 4:45 a.m. after not having slept very well — surprise! I got into ray swim suit, put on my sweats and headed down to the bike transition area to pump up my tires and get my body marked.
I checked in and they marked my arms and legs with my number, 545, and marked the back of my left calf with the letter “E” to denote my age group. From there I headed over to the bike racks, pump in hand, so I could pump up my tires.
I did this and headed back up to the room to roust Francine. Since our room was right next to the race start, I didn’t have to worry about such things as standing in line for the Port—a— Potties since I could just run up to the room.
I was actually not too nervous at this point, although I do remember snapping at Francine a couple of times. I tried to stay calm and, in all honesty, was simply planning to just start the race and go until it appeared as if I made a credible showing and then quit. Then, I thought, I could simply go back to the hotel, clean up and join Francine to take pictures.
We headed down to the race area and wandered around a little. 1 made a couple more trips upstairs to the john and then it was time to move to the starting area. Security was such that only race officials, press members, volunteers and contestants could enter the immediate area. I gave Francine a kiss and off I went, not having the faintest idea what lay before me.
As all of the contestants crowded onto the small beach and into the water, the countdown began. “Ten minutes t til race time”, the announcer would bellow over the loud speaker. They began herding all of the contestants in the water back of the starting banner.
I moved toward the back since I had no desire to be in the midst of 1400 people flailing about in the water when the starting cannon went off. My plan was to wait a few seconds after the start and then take off. I figured a minute or two was not going to make any difference in my time.
They were having trouble herding all of the front swimmers behind the start line and so 7 a.m., the official start time, came and went and we hadn’t started yet. Then all of a sudden, and without any notice, the cannon fired and the race was off.
I stood there for about 30 40 seconds while the large majority of swimmers took off like grunion. The water was churning and was mass of white froth, and flailing arms and legs. Mind you, I was not the only person who held back. There were a number of us who had decided that swimming should not be a contact sport.
As I began to swim, I. kept trying to tell myself to just relax, take it easy and enjoy the ride. Right! After the first two to three hundred yards, things had thinned out a little and, while there were still a lot of people around, there was more than enough room to swim.
The water was not as clear as it had been, partially due to the large number of people churning up the water and partially due to the waves that seemed to be a bit larger than during my practice swims.
As I churned along, I would look up occasionally to make sure I was heading reasonably straight and to see if I could see the boat that marked the first turn. The orange buoys that were anchored every two hundred yards definitely made navigating much easier. The large number of swimmers helped also. The idea was that as long as you were swimming in the general direction that everyone else was going, you couldn’t be too far off.
I saw the boat approaching and began aiming for the corner, I swam right between the anchor line and the hull of the boat — no sense swimming any further than you have to. There were lots of people on the boat and they were all yelling and cheering.
At about this same time it seemed to get a little choppier. I could feel myself being tossed up and down a bit and I kept hoping that I wouldn’t get seasick. I swam the hundred or so yards to the second boat (filled with more cheering people) and made the turn for ‘home’.
By this time my mouth tasted like salt and I could feel the unpleasant feel of saltwater in my stomach. No matter how much you try there is just no way that you can keep from swallowing some amount of salt water. Even though the waves were tossing us around a little and I had ingested my share of salt water, I still felt pretty reasonable and was confident I ‘d make it back with no problem.
There were still lots of people around which made me glad since I didn’t really relish the idea of being the last one out of the water.
The end of the swim course is set up so it kind of funnels all of the swimmers up to the ramp on the pier. At that point there are race officials that are helping everyone out of the water and up the ramp. I don’t care how good you are, after 2 e 4 miles of swimming, you ‘re still a little wobbly when you first hit land.
At the top of the ramp, I gave my timing tag to the official (it had been tied to the drawstring on my swimsuit with a rubber band) and proceeded to the freshwater showers. I grabbed a hose and hosed myself down with cold, fresh water. It felt wonderful and was kind of a shot in the arm. As I emerged from the showers and jogged through the next station, another one of the volunteers handed me the bag containing my biking clothes.
The changing room was a beehive of activity — and a mess! I found a bench, toweled off, changed into my biking shorts and jersey, grabbed a glass of Gatorade and a glass of water, and headed out the door to my bike.
The bike racks were staffed with volunteers and as soon as you emerged from the dressing room, they would yell out your number and by the time you got to your bike, someone had it out of the rack and waiting for you. I slapped on my shoes (thank goodness for Velcro fasteners) and got on my bike. I heard the reassuring “click” as my cleats popped into place and I was off!
The street out of the transition area was crowded with people who were all cheering and yelling. I didn’t see Francine although she said later that she saw me. I really didn’t feel too bad as I started up Palani Drive and the two block long climb up to Queen K. Highway. The street was lined with people all the way to the top who were all yelling and cheering. That always helps.
As I made the turn onto Queen K. Highway, I was really dreading the next leg of the race. The temperature was still reasonable since it was only about 8 a.m. I told myself to just relax, settle down and take it easy. I kept trying to tell myself that I wasn’t here to win — just to finish (but, if truth be known, at that point in time I still didn’t think I’d really finish!)
I settled into a reasonable rhythm and began to shake off the effects of the swim. I felt pretty good as I passed the airport and headed out onto the lava fields. Only 105 miles to go! There were a lot of cyclers ahead of me and there were a lot behind me so I didn’t feel too badly.
Somewhere out in the middle of nowhere it seemed as if someone switched on the wind. On my training rides on both the Sunday and Tuesday before the race, the ride out to Kawaihae had been easy. Today, the wind was really making us work. The heat had begun to increase and the wind was coming right at us. It was pretty demoralizing.
The aid stations were like little oases that sprouted out of the lava every five miles. They were set up extremely well and the volunteers did an absolutely fantastic job. Each aid station was stretched out over several hundred yards. As you approached there was a place alongside the road where you could toss empty water bottles. As you proceeded along there were some people with new bottles containing cold water. They would simply hold them out and as you rode by you would grab for them kind of like going for the brass ring on the merry—go—round.
After the water, there were people with bottles of Gatorade, then people with bottles of Coke (yuck!) • After the ‘liquid people’ there would be the ‘food people’. People would have bananas, orange slices, cookies and at some stations “PowerBars”. And then, in my mind, there were the most important people, the “Sponge people” • These people would have cold sponges that you could grab as you rode by. I would take these sponges and squeeze them on the back of my neck. They were generally ice cold and it was like a jolt of energy after the heat and wind had beaten you down.
As the heat and wind continued to beat on me, I began to think of where along the bike course I would quit. The rides that I had had on Sunday and Tuesday were still in my mind and I just didn’t know how I was going to do this. I kept asking myself how far I had to go to make it at least look respectable. I kept rationalizing quitting by telling myself that even the pros had quit at one time or another. A couple of years ago, Kirsten Hansen, one of the top females, had quit the bike after sixty miles.
I was really dreading the climb to the turnaround at Hawi (52.5 miles) and kind of toyed with the idea of quitting at the aid station at Kawaihai, just before the climb begins. Kawaihae came and I was still going. (79 miles to go).
I passed through Kawaihae and began the 19-mile climb to Hawi. Mind you, it’s not nineteen miles of solid climbing but there’s definitely more uphill than downhill. The hills are not killer steep but some of them do require some good old fashioned out—of—the—saddle, stand—up—on—the—pedals climbing.
I still had not seen the leaders coming the other way which I had been expecting for the last hour or so. That, at least was a little encouraging. I had been over this stretch of road on Tuesday so I knew the last seven miles would be the worst. 1 road from mile marker to mile marker. Some of them came easy, some of them came hard,
At about 12 to 15 miles from Hawi I finally saw the leaders along with the press vehicles coming down the hill the other way. At this point, they were about 25 to 30 miles ahead of me — no big surprise! From the time the leader raced by, there was a fairly steady stream of bikers strung out all the way back to me and beyond.
I finally got to the mile marker that indicated there were seven miles left to go to Hawi. The wind was coming right at us and was really blowing. I kept thinking that I would just pull the plug at Hawi. That would at least be respectable. I kept going. At times I felt like I was in one of those dreams when you’re trying to move quickly and you can
I started to see buildings and knew I only had a mile or so to go to the turnaround. It flattened out a little, and although the wind was still blowing head on, I began to feel a little better. I approached the “Special Foods” section and they handed me my bag containing my two PowerBars. I stuffed them into the back of my jersey, tossed the bag to the side and kept on going.
A couple of minutes later I got to the turnaround. Somehow the thought of quitting disappeared and I just made the obligatory U—turn and was headed back to Kona. I grabbed a full bottle of water, a full bottle of Gatorade and a banana at the aid station there and I was on my way. (60 miles to go)
The wind was now at my back and I was going downhill. Heaven! I figured I could at least make it back to Kawaihai. After all, it was mostly level or downhill and the wind would be behind me. It was like free miles. I inhaled the banana, grabbed one of the PowerBars from the back pocket of my jersey and ripped open the wrapper. At this point I was pedal ling easily, letting gravity and the wind do their thing, while I concentrated on eating.
I finished eating and picked up the pace. It was wonderful. I was heading down the hill at around 30 miles per hour and it took very little energy. If it were only downhill all the way home.
As I was coming down the hill there were still a lot of bikers coming up the hill. It made me feel good to know that I was not last. During this time, I began to think that I could make it back to the bike—run transition area. I knew that from Kawaihae I had about 39 — 40 miles to go. I had ridden over that part of the course and knew that even if I rode very slowly, I still had time to make it back before the bike cut—off time of 5:30 p.m.
I rode through Kawaihae and headed back across the lava fields. It had not clouded over at all and the temperature had climbed substantially since morning. It was hot! I didn’t know how hot but I knew it was hot. Every time I came to an aid station it was heaven. I wanted to nominate the It sponge people” for sainthood. I kept looking forward to my cold sponge every five miles.
Right after one of the aid stations about five or ten miles from Kawaihae, the wind seemed to be at our backs. I thought how nice it was going to be to have a tail wind going back. After all, it made sense. We had a head wind going out, we should have a tail wind coming back. Wrong!
Just about the time I was rejoicing, the wind seemed to shift and started beating on us again. It was again demoralizing but by then I knew I was going to complete the bike ride. Kailua was only about 22 miles away, which meant the airport was only 15 miles away. Piece of cake! My watch told me I had plenty of time.
If I could get back to Kailua, I knew I had another six or seven miles to go to the transition area at the Kona Surf hotel but that really didn’t matter. I knew I could do that. I began to think about the run. Should I do the run? Or should I just pack it in after the bike? I really thought at that point that I t d just stop after the bike. After all, I ‘d come a lot further than I was going to originally.
I decided that I could live with that. Everyone knew that I hadn’t been able to run much because of my hurt knee and the cold I ‘d gotten two weeks before the race. The plan was set.
The mile markers came and went. I rode from sponge to sponge. I passed the airport. 14 miles to go. I saw the media helicopter following the lead runners down around the run turnaround at the Natural Energy Research Lab. Surprise thought they’d already be back up on Queen K. Highway.
Buildings began to appear and then I made the turn into Kailua. I could see our hotel! The course passed within one block of the hotel. Why couldn’t I just ride over there, take a shower, and go sit by the. pool and drink a beer. What a great idea. I kept riding.
There were people scattered all along the route back to the Kona Surf Hotel. They were enthusiastically cheering for both the runners going the other way and for those of us still on the bikes heading down the home stretch.
The bike course is 112 miles long and at about 111 miles there is a hill that is about a quarter of a mile long and fairly steep. The hill approaches and you rise out of the saddle to begin the climb. Ouch! You I re legs are saying, “What a rude place to put a hill — even a little hill.” The people at the top of the hill are yelling to all the cyclists that go by, l‘ You ‘ve got it. You ‘re just about there. That’s the last hill!
At the top of the hill, you sit back down on the seat, content in the fact that you have, in fact, made it through the bike course. For me, my biggest fear was now behind me.
I turned down the drive to the Kona Surf. It’s a steep hill so I just coasted down and was trying to decide if I was going to run or not. I rode into the transition area and slowed down. I turned my left foot out to get my cleat to release from the pedal. Pop! (At least now I wouldn’t fall over!) My left foot hit the ground and I popped my right foot free at about the same time as one of the volunteers grabbed my bike. I swung my leg over the cross bar and stood on solid ground for the first time in 6 hours and 59 minutes
The volunteer took my bike and directed me to they had the bag containing my running clothes. I headed over to the changing tent. Somehow, I didn’t think about quitting. I just put on my running clothes, smeared some sun block on my very sunburnt arms, took a drink of water and headed out the door. I tossed the bag containing my bike gear into the proper pile and began walking towards the transition exit.
There was an aid station right there and so I grabbed a couple of cookies, a slice of orange and a glass of water. 1 munched and walked the twenty or thirty yards to the exit. 1 tossed the cup and began to jog slowly. My legs were not to amused by all of this. They were stiff and tired and weren’t particularly interested in running.
The road out of the Kona Surf consists primarily of a fairly steep road about two or three hundred yards long. Great! The legs are trashed and we get to run uphill. I walked as did most of the people emerging from the transition area at about that time.
At the top of the hill, we were awarded with a downhill stretch for about a half mile. I began to jog. Unfortunately, at the bottom, we had to turn around and run (or walk) back up the hill. There was an aid station at the bottom of the hill and I grabbed a glass of water and a cup of ice. I decided to walk back up the hill since my legs still weren’t yet convinced they wanted to do this.
I passed the 1 mile marker on the way up and thought to myself, “Only 25 miles to go”. The sun was still pretty high and the temperature was still pretty hot. At the top of the hill, I decided that I ‘d just take it easy and run when I could and walk when I couldn’t until I got back to Kailua. I thought that maybe I’d just go to the hotel, find Francine, and enjoy the rest of the day. Enough is enough.
I’d run for a mile or so and then walk for a ways. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. When I was walking, I tried to keep a pretty brisk pace. There were aid stations every mile on the run course and once again the “sponge people” were my favorite. The unfortunate part was that my shoes got soaking wet. I would pay for this later on.
The people all along the course were great. It didn’t matter that the winners had already crossed the finish line. It didn’t matter if you were walking or running. If you were in the race, they were cheering for you. A lot of the people had programs listing the names of all of the competitors. They would see you coming, look up your number and then cheer you on by name. You’d be going along and hear, “Great job, Mike. Keep it going. You can do it!
I kept running and walking until I got back to Kailua. It was still light and I realized that I was making reasonable time. Midnight, the cutoff time, was a long way away. My legs were tired, and I was tired and hot, and my feet were beginning to hurt but I was still standing and, all things considered, I didn’t feel too badly.
There came a point when I could have continued down Alii Drive for about three quarters of a mile and gone to the hotel. The course turned to the right to go back up to Queen K. Highway and out into the nothingness between town and the airport. 1 thought about going back to the hotel, but I turned right and continued along the course.
The people in town were lining the streets and cheering us all on. I meandered through town and up the hill to the highway. I passed the nine-mile mark. 17 miles to go. It was twilight. It would soon be dark. There were a lot of people coming the other way. They were almost done. Oh, why couldn’t that be me.
Somewhere along this stretch I began to have a little chat with myself. I knew I had the time to finish. Midnight was still a long way away. I simply had to muster up the will power, I told myself that if I was still on the course at midnight and hadn’t crossed the finish line, that was OK because I tried and failed because I couldn’t push myself fast enough. I told myself that if I didn’t finish because I collapsed or was pulled out of the race for medical reasons, that was OK too. But I told myself, “If you don’t finish the race because you just quit — that’s not OK! ” I guess that’s what kept me going most of the day. I just couldn’t live with quitting.
I just told myself to keep moving forward. I would either get to the finish line in time or I wouldn’t. It was then I knew I wouldn’t quit. It then became a question of time. Would I get done before midnight and before my body gave out or not? 1 plodded on.
Somewhere around the ten- or eleven-mile mark I passed a guy who was hobbling forward with one artificial leg. What an inspiration! I really had a talk with myself after that. 1 basically said, “Mike, you weanie! You I re either going to finish this race or you ‘re going to get carted off in an ambulance. If that guy has enough guts to be out here with one leg you’ve got nothing to bitch about! Shut up and keep moving!
I gave myself a kick in the ass and started running. The temperature had dropped substantially and it really made me feel better. I passed the thirteen-mile mark and realized I was half way done with the marathon. (13 miles to go)
As I approached the fourteen-mile mark it was getting dark. At the aid station someone handed me a fluorescent piece of plastic. I placed it around my neck. It was a race rule that all participants on the course after dark had to wear the fluorescent pieces so they could be more easily seen. We also had to wear reflective tape on the fronts and backs of our shoes.
At mile fifteen, the course turned down the road to the Natural Energy Research Lab. It was two miles down and two miles back. By this time, it was pitch dark. There were no lights on the road of any kind and the moon was obscured behind the clouds. The road was marked with little green fluorescent sticks about every twenty to thirty yards.
It was almost surrealistic. We were following this pitch black path outlined by little green fluorescent sticks off into black nothingness. It is really hard to describe how dark it was. People were only visible because of the fluorescent necklaces they wore.
At mile sixteen, they had another Special Foods station and someone handed me my bag. I had put a PowerBar in it since I didn’t know if I ‘d be able to get any on the course. I ripped it open and ate it as I walked along in the dark. A few minutes later I approached the lights at the aid station for mile seventeen and the run turnaround. It was back to Kailua from here!
Once we turned around, we could see the lights from the houses above Kailua. They were a long way away but at least you could see them. I heard one guy say, t‘ I think 1 8 11 try to run a While, and then I saw his fluorescent necklace bounce off into black nothingness. That seemed like a good idea so I started to run again. It was getting harder and harder to start running time. I could tell I was developing some nasty blisters on my feet and my knees were really getting stiff.
It didn’t seem to take too long to get to mile eighteen. 1 could see the lights from the Queen K. Highway about a mile away and decided that I ‘d walk back up to the highway and then start running again. I had grabbed a PowerBar as I passed mile eighteen and just carried it along as emergency rations. As I walked the mile backed up to the highway, I knew I was going to make it. It wasn’t going to be fast. It might not be pretty, but I knew I was going to finish the Ironman in Kona. A dream that I had had for a long time and had sweated for through the previous few months was actually going to happen,
At that moment as I looked back toward the city and knew ltd make it, I was really overcome with emotion for a minute or so, I felt this surge of elation and tears well up in my eyes. 1 know that must sound weird and it’s really hard to explain. 1 got myself back together and just focused on getting back to the highway.
The nineteen-mile mark came and went. I told myself that I could run to the twenty-mile mark and from there it was a simple little 10K home. I did, in fact, run most of the way to the twenty mile mark. I decided that every time I got to a mile marker, l t d run as far as I could and then walk to the next one.
As I pulled away from the aid station near the twenty-mile mark I fell into step with a man and a woman who were walking along. We got to talking and it was so nice to have some company after 134 miles of being more or less by myself that I just kept walking with them.
We all introduced ourselves Bruce and Elena were both from Canada and had qualified for the Ironman at the Ironman Canada. It made me feel a little better that even though these people had qualified for this race, they were still back with me. In any event we talked and talked and walked along fairly briskly.
I suppose I could have pushed it more from here on in but I no longer felt the need. I knew I ‘d finish and I r d finish well within the 17-hour limit. It was nice to have the company and my feet were really trashed by this time. I felt like I was walking on a bed of coals.
Every time we’d pass a mile marker, we’d let out a little, “All right! ” At the aid station near mile marker twenty-two they were offering cups of hot chicken soup in addition to everything That may sound strange but I tried it and it was great. All three of us walked into the darkness with a cup of chicken soup in one hand and a glass of water in the other.
We passed mile marker twenty-two and Elena remarked that it was good to get by that one since the year before she had had to drop out of the race at mile twenty-two of the run. (4 miles to go)
Bruce’s feet were hurting him too and all of us were complaining about our knees so we tried to keep the conversation going instead of dwelling on our aches. We had all agreed that we’d just walk on in until we hit Alii drive and the final turn for the finish line,
Mile twenty-three came and went as did mile twenty-four. By this time, we could see the lights from town and the hotels. Bruce began to talk about how hungry he was and how he wanted some “real” food like a great big cheeseburger. No more of this Power Bar and banana stuff. We were all laughing and joking as we approached the twenty-five-mile mark on the edge of town. I asked one of the volunteers at the aid station if we were winning. We all had a good chuckle as she laughingly told us that there was nobody ahead of us.
We started down the hill into town and there were still people picnicking along the street cheering on all of the contestants. Our legs didn’t much like walking down the hill and I could feel my blisters burning as my feet slid forward in my running shoes. No matter. We were home. We could hear the crowd at the finish line. We reached the bottom of the hill and turned on to Kuakini Highway.
People were still all along the road cheering and saying, “Congratulations. Good job. We walked a third of a mile or so to Hua 1 alai street. We all shook each other’s hands and congratulated each other, knowing that once we crossed the finish line, we would probably never see each other again.
When we turned onto Hualalai Street we could see Alii Drive and we knew that once we turned on to Alii drive, it was less than a half a mile to the finish line. Bruce walked about twenty more yards and then took off in a slow run. He slowly picked up speed as he turned the corner and vanished. We heard the cheers. He was on his way “home.
I took off next and when I made the turn onto Alii Drive, the pain seemed to disappear like magic. There were hundreds of people along the streets and they were all cheering and yelling. My stride lengthened a little as I got this huge surge of adrenal in. I rounded the bend on Alii and all of a sudden, I could see the finish line. Everything was lit up like daytime. Huge bright lights. The bleachers all along one side were filled with people on their feet clapping and cheering. The other side of the street was lined with people on their feet. I heard them announce my name, “Number 545, Mike Miller from Santa Clara, California! What a rush!
The finish line got closer and it was almost dreamlike. 1 ran under the banner across the finish line. The clock said 14 hours, 22 minutes. I was the 1,097th runner to cross the line. Who cares? I made it. I did it. That’s all I came to do.
Two of the “catchers” working the finish line grabbed me and put my arms around there shoulders just to make sure I could stand. Some faceless lady put a lei around my neck as I was escorted away from the finish line in the good care of my catchers. They asked me if I wanted some water. I did and they got it for me. They asked me if I wanted to go to the medical tent. I felt OK so I said no.
They asked me if I wanted to get my medal and get my picture taken right then. I was still a little rummy and that sound like a good idea so they took rue over to the photo stand. Someone presented me with my medal and they took my picture. They then took me over to get my finisher’s T—shirt. I wasn’t quite sure what was going on and I thought maybe I was supposed to give them my number or something. The lady laughed and said, “No, now we’re going to give you something, as she handed me a bag containing my T—shirts.
The catchers asked me if I wanted to go to the massage tent. I told them that I just wanted to find my wife. At about that time, Francine came running up. She gave me a big hug, sweat and all. She had tears in her eyes. It was one of those ‘magic moments. My catchers left me in Francine’s able hands and walked back to the finish line to help another runner.
Francine took a couple of pictures and then we started for the room. I was really glad, at that point, that we were staying right there at the host hotel I just wanted to go take a shower and get off of my feet. My feet really hurt and I knew that when I took off my shoes it was going to be pretty grim.
I told Francine how much l t d like a beer so she ran into the sundries store in the hotel while I limped toward the elevator.
A minute or so after I got to the room, Francine arrived with my beer. An ice-cold beer. Boy did that taste good! I think we were both stunned that it was all over and that I had actually made it. But it was true, I had the medal, the T—shirts and the blisters to prove it.
I took off my shoes and, as I thought, it was pretty grim. The blue dye on my running shoes was obviously not color—fast. My feet had been swimming around in the wet shoes for hours and the bottoms of my feet were dyed dark blue. The balls of both feet were solid blisters and I also had blisters on my heels and on a couple of my toes. Walking was very painful.
The shower felt good except my feet burned like hell. 1 wasn’t about to fight with the dye on my feet so I emerged from the shower with blue feet. I put on some shorts and my brand-new T—shirt that said “Ironman Finisher”. I, like Bruce earlier, wanted some real’ food. I was hungry. At first, I wasn’t too thrilled about walking anywhere but, room service at the hotel closed at 9 p.m. and it was approaching 10. If I wanted to eat, I ‘d have to walk. Ouch!
We knew that there was a restaurant, “Drysdale s” that was down Alii Drive about a quarter mile or so. I put on some clean socks and another pair of running shoes and off I hobbled.
Needless to say, I walked slowly and with a bit of a limp. 1 didn’t feel too bad, the street was filled with lots of people who walked just like me.
As we walked along Alii Drive, hundreds of people were still out there cheering on the finishers. So, did we as they went by. Lots of the people who had finished earlier were wearing their T— shirts. It was like being a member of an exclusive fraternity. People you never saw before in your life would say, ” Congratulations, ” or “Good job.
We made it to Drysdale’s and I inhaled a hamburger. Real food! And more cold beer! We just sat there and Francine told me about her day watching the race and I told her about my day running the race. In spite of the pain, I felt so good I couldn’t believe that I ever really thought about quitting. 1 was so happy I hadn’t.
We hobbled back toward the hotel and stopped to cheer on a few of the later finishers. They had the music cranked up and had a real party going at the finish line. We stuck around for a little while but my legs finally gave out. I know Francine wanted to stay until midnight, but I finally got to the point where I had to get off of my feet and legs.
I crawled into bed back at the hotel and just laid there, I was so tired and so pumped up I couldn’t sleep. I must have gone over the whole race in my mind. I didn’t sleep very well that night, but, what the hell, I didn’t have much to do the next day except start to heal.
The Day After
We woke up fairly early the next day. As I got out of bed, I
could tell I was going to be none to agile. My knees were stiff, my thighs were stiff and sore and the bottoms of my feet hurt like hell when I stepped on them.
It took a while to get ready to go but we finally made it and we headed for breakfast with me all decked out in my ‘finishers T—shirt. They were supposed to have a nice Sunday brunch at the hotel so we headed down there.
The brunch was one of the most impressive I’ve ever been to. There was more food than you could eat in days. But we felt obligated to see how much damage we could do. There were several other triathletes eating there that morning so I imagine we all made a serious dent in the food supply.
We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves eating and sipping champagne! We talked about how much we wanted to stay instead of having to pack to go home. And we talked of the race and what a great experience it had been. Here we were, my legs still hurt, my feet still hurt, and we were talking about returning the following year.
It’s hard to explain why one would want to do this all over again. So, I won l t. Suffice it to say that we clinked our glasses of champagne and vowed we would return someday to once again challenge the ocean, the lava fields, and the winds of Kona.
I am sure that I can break twelve hours next time. Although time doesn’t really matter. The day after the race we ran into a British guy that we t d met at the Carbo—Loading Dinner on Thursday night. Francine had seen him come across the finish line at a little over 10 hours, an excellent time. He walked up to me, shook my hand and said, [1]8 1 saw you come across the finish line. Congratulations! Good j 0b, I knew then that the really important thing was simply to finish. Time really didn’t matter. Some people were faster than others, but if you got across that finish line, you had earned the respect of everyone else in the race, not to mention a certain sense of respect for yourself.
“That is one of the amazing things about endurance sports they instill a tremendous sense of self—confidence in those who partake in them. It doesn’t matter how you do, only that you strive for and achieve some sense of control over your body, your mind, your destiny and the monster under the bed. t‘ I
A Final Note
As we were waiting outside the hotel to leave for the airport a couple days after the race, Francine began talking to a lady whose husband had also done the race. He was, like me, picked in the lottery and had never done a race like this before. They were talking about how nervous and intimidated we were before the race. The other lady said that the morning of the race, her husband was sitting in their room crying, afraid he would be dragged from the water, unable to finish. That may sound ridiculous, but I can understand. It was nice to know that I was not the only one who had stood at the starting line filled with self—doubt and lots of questions.
The conditions for the race this year were the worst they t d been since 1983. The winds were stronger and the temperature was hotter than at most of the previous races. But even so, the biggest obstacle by far was ‘the monster — the fear and self— doubt that lurks in the mind.
In the end, the man had finished the race. We had both slain the monster.