Finally, it was here. After two years of dreaming about it, it was Kona race day. The early alarm wasn’t as painful as usual with the time difference from California coupled with a 7.20am start. I woke up feeling good and raring to go after seven hours of sleep. Amazing. Often pre-race I toss and turn all night, barely sleeping a wink until 20 minutes before the alarm goes off. It doesn’t seem to make any difference to how I race though.
This was Ironman #8 for me but the first one I’ve done for a second time. I liked that more than I expected. Whilst it wasn’t as all-encompassingly exciting as the first time, I knew what to expect along the way, and joy of joys for this data geek, I had numbers to compare. I drive Kyle up the wall when he suggests some different hills to ride or run on hill repeat days and I insist on doing the exact same ones as the last four times, multiple times, so I have precise data to compare.
My day started better than two years ago when I got to my bike and both tires were still good. In 2015 I had to fix a flat before the race in the midst of the most crowded and stress-filled transition area I’ve ever experienced. When Ironman says they can’t fit any more bikes on the pier so they can’t have more slots at Kona, they mean it. They really can’t fit any more bikes on the pier. I did my stuff and got the hell out of there as quickly as I could: tires pumped; nutrition on bike; Garmin on; power meter calibrated; remains of the overnight tropical downpour tipped out of my helmet. I had some race day nerves but overall I felt pretty calm. Other people’s stress affects me though so I needed to get away from the overwhelming mass of anxiety on the pier.
Pre-race calm, on the other side of the pier!
I found Kyle for one last reminder to be patient all day and a big hug. Then once the age-group men were off, I joined the 600+ women headed for the tiny entrance to the water. As we inched forward I spotted the name of the girl in front of me on her USA tri kit: Sass. I smiled. Fitting. Kirsten Sass. I finally got to see her in the flesh. I’d known her name since Ironman Chattanooga in 2014. I had beaten her by just one minute to secure my slot to Kona the first time, overtaking her in the final miles of the run. Only I never saw her due to the drawn-out rolling start. I’d have forgotten her name long ago except that since then I’ve seen it again, and again, and again. She has won almost every short course national title going and some world titles too. She won the amateur race at Escape from Alcatraz when I was there. She was USAT athlete of the year one year. And it always made me smile, I beat her once, on my way to Kona the first time.
Swim
I made it down the steps, across the tiny sliver of sand on Dig Me Beach, and into the water. I swam out quickly to the start line. I wanted to soak up those few minutes before the gun went off, to look back at the town and the spectators crammed in on Ali’i Drive and the harbor wall. It was one of my best memories from 2015, the appreciation of being there, and the calm before the storm of the day that was yet to unfold. In 2015, I went wide, to the left, far away from the buoy line as I was worried about having a panic attack in the mass of bodies at the start. I wasn’t worried about that this time and headed for the middle of the start line. I wanted to be in the second row. As a decent swimmer but not a front pack one, especially not in this company, I figured this was a good spot. The only issue was that the start line there was a heaving mass of kicking, swarming girls. The current was pulling us out and we kept ending up on top of each other as the paddle boarders pushed the front row back. I ended up 5-6 rows back, not where I wanted to be at all and unable to squeeze back to the front. I moved out to the left. Five yards away and it was a different place. Claustrophobia averted, I was back in the second row, with a minute or so to go. I would take a few extra yards of swimming not to have to swim through thrashing, slower swimmers.
The gun went off. It was a good spot. No-one swam over me and I didn’t swim over anyone either. I found feet and followed the crowd. Kona is my favorite triathlon swim. I love swimming in the ocean and I love warm, non-wetsuit swims. Plus, it’s easy for me to draft off people here. As a “not-quite-front-pack” swimmer I often try to hang with the fast girls at the start but I get dropped quickly then get stuck in no-mans land by myself. Not here! There are lots of girls my speed, mostly swimming in a straight line, another bonus! The way out passes quickly, I’m right on the buoy line within a few hundred yards and my watch buzzes for 500, 1000 and 1500 yards in quick succession. I’m at 2000 yards and the first turn buoy in 31 mins. Excellent, right around the 30:xx it took me last time. I had lost my drafting buddies though and was swimming alone. I really wanted a draft for the way back as it’s slower due to the current. We would be navigating around the slower AG men too and I wanted someone else to lead the way through. I found a girl with a strong kick and hopped on her feet. It wasn’t much fun though, there was too much splashing and I kept getting sucked into the vortex and her thrashing feet. She wasn’t swimming straight either, leading me into more collisions with the girls around us. I moved over and swam alone the rest of the way. The buzzes for 3000 and 3500 yards took forever to arrive. Did my watch get kicked and stopped? Was I going really slowly now I didn’t have a draft? I sneaked a look. Nope, it was still running and I was still on track for a similar time to 2015. Then 4000 yards passed and suddenly I didn’t want the swim to end. This was the easiest part of the day especially since I had been religiously following my old coach, Jen Harrison’s, advice to swim easy. Ahead of me lay wind, heat, humidity and hills.
I stood up when my hands hit the sand and ran up the carpeted steps, pulling down my speedsuit and rinsing off the salt water in the shower pit. 1:08:xx, within seconds of 2015! I grabbed my bag and headed into the packed women’s change tent (oh yeah, this is Kona, there are lots of good swimmers, not just a handful!). I didn’t want to swim in the sleeves of my new top so I had rolled it down and had to get the wet sleeves on. Not a recipe for winning T1! The volunteers in the change tent were amazing and I was on my way quickly. The change tent positions strike me as awful jobs, dealing with athletes’ wet clothes and smelly shoes and people like me who want to win transition (transitions are actual free speed!) but the ladies in there are so nice, every time.
Bike
Round the congestion of the pier only stopping briefly at my bike to pee (another excuse for not winning T1!) and I was out onto the bike course. The atmosphere here is electric. There are hundreds of spectators jammed into a few blocks of Palani, screaming and cheering. I screamed and cheered back at them and felt like a rock star. I was riding my bike at the World Championships. Amazing! Around the little loop to get to the climb up Kuakini and I kept my power in check, just soaking it all in. I rode steady and let people pass, remembering to be patient. It was going to be a long day and I needed to race my race and stick to my numbers. The numbers looked a bit off but I wasn’t sure so I decided to take stock once I got onto the Queen K. I flew back down Kuakini, back to the crowds of spectators on Palani and enjoyed every moment of the steep climb, taking it easy in my smallest gear. Kyle was there, yelling and taking pictures. Some Chicago peeps were there cheering too. I had a massive grin on my face and I wanted to soak up all that energy before the long, lonely miles ahead.
I couldn't wipe that grin off my face!
I turned onto the Queen K and settled in. Time to figure out what was going on with my power meter. My legs felt great but Ironman power felt too hard. Speed and power didn’t seem consistent with my usual numbers. The alarm bells rang. I had ruined one Ironman bike leg riding to an under-reading power meter and I wasn’t about to make that mistake again. I was sure the numbers were low, the problem was, I had no idea how low. Should I aim for 10 watts lower, 20 watts lower? I just didn’t know. After a few inconsistent power splits I decided to ride by feel. Whatever happened, I would rather under-bike than over-bike. Kona is unforgiving to over-bikers and I wanted to run well. I rode along happily, still soaking in the experience, enjoying the ocean and lava views, and keeping on top of my nutrition. Until mile 32, when I hit a wall of headwind. Ugh! This was a bit early for the first moments of soul-destroying Ironman misery! It’s always windy in Kona but I wasn’t expecting a headwind here. I looked down: 12mph. Already?! I pedaled on. I could see where the course turned left off the Queen K and the coastline changed direction a few miles ahead, this would be over soon. Some spectators shouted that the wind would be behind us on the way back. I knew not to believe them.
On I headed up towards Hawi, the howling wind now a crosswind blowing everyone across the road. I saw the pros coming back the other way and tried to figure out who was who. Tim O’Donnell was in sixth. I giggled. Maybe that Halo headset thingy does work. Kyle and I had a deal: if Tim O’Donnell finished on the podium then he could buy one. Then I saw the pro women. It looked like Daniela Ryf was in third. What was going on there? There’s no all-day internet coverage to follow the pro race when you’re out there too!
The wind became a headwind again. I kept battling, counting off the mile markers on the road, grateful for all that riding in the Midwest that enabled me to keep my bike upright and to deal with it mentally. The wind in Kona is honestly no worse than a bad day in Wisconsin. I was blown over there once just standing on the side of the road with my bike.
The climb isn’t very steep so it passes relatively quickly and soon I was in Hawi. I had planned to ride the climb a little harder than Ironman power, then recover on the descent, but without reliable power numbers I settled for an imprecise “not too hard”. The descent was fun. I got in my aerobars and overtook a lot of people who were terrified of being blown into the lava fields. It wasn’t long though before I was battling another uphill and a crosswind. And that was the story of the next 20 miles or so. Until I hit the headwinds right where those spectators had promised us tailwinds. The pros likely had tailwinds. Damn them. The depressing inevitability for most age group women is that we’ll get headwinds in both directions here.
I kept pushing, my goal time was sub-6 hours. I had a 3 minute cushion at mile 85 but that was slipping away in the wind. The extra calories were doing their job and I felt much better than at this point in IMCDA. I was tolerating my saddle better too. Practicing suffering works. I was also considerably happier than during this stretch in 2015: I was better prepared mentally for it to be really tough. Not only is it windy, it’s hot, humid and there’s no-one out there. The field is really bunched up in the first half of the bike and it’s almost impossible to ride the legal distance apart. Then in the second half, everyone disappears as the field spreads out. I felt like I was pretty near the back of the race, all by myself. I wasn’t the only one who thought I was alone. I passed a guy growling at his bike in a loud guttural way and as I offered some words of encouragement he was startled and embarrassed to see me there!
Even without reliable power data I knew I had met my goal of riding stronger in the last 20 miles than in 2015 and I arrived at T2 pretty happy. 6:06 … same as before! Best of all, I hopped off my bike and ran into T2. Ok, so I may have tripped over the timing mat and fallen flat on my face on the way in, but I got up fast and Kyle didn’t see it because he was already rushing to see me run out, so I can pretend it didn’t happen. In 2015, this is where my race went south, fast. My bike shoes were too tight and my feet were in such pain that I couldn’t stand up when I got off the bike. Let alone walk or run. That’s how I found myself getting a foot massage in T2. For 12 minutes. Not this time. The change tent angels did their thing and I ran out with a big smile on my face. There may have been some happy tears too. Bam. At least 8 minutes ahead of last time now and I was running!
Run
The start of the run was electric. Patrick Lange had just finished and broken the course record. Hundreds of spectators were crammed in. Kyle was right there cheering and taking pics. And I felt good. I knew I would need a porta potty stop soon with the extra calories I had eaten but that was all part of my plan to make sure that I got to the run fully fueled.
Without doubt, my best ever race photo!!
I was soon out on Ali’i soaking in the cheers of the spectators and the buzz from all the industry houses there (Clif, Trek, Specialized etc). I ran by feel, keeping it easy and counting the girls I passed as a game for motivation. I only looked at my watch when it buzzed the mile laps. Mile 1: 7:55. Just where I wanted to be, but keep it easy girl, no faster. Mile 2: 8:18, it had an uphill in it, perfect. Mile 3: 7:59. I was on cloud nine, I was running down girl after girl. I took sponges and poured cold water on my head at the aid stations but didn’t stop. A NormaTec rep gave me some sunscreen. I slathered that on my face without stopping too. Mile 4: 8:08. Time for coke. Part of the plan this time. Mile 5: 8:21, including the aid station stop. Mile 6: 8:25. And then I needed that bathroom stop. As usual, I was fine, then I needed it NOW. I was still counting girls I passed: 26, 27, 28. I made it to 30 before I saw a porta potty and practically sprinted in there. I checked my watch, under a minute, good, let’s get running again. Mile 7: 9:32, with the pit stop. I was still running ok but now I didn’t feel so great. My stomach wasn’t very happy. I drank more coke. Mile 8: 8:53. I had lost track of the girls I had passed and which ones had passed me back when I stopped which annoyed me. Even though it was only a game I like my numbers to be correct!! Some of them were running faster than me now. I was slowing down. I started feeling really crappy. I walked a bit, annoyed with myself for doing so. Then I saw the Coeur girls who were amazing and ran me up the hill. I would see Kyle soon back in town. He would lift my spirits. I would walk for a minute then take another pit stop. Then I reckoned I’d be good.
Still smiling, despite feeling pretty crappy here!
Mile 9: 10:16. Ouch. But there was Kyle, sooner than I was expecting. That made me smile. I gave him my sunglasses. It was still sunny but I didn’t want them anymore. They were so covered in water and sunscreen I couldn’t see through them properly. Plus they were getting in the way when I poured water on my head. Classic Ironman brain logic when ditching one’s sunglasses at 4pm in Hawai'i seems like a good idea. We walked together a bit. I told him I’d be fine after another porta potty stop and I got running again. There would be one soon. Round the corner here on Hualalai maybe? Nope. Ok, well round the next corner on Kuakini then. No. I was run-walking now. I couldn’t run, I REALLY needed to go. There was a gas station across the road. Maybe I should just run in there? I didn’t. But I really wish I had done. There would be one on Pulani at the aid station for sure. I made it to Pulani. The road was covered in Hoka banners. In porta potty blue. Some of that blue must be a porta potty. I couldn’t run up the hill. I really had to go. A well-meaning spectator offered me a hat as he noticed I didn’t have a hat, visor or sunglasses! Another one offered me some ice-cream. I wanted to be nice but I think I snapped at both of them “NO. I just need a damn bathroom. Where is it?”. I was gutted to have to walk most of the way up Pulani. I had proudly run up it last time to huge cheers while everyone else walked. Mile 10: 9:46 and still no sign of a porta potty. Grrr. I was turning onto the Queen K now and I knew I was in trouble. I mostly walked down the big hill. So frustrating. I knew where the next porta potty was and it wasn’t close. It is incredible, in this race of all races, that there are no porta potties for so long. I was pissed. There is nowhere to hide on the Queen K. You can’t just go behind a bush or tree. There aren’t any! This isn't Door County (yes, I did that once, on the way to my only ever overall race win). Mile 11: 11:08. Really? It had come to this.
Eventually it came into sight. Another sprint and another one minute pit stop. So much better. I got some more coke, chucked more cold water on my head and went on my way. Mile 12: 12:18. I started giving myself a pep talk. I had to run again. Four bad miles doesn’t have to ruin the whole marathon, look at CDA, come on girl. Mile 13: 8:27 and dammit, just under 2 hours even with all that walking. Game on. There were places to be moved up. Girls up ahead to catch. Girls I wanted to re-pass. My top 20 AG and sub-11 hour goals were both long gone but the fight in me returned. Briefly. Mile 14: 9:15. Then I had another meltdown. More walking. I just didn’t want to run. Mile 15: 12:06. But then I started feeling better and got into a groove.
The energy lab is actually not a boiling caldron of hell at 5pm, it’s much cooler than when the pros are there. And the hill into and out of it isn’t that terrible either. I found some energy there. Mile 16: 9:24, mile 17: 9:06, mile 18: 8:57, mile 19: 9:32, mile 20: 9:00. I was frantically doing Ironman math: I could still run a sub-4 marathon, just. Mile 21: 8:55. By now I was moving faster than everyone else out there and gaining energy with every person I passed. The sun was setting over the Queen K. I was counting down to mile 25, because the final mile starts off downhill and then you get carried on a sea of euphoria to the finish. Mile 22: 8:11. I double-checked my watch. Yep, 8:11. Mile 23: 8:30, mile 24: 8:26, mile 25: 8:54 (that included the hill back up to Pulani). I felt like I was flying. I hit 6:40 pace going back down Pulani!
Back onto Kuakini for the fifth time, into the darkness now. I was passing people at a faster rate than I had done in the first six miles. Where was the turn? It was this traffic light, right? No. Surely this one? No. Did they make this road longer since I came along it two hours ago? Here, surely? Finally it was there. Downhill back down Hualalai to Ali’i. I made the right turn towards the finish. I wanted to enjoy this but I didn’t want to slow down now!! I knew I was close to sub-4 but I hadn’t hit my watch button right at the run start so I might need a minute in hand. My big smile was back. Kyle would be here somewhere with my flag.
Trying not to trip over my flag!
There is nothing like the feeling of running down that famous stretch of Ali’i Drive. You work your butt off to earn a Kona slot, train even harder once you’ve qualified, overcome the hills, wind, heat, and self-inflicted mishaps of race day, and this is the reward. I heard Kyle before I saw him, as usual, in the darkness at the end of the chute. #1 sherpa: he’s always there! I grabbed my Union Jack. I couldn’t stop. The finish chute was full of people. Should I slow down to wait for a space or run faster?! There were people behind me too. I ran faster. I wanted every extra place in my AG now. I felt a bit obnoxious with my big flag. I didn’t want to ruin anyone else’s finish line experience so I ran down the side of the chute.
I crossed the finish line smiling with a 3:58 run for a total time of 11:21. An 18 minute Kona PR and good for 37th in my AG, up from 49th in 2015. I was happy. I had finished strong and passed 68 women on the run, 16 of them in my AG. But the fire is still burning. Kona, I will be back. Not next year but in the future, for sure.