Kona Pics!

Before The Race

Alcatraz

Well, the heading says "Before The Race", and this was on the flight to San Fran. Lower left is the Golden Gate bridge, middle right is the infamous prison island of Alcatraz. The also-infamous triathlon known as Escape from Alcatraz takes place here. Athletes jump off of a perfectly-good boat just off Alcatraz' rocky shores, swim to the mainland, then complete one of the hardest bike and run courses in the short course triathlon world. Yes, despite it favoring the stronger swimmers, it is on my to-do list.

The view from the kitchen of my third-floor condo on Ali'i Drive. I left the lanai (deck) doors open all week, so I could hear the ocean at all times.

The man-made beach below, with barbecues, picnic tables and beach loungers. The barbecues were in demand every night for al fresco dining, complete some nights with spectacular sunsets.

The view to the south, overlooking the condo pool in the foreground and the public shore access pool in the background. The shore pool is fed by the ocean tide spilling over the end, and is often full of fish. It's about 20m long, and I enjoy swimming in it more than the condo pool.

The volcano Mauna Loa makes a rare early-morning appearance before the vog (volcanic fog) rolls in.

DigMe Beach, the site of the swim start. The Kona pier, site of the transition zones (ie: the bike parking lot) is on the immediate left. This is a great place to check out the fittest in the world, of the opposite sex. (and the same sex, if that's your preference.) Thus the name.

I referred to the Kona pier as the center of the triathlon universe, but it is only so on race day. Before and after, Lava Java is really it. An iconic meeting place, you can rub shoulders with the top pros in the world, and meet your buddies for an awesome breakfast and superb Kona coffee. Just across from the ocean on Ali'i Drive, and a short walk from Ironman village.

Mauna Loa from the Queen Kahumanu Highway. The graffiti on the lava in the background is created by race fans using pieces of white corral picked from the beaches. On the Big Island, nature provides her own version of environmentally-friendly spray paint.





The sign marking the entrance to the Natural Energy Lab, the geographical low point in the marathon beween miles 15 and 19. The sun reflects mercilessly off the lava, and if the Homomuku winds are blowing down off the mountain, you are basically running in a convection oven for four miles, at the hardest point of the run. I took this shot from the bike course, but runners actually see it from the opposite direction. The solar panels in the background obviously soak up a lot of Big Island heat!


Can you guess who is a big-time sponsor of the Ironman World Championships? Well-deserved too, their stuff works. Saved my butt in the Lab. Try to get through a race without it!

Jaja comes out to play

Sorry for the crude posting here, I posted this on Calgary Tri and Bike, a blog for bike weenies. So I need to provide some background info ahead of this story. Here it is.

Laurent Jalabert was one of the top cyclists of the 90s and early 2000s. He has won many stages of the tours de France, Italy and Spain, and was ranked number one in the world for several years, just prior to Lance Armstrong's reign. In my humble opinion I believe he is a more well-rounded and versatile cyclist than you-know-who.

Jaja brought his endurance legs into the triathlon and marathon world, running a very solid 2:50ish at the New York Marathon. He then got the attention of the triathlon world by going 9:20 at Ironman Switzerland, with an expected ass-ripping bike split followed by a world-class marathon of 3:10. Fortunately for us mortals, he is only doing the sport "for fun". Hahaha, me too. Takes all the pressure off.

Jaja blows away Kona
Darn, I think a newbie is supposed to be humbled a bit here in Kona. Jaja was not in the least bit intimidated, pretty much replicating his IM Switzerland performance. He went 1:15, 4:45 and 3:10 for a stunning 9:19 and 12th in the ever-so-humbling 35-39 age group. I got a good pic of his bike, but I am bandwidth-challenged right now so I will download it later. It is a very inconspicuous looking Look 486 with Jaja's name engraved on the top tube. The man himself was not there when I took the pics, but unfortunately after i had turned in my dry bag he showed up complete with a cottery of media hangers-on. He has a very cool tattoo on his chest, and is much smaller than you expect. Surprisingly, did not use an aero helmet.

I talked briefly in some broken French to one of the media dudes, and i think i got across to him what a big deal we all think it is, of jaja coming out to play with us. In my opinion the man backed up the hype with a hugely solid 3:10 marathon, proving he is not just a bike stud. He also swam the same split as his open-water wetsuit swim at IM SWI. He's obviously been working on the fish thingy.

Yeah, Lance, Jaja is setting the standard for ex-Protour dudes in the afterlife. Are you man enough?

Tales From the Lava Fields

OK, so here are some random thoughts and observations from race day.

Laura Sophiea

At about mile 14 of the marathon I ran up to a very cute 51-year-old, several time age group champion Laura Sophiea. Laura had a very memorable ad in Triathlete magazine, using her bare back to promote Mack's earplugs of all things. She's a wholesome and healthy-looking gal who could pass for 31, and could rip your legs off on race day. I chatted her up a bit, but she was pretty down about her race, and it's hard to come up with something motivational in that situation. So I threw caution to the wind anyway and said, "Stay positive, you look great", and carried on.

Yeh way to go doofus, giving advice to a several-time world champion, like who the hell am I? I ran away feeling like I had been snubbed at the high school dance.

Laura won her age group by seven minutes. Must have been the sage advice she received, or maybe in spite of it?

Miranda Stacey

Early in the marathon I ran by a gal who had a very unusual running style, elbows way out and feet stomping hard. Something tweaked in the two percent of brain function I had left at that point, and I looked back and recognized her: Kiwi Miranda Stacey, who I ran about five miles with at Ironman Arizona 2006. On that day, thru race-day verbal shorthand we got to know each other a bit, but I respected the fact she was in the money and I didn't push her for chit-chat. When we passed four-time Ironman winner Bella Comerford, I told Miranda she was now a few hundred dollars richer, which got a brief chuckle.

We ended up on adjacent massage tables after the race in Arizona; she finished seventh among the pro gals and I had an Ironman-best finish of 9:53, and just missed the age-group win. We exchanged a look that bridged time, distance, age and sex; it said, "Yeah that was an awesome day!"

I wish I could have said hello, but I was on a mission, so no time for reminiscing. I'm sure we will cross paths again, though. Ironman is a great crossroads for connecting with old friends!

Aussie Aussie Aussie!

In the early part of the run, cruising thru town, a group of Australians yelled out, "Aussie aussie aussie!" as I ran by. Shortly after, another group of Aussies, same thing. WTF, I thought, and humored them with an "Oy oy oy!" reply. Then I realized my Impact Coaching tri top is the Aussie team colors, green and yellow (and black. Contrary to popular belief, the Aussies do not sport the red, white and blue of their flag in international competition.) My coach, Kevin Cutjar, is an Aussie so the color scheme is no accident. I've always liked it because it is very distinctive, and you can pick it out from a mile away.

Anyway, I enjoyed dual citizenship all day. Aussies caught up on the colors, and Canadians who know the Penticton mainstays of Impact Coaching and the Bike Barn (I was wearing their ultra-comfy bike shorts). In addition, there are spectators who have the athlete guides, they look up your number and cheer you by name as you go by. This is a little spooky at first, because you look around for a familiar face and don't find it. Then you just wave and carry on.

A Front Row Seat

The cool thing about racing Kona is you get to see the pro race unfolding right before your eyes. This year was marked by the absense of the usual suspects, and the attrition of those who toed the start line. Faris Al-Sultan did not start, defending champ Norm Stadler was hurling his guts out early in the bike, defending female champ Michellie Jones waited until mile 70 to spew. Natascha Badmann crashed out early. Desiree Ficker was beautiful as usual, but a non-factor.

So the table was set for a change of the guard. Chris McCormack finally walked the walk and won his first Ironman world championship. He has mouthed off the last few years about being the best triathlete on the planet. I agreed, but with the reservation that he has to win here to back the yak. So he did, and with a world-class 2:42 marathon to cap it. Macca has won at every level now, and yes he is the best triathlete on the planet, for now. I posted a picture the other day of the best triathlete ever, Mark Allen. If Macca wins six Ironman titles, then he can join Mark and Dave Scott as legends of the sport.

Great day for Oz, with short course and 70.3 powerhouse Craig Alexander coming in second. I'm not a bit surprised, the guy has awesome speed that carries well at the Ironman distance. Bike stud Torbjorn Sindballe hung on for third, with a sub-3 marathon to prove he's not all about the bike. Two-time champ Tim Deboom, fourth, the guy is back.

I have no comment on women's winner Chrissie Wellington. She came out of nowhere after winning Ironman Korea seven weeks ago. When I saw her on the Queen K, she looked like she was doing an easy recovery run. I believe there is a dues-paying process that needs to be honored here in Kona. Enough said.

Canadian Samantha Mcglone, former Olympian and current 70.3 champion, is the real deal and came in second. She is the female Craig Alexander, and will win one day. Aussie Kate Major was solid again and rounded out the top three.

So Canada has a new hope at the Ironman distance. Australia has three athletes in the top three, oy oy oy!

Kona Review - short version

Good afternoon, I am sitting on the beach eating a banana the size of my forearm, and sweating profusely. (It's a local banana, go figure!) Fortunately I have a cooler full of Bud to slake my thirst. Bud and bananas, yum!

My feet are so swollen I can barely get them into my crocs. Do I care? Not a bit. My next race is the Boston Marathon in April. Lots of time to recover and decompress.

Here is the short version of race day:

Swim:

I started about a third over from the very popular left side. The first 200m was a thrash-fest, but the water opened up once the better swimmers got by me (which was almost everyone!)

I chased some feet pretty much the whole swim. My swim cap came off at the turn, so I just tucked it into my skinsuit and kept going. I did a quick time check and was on pace for a 1:16, but the current was outgoing, goodbye negative split.

I had an awesome set of feet to follow on the return trip, the guy was wearing white and had a nice tight kick, so he was a great pace bunny. If not for chasing him I probably would have swam well over 1:20.

Out of the water, up the steps and into the shower: a very weak 1:19 but a Kona swim PB. Great way to start the day!

Bike

Before the race I talked to German pro Thomas (Hell on Wheels) Hellreigel about his choice of shallow rims. He felt we were in for a return to the typical Kona conditions, ie: windy as hell. Good call Thomas, Madame Pele delivered in spades. We had a head or crosswind all the way up to Hawi, then the same treat going back to Kona.

The only change from a typical Kona sufferfest, was the wind came off the ocean all day, so it had somewhat of a cooling effect. Somewhat.

So it felt like a headwind about 80% of the ride, the only breaks being the delirious descent from Hawi, and the last few miles into town. Otherwise it was a freaking grind, but I felt good, passed a ton of people on the climb to Hawi, and even more on the way down. Then I chipped away at some riders on the homeward leg.

I was really impressed by the strength of the athletes around me, young and old, male and female. When I got passed, I just reminded myself that these are the best triathletes in the world. No shame there.

I hammered it hard in the last few miles, and nailed down another Kona PB of 5:40, nowhere near my best of 5:08 at IM AZ, but pretty darn good for a tough day on a tough course. The best part was, my legs felt great for the run.

Run

I have never felt so good going onto an Ironman run course. I was suicidal only for the first mile, when I took my split and realized I was running a 7:20 pace! Ouch, slow down. I dialled in my desired 8s and churned down Alii Drive, feeling quite solid. I even knocked off a few sub-7:40s to put some time in the bank. (Sorry Coach!)

When I got to the climb at Palani Drive, I started out running at an easy shuffle. Then I power-walked the rest of it. A guy and a gal passed me on the way up, but I re-passed them on the Queen K and put them behind me for good. So that was a 9-minute mile.

It looks so weak walking up Palani, but I think it is a good strategy. There are 16 more hard miles at this point, so it makes sense to conserve some energy. Hell, also known as the Natural Energy Lab, is just a few miles away!

I blitzed the aid stations, doing sponges-water-gel-ice in the hat-sponges again. I probably passed two or three athletes per aid station by not lingering.

At mile 15 we turned off the Queen K and descended into the 4-mile inferno of the Natural Energy Lab, also known as Hell on Earth. As I headed down the gates of Hell, a somewhat cool breeze greeted me. WTF, I thought, are we catching a freaking break here or what? Yes, my 3:30 marathon was within reach!

I got thru the timing mat at the turnaround point, and wondered how soon that would register with whoever was following the race. Only 7 miles to go, that's an easy jog back home in Fish Creek Park. Except, this is the Ironman World Championships, it is now time to go kick some ass!

I had a very serious swoon at the last turn down in the Lab. Problem-solving time. I slowed to a walk, and thought, WTF is happening? I am not walking the last seven miles in Kona. F)ck that! Then I realized I didn't get any calories at the last aid station. I reached into my shirt pocket for my bailout gel, inhaled it and bounced back immediately. Way to go, Powerbar!

A couple of guys who passed me while I was regrouping were quite surprised to see me rise from the dead, and put the boots to them.

I got the bit between my teeth and leaned forward, keeping the hands high and tight, continuing to blitz the aid stations. I kept thinking of Coach Kev's advice: Great marathon=great Ironman. Also Jill Hunt's two easy words: Hold Pace. Then my two easy words, for hot days: Stay Wet!

The run back to Kona was just awesome, I felt bulletproof and chewed thru the field pretty well.

With about three miles to go, I came up to a couple of really tall guys, one wearing US Army and one wearing US Navy togs. I recognized Navy guy as Geoff Cleveland, one of the best Ironman swimmers on the planet, who beat me for the age-group win by a mere 4 seconds on his home course at Ironman Arizona. I made a point of re-introducing myself, then showed him the heels. I have the utmost respect for Geoff, don't get me wrong, but scores need to be settled. I took a few seconds of pleasure, and passed on to complete my mission.

Even the long climb just before Palani felt easy. Once I turned onto Alii, there was a guy on front of me. I entertained the idea of coasting in easy behind him, but the blood rose up to my eyeballs and I found yet another gear. I had Alii Drive all to myself for about 20 seconds, high-fived to the right and the left, and nailed the finish photo. Then I became a helpless mass of dehydrated flesh. Off to the med tent for chicken soup and ice packs!

So I finished 33rd in the world, in the 45-49 age group. Got the Boston spot too. Not bad for an old guy who couldn't lift my left arm over my head back in May! This race is something else. Stupidly tough, but very satisfying. My apologies if I seem rather cutthroat about this whole experience, but I've had a tough year and have a bit of chip on my shoulder, right where my left AC ligament used to be. It's all good now, though!

Mahalo, and thanks for following,

M G

Photo time

Saturday evening we were out winding down the big day at Don Drysdale's in Keauhou (the LA Dodgers pitcher who threw two no-hitters in a row) and in walks Mark Allen, a legend of the sport and six-time Ironman world champion. I got his attention by going slack-jawed, bug-eyed and pointing at him and saying "That's Mark Allen!" so he very graciously came over to our table, shook hands all around and congratulated Jamie and I for getting it done. He has a great coaching business going, Mark Allen Online, and put five athletes on the podium. I have several of his pearls of triathlon wisdom rattling around my brain at all times, and called on a couple during some tough times on race day. That's me and fellow 45-49er Jamie Roth of Cochrane feeling the vibe of the greatest triathlete on the planet.

My race buggy, and my aero helmet. The Canadian flag was a big hit, even with some Americans.

10:37:13: A New Kona PB!

On my third try, I FINALLY put together a good race at the Ironman World Championships! I had Kona personal bests across the board, and my third-fastest Ironman marathon of 3:30. Here are the splits:

Swim: 1:19:41 (Pathetic, needs work.)
Bike: 5:40:07 (Very hot and windy!)
Run: 3:30:35, 18th-fastest marathon in my age group (Male 45-49).
Total 10:37:13, 33rd of 166 in the 45-49 age group, also a Kona PB.

Interestingly, the marathon course is now a Boston Marathon qualifier, (talk about multi-tasking!) and the qualifying time for my age group is 3:30:59. I already have my spot (from Boston in 2005), but when I heard this announced at the carbo dinner, I decided to give it a try anyway, just to prove to myself that I could do it. There are much easier ways to qualify for Boston, like running an open marathon on fresh legs, but I liked the challenge, and was happy to be able to pull it off.

This was my 10th Ironman, including three Ironman world championships in five years, so it's probably time to pack it in. Yeah, right! I think I can do better here, I know what needs to be done, and I'll be back. Nothing like a good race to keep the fires stoked!

Race review, pictures to follow.

Race morning

Greetings from the pier on race morning! The air is thick with nervous energy, winds are calm so far, and a light cloud dulls the dawn starlight.

I took some pictures of the pros and their bikes, and chatted with German pro Thomas Hellreigel about his choice of shallow clincher wheels. He feels we are due for a more typically windy day than last year, so with the shallow profile he will not get bucked around as much. I told him if he has a great bike split, everyone on the peir will be running shallow rims next year!

Lots of familiar faces out here. I ran into a friend who is doing her first world championships, and she asked for advice. I said, "have fun this time around, you can race it next time." Great expectations are not honored in Kona!

Time to sign off, so please cheer for number 589 on ironman.com.
Mahalo,
Myles

Race Day Looms

After a whirlwind last couple of weeks, race day is in less than twelve hours. Please follow my progress on Ironman.com. My race number is 589. Below, the Kona pier two days ago, then today. It is the scene of the swim start, and both transitions, and it will be the centre of the triathlon universe tomorrow morning. See you there!

Ironman Triathlon World Championship: A Kona Preview-Part 3

This morning on Alii drive, athletes get some last-minute training in. Kona Isle condos is where I have stayed for all three world championships I've raced. It's at mile 2 and mile 8 of the run course (we run north five miles on Alii, then turn around and run back through town, then up onto the Queen K highway.) Last year I thought very seriously about turning off Alii right here, to go drink beer poolside.

Run
In 2004, I remember emerging from bike-to-run transition into a
blast furnace of the most powerful heat I’d ever experienced on a
race course. By the time you start running, the sun will be high in
the sky, the humidity will feel like 100%, and the asphalt will be
radiating even more heat. It takes time to acclimate to that kind of
heat after swimming 2.4 miles and riding 112. The good news is that
first half of the course provides many opportunities to run in the
shade, while soaking yourself with ice and sponges at well-stocked
aid stations.

After heading east out of town on Alii Drive, the course takes you
to an oceanfront turnaround near the 6 mile point. You’ll do a 180
degree turn and head back toward town. The run course is mostly flat
for the first 12 miles or so. Then you’re back in town, facing
Palani Drive. A friend and consistent top age-group finisher in Kona
tells me: the race begins at Palani Drive. For him, he’s been
running the first half of the marathon smartly. He turns it up a
notch or two after he runs the 200 yards up Palani, then heads west
on the Queen K.

Kona 2006. I'm smiling because I got through the rough patch back at mile 8. After the climb up Palani Drive, I finally started to feel good, for the first time all day.

If you want to be competitive in Kona, he is indeed right. The last
13.1 miles in Kona are where the best crack wide open. You are
completely exposed to the sun. There are long inclines to wear you
down. And yes, for some reason, the several miles into and out of
the Energy Lab can suck the life out of you. The competitive racers
will use those challenges to their advantage.

The Energy Lab may not seem as rough as it does in Ironman broadcasts; it is survivable. Once you’re past that, 21 miles complete, just 5 miles to town, and
you’re an Ironman. The next four miles have never been easy for me.
They seem to be constantly uphill, and they go by so slowly. But
when you reach Palani Drive, and make that right hand turn after the
25 mile markers, your best moments are ahead.

Finish
Savor that last mile. You will have trained and raced thousands of
miles over the years to get there, For the first 1000 meters of it,
you will probably be alone. Most of the spectators are at the finish
line. In that relative solitude, reflect on all you’ve done to get
to that point. Two right turns later, and you’re on Alii Drive.
Sacred Ground. At first you won’t see the finish line, but you’ll
hear it. You keep going. Then you see the bright lights, you hear
Mike Reilly welcoming home the athletes ahead of you.

Then it’s your turn. The best 100 yards in endurance sports. Slow
down. High five spectators., cross the line with your favorite
gesture as Mike Reilly say it:

You are An Ironman!

Ironman Triathlon World Championship: A Kona Preview-Part 2

Here's the continuation of my Kona preview, text borrowed from Ray Britt. Please visit Ray's website at http://runtri.blogspot.com/. I have added pictures and comments.

Bike
One of the things I looked most forward to was the 112 mile ride
through the lava fields. It looked like a spiritual experience as I
watched it on television broadcasts, and it was exactly like that
when I got there in person. But first, you have to get there.

I break the Kona bike course into five parts: warmup, fast and fun,
legendary climb, screaming downhill, headwinds going home.

Warm up
The first several miles of the bike course, in and around the town
of Kona, seem to be designed to break up the pack somewhat. There
are small climbs and descents that basically give cyclists the
opportunity to warm up without going crazy. The first miles are such
that you won’t see a lot of passing, and you’ll realize it’s best to
just hold your position and get into a comfortable cycling rhythm.

Still in town, the climb up Palani Drive. Yes, we get to run up this hill later.

Donkeys actually do cross here, but thankfully not on race day. The volcano Mauna Kea looms large in the background.

Fast and Fun: to Waikoloa
When you get onto the Queen K highway, the best part of the bike
course is ahead of you. The highway is nicely paved, the undulations
are friendly and not too challenging. You’re fresh and you’ll feel
like picking up the pace a little. Go ahead. Just keep it in check;
tougher miles are ahead. Look right, left and forward. All you will
see is dried lava. You’re out in the middle of nowhere, and it’ll be
nearly silent, except for the sound of cyclists pedaling.

If you have any illusions that the bike ride on the Big Island is all swaying palm trees and ocean breezes, let this picture dispel them. Nothing but lava and sawgrass, heat and wind.

Mile-after-mile through fields that feel like an endless moonscape.
Where else will you ever have an experience like that? It’s where
you were meant to be. Your bike computer will say are fast, having a
great ride. And that will be a true impression for the first hour or
two. But when you reach the intersection for Waikoloa Village, it’s
time for some serious work.

Looking across Kawaihae Bay to the northwest tip of the island. We ride to the right in this photo all the way to Waikoloa, then across the face of the Kohala mountain range from right to left in the background, then around the other side to Hawi. And back again!

Legendary Climb ‘The Road to Hawi . . .’
After Waikoloa, the course will toss some sharp drops and climbs in
the next few miles. And then you will take a left turn toward the
west side of the island, for the climb to Hawi.Check it out on the
course map, there’s a point where the climb clearly begins, 12 miles
before the top. Mile markers on the road will measure your progress.
But they will creep toward you, not as fast as you might want them
to. You start the climb thinking: 12 miles, that’s not too bad. And
yes, it could be worse, but it’s not easy. Take this time to eat and
hydrate if you can. The last five miles to Hawi are more exposed to
wind, and you may have to battle that additional resistance. Gravity
and wind. Not fun. But soon you’ll be in Hawi, an unremarkable town
but for the role it plays in the Ironman. Then you’re heading
downhill.

Screaming Downhill: into the Wind
What goes up, must come down. And after Hawi, you will retrace the
course back downhill. It’s a manageable downhill, not so fast that
you have to concentrate closely on staying in control. But it’s fast
enough to help you gain back some of that speed you lost on the
earlier climb. The bad news is that it’s only 12 miles or so
downhill. Then things get a little challenging on the next 13 miles
heading back toward Waikoloa. The wind may be getting stronger, and
it’s all but certain to be blowing right at you.

Even three-time world champion Peter Reid loses the handle once in a while.

Headwinds Going Home

You’ll reach the Waikoloa intersection feeling pretty good, and your
bike computer might reveal that you’re having a good ride, speed and
time. Each time I got there, I was thinking: hold this pace, and
you’ll finish near a bike PR! No such luck in any of those cases.
While the last 25 miles are relatively flat, it’s the pummeling
headwinds that will all but kill those dreams. I remember riding 12
to 15 miles per hour, and just not being able to pick up the pace.
The winds are maddening. And the mile markers are there, again,
constantly reminding you how far you have not gone. Just hang in
there. Everyone is dealing with the same conditions. Everyone will
tell the same story when the race is over: the winds were everything
you heard they would be. Rough.

Near the end of the bike in Kona 2006: Every time you think it should get easier, it doesn't.

Back on the Big Island

Above, a surfer takes on the waves just south of where I'm staying, the Kona Isle Condos on Alii Drive: Mile 2 and mile 8 of the Ironman World Championship run course.

I'm finally back on the Big Island, after a considerably longer travel day than expected. I flew to San Francisco, where there should have been a 90-minute stopover before the flight to Kona. Our airplane was broken, however, so we had to wait for a replacement plane from Denver. The bad news is, we got into Kona four hours late. The good news is, the plane was a much larger Boeing 767, so everyone had room to spread out and get comfortable for the five-hour flight. And my bike made it!

So as I post this, I am sitting outside on the deck, listening to the surf crash on the rocks below. The thermometer reads 76 degrees F, and it's after midnight. The warm, humid air feels like a hug after hours of recycled airplane air.

Tomorrow's plan: An early swim down at the pier. Then breakfast, and a few cups of Kona's finest. I need to register for the race, then get in a brief bike ride and run. I'll post more photos tomorrow and continue the Kona Preview.

Aloha!

Ironman Triathlon World Championship: A Kona Preview-Part 1

I would write my own article to preview the Ironman World Championship, but when I read the following article by Ray Britt on Xtri.com, I thought, "That's what I would write, if I were as good a writer as Ray." So I asked him if I could repost his article, and he said OK. Please visit Ray's website at http://runtri.blogspot.com/. I have added pictures and course maps, and the comments in italics are mine. Enjoy.

In the third week of October, many of the world’s best long-distance triathletes on flights from all over the planet will descend into Kona International airport. During that landing, the athletes will get a glimpse of the course they will race on October 21, the day of the 2006 Ironman Triathlon World Championship. Many athletes will be returning to the Big Island, they know what to expect already. But for hundreds of athletes who earned their starting slot at qualifying races in the previous year, race day will be a new experience. If you’re one of the rookies, what can you expect in Kona in race day?

Read on. I competed in Kona in 2002, 2003, and 2004. I had dreamt of earning my spot to Kona for years, then diligently trained to get there. After finally earning my slot at Ironman USA Lake Placid, the excitement I felt about just going to Kona was enough. The excitement builds as race day approaches. The Carbo Load dinner joins the community of athletes under the stars and you feel as if there is no other place you should be at that moment. It’s almost enough, just being there. The reward is picking up your bib number. The race might almost seem an afterthought. But there’s still an Ironman triathlon, on of the toughest ones in the world, to complete.

Race Day – Pre-Dawn

The Kona Ironman morning routine will be much like your other pre-race experiences, but this one will have a couple of differences. First. you will have to line-up to get formally body-marked – it’s a real process -- and the line does not move quickly. It you are the kind that needs plenty of extra time in the transition area to feel relaxed, get to body-marking very early.

Second, there will be television camera crews surrounding the athletes, focusing specifically on the pros and a few pre-selected age groupers. It’s the beginning of everything you’ve seen on the television broadcasts of the race. There’s Natascha Badmann . . . there’s Tim DeBoom . . . It will strike you at that moment: This is Real, I am Here. The fun begins.

Above centre, Aussie triathlete Shane Gibbs gets ready for the swim start. Shane and his father were my neighbors at the Kona Isle condo in 2004. Shane was the first age-grouper out of the water, beating most of the pros. He turned pro the following year, and continues to lead the race out of the water.

There’s only one thing to worry about: getting in the water before the cannon fires at 7am. The very narrow stair entrance to the ocean at Dig Me Beach mean that it’s a single-file process. The line can extend even farther than the bodymarking line did. If you’re the type that needs to be in the water comfortably a few minutes before the race starts, get there early.

Dick and Ricky Hoyt get ready to enter the water. Ricky was born with cerebral palsy, but that never stopped this remarkable father-and-son duo from completing 23 Boston Marathons and six Ironman triathlons, not to mentions dozens of other races. In Kona, Dick will pull Ricky in an inflatable raft through the swim, then ride a special bike with Ricky up front, then push Ricky's wheelchair through the marathon. If you don't already know the Hoyts' story, check it out here, and keep the kleenex handy. http://www.teamhoyt.com/

Last year in Kona, I got a nanosecond in the pixelated spotlight, by being caught in the same frame as 1995 World Champion Karen Smyers, number 79. The 45 year old mother of two has survived such misfortunes as a severed hamstring, a losing battle with a semi-trailer, and thyroid cancer. She finished 12th among the 55 pro female triathletes. (I'm number 613 on the left, in the grey Speedo skinsuit.)

The Swim - 3800 meters/2.4 miles

There is no Ironman swim that is as enjoyable as the one in Kailua-Kona Bay. Unless rough water conditions have churned up the sandy bottom, as happened in 2002, the water is clear and the views are spectacular. When you’re in the water before the start, just look around. It’s an amazing moment. You are really there. It’s everything you expected it would be. Then . . . boom! And cheers. Off you go.

Above, swimmers move up to the start line while the sun rises over Mauna Loa. Wetsuits are not allowed due to the warm water, but the underwater scenery can't be beat.

As you work your way into a good rhythm in the water, you’ll start to notice that you’re among a good, even polite, group of swimmers. Maybe this is more true for the slower swimmers, like me. In other Ironman races, with up to 2500 people in the water at the same time, the congestion can be unreal, the constant contact frustrating.

Above, the swim gets underway. This is one of the least-stressful mass swim starts in the Ironman world: Only about 1600 souls, and plenty of ocean to share.

But in Kona, you only seem to be around good swimmers, ones who know where they are going, who don’t bang into you. You’ll find the swim experience enjoyable because you’re really swimming with a group of swimmers like you. It’s like a group run, you’ll enjoy the company of others around you. It will be a new experience.

Kayaks and surfers keep a close eye on the athletes. Despite the dangers of open water, Kona has one of the lowest dropout rates of all the Ironman swims; due in part to the smaller field in a larger area, and a stronger field of triathletes who had to finish at or near the top of their age groups to be here.

And make sure you look down often to take in the scenery. It can be wonderful, and even distracting. But worth it. That’s the part of the swim you’ll remember most.

Others who know better tell me that the Kona swim is typically breezy out to the turnaround, followed by a tougher return. The return to shore has been likened to a ‘water treadmill’; you don’t move forward as fast as you think. No matter, you’re there for the experience, enjoy it.

Above, the pointy end of the swim in 2004. The swim finish has since moved to the other side of the pier, at Dig Me Beach where the swim also starts.

Yours truly last year, exiting the "water treadmill". Due to an earthquake the previous week, the ocean was still stirred up enough to reduce touristy visibility underneath, and large swells made sighting on the surface pretty difficult.

Next: The Bike. Wind, heat, hills, humidity. It's all there!