Journal Kona 2002

Well, what an interesting journey this has been. With myself and all the athletes I train, I like to place the main focus on the journey and the growth and lessons we learn about others and ourselves along the way. Sitting on the beach two days after my fifth Hawaii Ironman reflecting on my journey, I didn't expect it to go as it did, yet I learned more than I bargained for.

Race week was very different this year. I was much more anxious arriving in Kona the Sunday before the race. Leaving my son, Ryan, 20 hours earlier just sucked! Lisa and I knew it was going to be bad, but didn't realize just how bad. He was in good hands though, and Lisa and I were back in Hawaii, one of our favorite places. For the first three days here, my stomach was not right. I probably lost about six pounds in those three days, but my easy taper workouts felt OK, so I tried not to worry.

I did some light training each day, but, once again, did a whole lot of swimming. Each year that I've competed, I tell myself that I'm going to be consistent with my swimming, so that I can actually have a good swim and come out where I should, which is near the front. This year, I did the least amount of swim training that I have ever done going into Hawaii. I started my training 20 days before the race. In hindsight, I should have either started a week earlier, or actually waited one more week to start. I actually felt great in the water a week before the race and had dreams of a fast swim time, but during race week, and particularly on race day, my arms felt heavy and my form felt very forced. But back to race week.

My stomach came around, and I started feeling very strong, yet I was still very nervous - more than usual. It's funny, I run through my head the same things I tell my athletes about dealing with nerves and staying in there mentally leading up to a major race. However, running things through your mind, and having them actually sink in is two different things. Being totally honest with myself, my nerves weren't about lack of confidence, or letting anyone down. They were more about meeting my own expectations and also knowing from experience that sometimes, no matter how well you are prepared, that particular day just might not be the day (St. Croix!). This was also the first time I had athletes I coach racing here also. It was fun having Steve Adams, Scott and Angela Forester, and Reenie Parker here racing. Lisa and Angela had a great time race day, and Scott really took care of my bike race week. I like to tinker with my bike, yet most of the time, this creates more problems. Scott had it dialed in for me. They are both, great positive energy to be around, and share many of the same values as Lisa and I.

The weather was bizarre during race week. It actually rained all day on Tuesday! This is the first time I have ever seen this happen here. The wind wasn't bad at all race week, but when the sun was out, man was it out. It felt more hot than usual which was probably from the lack of wind creating that cooling breeze. Now keep in mind, when I say it wasn't windy, that 's compared with typical Kona weather. If we had this "light" wind back in Connecticut on a particular race or training day, it would be very severe.

The Wednesday before the race, Lisa and I were eating lunch at a restaurant, and I happened to strike up a conversation with a guy from Virginia. He was here for his first time and qualified through the lottery. His reluctance in bringing up how he "got here" showed that he was embarrassed about getting in through the lottery. It was obvious that he felt intimidated by the intensity of race week in Hawaii, and that he felt as though he deserved to be there much less than the athletes who qualified through races. He then brought up how he wasn't really enjoying his "journey" because, when he found out he was accepted in the lottery to do Hawaii, it changed the way triathletes talked with him. It all of a sudden became about times, heart rates, splits, PR's, and "I did this...". Especially his week in Hawaii before the race. Most athletes are real pricks in Hawaii the week before the race. Everyone is intense, since the best of the best from all over the world are here. Everyone is nervous and insecure, so they handle it by keeping quiet and looking at you as though you are trying to steal something from them. When you train the week before the race, no one says hi, or even smiles, as you run or ride by. I mentioned that all this nervous energy flips half way through the race on race day, and athletes go from hating each other to supporting each other, and that there are a lot of great people in this sport and to focus on his friends and experiences he's met through the sport. I did see this guy after the race in Dairy Queen and he had an incredible experience and was finally having a good time, so besides the fact that the athletes seem like pricks during race week, he had a lot of issues that were resolved during the race, and he probably felt like "he belonged" after finishing the Ironman. I also mentioned to him that he beat a lot of the athletes who qualified through races! It's kind of bogus to think you need to do an Ironman though, to be considered a triathlete amongst your piers.

Now onto the race. Before describing my race day, let me discuss my race objectives. I had two major goals for this race that I focused on through my training and taper: Break 9 hours and win my age group. I knew that they were both very doable, yet the first goal (breaking 9) was really dependant on weather conditions and that was out of my control, so don't sweat it if it doesn't happen. Hawaii is a very different race each year because of the weather. My second year here, I was 6 minutes slower than the first, yet I moved up 35 places. Most athletes were 30 minutes slower than the previous year. So it's hard to shoot for time goals here.

The morning of the race it was raining again! I awoke at 3:45am ( I actually didn't really sleep much that night) and drank two cans of Boost, ate two rolls with peanut butter, a banana, and washed it down with a big cup of coffee. I packed up my calories for the race and headed to the pier. I was caring all my calories with me and not using the special needs bags. I had 550 calories from Extran in each of the bottles behind my seat, and 280 calories from Accelerade in my bottle on my down tube. I had two Powerbars (old school malt-nut flavor) and 15 endurolyte capsules to put in my pocket from the swim to bike transition, and a fuel belt with two flasks that were each filled with hammer gel (one chocolate and one espresso), 15 more endurolytes, and a roll of Tums for the run. I would use water on the course and coke or food if necessary. One of the main things I tried to emphasize to my athletes that were competing was too not sweat the small stuff and be ready to adapt when a curve ball is thrown, and it will happen. Keep things simple, because they are physically prepared and at this stage it's purely mental, and that focusing on small problems like missing a special needs bag, or having to check in food bags three days before the events isn't going to effect their race so relax. Have a simple plan, but be adaptable. Heather Baker from Timex sent me out a bunch of really cool stuff including a race uniform made from Duofold that was so comfortable, yet it had sleeves. I'm not big on sleeves, so I did some altering the night before the race with scissors and I was in business!

I waded out to the swim start and treaded water for the ten minutes waiting for the cannon. The first half of the swim was strange. I felt like crap in the water, and yet it went by fairly quick. It was the choppiest I've ever swam in here, with 4 foot swells, and it was actually worse on the return trip. The swim never really thins out in Hawaii, so you basically either swim way outside on your own, or get pummeled in the mix. I just felt awful in the swim, no form whatsoever. Exiting the water in 1 hr 2 min was surprising for me, because I've never swam over an hour here, but with the swells and lack of training, I wasn't upset, and knew I'd make it up on the ride and run.

I had a quick transition, by just throwing on my race number belt, sunglasses, and helmet, and having my bike shoes attached to my bike. The quick transition is something I worked on. I figure saving two or three minutes in each transition is easy time, compared to making it up on the bike and run. Plus it keeps my momentum carrying forward at a quicker pace into the next event. I was psyched to be riding and was looking forward to "going to work" on the bike and making up for the slow swim. I have been riding really well lately. My bike training was a bit different this year and it really paid off. I've never been this strong on the bike before and I have this calm confidence when I'm riding in a race, knowing that I'm going to do well. It was still raining at the beginning of the bike, and coming down quite hard. About ten miles in, my rear wheel felt as though it was rubbing my brakes. I also started to feel this bump on every rotation, as though it were going flat. I pulled over quickly to check it out, and it wasn't flat and looked fine, so I hopped back on and revved back up to speed. But the hop was still there, and I felt like I was riding with the brake on the whole time, yet my legs felt good. I once again got off my bike, which is frustrating because you are stopping all your forward momentum, and watching others fly by, while you are standing still. I noticed the rear tire bulging at one part and almost hanging off the rim a bit. It appeared that water hat gotten under the tubular tire and caused this problem. I hit the split button on my watch, peeled off the tire, and re-attached it. I used my only CO2 to get air in the tire, and after 3 min 52 seconds, I was back in the race. Now let me digress a bit by mentioning that I usually only carry one spare tire during this race, and in my four other years racing here, I've never had one flat tire. For some very weird reason, I put an extra spare on my bike the morning of the race. I had an extra one with me, and I remember thinking that morning, that since I had it, take it. It doesn't add that much weight. Back to the race. I was clicking along now at a good pace, about 25 miles in, and the rear wheel was running smooth. I was motoring past people like they were standing still. I felt great, and not thrown back a bit by the small 4-minute detour. Then at around mile 32, I heard the dreaded pssssssss from the rear tire. It was flat this time! I hopped off quick and again hit the split button on my watch. I started to peel the tire and at the same time flag down a race official on a motorcycle. He radioed to the support van that I needed help. I changed the tire and waited for tech support to come with a pump. I sat there waiting, watching what seemed like millions of people ride by. I was starting to lose my patience, and give away some serious mental energy in frustration, when tech support finally showed, pumped up my tire, and after 9 min 38 sec, I was once again in the race. I started riding harder than I should have, ignoring my heart rate monitor. The sun was back out now and it was starting to heat up. I was passing a ton of athletes on the climb to the turnaround in Hawi. I was at approximately the 56 mile mark (the ride out to Hawi is 60 miles and 52 on the return trip) when I couldn't believe what happened next. My rear tire was flat again. I pulled over and half laughed at first, thinking absolutely no way could this be happening. This was my year. This was supposed to be my breakthrough Ironman. As the train of athletes motored by again, I thought this just isn't fair. But then I thought what's not fair? I've been fortunate enough to be able to qualify and race in Hawaii five times, so change the damn tire and get on with it, and quit feeling sorry for yourself. This stop cost me 10 minutes and 14 seconds, and when I resumed riding, I took off my watch and shoved it in my back pocket. Tech support warned me to ride cautiously, for there was hardly any glue on the tire and they were afraid of me rolling it off the rim.

I actually was very angry once I was going again, similar emotions to when I had tech problems in IM USA two years ago. The chemical reactions that take place within us caused by emotional stress is amazing. When we feel sad or sorry for ourselves, our brain chemistry and hormones actually make us feel tired, sluggish, and wiped out. When we get angry, adrenaline is pumped through our bodies that stimulate it to fight hard. A good example of this is the story of the old guy who lifts the car during a crisis situation to save a trapped person. I've mentioned in past journal entries how this fight or flight response can be helpful as an athlete. Anyway, I went through the turnaround and over the timing mat. The timing person there yelled to me that I was in 388th place! The day before the race, I taped a small picture of Lisa and Ryan to my stem. I knew there would be times when it got tough out there mentally, and all I needed to do was look at that picture to remind me of the sacrifices I made to get there and to focus on strength and desire. Other things that I thought about during those 112 miles: Dropping out at the Mauna Lani, the resort Lisa and I stayed at. New Ideas for work projects. A stupid song we kept hearing on this Hawaiian station that I couldn't get out of my head. The movie Gladiator. A slice of Mud Pie at Huggo's...

The ride back to Kailua, I just put my head down and motored. I would focus on the first person in front of me and pick them off one at a time, sucking energy from them as I blasted by. The long, gradual climbs here are my favorite terrain to ride. Not one person passed me during these 52 miles, or even stayed near me for that matter. Oh, and while I'm on the subject, Hawaii is one of the biggest draft fests going. They issued out a ton of penalties this year (165), but there just weren't enough officials, and the drafting was so blatant. It cracks me up how everyone in the sport talks about how they hate drafters and, when at the rules meetings, when the officials bring up drafting and say they aren't going to tolerate it, everyone applauds loudly. Yet, it is so blatant. The male pro's do it, the female pro's are really bad, and the age groupers are terrible. It's quite simple to avoid. If someone goes by you and moves in front, you have two choices: pass them back, or drop back the three bike lengths and give some space. I can't tolerate bullshitters. If you draft, don't act like you are all anti-drafting. When I was flying by people on my return trip, athletes were actually trying to jump on my wheel like it was a damn bike race.

No more flats or technical problems for the rest of the ride. The only problem I now had, was that I expended a lot of energy on the ride, and the heat and humidity were really bad starting the run. In fact, this race went down as the most humid Hawaii Ironman to date. I came out of the bike/run transition moving well and feeling loose. I mentally ran myself through a present physiological check in the first mile, and, although I was moving well at the time, I felt vulnerable. I felt like I was sooner than later going to be hurting. My muscles were working well but had accumulated some toxin build-up by this point. My stomach felt OK, yet, since my last flat tire before Hawi, I scrapped my nutrition plan because I had no appetite for the extran or power bars, and switched to just coke, water, and endurolytes. I didn't have much salt build-up on me, had a good sweat production going, and had peed about three times in the race to this point, so I knew I wasn't in trouble with hyponytremia. But it was god awful hot and humid, and I knew that it was going to slow me down quiet considerably. I trained to run just below 7 minute pace for this marathon off the bike, but had to scrap that plan. I ran very solid through mile 9, drinking coke and water at every aid station, and then I hit Palani hill which takes you onto the Queen K for the next 14 miles (including the energy lab). I strategically walked up the hill and about ten people passed as they did their best to painfully keep running. Once at the top, I started my modified run/trot again and passed all ten quickly and only saw them again when I was returning from the energy lab as they were still heading out well behind me. It was cool to see the pro race unfolding at the front, well ahead of me. Tim Deboom looked steady, moving through the field, proving once again it comes down to the run. At every aid station along the Queen K, I dumped ice everywhere. In my hat, down my back, in the front of my uniform. The ice would melt so fast from the heat I was generating, it was insane. I would take cold sponges and wipe my face and squeeze them over my head. And I would continue to swallow a few swigs of coke and water. My shoes were so soggy from sweat, and water that I tossed on me, that they felt like running in heavy boots instead of racing flats. I continued to trot and never walked. Miles 20 through 25 were so painful and seemed to last forever. But then you turn down Palani hill and see that you have only one mile left. This last mile is lined with spectators and they cheer so hard for every athlete. I looked behind me and saw one athlete kind of close, so I surged to put some distance between us. I like to be alone during the last 1/2 mile of this race, to absorb the spectators, high-five everyone, and feel proud of what I just accomplished. The finish of an Ironman gives many reasons to why we do this in the first place. I again, get such a surge of adrenaline. The endorphin release is amazing and helps me soon forget the hell I was just in minutes earlier. Lisa, once again, managed to get behind the finish to greet me at the line. This race always brings her to tears at the finish. I was severely overheated, and after giving her a sweaty hug, I went to the med tent. I was still sweating well, and actually had an urgency to pee - both good signs. But I could barely talk, and felt a bit nauseous. One IV later, I was up and rolling and hungry for pizza!

So my final time (9:43) and placing (10th in my age group) were well off what I set out to accomplish. But as I now sit on the plane home finishing this long journal, I'm not upset at all, like I thought I would be. My final journey for this race turned out to be something I had not planned for at all. And it made me think more about the whole journey of getting there. You see, I trained hard, and well, and got myself into probably the best shape of my life. Yet, I didn't really have fun with my training this past year. I trained all alone and obsessed on my original goals, and it took the fun out of it. My best memories of this sport are from doing crazy workouts with friends, seeing new places by bike or run that most "normal" people don't get to see, finding new adventures. They're not from putting my head down all alone and grinding away, day in and day out. I do find satisfaction in training hard and pushing myself to extremes, yet you can still have fun while doing this. As I mention to everyone I coach, we need to balance this sport in our lives because it's our passion and our hobby. Yet we're not feeding our families from it, so do well, but have fun. My test on race day was to deal with adversity I wasn't expecting. To see just how I would deal with it. If I deduct the 24+ minutes from the technical problems I had, I would have come very close to my goals. Yet that wasn't meant to be for me on race day. The other thing I once again learned is that you go through just about every emotion during an Ironman, and it forces you to look into yourself deeply and see who you are. I also once again learned that an Ironman is such a long day, and that you can feel like crap at one point, and great the five, ten, 50 minutes later, so know that and hang tough when the race gets tough.

I think that finishing an Ironman changes most people for the better in some way. Maybe it's a greater appreciation for health, or life. Maybe it helps prioritize what's really important to us while we're here in this lifetime. It's definitely some type of metaphor. I'm excited to go home, work on some different and neglected projects, do some mountain biking, and some trail running. Who knows, maybe I'll even go for a few swims!

Thanks everyone, for your unbelievable support in my endeavor. Doing an Ironman seems like a solo endeavor, but it truly does take a major support crew to do well.

Cheers,

EH