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Mike R's Kona - I cheated, almost quit and out-ran Frodo
Kona 2017
The Big Dance. For us tri-geeks, this is our World Series, our grand prix, our major, our Super Bowl - all wrapped up in one. On my birthday. It took me a long time to get here, so the plan was to enjoy every step, thoroughly enjoying the victory lap.
Arrived Friday, eight days before the race. To acclimate and enjoy the pre-race activities and energy. The first meaningful thing I did, after checking into my condo and sleeping, was the Ho'ala practice swim Saturday morning. I arrived 6:30am before the 7:00 start and found pandemonium. It was somewhat disorganized, speedo'd bodies everywhere, seemed like 95% spoke something other than English. After finally getting my chip and cap, we began the shoving match to descend the stairs onto Dig Me Beach. Once out in the water near the start line, I couldn't help but notice the swells. When the gun went off, I expected a nice peaceful swim. But it was full-contact, just like a race. After a few hundred meters, I slowed up, let much of the pack go, and just cruised to the turn-around. Which seemed to take forever to reach. I had some clean water on the return trip, thought I handled the swells fine, but was less than pleased to see 1:09 on my watch as I exited. I had hoped the practice swim would boost my confidence and get me psyched for race day. Didn't quite work out that way.
On Sunday, we rode from Kawaihae to Hawi and back. The wind was almost non-existent, so the ride was quite easy and enjoyable. This was the fabled "climb" to Hawi? The only thing that was difficult was the hot climb from Kawaihae back up to the Queen K intersection. Now if the weather would just stay overcast and wind-less, this ride on race day will be a piece of cake.
On Tuesday, we rode a couple of the rolling sections of the Queen K. We got a little bit of cross wind, but still nothing of any significance. The road surface is beautiful, so fast times could be had. But I did go through my two bottles during the first 35 minutes of a 65-minute ride. And during a simple 2-mile brick run on the highway after the ride, I did notice for the first time that when people describe this portion of the run as "hot," it's like "set your oven to this temperature" hot.
Tuesday night I started wheezing a bit, symptoms similar to the past when I gave myself athletically-induced asthma - usually brought on by lots of yards in a high-chlorine indoor pool. The wheezing got a bit worse on Wednesday, and our breakfast server commented that I must have discovered the island's Vog. WTH is Vog? After doing a bit of research, it appears some visitors have allergic-like reactions to the sulfur dioxide expelled by the active Kilauea. And, sure enough, Kona was one of the two spots in the entire chain of islands with an elevated Vog level last week, although only "moderate." The primary way to avoid the effects is to stay inside and avoid strenuous exercise. So, other than a few short runs, I tried to stay inside and chill the rest of the week. Spent lots of time with my great teammates, including Wednesday's team dinner.
The tens of thousands of spectators that descend on Kona in October truly fascinate me. I'm sure a sociologist or psychologist could have a field day studying this crowd. The two miles of Ali'i in town are like Times Square during race week. The last thing anyone should be doing is running or riding on the road. But thousands do. For no apparent reason other than to say, Look! I'm in Kona. Running attire and standard cycling kits are not allowed. It's full tri race kit, every time. By Thursday, every Kona participant had his/her race bracelet. I was intrigued to see whether the parade of runners/riders would continue up and down Ali'i. It did. But most interesting was that most of them now were sporting a single sweatband on a wrist, as if to say "I'm protecting my race bracelet from the sun." And it wasn't just a few. Kona had to have quickly sold out of all of their sweat wrist bands. My wife didn't believe me until she spent 10 minutes watching the sweatband parade. The reason I mention this is because it changed my entire perspective about the race. The first 5-6 days in Kona, I was nervous, anxious and uncertain. But after watching thousands of people go to such lengths just to get a taste of the experience - even if taken to neurotic extremes - I immediately became humbled and felt so lucky to be in my position, now determined not to squander the amazing opportunity.
Friday night, we received a good two inches of rain in a steady downpour. Knocked all of the Vog out of the sky. Of course, it also saturated the soil, setting Saturday up for a steam-fest. And, sure enough, as the sun rose on race morning, the sky was crystal clear. We could see the top of Mauna Loa for the first time in over a week. Not a single cloud in the sky. And like every other day in October in Kona, it was warm and muggy. But I arrived at transition in great spirits. No nervousness or self-doubt. Followed my checklist, met with the team at 6:40 to give/receive best wishes, headed into the water at 6:58 for the 7:05 start.
Swim - 1:07:32 - "The Road Less Traveled"
There was a large, concentrated group to the right by the pier on the buoy line. Avoid like the plague. To the left was another large group, less concentrated, those who really want nothing to do with the first group or the buoy line. I chose the thin area in between. Bobbed for a few minutes. When the cannon went off, I was probably four to six rows back. For the first several hundred yards, I just swam head-up through the foam of the washing machine. Contact for sure, but no punching, pushing or shoving. Not that bad at all. By the second buoy, it became a typical, crowded triathlon swim. There were swells, but I felt like I was making good progress. The rest of the outbound leg, I swam with a pretty large group right along the buoy line. When I looked at my Garmin and saw 66 yards after about 800 yards, I realized that some random hand or foot had stopped it, so I exited out to watch mode. At the first turn, I saw 7:34 (29 minutes) on the watch. At the second and final turn 100 yards later, I saw 7:37 (32 minutes). I was making great progress in a challenging and crowded swim. Immediately after the turn, my group split up. Literally, the large chunk went left, two guys went right. What to do? I took a prolonged sight, determined that the two guys were headed toward a yellow buoy and the bulk of the field was heading toward what presumably was Thailand. Although there were some serious doubts about whether the yellow buoy was really the correct target, I took the Frost approach and left the masses behind. My two leaders were bigger guys, huge kickers, and swam straight along the buoy line. I became a bit anxious because I was barely doing any work and, thus, it felt really slow. I tried to go solo a few times, but quickly realized it would take a lot of energy, so I just tucked in and drafted nearly the entire second half. If I had a swim power meter, my IF would have been 20%. At the final buoy, I did leave them behind and moved powerfully toward the pier. Once parallel to the pier, I expected to exit in seconds, but it seemed like it took forever to finally get out. As I stood up and took off my cap and goggles, I could hear the enormous roar of the huge crowd and the helicopter above. Pretty freakin' cool. I was admittedly a bit mad when I saw 8:12 on my watch (1:07) because I knew I left a lot of time in the water and chickened out by taking the easy draft route, but I got over it quickly.
T1 - 3:21 - "I'm in Kona!"
The first transition was all about fun. This was really my first Kona "moment." I'm on the pier, hosing off with fresh water, having my bag handed to me - just like all those thousands have done before me on TV. The tent was a zoo. But I found room to take off my speedsuit and put it in my bag. Had a brief coughing fit, but managed to dislodge some volcanic dust from my lungs. Jogged all the way around the pier, found my bike in a perfect position at the end of a row, put on my helmet, and jogged the bike to the mount line and hopped on. I could have easily shaved a minute, but there was no need.
Bike - 5:39:33 (5:34:33 moving time) - "A Long Strange Trip"
I thought I knew this bike course, knew what it and the competitors would throw at me, and was totally prepared. Wrong. The first seven to eight miles is all admin around town, trying to get Garmin to play ball. This stupid device has spent thousands of miles riding with a single power meter. They should be like conjoined twins. They finish each other's sentences. But on race day, Garmin decides to step out and mate with anything he can get his hands on. Oh well, it kept my mind off the fact that hundreds of riders were passing me at 500 watts. What the hell was everyone doing? Do they not understand the 112-mile part? Oh well. I shut down Garmin. When I finally got some free space after about 5 miles, I turned Garmin back on and reintroduced it to its P1 friends.
Once up on the Queen K, everything was pretty normal until the first aid station when two Neanderthals tried to grab the same bottle at about 27 mph. Pretty spectacular wipe out. And pretty spectacularly stupid. Things got crowded after that. Non-stop forced drafting. As planned, I was patient, let the passes occur, dropped back, no penalties. Only a few intentional draft packs appeared. But I was surprised at how bad the riders were at the World Champs. Guys would pass on an incline at 500 watts, duck right in front of you, sit up, and ease off to 100 watts. Not 225 watts. But 100. WTF? How on earth did these clowns qualify? I got passed on the right five or six times. Just poor riding. The other surprising fact was I had planned on being passed by everyone, passing no one. But I ended up passing several hundred riders, especially late.
On paper, this course is nothing. But with the heat, the wind, and the throngs of strong-but-stupid riders, it made for a very long, strange trip. The second chapter began at Waikoloa, 30 miles in. The island turned on its fan, from Off to III in the flick of a switch. For the next 20 miles or so, we fought this pretty significant head wind, a head wind I had never heard of before in this stretch. We became a never-ending string of riders, strung out for miles, mostly distanced outside the 12m draft zone. Even though I maintained the 12m distance (the space between road reflectors), the draft benefit was still huge. We were moving along at a decent clip, but I was frequently only pushing 120-150 watts. This is why the strong pro riders want the draft zone extended to 20m and why the strong runners still like 12m. When I attempted to go solo, I quickly realized it would take 300+ watts to make any real progress through the field. So, much like the second half of the swim, I decided to be patient and tuck in the line until the climb to Hawi starting around Mile 41.
Just like during my practice rides, I found myself thirsting for liquid every minute or two. Like constantly thirsty. So I pounded Gatorade Endurance. Nearly 2.5 bottles per hour. This meant no food supplement, but that simplified things. So, on the way to Hawi, I pretty much thought about nothing but 12 meters and waterfalls. The latter because I spent most of my time either peeing or trying to pee.
The climb to Hawi itself isn't that difficult, but there was still wind, and the heat was becoming quite noticeable. On the way up, I could see the pros making their way down. When I saw Sebi and Lionel in 2nd and 3rd, right behind the unknown leader (presumably Cam Wurf), I smiled because I knew Sanders' early presence was driving the other hopefuls nuts. When I saw Daniella with the leaders a few miles later, I figured that race was effectively over. Before I knew it, we were at the turn-around. My NP was 155 instead of the planned 175, which bummed me a bit because I obviously left time and watts on the course. We had a brief tail wind on the way down, which quickly turned to a cross wind from the right. It was flat-out brutal in certain stretches. I was utterly shocked that seemingly everyone took the downhill sitting up in the drops. The lower I got, the less I could feel the cross wind. On some of the sketchier spots, I stayed very low in the bars but put my right hand on the drop for more stability. No chance of drafting here, as I was passing dozens as if they were standing still. Like all descents, however, this one too ended. As we began the first little uphill towards Kawaihae, a female AGer passed me, then sat up to ascend. I too sat up and slowly backed off. I never heard the motorcycle because of the still-howling cross winds, but it pulled up beside me. The two guys began a back-and-forth discussion with each other, with a clear disagreement forming between them. Finally, the guy on the back calls me a cheater (he didn't actually use those words, but that's how I interpreted them) and tells me to stand in the corner at the next penalty tent. When I asked if the drafting was off the lady 10 feet in front of me on a climb, he nods with a "yes, sorry, kinda bush league of us" look. Technically, I was drafting. And, it's funny, because after spending so much mental energy trying not to draft the first 75 miles, I never even thought about drafting off of this rider. I was focused on heat and cross winds and, at two or three bike lengths ahead on an ascent, she was completely out of mind. My first penalty of any type in over 200 triathlons. I was afraid it would happen on this congested course and sure enough . . . But I wasn't really upset. I focused on staying cool and in control up the very hot climb out of Kawaihae. Once back on the K, I hammered the perfectly smooth asphalt, now quite skilled at dealing with this cross wind. Don't know my speed, but I was probably cruising at 25+, passing many dozens, staying low, having some real fun, looking for that damn tent.
The tent finally appeared around Mile 85. I viewed it as a unique opportunity to take a five-minute rest that the rest of the field wouldn't enjoy. A volunteer held my bike as she watched the stopwatch while I took the opportunity to eat, drink, stretch and wet myself like a toddler. Before I knew it, I was back on the bike and hammering once again into the crosswinds. I resumed passing one rider after another. I never expected this in the WC, where just about everyone should be able to out-bike me. My NP had actually bottomed out at 150 on the descent from Hawi, but I had it back in the mid-150's by now. The rest of the trip in was uneventful. The marshal who tagged me passed again around Mile 100, there was no one near my draft zone, so I pointed to the red x on my helmet number with a "don't *&^# me again, please" look, and he responded with a smile and a thumbs-up. The only real food I ate was a single chew early and a caffeinated gel in the penalty tent. Rest of my calories were through GE. And I peed more times than I could possibly count.
I think if I had really trained for rough open water, posted a 60-minute swim and had been more aggressive on the first half of the ride, I could have ridden 5:20 or better. But my HR-to-watts seemed high all day, so maybe such an aggressive approach would have spelled doom for the run. Again, simple course on paper. Figuring this thing out real-time, on on race day - far from simple.
Here's the data. http://tpks.ws/ss6O5 The speed and time are ok, but everything else is a mess.
Goal Actual
Time 5:45 5:39 (5:34 without cheating)
NP 175 154 (that hurts)
IF 68% 60%
TSS 250 202
VI 1.03 1.09 (almost as embarrassing as the finish line)
Avg HR 133 126
Power Balance 50/50 44/56 (I'm always 50/50 or 49/51, so I think this is a data error)
Avg/max Temp 68/71F 94/102F
When I plug 154NP into Best Bike Split, which is always pretty accurate for me, it spits out 5:55. The ride felt more powerful than 154 and, when coupled with the lopsided power balance, I wonder whether the P1s were providing accurate data. Then again, my HR was lower than normal, so maybe 154 is true. Maybe I benefited hugely from the legal draft on the way out and the bombing down from Hawi? It doesn't matter now. The ride was over. I felt pretty strong at the end of the bike, ready for the run. Or so I thought.
T2 - 3:45 - "Clown Show Continues"
As I calmly dismounted, two more idiots came barreling in full speed behind me. One managed to stop before hitting the fence, but the other one went down, almost taking out a couple of vols. And this guy had to be in his 50's, acting like it was his very first rodeo. Again, I was very surprised by the high dumbnisity ratio at the WC. It's like they handed out 400 Kona slots at Ironman Assclown. Back to the race . . . another jog around TA, handed my bag, entered the still-crowded tent, found a place to sit, and calmly put on my socks and shoes. Grabbed my go-bag, found a vol to stuff my helmet into the bike bag, and made my way out. Slammed a gel, loaded up at the AS in the TA, and hit the asphalt.
Run - 4:01:37 - "I am Becoming Dinner"
Started out by jogging very slowly, just to get my bearings and take a read on my internal systems. Because of my low watts and penalty, I assumed I had ridden around 6 hours. Thus, I was totally shocked when I saw the clock read 2:00 pm. I still had a legit shot at hitting my 11-hour goal if I could finish by 6:05 pm. A four-hour marathon is easy, right? Everything felt ok, but I insisted on jogging slowly. Was quite surprised to see 8:14 for the Mile 1 split, so I felt good about my form and ability to run. But almost as soon as I thought those thoughts, I felt the heat. There were no clouds. The huge sun down near the Equator was right above us. Only an occasional gust of wind. I walked the entirety of each AS, loading my hat, pants, jersey and race-saver with ice, knocking my average pace down to 8:45~. With a Dew Point above 70, I knew sweat was useless and the only way to cool was externally, so that became the focus. Really, my only focus. Greeted my family at Mile 1. Saw Coach P on the out-and-back. He had about a three-mile lead on me, so about 30 minutes. About right. He was having a good day. I was completely shocked to see @tim cronk on the way back, about a mile behind me. I asked if he was ok, but he was too busy cutting over to give me a hi-five while loudly singing me "Happy Birthday." He must be doing fine. That guy is so awesome.
Something very strange happened around Mile 9 as I approached the start/finish, right before the Palani climb up to the Queen K. I wanted to quit. Right there. Something inside me told me this was stupid, that I was literally cooking like a meal in the oven, and if I got out onto the K, there was no turning back. Came out of nowhere. But there it was. After the race, I was embarrassed that I had gone so soft, that I had succumbed so easily. So embarrassed that I wanted to bury this part of the story, but decided ultimately to throw it all out there, for better or worse. I cheated and almost quit. Finally made a deal with myself: walk up Palani, see how I feel. So I did. At the top I decided I would venture on, convinced that there were enough people out on the K to help me if the vultures started to circle. During the first of the dreaded six miles out to the Energy Lab, I saw Daniela coming the other way. She was already smiling and waving. Swarmed by TV cameras and a hovering helicopter . . . pretty cool. About a mile farther, I see a tall guy running toward me all alone, in a perfect gallop. Sure enough, it's Jan Frodeno. WTF? He too was smiling. Yet, he was being smoked by pro women and AG men. What a class act. But if the heat had only knocked him down and hadn't killed him, I decided I could get through it. The six miles on the K really do suck. There are really no spectators. It's you, the sun, an occasional aid station and 125-degree asphalt. Finally, the Energy Lab. As I turned left to go down, @Coach Patrick was exiting. Still had a three-mile lead. Couldn't believe it wasn't up to five. And he looked like $hit. I had never seen him look like that. Ruh-roh. Maybe the lore of the Lab isn't all hype.
I actually enjoyed the trip down into the Lab. A bit of a headwind, downhill, pretty ocean views. At the turn-around, I saw a buddy of mine about 100 yards ahead. He's Coach P's speed, been here a bunch of times. Shocked to see him back here with the Roberts of the race. I saw TC again, still about a mile back, still smiling, still looking strong. I really wanted him to catch me so that I could have some company on the dreaded six miles back on that f'n griddle they call a highway. I caught my buddy at the top of the Lab, but he refused to jog with me. He was hurting and was gonna walk it in. At Mile 17, I checked my watch. 4:35. I had exactly 90 minutes to run nine miles. Simple math. 10-minute pace. So I set out to do just that. Jog at 9 pace, walk the AS just slowly enough to keep things in the 9's. Around Mile 22, a guy at an aid station comes over, gives me a high-five and says something encouraging in Australian. Crowie. The fact that I didn't really care at the time shows where my head was. My Box had been shrunk to 10%'s. It's 19.2 miles, let's try to get to 19.3. I repeated that ridiculous process until we started the climb up Mark & Dave Hill to Mile 25. My stupid race plan had been to enjoy the return trip along the K. But, instead, I hated every step of the way. I had no intention whatsoever of digging deep on this day, but you don't really have a choice when a roadway is trying to kill you. I finally found some peace at the top of Palani. The steep downhill destroyed my quads, but we had to be close. I saw my family at the Hot Corner and, although the plan had been to celebrate this moment, I just wanted it to end. It seemingly took forever to get to Hualalai, but once there, it was a quick drop down to Ali'i. Finally, a smile. I did enjoy this stretch, not as much as I had hoped, but there was still joy. The finish was pretty special and I really focused on soaking it in. Reilly was there to welcome me home, yet again.
http://tpks.ws/5uIDs
Overall: 10:55:48
I ate my four gels during the first half, ingested nothing but Coke and Red Bull the second half. Peed once. I ended up meeting/breaking my 11-hour goal, and I'm quite proud of that. I could have easily broken four hours on the run, only mildly disappointed at that. But the very fact that my run split was "faster" than the splits posted by P, TC, my veteran buddy and Jan Frodeno proves to me that, for most of us last Saturday, the run was much more about survival than it was racing. And I met my stretch goals of finishing top half overall and top half in my 45-49 age group. At age 49. Can't wait to introduce myself to the M50-54 next year.
My average HR was a healthy 139 (I raced IMNC at 146), with it maxing out at 147 while - of all places - walking up Palani. Glad I didn't even try to run a single step up that one. Like the bike, the average temperature during the run was 94F, but the max only reached 100.
As the catcher gave me my lei and ice towel, I started another coughing fit. This one grew in intensity, which caused a gag reflex, which caused me to . . . yep, I puked on Ali'i Drive. I was flat-out humiliated. So embarrassingly amateur. It's not like I won the race and had given it my everything. The catcher started leading me towards medical, but I had no desire. Once she got me my medal and shirt, she continued trying to persuade me to go to the tent. No thanks. So, I ditched the food and massage, left the athlete area as quickly as possible and walked home. Not sure why. Probably should have soaked it up a bit more, definitely should have looked for my family and teammates. But I just went home. Texted my wife upon arrival, who responded with a WTF? After showering and icing a bit, I did waddle back out and enjoyed some time with the family and team and cheering on later finishers. But by 9:30pm, I was horizontal.
Parting Thoughts
This race is legitimate. There's a reason why it's the world championship. I could probably race that bike course 10 different times, only to be fooled during #11. And the heat just made it . . . mean. Not at all enjoyable. When it's that hot, you do just have to suffer and survive. Which, while romantic in thought, is zero fun in reality. I simply wasn't mentally prepared for last Saturday, but am ecstatic that I finished and have a strange story to tell. My story. Now four days post-race, I still don't have any desire to race it again. Just can't figure out what could possibly compel me to want to go out there and prove X next time. I may very well get there some day, maybe next week. Until then, I will continue to celebrate this one.
MR
The Big Dance. For us tri-geeks, this is our World Series, our grand prix, our major, our Super Bowl - all wrapped up in one. On my birthday. It took me a long time to get here, so the plan was to enjoy every step, thoroughly enjoying the victory lap.
Arrived Friday, eight days before the race. To acclimate and enjoy the pre-race activities and energy. The first meaningful thing I did, after checking into my condo and sleeping, was the Ho'ala practice swim Saturday morning. I arrived 6:30am before the 7:00 start and found pandemonium. It was somewhat disorganized, speedo'd bodies everywhere, seemed like 95% spoke something other than English. After finally getting my chip and cap, we began the shoving match to descend the stairs onto Dig Me Beach. Once out in the water near the start line, I couldn't help but notice the swells. When the gun went off, I expected a nice peaceful swim. But it was full-contact, just like a race. After a few hundred meters, I slowed up, let much of the pack go, and just cruised to the turn-around. Which seemed to take forever to reach. I had some clean water on the return trip, thought I handled the swells fine, but was less than pleased to see 1:09 on my watch as I exited. I had hoped the practice swim would boost my confidence and get me psyched for race day. Didn't quite work out that way.
On Sunday, we rode from Kawaihae to Hawi and back. The wind was almost non-existent, so the ride was quite easy and enjoyable. This was the fabled "climb" to Hawi? The only thing that was difficult was the hot climb from Kawaihae back up to the Queen K intersection. Now if the weather would just stay overcast and wind-less, this ride on race day will be a piece of cake.
On Tuesday, we rode a couple of the rolling sections of the Queen K. We got a little bit of cross wind, but still nothing of any significance. The road surface is beautiful, so fast times could be had. But I did go through my two bottles during the first 35 minutes of a 65-minute ride. And during a simple 2-mile brick run on the highway after the ride, I did notice for the first time that when people describe this portion of the run as "hot," it's like "set your oven to this temperature" hot.
Tuesday night I started wheezing a bit, symptoms similar to the past when I gave myself athletically-induced asthma - usually brought on by lots of yards in a high-chlorine indoor pool. The wheezing got a bit worse on Wednesday, and our breakfast server commented that I must have discovered the island's Vog. WTH is Vog? After doing a bit of research, it appears some visitors have allergic-like reactions to the sulfur dioxide expelled by the active Kilauea. And, sure enough, Kona was one of the two spots in the entire chain of islands with an elevated Vog level last week, although only "moderate." The primary way to avoid the effects is to stay inside and avoid strenuous exercise. So, other than a few short runs, I tried to stay inside and chill the rest of the week. Spent lots of time with my great teammates, including Wednesday's team dinner.
The tens of thousands of spectators that descend on Kona in October truly fascinate me. I'm sure a sociologist or psychologist could have a field day studying this crowd. The two miles of Ali'i in town are like Times Square during race week. The last thing anyone should be doing is running or riding on the road. But thousands do. For no apparent reason other than to say, Look! I'm in Kona. Running attire and standard cycling kits are not allowed. It's full tri race kit, every time. By Thursday, every Kona participant had his/her race bracelet. I was intrigued to see whether the parade of runners/riders would continue up and down Ali'i. It did. But most interesting was that most of them now were sporting a single sweatband on a wrist, as if to say "I'm protecting my race bracelet from the sun." And it wasn't just a few. Kona had to have quickly sold out of all of their sweat wrist bands. My wife didn't believe me until she spent 10 minutes watching the sweatband parade. The reason I mention this is because it changed my entire perspective about the race. The first 5-6 days in Kona, I was nervous, anxious and uncertain. But after watching thousands of people go to such lengths just to get a taste of the experience - even if taken to neurotic extremes - I immediately became humbled and felt so lucky to be in my position, now determined not to squander the amazing opportunity.
Friday night, we received a good two inches of rain in a steady downpour. Knocked all of the Vog out of the sky. Of course, it also saturated the soil, setting Saturday up for a steam-fest. And, sure enough, as the sun rose on race morning, the sky was crystal clear. We could see the top of Mauna Loa for the first time in over a week. Not a single cloud in the sky. And like every other day in October in Kona, it was warm and muggy. But I arrived at transition in great spirits. No nervousness or self-doubt. Followed my checklist, met with the team at 6:40 to give/receive best wishes, headed into the water at 6:58 for the 7:05 start.
Swim - 1:07:32 - "The Road Less Traveled"
There was a large, concentrated group to the right by the pier on the buoy line. Avoid like the plague. To the left was another large group, less concentrated, those who really want nothing to do with the first group or the buoy line. I chose the thin area in between. Bobbed for a few minutes. When the cannon went off, I was probably four to six rows back. For the first several hundred yards, I just swam head-up through the foam of the washing machine. Contact for sure, but no punching, pushing or shoving. Not that bad at all. By the second buoy, it became a typical, crowded triathlon swim. There were swells, but I felt like I was making good progress. The rest of the outbound leg, I swam with a pretty large group right along the buoy line. When I looked at my Garmin and saw 66 yards after about 800 yards, I realized that some random hand or foot had stopped it, so I exited out to watch mode. At the first turn, I saw 7:34 (29 minutes) on the watch. At the second and final turn 100 yards later, I saw 7:37 (32 minutes). I was making great progress in a challenging and crowded swim. Immediately after the turn, my group split up. Literally, the large chunk went left, two guys went right. What to do? I took a prolonged sight, determined that the two guys were headed toward a yellow buoy and the bulk of the field was heading toward what presumably was Thailand. Although there were some serious doubts about whether the yellow buoy was really the correct target, I took the Frost approach and left the masses behind. My two leaders were bigger guys, huge kickers, and swam straight along the buoy line. I became a bit anxious because I was barely doing any work and, thus, it felt really slow. I tried to go solo a few times, but quickly realized it would take a lot of energy, so I just tucked in and drafted nearly the entire second half. If I had a swim power meter, my IF would have been 20%. At the final buoy, I did leave them behind and moved powerfully toward the pier. Once parallel to the pier, I expected to exit in seconds, but it seemed like it took forever to finally get out. As I stood up and took off my cap and goggles, I could hear the enormous roar of the huge crowd and the helicopter above. Pretty freakin' cool. I was admittedly a bit mad when I saw 8:12 on my watch (1:07) because I knew I left a lot of time in the water and chickened out by taking the easy draft route, but I got over it quickly.
T1 - 3:21 - "I'm in Kona!"
The first transition was all about fun. This was really my first Kona "moment." I'm on the pier, hosing off with fresh water, having my bag handed to me - just like all those thousands have done before me on TV. The tent was a zoo. But I found room to take off my speedsuit and put it in my bag. Had a brief coughing fit, but managed to dislodge some volcanic dust from my lungs. Jogged all the way around the pier, found my bike in a perfect position at the end of a row, put on my helmet, and jogged the bike to the mount line and hopped on. I could have easily shaved a minute, but there was no need.
Bike - 5:39:33 (5:34:33 moving time) - "A Long Strange Trip"
I thought I knew this bike course, knew what it and the competitors would throw at me, and was totally prepared. Wrong. The first seven to eight miles is all admin around town, trying to get Garmin to play ball. This stupid device has spent thousands of miles riding with a single power meter. They should be like conjoined twins. They finish each other's sentences. But on race day, Garmin decides to step out and mate with anything he can get his hands on. Oh well, it kept my mind off the fact that hundreds of riders were passing me at 500 watts. What the hell was everyone doing? Do they not understand the 112-mile part? Oh well. I shut down Garmin. When I finally got some free space after about 5 miles, I turned Garmin back on and reintroduced it to its P1 friends.
Once up on the Queen K, everything was pretty normal until the first aid station when two Neanderthals tried to grab the same bottle at about 27 mph. Pretty spectacular wipe out. And pretty spectacularly stupid. Things got crowded after that. Non-stop forced drafting. As planned, I was patient, let the passes occur, dropped back, no penalties. Only a few intentional draft packs appeared. But I was surprised at how bad the riders were at the World Champs. Guys would pass on an incline at 500 watts, duck right in front of you, sit up, and ease off to 100 watts. Not 225 watts. But 100. WTF? How on earth did these clowns qualify? I got passed on the right five or six times. Just poor riding. The other surprising fact was I had planned on being passed by everyone, passing no one. But I ended up passing several hundred riders, especially late.
On paper, this course is nothing. But with the heat, the wind, and the throngs of strong-but-stupid riders, it made for a very long, strange trip. The second chapter began at Waikoloa, 30 miles in. The island turned on its fan, from Off to III in the flick of a switch. For the next 20 miles or so, we fought this pretty significant head wind, a head wind I had never heard of before in this stretch. We became a never-ending string of riders, strung out for miles, mostly distanced outside the 12m draft zone. Even though I maintained the 12m distance (the space between road reflectors), the draft benefit was still huge. We were moving along at a decent clip, but I was frequently only pushing 120-150 watts. This is why the strong pro riders want the draft zone extended to 20m and why the strong runners still like 12m. When I attempted to go solo, I quickly realized it would take 300+ watts to make any real progress through the field. So, much like the second half of the swim, I decided to be patient and tuck in the line until the climb to Hawi starting around Mile 41.
Just like during my practice rides, I found myself thirsting for liquid every minute or two. Like constantly thirsty. So I pounded Gatorade Endurance. Nearly 2.5 bottles per hour. This meant no food supplement, but that simplified things. So, on the way to Hawi, I pretty much thought about nothing but 12 meters and waterfalls. The latter because I spent most of my time either peeing or trying to pee.
The climb to Hawi itself isn't that difficult, but there was still wind, and the heat was becoming quite noticeable. On the way up, I could see the pros making their way down. When I saw Sebi and Lionel in 2nd and 3rd, right behind the unknown leader (presumably Cam Wurf), I smiled because I knew Sanders' early presence was driving the other hopefuls nuts. When I saw Daniella with the leaders a few miles later, I figured that race was effectively over. Before I knew it, we were at the turn-around. My NP was 155 instead of the planned 175, which bummed me a bit because I obviously left time and watts on the course. We had a brief tail wind on the way down, which quickly turned to a cross wind from the right. It was flat-out brutal in certain stretches. I was utterly shocked that seemingly everyone took the downhill sitting up in the drops. The lower I got, the less I could feel the cross wind. On some of the sketchier spots, I stayed very low in the bars but put my right hand on the drop for more stability. No chance of drafting here, as I was passing dozens as if they were standing still. Like all descents, however, this one too ended. As we began the first little uphill towards Kawaihae, a female AGer passed me, then sat up to ascend. I too sat up and slowly backed off. I never heard the motorcycle because of the still-howling cross winds, but it pulled up beside me. The two guys began a back-and-forth discussion with each other, with a clear disagreement forming between them. Finally, the guy on the back calls me a cheater (he didn't actually use those words, but that's how I interpreted them) and tells me to stand in the corner at the next penalty tent. When I asked if the drafting was off the lady 10 feet in front of me on a climb, he nods with a "yes, sorry, kinda bush league of us" look. Technically, I was drafting. And, it's funny, because after spending so much mental energy trying not to draft the first 75 miles, I never even thought about drafting off of this rider. I was focused on heat and cross winds and, at two or three bike lengths ahead on an ascent, she was completely out of mind. My first penalty of any type in over 200 triathlons. I was afraid it would happen on this congested course and sure enough . . . But I wasn't really upset. I focused on staying cool and in control up the very hot climb out of Kawaihae. Once back on the K, I hammered the perfectly smooth asphalt, now quite skilled at dealing with this cross wind. Don't know my speed, but I was probably cruising at 25+, passing many dozens, staying low, having some real fun, looking for that damn tent.
The tent finally appeared around Mile 85. I viewed it as a unique opportunity to take a five-minute rest that the rest of the field wouldn't enjoy. A volunteer held my bike as she watched the stopwatch while I took the opportunity to eat, drink, stretch and wet myself like a toddler. Before I knew it, I was back on the bike and hammering once again into the crosswinds. I resumed passing one rider after another. I never expected this in the WC, where just about everyone should be able to out-bike me. My NP had actually bottomed out at 150 on the descent from Hawi, but I had it back in the mid-150's by now. The rest of the trip in was uneventful. The marshal who tagged me passed again around Mile 100, there was no one near my draft zone, so I pointed to the red x on my helmet number with a "don't *&^# me again, please" look, and he responded with a smile and a thumbs-up. The only real food I ate was a single chew early and a caffeinated gel in the penalty tent. Rest of my calories were through GE. And I peed more times than I could possibly count.
I think if I had really trained for rough open water, posted a 60-minute swim and had been more aggressive on the first half of the ride, I could have ridden 5:20 or better. But my HR-to-watts seemed high all day, so maybe such an aggressive approach would have spelled doom for the run. Again, simple course on paper. Figuring this thing out real-time, on on race day - far from simple.
Here's the data. http://tpks.ws/ss6O5 The speed and time are ok, but everything else is a mess.
Goal Actual
Time 5:45 5:39 (5:34 without cheating)
NP 175 154 (that hurts)
IF 68% 60%
TSS 250 202
VI 1.03 1.09 (almost as embarrassing as the finish line)
Avg HR 133 126
Power Balance 50/50 44/56 (I'm always 50/50 or 49/51, so I think this is a data error)
Avg/max Temp 68/71F 94/102F
When I plug 154NP into Best Bike Split, which is always pretty accurate for me, it spits out 5:55. The ride felt more powerful than 154 and, when coupled with the lopsided power balance, I wonder whether the P1s were providing accurate data. Then again, my HR was lower than normal, so maybe 154 is true. Maybe I benefited hugely from the legal draft on the way out and the bombing down from Hawi? It doesn't matter now. The ride was over. I felt pretty strong at the end of the bike, ready for the run. Or so I thought.
T2 - 3:45 - "Clown Show Continues"
As I calmly dismounted, two more idiots came barreling in full speed behind me. One managed to stop before hitting the fence, but the other one went down, almost taking out a couple of vols. And this guy had to be in his 50's, acting like it was his very first rodeo. Again, I was very surprised by the high dumbnisity ratio at the WC. It's like they handed out 400 Kona slots at Ironman Assclown. Back to the race . . . another jog around TA, handed my bag, entered the still-crowded tent, found a place to sit, and calmly put on my socks and shoes. Grabbed my go-bag, found a vol to stuff my helmet into the bike bag, and made my way out. Slammed a gel, loaded up at the AS in the TA, and hit the asphalt.
Run - 4:01:37 - "I am Becoming Dinner"
Started out by jogging very slowly, just to get my bearings and take a read on my internal systems. Because of my low watts and penalty, I assumed I had ridden around 6 hours. Thus, I was totally shocked when I saw the clock read 2:00 pm. I still had a legit shot at hitting my 11-hour goal if I could finish by 6:05 pm. A four-hour marathon is easy, right? Everything felt ok, but I insisted on jogging slowly. Was quite surprised to see 8:14 for the Mile 1 split, so I felt good about my form and ability to run. But almost as soon as I thought those thoughts, I felt the heat. There were no clouds. The huge sun down near the Equator was right above us. Only an occasional gust of wind. I walked the entirety of each AS, loading my hat, pants, jersey and race-saver with ice, knocking my average pace down to 8:45~. With a Dew Point above 70, I knew sweat was useless and the only way to cool was externally, so that became the focus. Really, my only focus. Greeted my family at Mile 1. Saw Coach P on the out-and-back. He had about a three-mile lead on me, so about 30 minutes. About right. He was having a good day. I was completely shocked to see @tim cronk on the way back, about a mile behind me. I asked if he was ok, but he was too busy cutting over to give me a hi-five while loudly singing me "Happy Birthday." He must be doing fine. That guy is so awesome.
Something very strange happened around Mile 9 as I approached the start/finish, right before the Palani climb up to the Queen K. I wanted to quit. Right there. Something inside me told me this was stupid, that I was literally cooking like a meal in the oven, and if I got out onto the K, there was no turning back. Came out of nowhere. But there it was. After the race, I was embarrassed that I had gone so soft, that I had succumbed so easily. So embarrassed that I wanted to bury this part of the story, but decided ultimately to throw it all out there, for better or worse. I cheated and almost quit. Finally made a deal with myself: walk up Palani, see how I feel. So I did. At the top I decided I would venture on, convinced that there were enough people out on the K to help me if the vultures started to circle. During the first of the dreaded six miles out to the Energy Lab, I saw Daniela coming the other way. She was already smiling and waving. Swarmed by TV cameras and a hovering helicopter . . . pretty cool. About a mile farther, I see a tall guy running toward me all alone, in a perfect gallop. Sure enough, it's Jan Frodeno. WTF? He too was smiling. Yet, he was being smoked by pro women and AG men. What a class act. But if the heat had only knocked him down and hadn't killed him, I decided I could get through it. The six miles on the K really do suck. There are really no spectators. It's you, the sun, an occasional aid station and 125-degree asphalt. Finally, the Energy Lab. As I turned left to go down, @Coach Patrick was exiting. Still had a three-mile lead. Couldn't believe it wasn't up to five. And he looked like $hit. I had never seen him look like that. Ruh-roh. Maybe the lore of the Lab isn't all hype.
I actually enjoyed the trip down into the Lab. A bit of a headwind, downhill, pretty ocean views. At the turn-around, I saw a buddy of mine about 100 yards ahead. He's Coach P's speed, been here a bunch of times. Shocked to see him back here with the Roberts of the race. I saw TC again, still about a mile back, still smiling, still looking strong. I really wanted him to catch me so that I could have some company on the dreaded six miles back on that f'n griddle they call a highway. I caught my buddy at the top of the Lab, but he refused to jog with me. He was hurting and was gonna walk it in. At Mile 17, I checked my watch. 4:35. I had exactly 90 minutes to run nine miles. Simple math. 10-minute pace. So I set out to do just that. Jog at 9 pace, walk the AS just slowly enough to keep things in the 9's. Around Mile 22, a guy at an aid station comes over, gives me a high-five and says something encouraging in Australian. Crowie. The fact that I didn't really care at the time shows where my head was. My Box had been shrunk to 10%'s. It's 19.2 miles, let's try to get to 19.3. I repeated that ridiculous process until we started the climb up Mark & Dave Hill to Mile 25. My stupid race plan had been to enjoy the return trip along the K. But, instead, I hated every step of the way. I had no intention whatsoever of digging deep on this day, but you don't really have a choice when a roadway is trying to kill you. I finally found some peace at the top of Palani. The steep downhill destroyed my quads, but we had to be close. I saw my family at the Hot Corner and, although the plan had been to celebrate this moment, I just wanted it to end. It seemingly took forever to get to Hualalai, but once there, it was a quick drop down to Ali'i. Finally, a smile. I did enjoy this stretch, not as much as I had hoped, but there was still joy. The finish was pretty special and I really focused on soaking it in. Reilly was there to welcome me home, yet again.
http://tpks.ws/5uIDs
Overall: 10:55:48
I ate my four gels during the first half, ingested nothing but Coke and Red Bull the second half. Peed once. I ended up meeting/breaking my 11-hour goal, and I'm quite proud of that. I could have easily broken four hours on the run, only mildly disappointed at that. But the very fact that my run split was "faster" than the splits posted by P, TC, my veteran buddy and Jan Frodeno proves to me that, for most of us last Saturday, the run was much more about survival than it was racing. And I met my stretch goals of finishing top half overall and top half in my 45-49 age group. At age 49. Can't wait to introduce myself to the M50-54 next year.
My average HR was a healthy 139 (I raced IMNC at 146), with it maxing out at 147 while - of all places - walking up Palani. Glad I didn't even try to run a single step up that one. Like the bike, the average temperature during the run was 94F, but the max only reached 100.
As the catcher gave me my lei and ice towel, I started another coughing fit. This one grew in intensity, which caused a gag reflex, which caused me to . . . yep, I puked on Ali'i Drive. I was flat-out humiliated. So embarrassingly amateur. It's not like I won the race and had given it my everything. The catcher started leading me towards medical, but I had no desire. Once she got me my medal and shirt, she continued trying to persuade me to go to the tent. No thanks. So, I ditched the food and massage, left the athlete area as quickly as possible and walked home. Not sure why. Probably should have soaked it up a bit more, definitely should have looked for my family and teammates. But I just went home. Texted my wife upon arrival, who responded with a WTF? After showering and icing a bit, I did waddle back out and enjoyed some time with the family and team and cheering on later finishers. But by 9:30pm, I was horizontal.
Parting Thoughts
This race is legitimate. There's a reason why it's the world championship. I could probably race that bike course 10 different times, only to be fooled during #11. And the heat just made it . . . mean. Not at all enjoyable. When it's that hot, you do just have to suffer and survive. Which, while romantic in thought, is zero fun in reality. I simply wasn't mentally prepared for last Saturday, but am ecstatic that I finished and have a strange story to tell. My story. Now four days post-race, I still don't have any desire to race it again. Just can't figure out what could possibly compel me to want to go out there and prove X next time. I may very well get there some day, maybe next week. Until then, I will continue to celebrate this one.
MR
Tagged:
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Comments
- My first ever drafting penalty, on the Queen K @ mile 35, when a draft train rolled by, and the final guy decided to start coasting once he passed me.
- Yeah, that frickin' unfair outbound headwind past Waikoloa, only to meet it going the other way on the return trip.
- Speaking of thoughts of quitting @ the base of Palani...there was the time I decided to sit down on that median for a brief rest, and the next thing I know, some nurse anesthetist is waking me up, asking me about going to the med tent.
- My first race there, at the aid station just coming out of the Energy Lab, some guy insistently shoves a cup in my face, looking me hard in the eyes, saying, "You NEED this water." I focussed, and saw it was Peter Reid, who was basically the Crowie of that era.
- Finally, what I always think whenever someone nabs that coveted Kona slot: "The good news is, you get to go to Kona. The bad news: you have to race there."
Seriously, you had an amazing race. Your final two hours on the run, despite all the power of the heat and humidity wearing down on you, you simply refused to give in. You kept the effort meter pressed to the floor. Slowing, much less stopping was simply not an option. Return or not, you can be very proud of what you've done the past year.(Side note on the bike power vs effort vs time issue...I've long suspected that a lot of our effort in very windy courses, especially side winds, goes to remaining stable, and not into the pedals where the watts get recorded.)
Still trying to figure out how you and P swam faster race day than Ho'ala swim?
Great minds think alike or act alike ... I had the exact same T1 of 3:21
Awesome Bike split on 154np considering mine was 7minutes slower on 150np ???
If you waited for me on the run I would have sung I am gonna kick your A$$....
Congrats on your victory lap, you looked great the entire day, thanks for being out there!
Great report - well written. I wish the "kids" who worked for me could write that well
Well done - congrats Mike!
So, what should we take away from your story? Kona as some dystopian tri-landscape with a view? Populated by pointy-end folks with DSM-5 issues, middle aged assclowns, newbs on wheels and cheating quitters?
No. I do not believe that.
"I simply wasn't mentally prepared for last Saturday...". That is the lesson. "There's a reason why it's the world championship." Quite right.
Congratulations on the journey and your race. You have inspired many. I am proud of you.
And thanks again for the lesson(s).
DS
HBD and now I have to pick my races to avoid you for the next 2 years!
Really nice job on a tough day, Mike. Proud to be a teammate of yours after reading how you gutted through that race.
BTW, your honesty is unbelievably refreshing
Of course, we all love your reports because you capture the day with humor. Just importantly you capture it with candor. Thank you for sharing it all...doubt and puking included. It's not easy to share the parts of a race that you aren't happy with, but it lets us know that the charming witty Birthday Boy is indeed not a robot, but a mighty fine human.
Congrats Mike!
Signed, your Michigan Fan Girl
I hope with time your perspective on this race of what you actually accomplished becomes more and more clear. Heat, wind, and hills on this course make you take your game to another level and you brought it like a lion, raced smart, race with heart, and represented strong. I can only try to imagine.......
So glad you included the paragraph where you flirted with the idea of quitting, your feelings, pain and how you managed yourself through that. Very helpful for the rest of us mortals.
Sincere congratulations and Happy Birthday old man!
It was a pleasure to volunteer and support some friends racing. There is no doubt that Saturday was more humid and stifling then the previous few days. A reminder that Madame Pele is in charge. You executed an amazing race! So much to learn from you.
I know good things will come in your new age group, I'll try and make the trip with you next time
First things first....after all the shit you gave @Danielle Santucci in PR for her cheating I hope you never hear the end of this. I, for one, am still pure
I wish I had your mindset in many ways....because even with a solid first time in Kona all I want to do it go back and improve upon it. You are right...it's not the most difficult course nor does it have the tropical splendor that you would expect in Hawaii. Oh...and you spend 5 figures for that 'vacation'. I remember not having any fun beginning at the Palani hill, but I reminded myself how hard I worked to get there, and how many tens of thousands would love to have the chance to suffer there. Maybe I have succumbed to the cult of WTC/Wanda and am a mindless sheep.
Enjoy your Kona after glow.
Its also nice that the race was on your birthday ! what a way to celebrate
Rest well !
@JeremyBehler - I've already heard from @Danielle Santucci and have had that discussion about the difference between a technical violation and intentional cheating.
Quick update:
Tim can climb a hill much faster than me on far fewer watts, so just looking at the climb to Hawi, something is amiss. There is simply no way I can climb one mph faster than him on less watts. The laws of common sense may be suspended on the Big Island in mid-October, but not the laws of physics. And in Laps 14, 15, 17 and 22 - which were all relatively flat, down-in-the-bars, in a cross-wind - there again is no way I can move faster than Tim on fewer watts.
The only thing in my data that stood out as problematic was the L/R balance. I'm always around 50/50. But last Saturday I was suddenly 44/56 without noticing it physically? I don't think so. So, I looked at a recent five-hour training ride on Garmin Connect to see how what my L/R balance usually looks like:
The balance on the above training ride ended up being nearly dead-on at 50/50, and ^^ is what virtually all my rides look like.
So, now it was time to take a look at my Kona ride:
The answer to all of this is quite simple: Madame Pele. During a training ride last week, TC and I came across a Swedish athlete who had a flat tire. He had three spare tubes, each with standard 42mm valves, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out how to make them work on his 60mm Zipp 404s. As I started to reach for an 80mm spare, Tim quickly jumped and beat me to it: "I'm not getting on Madame Pele's bad side."
As a result, I get Vogged, a penalty, a dropped chain, bogus power, and a finish line celebration comprised of projectile Red Bull. Next time I will take concrete steps to get on her good side. If there is a next time.
Suggestion on the computer connecting to you sensors:
I turn on my computer before the race and start the ride. I spin the wheel and pedals to get power and cadence to register. Then when I get on my bike it just comes off of Pause and goes. I crop the file after if needed. I think you can set a Garmin to have a long pause when not moving. I use a Wahoo Bolt and it's pause feature on a ride is like 2 hours.
BTW, congrats again on your killer day. Your SB are pretty insane and, had the day been like any the week before, your run would have been right there with the other two. Mid- to high-90's with high humidity and no clouds = a big obstacle to clear. But clear it you did.
I've had trouble with my Garmin synching with devices on race day a couple times. I think it is because it synchs when I set it up in the morning, but then gets confused when the devices are out of range for a long time. I ent through the who restart the Garmin routine the first couple times. Last time, I 'menued' into the devices page, selected the device and pressed connect. That worked right away for me.
Each step of the way, something seemed to be happening that was not according to your plan. The way you adapted, adjusted with it and kept racing is awesome - one of many reasons you were racing at the world championship.
Congratulations!
Your observations and perspectives all week brought the event To life for me once more, I only wish I had your live commentary in my ear when I’m racing… Maybe there is some kind of a hack and we can do next time to keep us all laughing if not motivated. Congratulations again, you are an Ironman (the one everyone asks you about).
Ps #vasaforlife
What a GREAT race report! You had me laughing at many points. I especially liked your comment "Again, I was very totally surprised by the high dumbnisity ratio at the WC. It's like they handed out 400 Kona slots at Ironman Assclown".
I really appreciated the thoughts on how you were feeling during the race. I've only seen TV coverage of the race so you provided me with a much better understanding.
Great race!