Saturday, October 18, 2003

I came.  I saw.  (But, I wouldn't say that I conquered.)  I faded.  I rallied.  I ran down Alii Drive for the second time in my Ironman career.

Nothing really unusual about the night before the race.  Slept fairly well and woke up a couple of minutes before the first of many alarms was to go off.  Did the normal pre-race morning things.  Even managed to send out a short note to the groups I had been posting updates to all week.  Made sure my timing chip was securely attached to my right ankle.  Picked up my bag with swim stuff, bike and run fuel, and bike pump and hopped into the car.  The short drive to downtown Kona.  Getting a good spot at the lot on Kuakini right off Palani.  Walking over to the seawall so Renate could secure some territory.  Heading off in search of body marking.

Which was kind of a pain.  I walked all over before I finally found where it was going to be.  There was already a line of patiently waiting athletes, and a few supporters.  It wasn't Brazil where Fern, Craig and I were the very first people to be marked.  Some nervous small talk, but mostly quiet time.  Then the gates opened and the rush began.  Right before getting into the body marking area, were volunteers collecting the special needs bags for the bike and run.  I handed over my big, huge run special needs bag with one little, tiny gel flask in it.  Then walked towards the back where the inking folks were.  Normally, a volunteer just scribbles the number on arms and legs.  Here, they had ten little, well maybe not so little, blocks of wood with the integers from zero to nine.  One person pressed the required digit into the ink pad then onto my arm.  A second person took a black magic marker and filled in the gaps.  A third person wrote my age, with a magic marker, on my left calf.  I was the first person my crew inked, so they had to work the kinks out.  I hope they got better.  I know the concept of time on race morning is out of whack, but it seemed to take about five minutes before I was suitably numbered.  I left with enough black ink on me to print a short book.  (Or this race report.)

After the numbering process, I went to the bike corral to see how Rita handled the dark and scary night.  No problems.  Yesterday afternoon, I let some of the air out of the tires.  The reason for that is, the bikes sit out in the hot sun Friday afternoon and the air in the tires expands.  If the tires are pumped to normal pressure, the additional pressure could cause them to pop.  So, I let some air out Friday afternoon and put some air in Saturday morning.  A volunteer was shining a flashlight for me while I was doing this.  I put my fuel bottles in the cages, filled up my JetStream with plain water and put the gel flask with the gel I scurried around yesterday trying to find in the bento box.  I zeroed out my bike computer.  I checked my tires again, and thought about Jon Powell in Lake Placid.  "Hey Jon, should I put more air in my tires?"  I picked up my bag and pump and was just about to leave the area.

I almost forgot to check my gears.  It's a good thing I did since I was in the large chain ring.  It would have made for a difficult start, especially with the little climb up Palani to Kuakini.  Just for grins, I checked my tires again.

Then I wandered over to the gear bags to put my run gel flasks, those that would get me through the first 17 miles of the run before hitting special needs, into my run gear bag.  Apparently I snuck in the back way because as I was walking out the front I was told I wasn't allowed in yet since the area was not secure.  (The lead volunteer made the announcement to the flunky volunteers that "athletes could put things into their bags, but they couldn't take anything out."  I'm not sure why we wouldn't be allowed to take things out, unless they were afraid we'd be sabotaging somebody else's bag and race.  Let's see, I'll go to a competitor's bag and take out one shoe.)  I didn't need to put anything into my bike bag (or take anything out) so I left the area.

I found an empty porta-potty and contemplated life for about 15 minutes.  (Life is good.)  It was too dark to read the graffiti.

Went and found Renate on the sea wall.  Leslie Trager was there along with Jody and Vincent.  Met John Byrne's wife, Ann.  The area was already packed with spectators.  A little bit of chatting, a few pictures.  I didn't feel like hanging around so it was kisses and handshakes and then I was gone.  "Just a walk in the park, Kazanski."

I went back to a little parking lot where I sat before the race in 1997.  Just far enough away from the bustle, I could kind of watch it and hear it, but I wasn't in the middle of it.  I was trying to stay relaxed and I thought a little about how things had changed, for me, since I did my very first Ironman here in Hawaii in 1997.  Still the same general feeling of apprehension.  But no feelings of uncertainty.  The first time, there was the doubt about being able to do it, and no real time goals.  This time, my twelfth Ironman overall, no doubt about being able to do it, and some pretty lofty goals, not really time-wise (although those were there), more place-wise within the age group.

Finally, it was time to get up and start moving over towards the pier.  I saw Stuart at the head of the potty line, a cup of coffee in hand.  I handed in my pre-swim bag, with the things I was wearing before the race, and would put on afterwards.  And, now, I was on the pier.

Which was an absolute zoo.  Athletes, volunteers, media, spectators, medical.  I'm sure a few small animals were there, as well.  A pro or two mixed in with us lowly age groupers.  All packed in together and waiting, trying, to get to the water.  You could see the concern on the faces of the pros.  Would they get to the head of the pack where they belonged in time?  Nobody was moving.  I did manage to get with Stuart and we chatted a bit while waiting.  Then things got going and it was a fairly orderly progression into the water.  Once in it wasn't too bad.  I was able to do a little easy swimming to warm up.  Listening, but not really hearing, the noise over the speakers.  Then, all of a sudden, the cannon starting the race goes off.  I started my watch and then headed south.

At the team breakfast with my coach earlier in the week, Don mentioned that towards the middle might be the better place to start the swim.  He said that a great deal of people try to start, either, far outside (the weaker swimmers) or far inside (the stronger swimmers), leaving the middle kind of empty.  I'm normally a far outside starter, but this time I ended up, not really with any planning on my part, towards the middle.  And it was kind of empty.  I didn't have any difficulty getting into a smooth, for me anyway, rhythm.  I didn't seem to run into the normal congestion.  Of course, there's also a bit more room at the start than, say, Lake Placid.  I did, however, have goggle issues.

They fogged up right at the beginning.  I had to keep stopping to clear them out.  It's something that's happened to me in the past, but I've been able to clear them out once and they stay cleared out.  This time they'd clear up and then would slowly start to fog up again.  After about five minutes they'd be so foggy that I couldn't see anything.  I'd stop.  Pull them away from my face.  Get some water in them.  Drain them.  And start swimming again.  I'm kind of bummed.  The fogging issue didn't arise during Friday's pre-race swim.  I guess it's time to buy a new pair of goggles.  (And, yes, before anybody comments, I do know to spit in them before putting them on.)

It was also frustrating.  Here I was, swimming in the clear, cool waters of the Pacific and I couldn't really enjoy it.  (Well, next time I know.  Get a brand new pair of goggles and use them for the first time on race day.)  And it made the swim seem both short and long, if that makes any sense.  Long in that I never really knew where I was and how far I had to go, first to the boats at the turnaround, then to the boat ramp at the finish.  But short in that I was kind of swimming five minutes to five minutes when I would have to stop and clear out the goggles and make sure I was headed in the proper general direction.

Finally, I made it ashore and across the timing mat.  Swim time was 1:26:08.  Fairly disappointing.  I was hoping to be close to 1:15:xx, but I'd have taken anything under one hour and twenty minutes.  Well, it wasn't the end of the day.  Let's go see what kind of bike we can do.

Swim to bike transition was fairly painless.  A decent hike from the pool to the gear bags, but not as bad as Lake Placid where we ran hither and yon through the streets of town.  Nor Wisconsin where we ran up the parking garage helix.  A steady transition, nothing really to write about, so I won't.

Since I was 1,407th out of the water (out of 1,648 starters) there were fewer than 250 bikes from which to choose.  And there was Rita.  All by her lonesome.  While I was putting on my helmet a volunteer came over and pulled the bike out of the slot.  A short jog in bike shoes to the start of the 112 mile bike ride.  Hop on.  Clip in.  And away we go.

The bike was long.  As most Ironman bike rides are.  About a ten mile stretch through town, including a steep descent down Palani Road complete with a wall of hay bales to keep us from running into the spectators, about eight miles of out and back along Kuakini Highway, then up Palani Road to the Queen K.  A little bit of rough road and a steady stream of riders going in both directions, but the turnaround was smooth and it wasn't a bad way to get in the first ten or so miles of the ride.  Kind of made me pay attention and keep things under control rather than get right into the "put my head down and hammer" mode I've been known to get into.

Once on the Queen K it's pretty much that put your head down and pedal mode until the turnoff for Hawi.  Had a little adventure at the first aid station on the Queen K.  Some Swiss Miss took a water bottle.  Drank some.  Filled up her JetStream.  Then dropped the bottle.  Didn't toss it to the side, but dropped it.  I was kind of close to her and when the bottle rolled into my path I hit it with my rear wheel.  I thought I was going down, but managed ok.  I sprinted up to her and politely suggested that she toss her bottles off the road when she's done with them.  She said "Vaht?  Yah.  Ok."

And that was pretty much the excitement for the llllooonnnngggg stretch of road through the lava fields on the way to the turn for Hawi.  For me, it was a case of making sure I stayed fueled, hydrated and as cool as possible.  I knew from my training rides on the Queen K that, since I couldn't feel a head wind, it was a tail wind and it would be a head wind on the way back, so I tried to enjoy it while I could.  Making the turn off the Queen K put us into a little bit of cross wind and then some steady climbing.  The goal for me was to keep the heart rate under control.  Steady to the top and then have fun with the downhills.

I saw the leading men coming back from Hawi just as I caught Lesley.  This was mile 47 for us, about 72 for them (some guy appeared to have a huge lead over a pack).  I suggested to Lesley that we drop the hammer and reel them in.  She told me to go on ahead.  Things must have been going fine for her since she didn't use any expletives in her reply.

Made it up to Hawi, across the timing mat, not hearing any beeps from my timing chip, looking down, it's still there, hope I get credit for making it this far, then moving on to other thoughts.  Like, "still almost 55 miles to go" and "how bad is the wind going to be" and "I wonder what's for dinner".  Just kidding about that last one.  I felt pretty good about my calorie intake up to this point.  And my water intake, as well.  And, by pouring most of a water bottle on my head at each aid station, I was staying fairly cool.  I didn't think it was excessively hot, anyway, but I knew there was the possibility that it was so I continued to soak my head every chance I got.

Made the turn back onto the Queen K and into the . . . headwinds.  My recollection of distance traveled up to this point is kind of foggy, but, I'm guessing, we still had almost forty miles to go to get done.  It was going to be a pokey stretch.  Having headwinds on the way out isn't too bad.  You're fresher, both mentally and physically, and better able to handle them.  Headwinds on the way back suck.  Big time.  Kind of like big hills at the end (think Lake Placid).  Adding to the general pain of fighting through the wind, is the annoyance factor of the constant noise.  It's difficult to hear the songs I'm singing to keep myself going.  (As bad as I sing, that might be a good thing.)  And then, on the Queen K, coming to an aid station that didn't have any water.  I had just finished what I had and tossed the bottle in preparation for getting some fresh stuff.  And not getting any was, potentially, problematic.  My first thought was relatively positive.  No worry, I can make it to the next aid station (they were spaced about seven miles apart) on what I have.  My second thought was that it was going to be a different situation if the next aid station didn't have any water, either.  Might as well go up and find out.  (Fortunately I didn't encounter another aid station without water.  I thought I heard afterwards that some later people were going multiple stops in a row without any.)

But, back to the issue with the winds.  There was a final intermediate timing mat on the Queen K about 25 miles from the finish.  Looking at the numbers afterwards, I had an average speed of 19.9 mph for the first 87 miles of the ride.  That last 25 miles was done at an average speed of 16.6 mph.  I had recognized by this point, that I wasn't going to have quite the day I wanted.  So, I backed off my overall goal and decided to concentrate on having a good run.  The thought of running a Boston Marathon qualifying time at the back end of an Ironman was appealing, so I made that my goal for the day.  I backed off a bit on the bike for the final stretch and started getting myself ready, mentally and physically, for the run.

About this time, near 91 miles into the ride, I caught up with Stuart.  He was wobbling a little bit and I could tell he was hurting.  We commiserated briefly about the winds and then I left him, agreeing to get a beer after it was all over.

And, then it was.  The bike part, anyway.  Riding the final stretch on the Queen K, down past the Aquatic Center, where I had started and ended all my pre-race rides, and to the finish line of the bike.  Total riding time was 5:53:43, an average speed of 18.9 mph.  Man, that was painful.

A couple of final bike comments before I get into transition:

Out on the Queen K it seemed like there were more marshals than spectators.  And quite a few slashes denoting cheatheads.  My bike time wasn't very good overall, but I managed to pass almost 400 people during the ride.  I didn't really have any issues with packs or drafters.  Although there were a few occasions when I had to pass a string of four or five riders, riding kind of at the legal distance limit.

And I kept forgetting that I was in the 45-49 age group.  I was getting excited passing the 40-44 guys and I had to remind myself that I wasn't one of them anymore.

Those spectators that were out on the Queen K were very loud and positive.  And lots would call me by name.  Granted I was moving slowly on the way back, but they must have had binoculars to see the number to look it up in the program to call out my name.  It's a big boost when a group of about ten people yell "go Steve" as I'm trying to keep the negative thoughts at bay.

And, now, back to your regularly scheduled bike to run transition.  Kind of like the first transition, nice and steady, no real rushing about.  I sat down and dumped the run stuff out of my bag.  A volunteer offered to put a cold towel on the back of my neck.  I told the guy not to bother, but he put it there anyway.  Good thing.  Why wouldn't I want it?  It felt great.  Was there a big tub of cold water I could lay in for a little while?  Sadly, no, and soon it was time to go for a run.  I stopped at the trough that doubled as the men's room on the way out of the tent.

(Looking back at my notes, it doesn't appear that I was really thinking about Boston at the start of the run, or even during the bike.  I wrote, "I forget exactly where I was when I started doing actual calculations for getting my Boston time.  The clock was right around 7:30 when I started the run.  I wasn't feeling very good so I didn't think about it then.")

The first five miles weren't too bad.  I was at about 7:50 per mile pace and not feeling horrible.  Then I had some potty issues, and I ended up "resting" in one for a few minutes.  Felt better after that, but still not great.  I was walking through aid stations, drinking Coke, Gatorade and water.  (Normally I don't drink Gatorade at all and Coke only towards the end if at all.  I use my gel flask for calories and water for hydration.  This time, I had a real craving for something sweet and so I started with Gatorade and Coke pretty much right from the beginning.)  I saw Renate on Alii near the corner of Hualalai.  She took a couple of pictures then scurried over to Hualalai.  She was definitely moving more quickly than I.  I told her, and the rest of the crew, that Stuart was only a few minutes behind me and was going to catch me soon.  I did manage to run while I was in their presence, and I continued running when I made the turn onto Kuakini.  Steady running.  I even ran up the hill on Palani between Kuakini and the Queen K.  Having tons of cheering spectators here helped, but I think the sugar was really starting to kick in.

And then I was out of town, on the Queen K at about the eleven mile mark.  And I found that I was running steadily and comfortably.  Scary comfortably.  I timed a mile and did it in seven minutes.  I walked the aid station drinking Coke and Gatorade and water.  I timed another mile and did another seven minutes.  And I walked another aid station.  That brought me to the big clock at the half marathon point, which was at 9:18.  I thought then, that if I break eleven hours, I'll get my Boston time.  I need a 1:42 half marathon.  I couldn't do the calculations to come up with a minutes per mile pace, so I just decided to run as best I could.  It was probably around the 16 mile mark, which is before entering the Natural Energy Lab, that I figured I needed to run eight minute miles.  I had still been walking through most aid stations, but I told myself I couldn't do that if I wanted a 3:30 marathon.  I decided I'd run through two aid stations drinking just water, then walk the third taking in Gatorade and Coke.  And I'd try and repeat that pattern for the remainder of the run.

And it worked.  I had cramping issues heading up the last hill on the Queen K before turning onto Palani Road, but I was able to shuffle through them, not having to resort to a walk.  I was praying mightily that my legs would work properly as I ran down the steep hill that was Palani Road, hoping to avoid face-planting in front of all the spectators.   (I'm a good downhill runner and I was moving pretty quickly and semi-easily down the hill, passing quite a few people in what, for the bike, had been the no-passing zone.)  There was a big clock with a sign that said one mile to go.  The clock said 10:47 and change.  I figured I had a 12 minute mile in me.  It wasn't quite time to jockey for position for the finishing photo.  Pass a bunch of people on Kuakini Highway.  Pass a few more on Hualalai Road.  Turn onto Alii Drive.  See the mile marker for 26 miles.  Pass a couple more people.  Ok, let's see where we are.  Entering the barriered off section.  One chick (my words) in front of me.  No problem.  Let her finish in front of me.  She slows down.  Screw this.  I pass her with about a hundred yards, I'm guessing, to go and finish strongly.  10:54 flat.  I ran a sub-7:00 last mile.  Alii Drive finish line adrenaline, what a great drug.

And, now, for some obligatory run notes:

Early on in the run, maybe three miles in, heading out on Alii Drive towards the Keauhou turnaround, I passed a group of spectators and one of the guys told me to go catch that chick (his words) in front of me.  I asked what I was supposed to do with her when I caught her. 

Maybe a few hundred yards onto the Queen K and I see a bunch of guys and gals sitting on couches on the Queen K.  Couches on both sides of the street.  Fortunately I was moving well at this point and I didn't have the urge to rest a while.  But I'm sure it was tempting for others.

I was heading out of the Natural Energy Lab.  Some guy had his shoes in his hands and was walking, very gingerly, in his socks.  About nine miles to go for him.  Hope he had extra thick socks.

I was never really sure where Stuart was or how he was doing.  Once I got on the Queen K and started running well, I didn't think he'd catch me.  I kind of expected to see him somewhere in the Natural Energy Lab section.  I was pretty surprised when I saw him on the Queen K and he was close to five miles behind me.

Towards the end of the run.  The aid station just after mile 22.  I'm feeling cautiously optimistic about breaking eleven hours.  The volunteers are asking me if I want water or Coke or Gatorade.  I ask if they have a taxi.  No, they laugh, but they do have beer.  There are two kinds of joking during a race.  The kind when things are going bad.  And the kind when things are going well.  Nobody really seems to joke as much when they're in that middle place, trying to figure out how the day is going.  I was in the happy place.  I've been in the sad place.  I like the happy place much better.

Passed Klaus (from IM Brazil - still smiling, always smiling) at the Queen K - Palani Road corner.  He wasn't having a very good day.  But he was smiling and cheering for me.  Later I learned that he had crashed about 15 miles in on the bike.

Saw Vincent and Jody right about this same time.  Clapping and yelling and carrying on.  (Good luck to Jody for next year.  I'm hoping to be back so Renate can help keep Vincent semi-relaxed.)

I ended up with a 3:24:13 marathon, qualifying for Boston by a little over five minutes.  The first 15 miles of the run were done at about 8:08 pace.  The last 11.2 miles were done at about 7:21 pace.  I did 1:48:xx for the first half and 1:36:xx for the second half.  I'm wondering if maybe I should use Coke and Gatorade the entire race.  I passed about 350 people on the run and I finished 669th overall and 38th in the Male 45 to 49 age group.  Not really where I wanted to be, but that's ok.

And, now, back to live action, so to speak.  After crossing the finish line, I was lei'd and grabbed by two catchers.  I was joking with them.  Very much in the happy place.  They got me more Coke and got my bag of dry clothes.  Renate made it over and the catchers went to catch more people.  Wandered what seemed like forever.  Found the food spot and grabbed a couple cups of soup.  Got my medal and T-shirt.  Stood in line to get a picture taken with Renate.  Got a little replica of the first ever Ironman trophy.  (Now sitting on the mantel over my fireplace.)  More soup and Coke.  A visit to the same potty I sat in about 13 hours prior.  Once again, too dark to read the graffiti.  Then pick up the gear bags and the bike.  Walk over to the parking lot and put everything into the car.

We're sitting on Kuakini Highway waiting for Lesley to go by.  I'm feeling pretty hungry.  I send Renate to the corner store to get potato chips and Coke.  While she's gone Patti Shott goes by.  "Way to go, Patti, great job."  Big smile.  A few minutes later, Lesley goes by.  "Way to go, Lesley, great job."  Kind of a "great it's almost over smile".  (Lesley won her age group.  Again.  I'm not entirely sure on the statistics, but I think this was her 16th Hawaii race and her 11th age group win.  Congrats, Lesley.  Maybe next year I'll get a dresser in the room when I stay over.)  I feel bad that Renate wasn't there to take pictures.  She returns and the big bag of chips lasts about thirty seconds.  But I'm feeling better.

Eventually we catch up with Rich and Lesley, and Jody and Vincent, and Mike Malloy is there, as well.  We agree to try Pancho and Lefty's for dinner.  And, while Rich and Lesley are chasing down her stuff, the rest of us head over.  I make them walk up the stairs and see if there's a table available before I have to walk up and then right back down.  There's a table.  I shuffle up the steps.  Going up is not too bad.  Nice table right at the front.  We cheer the people still finishing.  I'm drinking beer.  I order a hamburger, but end up just eating the fries.  And drinking beer.  Still, very much, in that happy place.

I hope that everybody who wants the opportunity to do Ironman Hawaii, gets the opportunity.