Artie Party's Ironman Kona Adventure

Pre-Race:

This is just a story about a goal fulfilled. It isn't a race report that describes a struggle, or a heroic effort, or about someone who overcame challenges on the road to greatness. Its just a story about a happy guy, who was happy to be there, and happy to make it to the white line. Being at the race itself was a reward. It represented a life-long goal -- to toe the line with the best of them at the "big show" and to know what it was like to be out there.

I got there with the help of my coach, KP, who guided me carefully through a season of ups and downs. The season came together at Ironman Canada where I placed well enough in my age group to snag a rolldown slot to Kona, and a trip to pursue my lifelong dream. In the time between Ironman Canada and Ironman Kona (seven weeks), I was on cloud nine, eager to get my opportunity to race with the big boys, but still fatigued from a strong effort in Penticton. KP crafted a transitional training program to slowly get me back on track so I wouldn't lose fitness. I knew I wouldn't set a PR at Kona, but I really didn't care too much what my finishing time would be -- I just wanted to go the distance with a time that was respectable, have fun, and cross the line with a smile on my face.

Race week:

They told me it was going to be hot and windy in Kona, and they weren't exaggerating. When I stepped off the plane at the airport, I felt as if a hot, humid blanket was wrapped around me. Holy crap, I was wondering how on earth that anyone, much less myself, would be able to race an Ironman in these hellish conditions. When I arrived into town at my condo, I was sweating bullets along with my Ironmates Patty and her sister Stacey. This was going to be a long week, and I had to conserve my energy if I was going to survive the experience.

I decided to take in some cool early swims at the race start at Dig Me Beach for some light exercise in the days before the race. I found that nearly everyone else doing the race was thinking the same thing. I swear, I've never seen so many seriously fit people in my life. You just look at their profiles and the word "fast" comes to mind, and it was somewhat intimidating.

The nice thing about the swims is that the course is dotted with buoys marking the swim course, and there are even guys on kayaks making sure everything is OK. There were some storms on the island during the week of the race, and some of swims were in very choppy conditions.

The atmosphere in the days before the race was very colorful, with some very fast people doing last minute training rides on the Queen K all during the day. I was able to watch a very comical underwear run on Alii drive the day before the race -- and I needed an icebreaker like that. I was pretty nervous in the day before the race, but convinced myself that it would all be OK, that I would take whatever the day dishes out.

Race Morning:

So I wake up at 4 AM, and its raining outside. The thought sank into my head that it might be like this all day, and I wasn't too excited by that. I consumed my usual pre-race breakfast, gather my stuff, and head into town. It is raining so hard that the body marking was moved inside to a conference room inside the King Kam hotel. It was stifling hot and stuffy inside the hotel -- too many warm bodies in the same room, and the long lines were moving incredibly slowly -- and I drank water constantly to stay hydrated. After I was marked, I scurried over to the lobby to the mens room and encountered another long line. To break the ice, I cracked a pretty weak joke -- "is this the line for world series tickets??" Nobody was amused, as they had already put on their game faces long before I got there. Eventually the rain petered out, but the skies were still overcast and very threatening. I make my way outside to get my stuff ready and start stretching. I hit the portapotties about three times before the race, so I thought I'd be pretty whizzed out by the time I made it to the line.

Swim:

With about 10 minutes to spare (or so I thought), I make my way down to the beach, get in the water for a brief warm up, and make my way to the starting line (which is about 200 yards away from the beach). As soon as I get a good head of steam going, I noticed that my ankle chip strap is starting to come loose. Damn, damn, damn. So, I swim back to the beach and get out of the water to tighten the strap. After I secure it tightly, I look at my watch again and notice that I have about 5 minutes to go -- no problem, I thought, surely this would be enough time to swim out to the starting line. Then, all of a sudden, I hear a big BOOM, as the cannon goes off to start the race -- they started the friggin race early!!!! CRAP!!! So, here I am standing on the beach and everyone has started the race and left Artie behind. Sheesh! So much for the glorious start to my Ironman experience.

OK, so I put my head down and make my way down the course. I find that the stormy conditions have caused the water to be very choppy and wavy. It was pretty hard to see where I was swimming towards -- a rainbow sailboat -- so I just follow the green capped swimmers in front of me. Over time, I settle into a nice rhythm and start to move up past the lotto babies. Midway in the swim, I found myself having to pee real bad. But I really didn't want to stop, since I got a late start and didn't want to get further behind, so I try to pee and swim at the same time. Swimming and peeing is one of the most impossible things to do simultaneously, you almost have to completely stop dead in the water in order to let it fly. But fly it does, and I continue past the rainbow sailboat, and shortly thereafter, the yellow submarine. However, once I made the turn to go back to shore, things got surreal. By this time, the swells had become so big that I couldn't see where I was going. And to add to this, the field was really strung out, so I couldn't see other swimmers also, let alone kayakers. I couldn't see anything or anyone else out there. It was as if the Ironman had just disappeared, like someone just picked it up and went home with it. It was enough to make a grown man cry. I stopped several times during this time to get my bearings straight. This caused some consternation within me, and I had to pee real bad again. Once again, I slowed down to almost a dead stop to let it rip. After awhile, I finally make it back to the pier and the swim exit, grateful that I'd made it home at all.

T1:

My T1 was pretty uneventful, except the humidity of the morning made it pretty darned hard to get my jersey over my body. Lets just say things got pretty sticky. As I make my way out of the tent, I put on my sunglasses, and the insides get fogged up right away. Once they hand me my bike and I get rolling, the mist of the morning puts a layer of wet on the outside of my sunglasses. Terrific! I try to ride my way around the crowds who are cheering me on, and I can't see a damn thing!!!

Bike:

There is still a pretty good drizzle in town during the first few miles, but I manage to get a good head of steam and get my legs going. And there on one of the streets in town are my Ironmates Patty and Stacey, yelling and waving "ARTIEPARTY" signs they made the day before. What a treat!

Once on the Queen K, I settle into a good rhythm and prepare for the long journey ahead through the lava fields, eating when appropriate and hydrating on schedule. Once we get out a little past the airport, the skies clear up and the sun comes out. Right then and there, it got real hot and stayed as hot as a steam room for the rest of the ride. So I drink more and more. At every aid station, I get two bottles and also pour water on me to stay as cool as I could. At around mile 30, I realize that I have to pee yet again. Since I haven't yet mastered the fine art of whizzing on the bike, I had to stop at an aid station to jump in the portapotty along side the road. I felt instantly better, like a new man, and continued on the journey. At around mile 50, I started to see the top pros coming in the other direction, and they looked incredibly fast, like bionic men and women on their flying machines. What a sight.

I was warned about the winds on the Queen K, how they could be so strong that they knock you off your bike at 5 MPH. But so far, they weren't too fierce on the way out as I had expected. Instead, I managed to hit the turnaround at Hawi in reasonably good shape. I was able to catch the tailwind on the return trip home and just about spun out. Once I hit the 65 mile mark, the dreaded wind that I had heard about was now in my face. I shifted into my small chain ring and tried to survive as best I could, but not go so hard that I blow up. The next 40 miles are all in the small cookie, and I feel like I'm just crawling. I started to suffer. I have been drinking so much that I have to stop and pee again -- twice!! The second time I had to pee, the portapotty was placed in the hillside along the road, and was quite a climb though the lava fields in my cleats. Sheesh! The head winds and the potty stops have slowed down my pace -- but I tell myself that its OK, I just need to survive this part and make it into T2 good shape. After I reach the airport, I know there are only 10 miles to go, and the wind eases up enough that I get back into the big cookie. Once I pass the turnoff to the Energy Lab, I can see all the other top AGers and pros during the run leg on the Queen K. Some of the pros look very smooth as they run back into town, but others are walking. I realized how really tough this course was, these guys who were the best in the sport looked like they were destroyed. I made a mental note of that as I eased back into town. I wound my way into the bike finish, again grateful to have survived. They announce my name as I cross the bike finish line, and at the same time announce the overall winner, Tim DeBoom, who just finished the run. Simply incredible!

T2:

Again, nothing too eventful here. I'm into my running gear pretty smoothly, hit the portapotty once more, don my cap, and away I go....

Run:

Here's where the race came alive for me. My legs felt incredibly great coming out of T2, and I was running down the line with the biggest smile on my face. I'M DOING THE FRIGGIN IRONMAN!!! I continue at a really nice clip and make my way into town. I pass my Ironmates once more, and they're still waving their "ARTIEPARTY" signs. WOOWOOWOO!!! I continue down hot corner and there's KP and Gordo, and I give KP a side-armed high-five. As I continue down Alii drive, I try to stay smooth and fluid. As I'm running along Alii towards the turnaround, there's Roger Martin, cheering me on, and waving signs himself. Mind you, I've never met Roger in my life, yet here he is running along side me, cheering me on. He says he is logged into the TriLounge (an online chat room for a group of Ironman friends -- thats how I know Roger), and wants to know if I have anything I want to report to the peeps. So, I tell him I'm doing OK, although the swim and bike were pretty darned hard. Soon a big burley official rides by and puts an end to our fraternizing, and I continue on my way.

The day is still hot, and I am downing water as best I can, pouring water and ice over myself along the way. But my legs feel great as I pass runners one by one. Eventually, I make my way back up to the Queen K. Here, my legs start to get a little heavier as the day wears on. However, I just remind myself, "I'M DOING THE FRIGGIN IRONMAN", and I feel the energy return to my legs and a smile back on my face. In the other direction, I pass Karen Smyers coming back into town on the Queen K, and I KNOW I'm at the Ironman.

Before I get to the turnoff to the dreaded Energy Lab, I get handed a glow stick, as the daylight is now starting to turn into dusk. At the turnoff, there's KP and Gordo again, and I give 'em a big wave and a smile to let them know I'm doing OK. Now, I've heard that the Energy Lab is one of the most unforgiving parts of the course, that the heat of the lava fields can just sap the life right out of you. However, I found the run around the Energy Lab to be very peaceful and serene as the sun was just starting to set. It was getting cooler, and it made the run much easier and more pleasant. It really is a pretty part of the Island, but I guess you have to run it at just the right time. Just before the turnaround, I see Tri-Baby (Tricia Richter), another triathlete friend, coming the other direction, and she looks like she is having a GREAT day. Good to know we are both having a good time out there.

The dusk now turns into night as I make my way back onto the Queen K and head into town. I catch Tri-Baby, tell he that she is looking SUPER, and we chat for a couple of minutes before I continue down the line. The only downside to running on the Queen K after dark is that you are running in the direction of oncoming traffic. The blinding lights of the cars, combined with some of the runners coming at you as well, made for a dangerous and most unpleasant part of the run.

Two miles out from the finish, I start to develop knee soreness under my kneecap. Here's where I had to slow way down to keep from exacerbating things. I told myself that all I needed to do was make it to that last quarter mile, and things would take care of themselves. I was able to stay focused and block out the discomfort as I made my way back into town. When I hit the mile 25 mark, I knew it was in the bag, so I picked up the pace. I was picking off runners one by one. In the last half mile, I started to go by a Finnish woman who was determined not to let me go past. She tried to stay ahead of me as we approached the turn to hot corner. We ran shoulder-to-shoulder, neither of us budging an inch as we started the turn to Alii drive. I had decided I had had enough, so I said to myself "F**K THIS S**T!!", and put the hammer down. I dropped her big time, and as I was dropping her, I passed another runner who said to me, "Hey, no passing this close to the finish!"

Right then and there with a quarter mile to go on Alii Drive, all the soreness and discomfort just left my body as if I had gone through an exorcism. MY LEGS FELT GREAT AND I WAS FRIGGIN FLYING!!! I had a smile that took up my entire face, and I knew the crowd could see it as they cheered me on. I could see the bright lights illuminating finish line coming closer and closer, and I was fighting back tears. THIS WAS IT!! I KNEW I WAS GOING TO FINISH THE FRIGGIN IRONMAN!!! It was the most incredible experience I have ever had, and I was actually doing a SPRINT to the finish -- how was this possible?? Closer and closer I came to the line, my heart was pounding, and the cheers just got louder and louder. Finally, I crossed the line with my arms in the air. I made a gesture like I was spiking a football in the end zone. I HAD DONE IT!!! I was still holding back tears as the lei was placed around my neck. Oh man, what a rush, what a moment. I wish I could bottle this moment and save it for all time. WOW!!!!

Post-race impressions:

They say that everyone who crosses the white line experiences it in a different way. Whatever the experience is, it is a powerful one. Crossing that line makes you feel that you are in a community of champions, connected with everyone who finished before you and everyone who finished after you. For me, crossing the line represented a goal that I had been chasing for as long as I can remember, and it was one of the most satisfying experiences I have ever felt.

My splits and finishing time were close to my expectations:

Swim: 1:33:39
T1: 4:03
Bike: 6:49:20
T2: 3:00
Run: 3:54:31
Overall: 12:24:36

It really didn't matter to me how good or bad the numbers look. It was hot and windy out there, and everyone suffered. In fact, it turned out that all the guys in my age group who qualified for Kona slots at Ironman Canada did just as well or worse than me.

It was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. Would I do it again? Let me get back to you on that...

In the meantime, there are other challenges and experiences that lie ahead. The road goes on forever, and the party never ends.