By Raymond Britt
‘How long have you been preparing for the race?’
It’s a question I heard from several curious strangers on our trip from Kona back to Chicago, two days after finishing the 2002 Ironman Triathlon World Championship. I hadn’t really acknowledged it until asked, but the answer was simple.
Every triathlete has their moment when they know they have to do the Hawaii Ironman. For me, it was the final minutes of NBC’s broadcast of the 1994 Ironman that did it. In the last few minutes of the show, after the winners had come in, with Thomas Newman’s ‘Little Women’ soundtrack tugging on emotions, I watched athlete after athlete cross the finish line in Kona in various forms of elation and/or exhaustion. Some jumped for joy, others collapsed. After 140.6 challenging swim/bike/run miles, they had finished the Ironman, and that was supremely special.
Those televised finishes gripped me in an unexplainable way; ask any triathlete, and they know what I mean. I just had to do it. Nearly eight years later, after qualifying at Ironman USA Lake Placid, I finally had my chance to join the finishers.
Pre-race
In the previous twelve months, I had gone into races to compete, to beat people, to place highly, to qualify. The strange thing in Kona was, there would be none of that. I was now surrounded by the best of the best. And most of them had been to Kona before. I knew that the race would be humbling.
But it didn’t matter. I was there, finally. Under drizzly, overcast skies, at 7am on Saturday October 19, the cannon went off, and all of a sudden, I was in the middle of a dream. I was in the middle of the Ironman Triathlon World Championship.
But the difference between a dream and this moment was simple: I still needed to swim 2.4 miles, bike 112 miles and run a marathon of 26.2 miles to realize the goal. There was work to do. Your don’t collect your reward until you finish.
Swim
Knowing I was among a field of great swimmers, I seeded myself a few yards behind the line. This swim was without a wetsuit, which I knew would cost me some time, and as usual, I did not plan to push hard on the swim. I had told friends to expect me out of the water in 1:20:00.
The ocean swells had been invading the swim course for the previous day, and had not abated for the race. Shortly after passing the pier, we were in the middle of it. I was getting tossed around continuously, and rarely saw the buoys. I just kept my head down, and followed people in front of me, assuming they knew where they were going. Generally they did.
By the ¾ mile point, my goggles were blurry, but I swore I saw whitecaps. I ignored the thought during the swim, but the photo confirms it: we were riding the breaks.
The surf was high, and rough. My family watched from our hotel, which was at the ¾ mile point, and only a couple hundred yards from the swim course. The rocks at the shore of the hotel were getting pounded. From the hotel my family watched big swells going right through us.
Despite the turbulence, I felt pretty comfortable in the water. Given the conditions, I was pleased to see 1:18:57 on the clock when I finished, a minute or so ahead of schedule.
Out of the water into Transition 1, run through the hoses to wash some salt water off, grab your bag, into the changing tent, get cycling clothes and shoes on, grab your bike, and go. And the crowds were huge exiting transition, and heading up Palani Road. Into the rain.
Bike
The 112 mile Kona bike course is legendary for it’s endless miles through inferno-like lava fields and occasionally furious winds. And they didn’t disappoint.
The first few miles weave in and around Kailua-Kona, before heading north on the Queen K highway through the lava fields. It rained for the first hour, but that kept conditions cool, and we had what seemed like a tailwind out of town. I passed through the first 30 miles in 20.4 mph, feeling great.
I had heard over and over about the winds on the climb to Hawi, and was repeatedly urged not to fight them too hard. The winds were there as expected, and the sun was out and hot, while I covered the next 30 miles to the apex of the bike course in Hawi, averaging 17.9 mph.
I had also heard that after dealing with headwinds for more than an hour, the tailwind after the turnaround would be short-lived, followed by shifting cross-winds off the volcano. Those cross winds make the screaming downhill a sometimes nerve-wracking experience.
The rain gave way to heat in the lava fields. I was making good time on the trip north to Route 270. I covered this third leg of 30 miles in 21.3 mph.
After all this, I reached mile 90 in just under 20mph pace. Thoughts about a possible 5:45 bike finish were quickly dashed as headwinds slowed me to 15mph for the final 22 miles. But for the first time, I began thinking about the run. My legs felt fine, and I chose not to fight the winds in these final miles, in order to have that energy for the marathon ahead.
I had told friends to expect a 6:15:00 bike ride, given conditions, but I wheeled in with a faster 6:01:54. Still, I wondered if I should have done better.
Run
After a quick shoe change in Transition 2, I headed out in the bright sun to run the marathon. The course departs transition generally south through town to an Alii Drive out and back. The 3 mile point passed our hotel, but I got there ahead of expectation and my family wasn’t there. That was fine, I was feeling poorly, a rare feeling for me in the marathon. Still, I made it to the 5.5 mile turn at an 8:03/mile pace, though I’m not really sure where that speed came from.
Returning north on Alii, the family was waiting as I passed 8 miles. I stopped to kiss and hug the kids, and told Wendy I’d be finishing earlier than the 6:45pm arrival I originally told her to expect. ‘Be at the finish area at 6:15, and I’ll probably finish by 6:30pm,’ I said. Then I took off.
As the course wound back up to the lava fields on the Queen K, I kept feeling stronger. Also, very overheated. It was getting excruciatingly hot. I ran with ice in my cap, and wet sponges in my shirt from mile to mile, but kept feeling faster. The downside of all the sweat and fluid is blisters form easily. Both feet were soon burning from more than the heat.
Turning into the legendary Energy Lab segment – miles 15 to 20 – I knew this was the place where races were made or broken. This is where my monthly solo marathon training runs come into play – when the mind must overcome physical aches and pains. I stuck to my plan, and kept passing people, while seeing others give in.
Out of the Energy Lab still feeling fine, there were three runners who kept playing cat and mouse with me. At different times, each would pass, then slow to walk, and I passed them back, eventually for good. It helped get through the final miles approaching Kailua-Kona. And it was fun to think to myself: I ran the Chicago Marathon in 3:05 six days ago, and I’m still passing these folks. I passed 270 runners, nearly 20% of the finishers, in the marathon.
6:17pm: Finish.
Kona veterans say the final stretch north on Alii Drive is magical and they are right. I was advised to soak it in and enjoy. I don’t usually react to crowds, preferring to stay focused until the end, but this was special. I broke form and was high-fiving outstretched hands. Next thing I knew, several of those hands were those of my family, who had arrived there at 6:15, as I suggested.
I glanced up at the clock, just a few yards ahead, and saw I was right on time. In the noise and the lights, I crossed the line at 6:17pm, for an 11:17:21 Ironman finish.
I’m very happy with this first finish at Ironman, but I’ll be faster next year when I return for the 2003 race.
‘How long have you been preparing for this race?’ the curious will again ask afterwards next year. I’ll reply: I never stop preparing.
