Impressions of the Big Island

As the impressions of the Big Island slip further into the recesses of my mind, I wanted to take a few minutes to reflect on the impact of the experiences that I had before they are lost.

We landed in Kailua-Kona early afternoon on Tuesday, October 6. As the doors of the plane were opened and we filed down the steps to the tarmac, the waves of heat hit me, radiating off the black lava rock. A frequent traveler to Hawaii, I find the Big Island to be vastly different from my "home" island of Kauai. Kauai, known as the "Garden Isle", is a lush green rainforest grown over infamous red dirt. It hosts Mt. Wai'ale'ale which is called the wettest spot on earth, receiving over 400 inches of rainfall each year. Kauai is calm, quiet, peaceful, beautiful. The Big Island, in contrast, is a harsh, dark lava field. The landscape is black rock reflecting the sun's bright, uninterrupted rays. The air is haunted by the ghosts of kings and queens (of the island's) past which command the respect of all athlete's who brave to step onto the legendary grounds. The wind threatens to steal the souls of those too proud to pay homage to Madame Pele.

Upon retrieving our rental car and making our way into Kona Village we passed multiple DOT signs along the roadside which announced ATHLETES IN TRAINING, forcing drivers to be alert to cyclists sharing the shoulder. Everyone we encountered along Ali'i Drive was toned, tan, and superfit. It is rare that I feel badly about myself, but it took until race day for me to feel like I fit in with the caliber of athletes that ran and biked around town. Lining up at the Gatorade swim start on Wednesday, I hadn't felt that fat in years. I was surrounded by women who were my age and height, who clearly weighed about 20-30 pounds less than me, which apparently made them 2 1/2 hours faster than me. I was reluctant to take off my clothes and reveal my imperfect body to the masses of cellulite-free swimmers surrounding me. Also on Wednesday, we took our bikes out onto the Queen K for an easy hour ride. We parked along the highway and began our ride. In 10 minutes, I was completely drained of energy and had to turn around and wait at the car. I was overheated, wind-whipped, and starving. I've occasionally bonked on a long ride, 4 or 5 hours into a long day. Never after only 10 minutes. It was the second of many slaps-in-the-face that I received that week.

The following morning I got out onto the highway at 6:30 am in an attempt to do a long ride. Armed with my Infinit and a 3 liter hydration pack, I biked 70 miles round trip. Unable to "go aero" due to the fierce wind, I struggled mile after mile to stay upright on my bicycle. I felt like the road was uphill both ways. The horizon was very deceiving making me believe I should be descending though I continued to struggle at a horrifically slow pace. Making it back to the hotel, I swapped shoes and entered the humid afternoon heat for a 30 minute transition run/ walk. The experiences of this long ride and run gave me my first appreciation for what would be required on Saturday at the Ironman World Championships. I began to think to myself, If Boston were in fact not run in Boston, but rather Death Valley... in August... would it still carry the same appeal? Kona is Kona because of the prestige behind the race. The stringent qualification process limits the field to the best of the best. And the fact that it is raced in some of the harshest conditions that could be supplied, adds to the strength demanded of the competitors. I came to the realization that, though I would very much be honored to qualify for Kona someday, I would dread the actual race. Armed with this knowledge I began to respect the island and the athletes who would worship on her sacred grounds.

Race day came and went. The athletes that I was there to support struggled through a long, hot, windy day. I've already reported on my perspective of the race, so I won't go into details again. Needless to say, I am beyond proud of my SkirtChaser for his perseverance. When you have expectations, and things don't go as planned, it can be hard to force yourself to continue. But we all know that quitters don't qualify and he gutted it out to the bitter end. Crossing that finish line was the only requirement of the day. The icing on the cake of a long arduous training season.

Now, warmed by the comforts of Kauai, I can look back on the week in Kona having learned several things about myself. First and most importantly, I feel that the pressure has been removed. Prior to spending Ironman week in Kona, I thought that I should push myself over the next 12-18 months and make an attempt to qualify for Kona. (Remember... this would require me taking roughly 2 hours off my previous best time, doable but would demand an enormous commitment.) Now, armed with the knowledge that I am not suited for this race, I feel that I can take a step back from Ironman as I had originally planned and pursue some other interests over the next couple of years. I look forward to racing some 70.3s, several marathons, and to beginning my training for a successful rim to rim to rim crossing of the Grand Canyon. When I do come back to Ironman, I can continue my quest to enjoy my training and racing experience, and not feel like I need to be in the top 3 at the race to be worthy of being called Ironman. Secondly, I learned that when race day gets tough in a couple of weeks, I can look back and know that I have suffered through worse. No matter how windy or hot it is on the IMAZ course, it will be nothing compared to the rigors of the Queen K Highway. And I will race stronger for it.

I love the islands and am blessed to be able to spend time here with my love. I look forward to coming back in the future to support him and cheer him on from the sidelines. The next time around, I will be prepared and know what to expect. I will be a better cheerleader, I will know how to encourage him. I will love and cherish the days on the hollowed ground of the Big Island.