Ironman World Championships: View from the sidelines

Inspiration comes in many forms.  Challenging oneself.  Overcoming fears.  Overcoming obstacles.  Exceeding limitations.  In my very ego-centric sport of triathlon, sometimes inspiration can be hard to come by.  It gets overshadowed by all the pushing, pulling, shoving, shouting, of athletes clawing for the spotlight, myself included.  Sometimes I can't help but think of the country song in which the chorus goes something like:  Wanna talk about me, wanna talk about I, wanna talk about number one oh my me my.  What I think, what I like, what I know, what I want, what I see.  But from the sea of self- centeredness this week came a few of the best inspirations.  So let me share a little of my week on the Big Island during the Ford Ironman World Championships...

It all began on Tuesday when, after a very long flight, we stepped off the plane and descended the stairs into the heat radiating off the pavement.  The humidity blasted us and we were immediately sweating.  We hailed a cab and headed straight for our rental unit on Ali'i drive.  We shared a meal and walked around soaking in the energy that was already as thick as the moisture in the tropical air.  Being on Pacific time, we fell asleep pretty early that night. 

On Wednesday morning, we headed to the pier for a swim at 7 am.  It was already a sea of who's who gathered around the swim start.  We chatted with a few friends and eventually jumped in the water to join the masses.  Later that day the Skirt Chaser got checked in, and marked with the orange wrist band that would identify him as one of the chosen ones during our stay.  We picked up the standup paddleboard which I had rented for the week, which was a whole other story... let's just say that after lugging the board for a mile back to the hotel, I had tendinitis in my arm that plagued me for 3 days, and I had to jump in the water and paddle back to the shack because I couldn't get the damn thing up the winding staircase at the condo.  They ended up just keeping the board at the shack, much to their chagrin, and I stopped by daily to take it for a cruise.  Lesson learned. 

The week flew by quickly.  On Thursday night we went to the Welcome Banquet at the host hotel.  Half way through the main program, it started pouring down rain and we bailed.  We were completely soaked by the time we got back to the hotel.  I was slightly less than thrilled about this.  On Friday, 4 of our friends joined us at the condo to be cheer squad/ support crew for my husband.  We had an early dinner and a few beers, followed by an early bed time. 

Race morning (and all week for that matter), the Skirt Chaser was completely calm.  This helped keep me stay calm as I tend to feed off his anxiety.  When he is trying to qualify for Kona, he becomes really reserved and quiet and I start to freak out; crying, nausea, full on panic mode.  In Kona, he's his usual laid back, lighthearted self.  When he's relaxed, I'm relaxed.  We dropped him off at the transition area and secured a good spot on the rock wall overlooking the pier for the swim start.  I stayed with him until just 15 minutes before the pro start and then kissed him goodbye and wished him luck.  I said a silent prayer for his safety first, and a good race second.  I wanted him to have the race he didn't get to have 2 years ago because of his crash. 

The cannon went off at 7 am and the mass of bodies in the water started churning.  If you've never seen an Ironman swim start, you really should.  It is chaos.  It is truly something to behold.  We watched in awe and amazement as 1900 athletes slowly made their way away from the pier and funneled toward the first buoy.  Shortly after their start, we saw the first of the professional athletes nearing the finish.  We watched the first 40 or so come out of the water and then decided to hit the bike course to be ready to watch my husband when he came by.  Just out the front door of our condo is the Kuakini Hwy where the first 12 miles or so are completed.  We found some shade and watched as hundreds of cyclists flew by.  He flew by the first time and pumped his fist in the air.  I breathed a sigh of relief that he was feeling good.  The swim didn't take too much out of him.  As he went by the second time, heading out the the Queen K where a majority of the miles are completed, he blew me a kiss.  Now, it was a waiting game. 

Some of the crew went for drinks, some of us went back to the hotel and watched the race unfold online.  We planned to be out on the run course to watch the first of the professional athletes come by.  We stationed ourselves right around mile one.  It was very exciting and a lot of fun to watch the early miles of the run.  We got to see who looked good, and who looked beat up after the bike ride.  Our favorite female athlete came off the bike somewhere around 24 minutes down, and nearly 16 minutes down on the girl who was considered the true leader.  (The actual lead girl eventually dropped out, which I think they had anticipated.  The second girl off the bike was second overall last year, and was considered the biggest threat).  This made for a very exciting race! 

We had a good time grading athletes on the "Fresh and Loose scale" (1. Fresh and loose/ 2. baby goose/ 3. drinking from well/ 4. giving it to yourself/ 5. fuck this shit).  We watched the Skirt Chaser come by at mile one, this time stopping for a real kiss.  We graded him as "fresh and loose" and I smacked him on the butt and told him to keep moving.  We moved our cheering station to mile 9 so we could see the early pros come into the finish line, as well as monitor everyone heading out to the Queen K for the final 17 miles.  We watched as the first male came by, led by the motorcycles, on his way to setting a new course record.  And just as the Skirt Chaser (looking pretty good, but maybe slipping to "baby goose") came up the hill, the first place woman (definitely giving it to herself) was rounding the corner heading to the finish.  It was so exciting and all very dramatic. 

After a quick dinner, we headed to the finish line and watched as one athlete after another ran into the finish chute looking fresher and peppier than they had all day.  Just past the 11 hour mark, my husband came down the road looking like he had left it all out on the course, definitely in stage 5, fuck this shit.  He barely lifted his hand to high five me.  As soon as he passed me, I sprinted around to the family area on the back side of the finish just in time to see him being hauled into the medical tent. 

Our friends JB & DMB, and J & JA followed me around to the medical tent where I was quickly slipping from relaxed to freaking out.  They immediately took over control of the situation from there.  JB took the claim ticket and went through transition collecting my husband's bike and gear bags.  Without a second thought, he walked everything through the crowds of spectators back to the hotel (not an easy feat).  DMB and JA kept me company and once the Skirt Chaser realized that they were not going to be administering an IV, he got up and left the medical tent.  Somehow he managed to get up and walk out of the tent, and then promptly collapsed onto the grass surrounding the post race area. 

JA documented with video and photo as DMB and I helped him try to drink some coke.  We took off his shoes and socks which is when we discovered that his right foot was severely bruised over his second, third and fourth metatarsal, and extremely swollen.  He said that his foot began hurting when he started the run, but he thought it would go away.  For 26.2 miles, he told himself that the pain would go away.  We had to call JB and J to come back to the finish line to help carry him to the hotel.  He had a hard time putting any pressure on his foot and was in agony.  After about 45 minutes, and several stops along the way, we got him into bed, french fries in hand. 

I was so grateful to have the help of our friends.  JB went above and beyond the call of duty making sure that the Skirt Chaser had everything he needed, even running out to get ice for his foot at 9 pm that night.  DMB supplied the french fries and chocolate shake to begin the recovery process.  If I had been alone it would have been a very long night.  As it was, my husband woke up at 10:30 pm and proclaimed that he was hungry, and he was going to go to the finish line to get food and watch the last hour.  After having been carried back to the condo, I told him that under no circumstances was he walking down to the finish line.  He had done enough damage to his foot during the marathon, it was stupid to keep walking on it.  I told him if he was going, he was going solo as I would have no part of it.  Reluctantly, he ate some leftover pizza and went back to bed.

To sum it up, I am extremely proud of my husband and his accomplishment.  It was inspiring to watch him lay it all on the line, and push through the pain to reach the finish line.  The first place woman ran from 24 minutes back to finish first, and she also gave everything she had on race day.  Every person we saw swim, bike and run was fulfilling a dream.  With the exception of a couple hundred racers, each person on the start line had dedicated hours upon hours first just to qualify for Kona, and then additional sacrifices were made to continue to train for Kona. 

At the awards banquet I watched as men and women from the age of 20 up to the age of 81 accepted their prize for finishing top 5 in their respective age groups. I couldn't help but notice that until the age of 65, all the women were faster than me. And the athletes look amazing! I hope I can continue this sport for another 35 years because it seems to do wonders for the aging process. And as the world champion gave her acceptance speech, I choked back tears. There is nothing more inspiring than watching someone be passionate about something that they love.

Ironman does not intimidate me.  After 7 Ironmans, I can do the distance in my sleep (and still fall in my 20 minute window).  But Kona intimidates me.  There is something different about this race.  I don't know if its the starkness of the island.  The black rock that just radiates the heat constantly.  Or if it's the subtle island myths that permiate the energy.  I never take home rocks or shells.  I try to respect the island heritage and gods.  If I ever am chosen to race in Kona I want to have the island on my side. 
 
We love Kona, and we love this race.  As we sit on the balcony appreciating the salty sea air we dread our flight home.  Yes, it will be nice to get back to our cats, clean laundry, and fully stocked kitchen.  We look forward to the next time that we get to come back here to challenge ourselves.  To give ourselves to Queen K.  To be part of the spirit of the Big Island. 

Aloha.