Aloha! A Kona Race Recap (without a super cool crossing-the-finish line photo, because...) (10/22/23)

Picture it: Mont Tremblant, Canada. August 2013.

I’m standing, dejected, in a parking lot near the finish line that I hadn’t crossed at Iron Man Mont Tremblant just the day before. 

2 years before, a marathon friend asked if I would train for an IronMan with her. Knowing nothing about triathlons, it sounded crazy, but I said yes. We trained hard, but on race day I had a self-created bike accident that resulted in 2 broken ribs, making the run impossible. I watched my friend finish that day, full of joy and accomplishment, and I knew I had to finish what I had started.

So, bright and early the next morning, I made my way (in pain, because broken ribs are no joke) to the long line for  on-location early registration for the 2014 race (back then races filled up almost immediately, and I didn’t want to take any chances of not getting in when it was open online to the general public).

As Dave and I were standing in the parking lot, a group of women ran excitedly to a woman getting out of  her car, yelling things like: “Oh my God - you did it!” “You are definitely getting a slot!” “So amazing!” “You are going to Kona!!!!” The woman was beaming with excitement.

Being new to IronMan, I had no idea what they were talking about. Did she win the race? Kona in Hawaii? What did Hawaii have to do with anything? All I knew was that I wanted to accomplish whatever that was, because it sounded pretty exciting.

I joined Team Z the year after my DNF and became fully immersed in triathlon, learning that Kona is the location of the IronMan World Championship every October. To win the chance to compete in Kona, athletes have to compete in another full IronMan in the year prior. Each IronMan is allotted a certain number of Kona slots (usually only enough for the people who finish the race in 1st or 2nd in their age group). The slots are presented in an awards ceremony the day after the race, called "the roll down." People in the top spots in each age group need to be present to claim their spot. When the announcer asks the 1st place finisher if they want the slot, they have to say yes or no then and there. If they aren’t there or say no, it rolls down to 2nd place, then 3rd and so on. It’s all very dramatic.

10 years, so many long rides with Team Z, a dedicated tri coach (Ken Mierke), 6 IronMans, 3 bikes (because I’m still not a very coordinated cyclist), a yearly tradition of watching Kona on tv, and a gazillion hours of training later, in Lake Placid this past July  it happened - I came in second in my age group and won a slot to Kona.

It was about 2 weeks after Placid that the reality of this Kona dream started to come into focus. Kona is a hard race. It’s very windy, it’s stupidly hot, and you are competing with the best. Usually, after I finish an IronMan, I get to relax and get my weekends back, but this time it was back out doing long rides and runs to build for an even bigger race in 2 short months. I definitely had brushes with burn out and a lot of negativity in those two months. Qualifying for Kona had been a dream for so long and this negative attitude was really unexpected - what was wrong with me? Still, when I really struggled I just thought about crossing the iconic  Kona finish line like all of the badass athletes I had watched on tv. I had visualized myself there so many times and now it was so very close. Listen, this is shallow, but I wanted a super cool Kona finish line pic more than anything - my arms up in triumph, like Mirinda Carfrae or Daniela Ryf. The thought of getting that pic carried me through a lot of whiny moments.

Now, race details...

Kona specific gear

I am cheap, it’s just who I am. I hate spending lots of money on gear (I know, right? A cheap person who hates buying gear and loves triathlons - it’s almost poetic.). That said, Kona was a once in a lifetime opportunity, so I splurged on some new items:

A swimskin - Kona is not a wetsuit legal race, as the water is always over 76 degrees. Rather than wearing just their tri suits, most competitors wear swim skins over their race clothes. They do not provide buoyancy but they do make you more streamlined and reduce drag. I wore mine for my regular Sunday pool workout and it took a solid 2 minutes off my hour workout. Excellent purchase

Racewheels - I had gotten my racewheels just in time for Placid, and I was really happy to have them there, but they are less hearty than regular wheels.  I definitely had a few slightly scary moments in that race when I bobbled in crosswinds (remember - I’ve been through 3 bikes, so balance isn't exactly my thing). By the time Kona rolled around, I had had more practice with them in the wind, which is good because wind is definitely a thing in Kona. That is also why being aerodynamic is important there. Excellent purchase.

Aero helmet - This was probably my biggest splurge, a new lighter aero helmet to fight the aforementioned Kona wind. I have no idea if it helped, but I felt cooler than I would have in my old helmet. Excellent purchase.

Tri top - I love my normal sleeveless race top, but the Kona sun is intense and I know myself well enough to know that I would not be responsible about reapplying sunblock to my back throughout the day, so I bought a new top with sleeves that covered my entire back and shoulders.  The only place I burned was the inside of my lower arms, so excellent purchase.

Accommodations

I was dreading finding accommodations so late in the game, but I think 2 months out was actually just in time to scoop up cancellations as there was actually quite a bit available and we got a great air bnb 2 blocks from the start. It had a parking spot (helpful as public parking in Kona is around $15 an hour…not exaggerating), a full kitchen, AC, and a washer/dryer. Being so close to the start of the race was huge, and Dave could see me go by 4 times just looking out our window.

I sent the bike via TriBike Transport. It was pricy and I had to drop my bike off at Transition Tri in Leesburg 3 weeks before the race for pick up, which was kind of a bummer. On the bright side, they got my bike (and a bag of gear) to the race safely and after the race I dropped it right back off with them and didn’t have to worry about it for our week of vacation after the race. It will be weeks until I can pick it up again, but I’m fine with not seeing it for a while on this side of the race 

Lead up to race day

The days before the race are always kind of a blur, but this one involved a major time change, so the blurriness was even worse. We got to Kona the Tuesday before the Saturday race, which  actually felt a little bit late compared to other competitors.

The ocean swim course is open for practice swims all week, which is awesome. It was especially important for me, as I discovered on the first day that I’m prone to seasickness when swimming in the ocean. A friend had given me anti-nausea meds that didn’t cause drowsiness (for her). On the second day I tried 2 of the pills before my swim. No nausea - yay! However, Dave and I planned a short excursion to the other side of the island that afternoon and I remember nothing. The day is gone. I slept so hard and when I was awake I was in a haze.  On day 3 (day before the race) I took half a pill. No nausea and no drowsiness. We have a winner! Thank goodness I had the chance to test various options, because being drowsy/foggy during an IronMan sounds like a bad idea, as does being nauseous.

I also did my pre-race race day bike tune up, which is always a comfort, as I worry constantly about mechanical issues during races. Quintana Roo had a tent at the expo and they do race tune ups  for free on all QR bikes,  which is amazing! 

Bike and transition bag drop off was Friday, and it was the coolest bike and transition bag drop I've ever experienced. As you walked down a red IronMan carpet with all of your stuff, volunteers cheered you on and reps from various bike and bike component companies (Trek, Zipp, Quintana Roo) made note of whether you were using their stuff.

Slightly less cool was the fact that we weren’t going to get the chance to visit our transition bags on race morning. Drop off was our last chance with our bags, so they had better have everything in them. As somebody who typically  revisits her bags at least 10 times on race morning, this was both incredibly stressful and a huge relief. (I may or may not have asked Deb to double check my bag to make sure I packed my running shorts when she went through  an hour later - thanks Deb!)

I normally skip the IM welcome banquet, but this was Kona, so we went. The set up was awesome, the food was not great (and there wasn’t enough of it), the first half of the program was very cool (inspiring luau feeling with dancers and music) but the second half became a big time IM advertisement, which was not inspiring (I mean, come on, if we are in Kona we are buying into the hype...no need to sell us on the whole thing now). A woman sitting a table over was walking down the aisle when another person's chair collapsed, smashing her foot. It was terrible. Be cautious of chairs in the days prior to your race.

Other than that, the days leading up to race day involved some short workouts on the famed Kona bike and run courses that I watched the greats race on every October, errands, beautiful sunsets, and trying to stay calm and enjoy Hawaii…while also questioning everything I had done/not done up to that point.

Race day

Transition (access to bikes only, as we couldn’t visit our transition bags - yes, I’m still bitter) closed at 6:25, so I set the alarm for 4:45 with the goal of being out the door at 5:30. They made us take quite a walk around the race hotel to get to the bikes, so I actually cut it closer than I would like on time. It didn’t help that my bike was at the tippy tippy end of the pier where transition is set up.

With the closure of transition came the waiting. So much waiting. We went off by age group and my age group (45-49) was the last to go, so we stood in a big line nervously fidgeting and listening to the other age groups start their days.

Swim 

Nausea aside, the 2 1/2 mile Kona swim course is so stinking cool. Sighting is pretty easy, with buoys very close together. Some of my pre-race swims were a bit rough (hence the nausea), but the Pacific was surprisingly calm for us on race day. The water was so clear and it was amazing to see pretty fish while swimming in an IronMan.

The start feels surreal, especially if you have watched Kona broadcasts and imagined yourself there. Immediately after the gun goes off for the age group before you, your  group enters the water down carpeted steps and swims out about 100 yards, where you tread water for the remaining 5 minutes. There is a team of paddle boarders paddling back and forth on their stomachs to hold you in position. When the 5 minutes is up, the announcer says, “Thank you paddle boarders!” and they stop paddling and tilt their boards up, and the cannon goes off. Then, your Kona experience begins.

Note: one exceptionally cool thing about being in the last group to go was that Lucy Charles Barclay (the first pro out of the water and the eventual winner) exited the water as we were entering and we could all cheer her on.

I thoroughly enjoyed the swim. Having figured out the nausea in the days before and knowing that it was the one part of the race that wouldn’t be impacted by heat, I just went for it. 

On the advice of Kona Chris (who knows the Kona course well), I started as far to the left of my age group as possible. I may have added a few extra yards, but I stayed nice and clear of any congestion. There was only one point in the 2 1/2 miles where I was stuck behind a line of swimmers and couldn’t get around.

Just like that, the swim was over and I exited the water and climbed back up those beautiful carpeted IronMan stairs with a smile, feeling strong (stronger than after the Placid swim - good sign) and ready to bike.

My finish line pic was going to rock!

Transition 1

Since most of the recent IMs I have done have been self-seeded (meaning they send you off 4 at a time and you line up in line based on how fast you think you will go), I am used to coming out of the water to a quietish tent. Not so this time. The changing tent was utter chaos, with people everywhere, but I found my little section of tent, dumped everything out and very ungracefully changed into my bike shorts and tri top. I was pretty happy to get out of there and on my bike.

Bike

Of the 112 miles of the bike course, all but 40 of them are on the Queen Kaahumanu Highway (the Queen K). It’s beautiful in its own way (there is a mountain in the distance, miles of black lava fields in sections, and ocean far off to the side), but it’s relentless and demanding and completely exposed to the sun and wind.

Queen K

The course goes:
10is miles wandering bopping around Kona proper, including going up and immediately down a large hill.
30ish miles on Queen K
20ish miles up, up, up to Hawi
U-turn
20ish miles down, down, down from Hawi
30ish miles on Queen K
Done

The bike went fast and was faster for me than normal, maybe too fast, as I would later discover in the run. I think a few things went into my taking it too hard. 

Again, because of self-seeding in the swim, I typically come out of T1 on the early side and spend the bike being passed by much stronger riders. This means that I typically just mind my own business and go my pace, letting the faster cyclists worry about drafting and the drafting rules. At this race, I started the swim in the last group, so I was biking with a much greater array of speeds, including people that I needed to pass. This meant a whole new world of potential drafting penalties and meant that I needed to get by (and out of the drafting zone of) other riders quickly. Passing actually pushed my speed more than I typically do on my own.

Note: On the ride out to Hawi, we saw the first pro coming the other direction (hauling a**), and there was excited chatter amongst the otherwise quiet cyclists - was that Lucy? Was it Daniella? I think it was Taylor!  Most of us wanted it to be Lucy (spoiler alert: it was!)

Also, I had trained most of the summer for the climbing in Placid, and, while Kona is brutal, its climbing has nothing on Placid. When there were climbs, I found myself passing strong cyclists who had been training for flatter courses.

Kona Chris had warned me about the last 20 miles on the bike. They are on Queen K, it’s hot as can be, the wind is against you, and you just want to be done. The hardest part: for the last 10 or so, you are biking next to people who are already running (many of whom look miserable)…it’s literally a sneak peek of the hell awaiting you in the very near future.

Just think of the finish line pic, Faith...that amazing finish line pic. 

T2

Not unlike T1 - hot, smelly and crowded. Another horribly ungraceful change into running shorts.  I was extremely grateful for both the Pepto and Advil I had packed, as well as for the volunteer who found a pair of scissors to help me open them (because I did not learn from Placid that Pepto is REALLY hard to get out of it's little pouch with sweaty fingers).

Run

The 26.2 Kona run is similar in structure to the bike.

7ish miles bopping around town
7ish miles out of town on the Queen K (yes..back on Queen K)
3is miles in the Energy Lab (in my experience, energy is taken, not produced)
7ish miles back into town on the Queen K
A little mile detour in the wrong direction, before turning back the right way and heading toward the...

FINISH LINE!

The run is usually when I come to life in an IronMan. This time was a little bit different. On a morning run 2 weeks before the race, I had some sudden and strange pain in my left big toe.  I don't mess around with that sort of thing, so I went to the podiatrist ASAP for an x-ray and was relieved to know that nothing was broken.  It's arthritis in the large toe joint of my big toe - not a huge surprise, as I have the same issue in my right big toe. The pain was pretty intense, though, so Coach Ken and I decided to rest the toe as much as possible.  With only two weeks to go before my dream race, the potential of doing harm was greater than what could be lost in training. 

So, what was normally the safest and happiest part of a race was now my biggest question mark.  How was the toe going to feel and how much of my run had I lost in 2 weeks. The answer:  the toe felt not great, but totally manageable.  Interestingly, it felt much better in my race shoes than in my normal shoes (turns out a carbon plate not only makes you go faster but is excellent support for an arthritic toe).  As for fitness, well...

The minute I started running, it felt harder than normal. It could have been the training lost due to the toe, it could have been that I overbiked, it could have been the heat, which was pretty intense around the time I started running - probably a combo of all of the above. Whatever it was, I was able to control it with long walks through the aid stations and positive thinking, until the Energy Lab. 

The Energy Lab is around mile 16. You have been on the Queen K for a good chunk of time and you take a left toward the ocean.  It's called the Energy Lab because it's an area run by the Natural Energy Laboratory of Hawaii Authority.  It sounds cool, right?  Like a video game?  In actuality, I think they just wanted to get us off of the Queen K for a little bit, so they whittled together 3 miles of nothingness with a couple of turnarounds.  

                                                       The Energy (sucking) Lab 

It was in that nothingness where my run started to come apart a little bit.  My normal IronMan pace was not working, that was clear, so I just needed to pull back a little bit, but for some reason I was struggling to do that.  I could either run my normal (unsustainable) pace or walk.  It was the strangest thing, and I'm still kind of trying to figure out what was going on, but I clearly still need to work on pacing (both faster and slower).

Getting out of the energy lab and running past the mile 19 mile marker was a relief, but the next 7 miles are a blur of running, feeling bad, and walking. Running, feeling bad, and walking.  Running, feeling bad, and walking.  I saw Dave 1 mile from the finish line and he looked concerned because I was leaning really far forward while walking (totally knew I was doing it, totally didn't know how to stop doing it).   

As I rounded the corner of Ali'i drive, I knew the finish line was ahead. I managed to run that last bit, past the crowd of people, past the huge Banyan tree, and there it was...the moment I had dreamed of! 

I can't explain what happened next.   

I can tell you what should have happened.

I should have slowed down to let the woman just in front of me go through the finish line.  I should have let her have her moment.  I should have then taken my sunglasses off (because it was dark at that point) run up the ramp with my arms high or jumped in the air or done a cartwheel and smiled the biggest smile of my life, all to the announcer saying, "Faith Korbel from Falls Church Virginia, you are IronMan!" 

That's what I dreamt I'd do. 

Instead, I seemed to have forgotten why I was even there. Not only did I run up the finish line ramp right behind the woman in front of me (I don't think I ruined her pictures, she looked very triumphant and cool - even with a crazy-looking, sunglasses-at-night lady weirdly lingering behind her).  Then, when she was safely down the ramp and I had my moment, the moment I had dreamt of for years....I looked around (through my still-on sunglasses) and awkwardly walked down the ramp. 

Not an ounce of triumph. 

Not a tear of joy.  Not a raised arm in sight. 

Definitely no cartwheels.

I also realized, much later, that I had blood on my shirt, so that's cool. 

I was met at the bottom of the finish line by two awesome volunteers who then walked me through the post race area.  That's where I ran into Mark Edmunds, who had super cool volunteer status and access to the back area where athletes get to eat and sit down for a quick sec.  There, I started to get my senses back, took off the damn sunglasses (oh! that's why it was so dark!), and took in what had just happened. Mark told me my time, which I hadn't even registered until that point, and took the best finisher photo I've ever had. It's not the badass finish line photo that I dreamed of, but it is the one that  best summarized my day: me, a hot mess, laying in a beach chair behind the Kona Marriott.  

best finisher (but not finish line) photo ever

(this one is ok too)

                                                           

Once out of the finisher area, I found Dave and got a big hug, which is always when I feel like myself again.  With my Kona dream realized in every way (except for the cool finish line pic), it was time for a week of vacation in Hawaii! 

Postlude

My experience in Kona was truly everything I could have dreamt of (except, of course, for the cool finish line pic).  The race, the island, the volunteers - all of it.  This was the first year that IronMan made Kona a women only world championship (the men had their championship in Nice, France in September - it will switch next year with the men in Kona and the women in Nice).  It was controversial, with naysayers claiming that IronMan was doing it to make more money (probably partly true) and that the competition wouldn't be as strong, as they were able to let more women in.  The numbers would seem to say otherwise, as the DNF rate for this race was only 3%, which is low for even a normal mens/womens world championship. Personally, I loved experiencing Kona in a field of woman supporting each other. The swim was much calmer (women just seem to be more aware of their surroundings when swimming), there was a ton of communication on the bike, and everything in the merch tent was sized for women.

Oh, and the pro race!  Lucy Charles Barclay won, holding the lead the entire race (which is rare, as things usually shift around).  I can tell you, from what I heard and saw, that she was the favorite amongst most of the  the triathletes that I encountered.  Don't get me wrong, I am a fan of most of the pros who were slated to win (and I'm sure my competitors are too), but this was a special year for Lucy to win.  Because of the change to an all female race, there were a lot of women competing who have been trying for years and years to get to Kona, many of us thinking it would never happen.  Lucy has come in second at Kona 4 times.(4 times!)  A lot of people counted her out for a win, but she kept coming back, never giving up her dream of winning it all. Most of us competing felt that drive deeply and were inspired by it. Women are badass.  

And just for fun, the actual finish line pic: 

sunglasses, really?  And why is there blood on my shirt (I actually still don't know)