October 2023: The first time I got the opportunity to compete at the Ironman World Championship in Kona, Hawaii, conditions were PERFECT (race report here). Despite the magic of being in that sacred place and in perfect conditions, I over-did the bike and struggled on the run. After crossing the finish line in a daze, I told at least 5 people (including a couple of complete strangers who definitely didn't care) that Kona had been a dream come true, but I never needed to race there again. It had met all expectations. Box checked. Dream reached.
Sept 2024: Last year (less than 12 months after the decisive statements above) I came in second place in my age group at IM Maryland and was offered a spot to Kona 2025. So, obviously when they called my name at the rolldown ceremony I turned down the spot, right?
I took the slot. I mean...it's Kona.
Goals
I struggled with goals for this race. Usually, my goal for an IronMan is a Kona slot, so what's the goal when the race *is* Kona? Improving my 2023 time made sense, but I knew that my previous time was under ideal Kona conditions, and the chances of getting a perfect weather day like that was unlikely (very unlikely, as it turns out). Eventually, I decided that I simply wanted to position myself to feel strong at the finish. I wanted to remember the finish line this time and feel all of the Kona feels. In 2023 I walked across the finish line with my sunglasses on (it was pretty dark outside), blood on my shirt (still don't know where that came from), and rudely crashing the amazing finish line picture of the woman in front of me. Not this time.
Injuries (because of course)
About 6 weeks prior to Kona, and about 2 days after I said out loud that the training block had been surprisingly injury free, I noticed a pain in my left heel after runs. I promptly made an appointment at Resurgent, where my PT told me I should get some imaging done, as it could be a stress fracture. Ugh! Imaging showed a stress reaction (trauma that could easily become a stress fracture if I kept pushing), so the plan was no running for 4 weeks and then re-assess. The race was totally possible, but I would miss some big training runs. For the next 4 weeks I hit the biking and elliptical hard and tried to be extra nice to the heel.
After 4 weeks....it was just ok, not as healed as we would have liked. I continued to baby it, but did go for a long run the weekend before the race (risky, but mentally I needed proof that I hadn't completely lost the ability to run). This run resulted in a very sore right calf, which actually kind of trumped the heel pain in the days leading up to the race. Fortunately, one of the race sponsors (AG1) sponsored a massage tent in Kona from 8am to noon on the days leading up to the race. Treatments were free to all race participants and you could go as many times as you wanted, so I took full advantage and the calf was much better on race day. I'll be getting slammed with emails from AG1 for the rest of my life, but I'm ok with that.
As anyone who talked with me for even a minute in the 6 weeks leading up to the race knows (because you definitely heard about it), the heel injury took up a lot of mental real estate and caused a lot of stress in those 6 weeks. I'm terrible at blocking out what-ifs and there were many. What if the heel got worse during the race? What if I had to cut the run short? What if I end up with a full stress fracture? The plan was simply to start running and see (which is not my preferred method).
Logistics
We arrived in Kona on Wednesday. From the minute you land in Kona airport, triathlon is everywhere. It's like any race city during race week, but on steroids. IronMan shirts everyone. Bike cases everywhere. People training everywhere.
I booked an Airbnb about 2 blocks from the start. There aren't a lot of affordable hotels right in Kona, but the Airbnb game in town is serious - lots of options, and not all over the top price-wise. Ours was a 1 bedroom condo that worked perfectly. The key was that it came with a reserved parking spot, as the public lots are insane. Bonus: condo had a resident parking lot cat who fell in love with Dave.
I shipped the bike through Bike Sherpa, which wound up being amazing. There were some hiccups at the start - I was told to leave my beautiful new bike and a gear bag of important items at a bike store in Falls Church before noon on a Monday five weeks ago. When I walked in with my bike and bag, the store owner had zero idea of who I was, what Bike Sherpa was, and why I was leaving my items (including a brand new bike) under his care. Putting my faith in the triathlon gods, I left the store without the bike and bag, and proceeded to track them both (via air tags) across the US. When both the bike and bag popped up in Kona three weeks ago, there was much rejoicing.
Thursday was a quick training swim on the course (so beautiful), getting checked in at registration, picking up my bike from Bike Sherpa (thanks again, tri gods) in athlete village and then dropping it off right around the corner at the Quintana Roo tent for a quick pre-race tune-up.
Friday was a shakeout bike ride on the Queen K and a lovely brunch with former Zer Suzanne, followed by bike, T1 bag, and T2 bag drop-off at the pier. At Kona they do not allow you to have contact with your T1 or T2 bags on race morning, so I obsessively unpacked and packed them in the hour before drop-off.
Reps from the bike companies have little tents at bike check-in and get a kick out of making a big deal when one of their bikes goes by. The Quintana Roo guy gave me a QR shirt and it made my day (we will not talk about how many t-shirts the price of that bike could buy).
As I stood with my bike in the transition area, trying to figure out the quickest path to my bike out of T1, a very sweet volunteer offered to take my picture (a lot of the volunteers at Kona are retirees who now spend their winters in Hawaii, and they are awesome). He told me about a couple he met earlier that day - the woman was competing and the man was her coach. When he asked her what time she thought she would finish the race, her husband said "Saturday." All to say, don't worry about the time, just enjoy the experience. He made me promise to enjoy every second of the last mile before the finish line, and I gave him my word.
Friday night was pasta in the condo and early to bed, although (per usual before a big race) I only slept about 2 hours.
Race morning
We were out the door at 5:30 am to head down to the race start. Transition closed at 6:15, which was super annoying because my wave (45-50...the last wave off....AGAIN) didn't go until 7:40 am, so there was a whole lot of waiting around and fretting. Since we didn't have access to our T1 and T2 bags, transition was really just getting my nutrition on the bike and checking the tires 10,000 times. People were nervous...the girl 3 bikes down from me was super stressing that the bike next to hers kept leaning into her bike. She asked 10,000 volunteers what they could do and kept practicing taking her bike out. It was a thing that I'm pretty sure wouldn't have been a thing if she weren't about to compete at Kona.
Out of transition, I found Dave and we waited, and waited, and waited. Find a life partner who is willing to stand in a port-a-potty line with you 4 times on a race morning. That's a keeper.
I was pretty in my head, but I did really take some time to focus on the faces of my competitors. Some women were focused on warm up exercises, some were meditating, some were scrolling their phones, and lots of them looked terrified. I love this sport, but the hours and miles of training get in your head in the hours before a big race, and it can sometimes feel like too much. The waiting is the worst.
Pro Race: We heard, while waiting, that Lucy Charles-Barclay (my fave) was the first out of the water - no surprise there. Go Lucy!
Swim
Kona is one of the few Iron Mans that starts in waves by age group, rather than self-seeded. They let you in the water 2 minutes after the age group in front of you starts. You then swim about a 20 yards to a row of paddle boarders paddling in a line to block you from going any further. The next 8 minutes feels like eternity as you all tread water until the buzzer sounds and your race (finally) begins. During those 8 minutes there is some jockeying for placement, as everyone wants to be in the front and closest to the buoy. I did notice as we were waiting, that the paddle boarders were having a hard time staying straight and the line of competitors kept inching closer to them without trying. We were getting tossed around more than I remembered from 2023.
As it turns out, the movement I noticed while treading water was a sign of things to come. From the minute we started swimming, the waves were playing a very really part of our swimming experience. My practice swim had been pretty calm, but to be safe I did take 1/2 a nausea pill prior to the race, as I know I'm not always great in ocean swims. The buoys at Kona are very close together, so staying on course was not a problem, but the further out we got, the more the waves were pushing us around. I'm loyal to the old school styrofoam goggles I grew up with, but this particular pair just kept fogging up to the point where I couldn't see. I had to stop 3 or 4 times to keep them clear, which was hard to do when being pummeled by waves.
At the turn-round (swimming around two boats) my stomach started to feel more and more woozy with every wave. It was relief when the dock was in sight and instead of buoys I was focusing on the exit.
After the race, I learned that some of the earlier age groups got to swim a bit of the race with dolphins....DOLPHINS! What the Lisa Frank? FinisherPix even got pics of the dolphins and included them in their bulk picture order.
This blog post would be so much better if I had gotten to swim with the dolphins.
Everything would be so much better if I had gotten to swim with the dolphins.
Amazing.
The Kona swimming course exit is the coolest swim exit in triathlon. It's a long stairway with plush black IronMan carpeting and volunteers to help you out. And thank goodness for those volunteers, because between the waves and the nausea, I'm not sure I would have been able to get out myself.
Time-wise, not a great swim for me, but I survived so that's a win (and only threw up in the water once). I probably would have swum faster if I'd gotten to swim with the dolphins.
T1
The T1 tent was a madhouse. I was incredibly grateful for the pharmacy (a plastic baggy with 2 Excedrin, 2 Peptos, 2 Aspirin, and a salt tablet) I keep in both transition bags and both special needs bags. You'd better believe I took both Peptos and prayed they would work ASAP, because biking while nauseous is not great.
Bike
The bike is usually my most worrisome part of the race, but this year that honor went to the run, so I was actually kind of looking forward to the bike. My new bike has tubeless wheels, so I was much less worried about having to deal with a flat on the course, and the heel doesn't seem to be impacted when biking.
As I noted in the 2023 Kona report, I am used to self seeding myself in the swimming line to be out of the water near the beginning of the race and then letting the fast bikers pass me. This means that I typically don't have to pay attention to drafting rules, because I just go my own speed and people go by. Because my age group goes last at this race, I actually do need to pass people, which means speeding up from time to time to get by within the allotted time. It's a very different sort of race for me and involves a little bit more thinking/strategizing. It also led to me over-biking in 2023.
The Kona course is 5ish miles hanging out in Kona proper, followed by 107ish mile out-and-back on the Queen Ka'ahumanu Highway (the Queen K). Much of the Queen K is surrounded by black lava fields and dry hills. If you look to your left going out/right coming back, you can see the beautiful sparkling ocean, but you literally have to remind yourself to look for the beauty. I told myself several times, "Faith, stop focusing on the ugly hot pavement in front of you and look at the gorgeousness going on right over there (but also, don't spend too much time looking at the gorgeousness, because you actually do need to look in front of you in order to not crash)."
As the day went on, the temps started to climb and the sun shone in all her glory. I kept my power and heart rate in check, trying to stay as consistent as possible (and conservative).
I'm a gel girl when it comes to nutrition, so I alternated a Gu or Maurten every 45 minutes and grabbed a new cold bottle of Mortal at every aid stations. The Mortal tasted a little better than normal, and I heard conspiracy theories after the race that it was actually another brand that they were saying was Mortal. Triathlon scandal!
The turnaround for this race is mile 60 and not 56, which I forgot in 2023 and then forgot again this year. The 5-10 miles before the turnaround are a consistent uphill, and this year we also faced a WICKED cross wind. This section was pretty defeating, as I was hot, tired from the uphill and from fighting to keep my bike upright, and the damn turnaround...just....wouldn't....come. While the nausea seemed to have cleared up, I had been fighting a headache the first 60 miles, and was really looking forward to the Excedrin in my special needs bag.
Finally, we reached the turnaround followed shortly by special needs. As I was biking up to the volunteer with my bag, he started asking questions about what I needed and I was having trouble thinking straight enough to answer. It was like deja vous, as I remember having the same sensation in 2023 at special needs. I was able to communicate enough for him to grab my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and my pharmacy bag. The nausea was much better, but I still took the two Peptos and I was very grateful for the Excedrin.
Back on route, we were able to enjoy the downhill version of what we had just spent 5-10 miles climbing. We still had the crosswind, however, which kept me (a forever nervous biker) from spending a whole lot of that time in aero - bummer.
The last 30 miles of the bike were uneventful. Even with the crosswinds, the downhills had brought me back to life a little bit, and I made a conscious effort to drink more and add an extra gel into the mix, so I would have more energy for the run. The heat and humidity were intense, but we did not have the direct wind that you often get on the last stretch of the Queen K, which was a blessing.
Once past the airport, we started to see the runners out on the course, which is a nice distraction, but also a reminder that the race is nowhere close to over.
Back in Kona, the crowds were amazing as always.
Time-wise an ok bike for me, especially with the heat and cross winds. Knowing how deceptive the course can be I was conservative, and I think that worked well for my overall race.
Pro Race: As I ran my bike back to its spot, I asked one of the volunteers which pro had won the race. She responded with a name that was definitely not Lucy, Taylor, or any of the other names I expected to hear. Who in the world?
T2
T2 was uneventful. I had some KT Tape in my bag with the hopes of taping up my heel and calf, but, as it turns out, using KT Tape when you are in a hurry and VERY sweaty is not a sure thing. A volunteer tried to help me, but it was a no-go. There was KT Tape stuck to her, stuck to itself, but none was stuck to either my heel or calf. It was a tape mess. Sorry heel - you are on your own.
I also took another Pepto and another Excedrin. At this point both issues were much better, but you never know.
Run
I exited the changing tent to a glaring sun and all of the what-ifs of the past 6 weeks. I somehow missed the volunteers stationed outside of transition with sunblock, which is why my skin is peeling as I write this report. Oops!
The Kona run course is 4 distinct sections: a 7 mile out and back in town, 6 1/2 miles on the Queen K, 6 miles in the Energy Lab, 6 1/2 miles back to Kona on the Queen K.
The minute I started running, I knew I had more in the tank than I had in 2023. Being conservative on the bike had been a good move. I thoroughly enjoyed the first 7 mile chunk, interacting with people cheering and constantly checking in with myself regarding pace. Per usual, I walked through every aid station taking a cup of Mortal, a cup of water, and a cup of ice. I also grabbed a Maurten gel every 30 minutes, which I know I didn't do last time. At the end of the in-town section is a short but steep hill to get to the Queen K. Just before that hill, I felt a little pang in my heel. Uh oh. Out of caution, I walked the entire hill, where I saw Dave. I told him that I might just walk the rest of the marathon, so he should keep an eye on the tracker.
At that point, I decided that my goal truly was simply to finish the race - running, walking or crawling. I stopped looking at my watch. For the rest of the race I didn't check my time, my pace or my distance. It was kind of wonderful.
At the top of the hill, there was a cheer block of very rowdy Germans, who had already put in a solid day of drinking. Their cheering inspired me to try running again (thanks Germans!) and, while the pain was still there, I found that it didn't really make much difference whether I walked or ran. So, let's just try running until we absolutely can't anymore? I feel like that's pretty reasonable thinking for mile 8 of an Iron Man marathon.
The 6 1/2 mile stretch on Queen K was fine. I was able to continue running with the pain staying consistent but not increasing.
The Energy Lab...oh the Energy Lab. I feel like the Energy Lab is where the wheels started coming off for me in 2023, so I had a lot of concerns when we turned off the Queen K. I can say, however, that this time around I found the Energy Lab to be a really lovely little stretch. Tedious, yes. Hot, yes. People throwing up along the side of the road, of course. I also had a front row seat to one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen (I'm pretty sure I'm not in the sunset pic below, but it had to be taken within 5 minutes of when I was on that exact stretch of road because that's exactly what I saw).
The Special Needs bag pick-up is also in the Energy Lab, so I grabbed an extra gel and a headlamp.
Public service announcement: If you ever do Kona, put a headlamp in your special needs bag. I don't care if you are an 8 hour Iron Man, put a headlamp in your special needs bag. The sun sets early and lighting is pretty terrible in the Energy Lab and on stretches of the Queen K. Without a headlamp. you will not be able to see anything in certain places and you might die (not really, but you might fall). Thank you.
Back on the Queen K with 6 1/2 miles to go! At this point, I knew I was going to finish and it seemed like I was going to be able to run the whole time. This was the stretch where I REALLY suffered in 2023, so it was so nice to have something left and feel strong. As we got closer to Kona, the street lighting improved enough that I was able to give my headlamp to a spectator to offer to one of the competitors heading the opposite direction.
Back through the German cheer block, where I high fived every last one of those drunken sunburnt mega-fans. Thanks again, Germans! Down the hill that I had walked up just hours before feeling pretty hopeless, and one mile until that beautiful finish line. This is where the crowd is really roaring, and you run past the most beautiful lit-up banyan tree on your way home.
For the last mile, I was running next to a woman and I told her that she should go first across the line. I would hang back and let her have her moment (win back some karma from 2023).
Seconds later, as I crossed the finish line, another woman ran right past me, so I wound up sharing my big moment (and frankly, she did my moment better than I did anyway). Finisher Pix did get a picture right before the finish line that I love, a picture in which I'm not wearing my sunglasses, don't have blood on my shirt, and am completely, 100% aware of what is happening.
Time wise, who cares? I mean...it's Kona!
Pro race: After the race, I learned that a Norwegian, Solveig Lovseth, had come out of nowhere and won the race. Lucy and Taylor (my personal faves) both had to call it quits on the run due to heat exhaustion. There is a video of Lucy and her husband making the call and I tear up every time I watch it. I can't imagine the pressure the pros feel out there.
Injury update
Pissed...the heel is hella pissed. Even a week on the beach in Maui post-race didn't improve it's mood. I'm going to the doctor on Wednesday and I'm guessing there will be no running for a little bit. Totally worth it. 10 out of 10. Wouldn't change a thing.
OMG! This is such a treat to "do the Kona" with you! Thanks and may your heel whip itself into line and stop hurting!
ReplyDeleteGreat race and Great report, Faith!
ReplyDelete