Justin’s Kona Ironman World Championship Race Report

Humbled.  Not sure where to begin on reflecting for a race report so I’ll start with the 3:30 wake up before the alarm.  A bowl of my favorite cinnamon shredded wheat and two pieces of toast on Dave’s Killer Bread and we were soon to be out the door.  My sign on the fridge reminding me of my special needs bags in the freezer was accompanied by a new sign that read “GO JUSTIN, You are our superstar.”

With bags in hand, we got in the car to make our way to a parking spot at a hotel on the “hot corner,” (a popular viewing spot where athletes pass 7 times on the course) that was given to us by Melissa’s sister, Jessica.  Her and her husband are celebrating their 25 year anniversary and chose to come to the big island to support me.  They have great energy and managed to give a ride to a couple who happened to be staying there, and in exchange they offered a parking spot since they did not have a car.  We happily took up the offer.

Navigating the streets was easy at 4:30am as folks were still trickling in.  First stop was to drop off special needs and then onto body marking, it took a little cruising around to find the tent and join the line.  Getting there early was key, as I was in the first 20 people, happily sitting near Sebastian Keinle.  The athlete line quickly grew behind me and upon opening the gate at 4:45 a large roar of applause from volunteers greeted us.  We quickly entered a tent to pick up the temporary tattoos and make our way to folks with tin water baths to affix them.  I chose a smiley fella, and quickly realized that I was his guinea pig as he arrived at 4am for instructions but had not yet put them on anyone.  He succeeded after getting a few drops of water on the other arms numbers before they were on my skin, which caused some difficulty in peeling them off the sheet.

Away I go with numbers on arms to my cheer squad of Deb, Melissa, and my sister (who had just done some chalk art on the course- thanks sis, even though I didn’t see I knew it was there!).  Athletes passed through an area in which every athlete’s weight is recorded.  Another athlete commented “They sure make us feel fat before we race, huh?”  I was humored by the fact that a volunteer stopped Sebastian Kienle at this point and asked whether or not he was racing?  He proclaimed “Yes,” and they made him take out his tracking chip and put it on his ankle before he could go any further.

Onto the transition area to offload my bottles and give my tires a final burst of air.  I turned on my athlete tracker and placed it in my bike food tote bag, and left on my garmin device in bike mode.  I made my way out before things got cluttered and returned to Melissa at the entrance where my sister and Dad were waiting.  We had a few words of good luck and watched Mirinda Carfrae enter before I walked to the pros transition and got some close ups of their pre-race preparations.  Frederick Van Lierde shook hands with Sebastian Kienle as he jokingly said, “At least we have a little experience here getting ready.”  Craig Alexander was pumping up his tires and commented that things were a little tight in the pros area.  Moments like this are what make this sport so incredible, in which you are along side the greatest athletes in this sport, Olympic medalists and World Champions, all with a single goal of pushing your bodies to the limits and testing the edges of human performance.

With time to spare I exited transition and walked to the sea wall where I found the Ironfan club. Deb had staked out a premier location on the top of the bleachers, where she used every inch of her petite frame to take up as much space as possible so Melissa, my sister, and pops could be alongside for the close up action.  Deb had already made a local Hawaiian friend, who snapped a few photos of his own as I said my final goodbyes.

I calmly walked to the pre-swim bag drop off where I left my shoes.  Watching all the athletes with cheap flip-flops on, I thought I had missed the message.  I proceeded to eat some powerbar gels (that we got the day before at the expo) as I put on heaps of sunscreen.  I then took a seat alongside a Danish fella who qualified at IM Copenhagen.  He proceeded to say that he finished 3^rd in his age group with a 9:04 and ran a 3:06 marathon.  Impressive.  I took a few moments to clear the mind, take in the Redbull skydivers doing acrobatics, and head to the swim start.

The pros had began, which meant we were free to make our way into the water.  A bottleneck occurs when 1600 athletes proceed down a small staircase as the high tides swirled in the cove, so the process was a bit labored.  I entered the water and immediately felt that sunscreen on my hands had made my wedding band loose.  In the past weeks leading up to the race, I have done my best to be diligent about my eating and feel that my fingers had become a smidge smaller.  I was at a loss at what to do, but knew that a risk of it sliding up would be a big downer on the day.  I carefully removed it and tried to slide it on my middle finger, no luck, I then carefully changed hands and placed it on my right finger… awesome, a more snug fit, but wow this feels funny.  I swam along the seawall to find where the Ironfan cheer club was, I hollered and a huge response gave me a final boost as I raised my arms, blew a kiss, and headed out to the crowd of athletes lining up.

I lined up to the left of the large TYR sign and paddlers repeatedly shouted for swimmers to back up as the excited athletes continued to press each other forward.  With about 5 minutes to go, I was still getting used to the platinum on the right hand as athletes inched closer.  The canon was near and the energy was roaring.

At the sound of the canon it becomes real, splashing and nudging we all jockey for position.  In a typical race it can take a few hundred yards for things to smooth out, in this pack it took significantly longer.  The swells blew from right to left and it felt like every time I would come along someone’s left side, I would immediately be clobbered by someone boxing me out and pushing into my right arm to cause me to have to charge forward, or slow to move across their feet.  Fortunately, only one hard kick to the shin and one blow to the right eye, and I finally settled into a rhythm.  To my surprise, I rounded the turn around and there was still someone who continued to crawl on my legs, but at this point we had a group of about 15 who were swimming at the same pace.

As the pier came into view, I began my mental preparations for transition, visualizing the steps to ensure that I have a smooth passing as I was prepared for some chaos.  The bottom was nearing and I swam until my finger tips touched before standing and hopping up the famous exit stairs.  I looked for cameras to try and smile for those fans cheering through the wires, and quickly ran towards the rack of hanging bags.  I passed through a rinse and entered the tent with the borrowed speedsuit from pro triathlete Kevin Taddonio (thanks Kevin) already half-way off.  I slipped it down and put on my cycling socks and shoes, sunglasses and grabbed a gu to put in my tri top.  Out I ran, and said a few thank yous to the VIP’s cheering on the pier before a quick buckle of the helmet and tug of the bike.

I was onto the second leg and exiting transition. I could feel the buzz, just as I pulled out I heard the announcer shout Apollo Ono’s name and yell 1:00 and some change… hard to believe as a college swimmer that I just barely beat a speed-skater out of a tough ocean swim, but that goes to show you how much work he has invested in the past year leading up to this event.

Relaxed and confident, I had started my garmin, put the athlete tracker in my bib top, transferred my wedding band to the more comfortable hand, and had a gu as I began the small grade to round the turn to head into town.  I was excited to see my Ironfan cheer squad and had a gut instinct that they would be standing in front of the building where we got massages on Tuesday.

I bombed down Palini and made the hard left, my instinct was correct.  Shouting and waving I saw them all, the most notable my old man with his shirt off, waving his red hawaiian shirt overhead ringing his prized cow-bell and hollering as he has for years, “Go Justin, Go!!”  This was to carry me through.  Almost as exciting was seeing Chrissie Wellington standing there shouting at each cyclist, and I would like to think she recognized me, from our autograph encounter the previous day, as she smiled and shouted something to the tune of “Looking good.”  A quick turnaround and I was headed through town once more before climbing up Palini and heading out onto the open roads of the famous Queen K.

I managed to catch the crew, this time on the other side of the street, and had a moment of sadness as I knew it would be upwards of 5 hours before I was going to see them again.  Would they manage the crowds of people alright I wondered?  Oh yeah, lets get up this hill… Queen K here I come.  I was familiar with the terrain, and I was just soaking up the coastal views as it dawned on me that I failed to get a sunscreen application in transition… seriously, how was this possible, how did I miss them?  Not much I can do now, hopefully the three times I applied will hold me over.  I also remembered the extra salt tabs in a baggie that were left in the bag, the tabs I have on my bike will have to hold me over.

The winds came and went, and at times I felt comfortable motoring along watching some fast folks blaze by in the ultimate of tucked positions thinking how important it was to stay controlled, relaxed, and patient… don’t burn too many matches, I kept reminding myself.  At one point, the wind hammered us from the side, and spectators cheered as we crawled by at 15 mph on the flats, leaning sideways, as they held onto their hats and belongings tightly.  The wheels I was using, loaned by a great friend and fellow Ironman stud Charlie Perry, did a nice job with the crosswinds considering how deep they are, but regardless of what you are riding, you can help but grip the bars tighter and remind yourself to relax your neck.

On the climb up to Havi (the turnaround), I began to wonder when I might see the pros, I heard the helicopters buzzing in the distance, and before my eyes appeared a brigade of autos and motorcycles.  A lone cyclist ripped by, perhaps doing upwards of 50 mph descending in a confident tuck, slipping through the wind like a gecko through the slider door opening.  Who sooner would come alongside than Apollo Ohno.  I smiled and asked him if he was having fun.  He proclaimed, “A little different than the 20 second intervals with 40 seconds rest I am used to in the indoor track.”  I laughed and told him that he was truly an inspirational athlete.  I jokingly asked him if he was looking forward to the chocolate milk in his special needs bag up ahead, and he quickly responded “you bet I am.”

I was anxiously looking forward to the homemade cookie Melissa had so lovingly made two nights prior, as everyone surprised me with a belated birthday song and a warm extra large cookie with candles in it.  I knew this would be the perfect mid-race pick-me-up, and just thought about her hard work that went into sneakily making them as I was watching pump-up videos.  My bag was handed to me, I went through it to grab two bars, cliff blocks, gels, and the cookie, before grabbing my frozen bottle to put down my shorts in my back.  I wasn’t sure it would stay frozen, but I immediately thanked my pal and fellow racing stud Ron Salvatori for the tip.  It started numbing the back and chilling my hinny.

The descent was near, and the winds were at a cross, so two hands were necessary, the cookie was consumed and I was happy to settle into a rhythm.  At some point a hard blow came in from the side, and felt like someone just came and pushed me, which rattled my nerves and kept my grip tight.  Uh oh, I forgot to grab my salt tabs… I had about 4 left, which would have to carry me home with whatever electrolyte drink I could grab.

The winds coming home were similar to the way out, from the side at times, from the back for a bit, and of course straight in my face.  I was happy that I had put a small packet of anti-friction body glide cream in my tote and happily applied it to the chaffing under my arm pit and on my legs while cruising down the hill.  Every aid I passed, I grabbed multiple bottles and filled my drink container up front first before pouring water on my arms, back, and through the helmet.  I picked up powerbar perform at one point and could hardly stomach the strong sugary flavor so I carried it to the next aid before tossing it for water.  I had taken somewhere around 12 salt tabs, but was excited to enter the second special needs station to get my hands on more… this time I was sure to remember.  The final 20 miles progressed slowly as a steady grade and headwind made progress slow.  I leap-frogged back and forth with a handful of athletes but was very cautious to follow the USAT drafting regulations.  I had watched countless athletes get violations and every penalty tent I zipped by had upwards of 40 bikes overflowing into the road.  The entire ride I made it my goal to race the race as it is intended to be raced, without the assistance of another athlete providing a draft, honest and true to the sport.

At one point on the ride I pulled my right foot out of my shoe and did the best I could to stretch my big toe.  Regardless of shoes, terrain, or effort after about 4.5 hours it begins to cause some serious pain on the edge of the ball of the foot where the major joint is.  This issue has persisted through miles on the Pacific Crest Trail, and flexible bike touring shoes in South America.  Passing the airport, I knew only a couple handful of miles remained, I spotted the race leader Sebastian Kienle before turning down the street and unclipping my cycling shoe buckles.  I sat up for a stretch, and rounded the hot corner before hearing the cheers of my family, what a great feeling.  Into transition, I hobbled with a tight left hip flexor towards the end of pier where you double back to grab the run bag.  I entered the tent and immediately grabbed my salt tabs, not to forget them again, and changed into my Injiji toe socks.  I train in these and despite taking a few extra moments to put them on, they help with blisters and allow more wiggle room for each individual toe… a fun feeling.

Here we go I said, put the pedal down and settle into a groove.  I exited with my new visor on (thank you Deb for the spiffy outfit I got plenty of comments on) and looked again for the family.  The first miles are always a warm up and it typically takes the legs a bit to get going.  Aid station number 1 could not come soon enough as I immediately went for the water to pour on the head, the ice to put in the top and down the pants, and a splash in the mouth, before grabbing a final cool sponge to put on the neck.  One foot in front of the other, small steps I reminded myself, the fans cheered and aid number 2 arrived.  Same routine, this time an extra cup of ice to grip the ice cubes for a while, a tip that Chrissie Wellington told me the day before.  The spectators were cheery and many had hoses that happily sprayed racers.  I knew keeping my feet dry was important, but to my surprise I didn’t succeed very long.  By mile 4 I could hear the squeaking and feel the skin swelling with moisture.  The cotton socks soak it up and the humid temps don’t allow anything to dry in any timely manner.  The pad on the right foot began to grow, like a pruney- raised hand after playing in the bathtub too long.

I knew the turnaround was coming soon and with every view of the beautiful coastline I awaited the arrival of another aid station.  It started to sink in that my tempo wasn’t picking up.  My legs felt heavy but I was excited to make the 5 mile return to town for some final cheering before heading out for the final push.  I continued to pop the salt tabs, totaling 18-20 ish on the day thus far, but a blister had formed on the pad of my feet and the heat made it hard to stay focused.

This is what endurance sport is all about.  The moments of discomfort when the negative thoughts begin to seep in, and you battle each one with strength gained from each training session.  I drew on the day when I hiked for 25 miles with wet shoes on the Pacific Crest Trail, and knew that a little water was bearable.  I drew on the sessions of putting together 100 plus mile rides and hot runs in the dry heat in Sacramento, Davis, Tahoe, Auburn, and Placerville.  Did I mention the dry heat?  I drew on the previous races, Tahoe, Auburn, and Donner.  And most of all I drew on the energy that I knew was present in the many cheering fans and supporters across the pond who were yelling at their computer monitors.

With each aid station, I walked to cool down, hydrate, and refocus for the upcoming mile.  One at a time I kept repeating, and when the tables ended after 200 feet, I held onto my cup for a final swig before getting the legs going again.  I could literally feel the folks shouting “Come on!” as my mile times slowed to 20 min/miles after pushing as hard as I could to go an 8-minute and change mile in between.

I first spotted Eric and Jessica as I headed up towards Kuakini and they were both a hootin’ with cameras in hand.  Then came the others, Melissa began to run alongside as I could hear her yells for what felt like a while, I knew it wasn’t pretty but I was moving in the right direction.  Mile 10 was near, just a hill to grind up and folks would give you the “You got this!” and the “You can do it!” to help your cause, but only the mind would keep the legs going.  Onto Queen K with 16 miles to go, I was looking forward to the aid bag where I had another pair of socks.  I had finished my 12 or so salt tabs I got in transition 2, and inquired at each aid to no avail.  A kind racer turned to his side and handed me a tablet at one point, but the best they could offer was some pretzels.  Chewing is serious effort at this point in the game, and the occasional gu or orange slice is about the best the stomach can manage.

I soon calculated that the special needs bag with fresh socks wasn’t coming until 17 ish, which meant that the tender feet would have to continue to carry me in wet socks.  As the energy lab neared, I got excited that I might be able to step up the pace for the final miles of the marathon.  I had high expectations after riding what I felt was conservatively but the body had a different agenda than the mind.  Seeing Miranda Carfrae in the lead at mile 24 (about mile 12 for me) had given me some extra juice, and as it turns out she had just passed Daniela Ryf, who had a phenomenal first time Kona performance.

After making the last turn around before the finish, I stopped with my aid bag and sat down.  I removed the wet socks and took out another chocolate chip cookie.  I was not about to throw it away, but could not take a single bite.  I took out more salt tabs, and offered the cookie to the volunteers.  They enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed my dry socks, everyone was happy.  I thought to myself how the black socks didn’t quite match the outfit as well as the green, and as triathletes talk about being fast is looking fast, Deb (the creative designer) made an excellent choice, as I was getting so many comments.  Regardless, away I went, reminded how many people could see the fact that I just sat down on the marathon course at Ironman World Championships.  The dry socks felt good, and I again recited the mantra “Small steps, keep it moving, you got this!”  I would occasionally clap my hands, and say aloud a positive line to remind myself “I can do this.”

No sooner were my socks dry at mile 18 (which seemed a little late for special needs, but is par for the course) the rain began.  Refreshing indeed, and at this point the blisters weren’t going to dissolve and only 8 miles remained.  I managed to come upon a female pro walking, she spoke about how it was the last race of the season and seemed pretty removed in the sense that she had checked out and would be happy to just walk the remaining miles.

I knew I had more to give, and I continued to give my best, reminding myself that I was going to finish.  I passed mile 20 a small downhill grade meant I could get it going, as soon as the legs started to move any faster than the pace I was holding, the body began to seize up letting me know that I was on edge.

The final miles I began to reflect on each mile of the race, reviewing the output and efforts given and beginning to feel the energy and buzz that is present by the sounds of the inner voices knowing that feeling of completion is near.  Rounding the famous final turn on Ali’i drive is a moment I won’t ever forget, the crowd cheering, folks yelling my name, and lines of spectators reeling me in.  I was looking for the overhanging banner made by the Arden Park Dolphins, where I knew the family awaited.  Upon seeing Melissa smiling and waving me to it along the shoot at the last minute, I leaned in with a smile, all the while having my body continue moving on autopilot to land just across the finish line.

The final moments are euphoric, the body is filled with bliss and the pain is forgotten, the mind has been fully present for so long and it goes into sensory over load as it is hard to focus on any one thing.  I raised my arms, looked to sky to recognize and honor the spirit of so many, and let the body relax for the first time in over 10 and half hours.

The race was a success, as my buddy Fred guy put it “Of course you can always go faster, but its about the experience of being there on the worlds stage that makes the journey worthwhile.”  I soaked in the glory and immediately thought about my Ironfans, the ones who cheered me through, and gave so much to make this dream a reality.  I wanted to hug my wife and family, and share the joy together.  This is a moment that will live on in my heart, as I continue to challenge myself to dig deeper, give my best, and love more generosity.  Thank you for being a part of this journey.