Ken's Road to Kona

As we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses,  let us lay aside every weight that  so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us. Hebrews 12:1

Ironman UK

My fantasy of my first Ironman included scenes of a clear crystal morning, a nice sunrise with the sun beating upon the water as I enter to begin the swim portion. Very majestic like. My actual first Ironman experience was nothing of that sort. If I had two choose two words to sum up the conditions, it would be mud and cold.

My flight 7 hour from Philadelphia was rather smooth. I was worried about the $100 bike fee to bring it aboard the plane, but apparently, this only applies to domestic flights. On international flights, bikes go on free. That was great news. Could it possible be an omen of things to come?

I arrive at Heathrow and have about a 5 hour layover with my connection with BMI airlines. I change $100 and get only 51 pounds back. I order a hamburger and fries, er chips for 10 pounds to hold me over till I get to Manchester. 10 pounds? That’s a 20 dollar burger! And it wasn’t even that good.

The BMI flight leaves on time and I arrive at Manchester airport where Berit, my former Japan colleague/all around bad ass German chick/super linguist and Ken’s official Ironman UK administrative assistant/film crew/chauffeur was waiting for me. When we walked out of the airport, it was cold, windy, grey, and rainy. This isn’t how I pictured it. After checking into the hotel, we planned the next day’s schedule which consisted of bike check-in, practice swim, the official race meeting, and the official pasta party.

I made it!!

The morning before the race was cold and damp. As I previously stated, my idea of Ironman all had the sun involved. With that in mind, I didn’t bring any warm clothes at all. The first thing I think what surprised everyone when they arrived to the bike check-in was the mud. It was everywhere. Apparently, Bolton and most of Europe had gone through a pretty wet summer this year. There were a lot of problems I had with the Ironman UK organizers, but I doubt they could have expected this. The rain was so bad people were getting stuck in the car park which was in a grass field. SO bad, they had to get tractors to pull people out of the mud.  Check out the mud situation directly below

The pasta party was really nice. I met a really nice woman by the name of Kate. She is a 4-time Ironman UK finisher and has dreams of her own of getting to Kona.

I’ll go ahead and skip to the race. The rest of the day became logistical nightmare as the mud slowed everyone down. The organizers decided that people should show up at the Reebok stadium and then get buses to the race course instead of driving to the muddy car park. This made it very difficult for friends and family to see the swim start.

Race Morning

3:00am comes early. It comes especially early when you know you have such a long day ahead of you. It’s 30 minute or so drive from Bolton (we were staying right outside Manchester) to the Reebok Stadium. Since Transition opened at 4:15, I wanted to get there as early as I could to set up. The transition area was muddy as hell. I was planning on keeping my shoes locked into the pedals, but did I really want to get my socks muddy on my way to the bike start? I decided that walking through the mud with the cycling shoes on wasn’t that big of a deal, and besides, my race number being 88 meant I was right by the bike exit; so I wouldn’t haven’t to trot that far anyway.

SWIM (2.4 miles)

After stretching I put on my wet suit, put my post race gear in my bag and proceed down to the race start with the other 1400. The time is about 5:30. We waited on this concrete path for about 10 minutes and there wasn’t much talking going on. As I stood there in silence, Berit was there taking photos of me. I tried to make a smile but I was way in another world at this moment: part excitement; part fear; add a little bit of self doubt and you have your typical first time Ironman triathlete. It just begs the question, am I ready? I think I was. As I entered the water, I seated my self in the middle rear. Not in the middle, not in the rear, just in between. Swim goal was 1 hour 20 but I could live with a 1 hour 30.

Am I ready?

Here is where the first confusion and poor planning I felt occurred during Ironman UK took place. When you look at this video below at the swim start, you see something rather odd. Not everyone is starting swimming at the same time. Why? Because most people didn’t hear the swim start. Only the people in the front. As I sat in the water people next to me are asking each other:

“Why are they swimming?”

“I don’t know, did you hear the start command?”

“No, did you?”

“No, but I guess we better start swimming!”

And we did. For it being a reservoir, I felt there was a strong current; or perhaps there was a slight headwind. Regardless, I knew we were swimming into the wind/current at the beginning. When this happens, strong swimmers really move out ahead while the average people stick together. At the first turn around, we would be swimming with the current/tailwind. This meant I knew it would be difficult good grab of water so I had to make sure my elbows were to get all of the tail wind I could.

I was hitting feet and people were hitting mine, and I got shoved out of people’s way. Because it was dawn, with the sun barely out, it was a little hard to sight and see the turn-around. I just followed the arm ahead of me and rarely sighted. On the first turn around, as I expected, the field opened up a bit and I felt I was swimming alone for awhile.

The day before the race, I did a practice swim to gage the water temperature. Right away, I knew I would get a cramp on race day. Perhaps it’s because I rarely kick, or perhaps I don’t let my foot flex, but on my 2^nd loop, the cramp in my calf came. Since I already has experience with this at JerseyMan, I knew how to handle it: just try to move your feet to an 90 degree and angle a few times and it’ll take care of itself.

My goal for the swim was 1:20. BUT, there is huge consensus on the Ironman UK chat boards after the race that the swim was measured incorrectly. It was actually longer. The swim was measured from the start line to start line, not where we exited the water. So there was about 200 meters extra. If that is correct, that’s another 8-10 minutes. Anyone who did the race, I would love to get some comments on this issue.

Swim Time: 1 hour, 36 minutes

Transition 1

It seemed like an eternity to get to the changing area. As I came out of the swim, a guy next to me said, “Hey Mate, maybe they’ll add this part to the marathon”. Seemed fair to me. I’ve been talking about my pain in the ass wetsuit for months now and this race was no different. I could not get my wetsuit off my ankles. I was getting really upset while I saw people come in after me and leave before me. Another athlete saw how frustrated I was getting and assisted me in pulling it off. I thanked him, ran through the mud, put on my socks and shoes, fastened my helmet and I was off.

Below is a video I found on youtube. There are two things I want you to take from this video. First, around 1:15 the person films the swim start. You can see here what I just wrote about: people were NOT ready or did not hear the swim start. Very disorganized. Second, at minutes 3:35, the person who filmed this actually filmed ME on the bike, although for just a quick second. I thought that was pretty wild when I first saw it.

Bike (112 Miles)

I thought I had packed everything when I came to England. I double and triple checked everything. I did forget one thing: my magnet for my speed meter. Since I rented wheels from Echappe, I forgot to switch it over so that meant I had no speed odometer for the race.

About 5 minutes into the bike course, you climb “the hill” the organizers has been said is the staple of the course. I had a small stomach ache from probably swallowing too much water but right into it you start climbing. It’s about 2.5 miles of pure climbing and it’s pretty unforgiving. What’s worse is the wind. If you look at this video here, it’s a bike course preview. You can see from the top how far you have to go up. You can tell from the video and its poor audio how windy is it.

After the climb, you pretty much fly downhill for about 10 minutes at speeds up to 60 mph. I remember tear drops coming out of my eyes with even sun glasses on.

Getting low and aero

To be honest, the rest of the course was rather boring. Besides the climbing section, there weren’t many locals or fans. The bike course could be summed up like this: Tough climb, go downhill really fast, lots of headwind, repeat x3. I’ve mentioned some of the poor organization of this race. The next point where I was very dissatisfied was on the third bike loop. At the top of “the hill”, there is an aid station which gives fluids, power bars, and gels. On the third loop when I arrived, they RAN OUT OF FLUIDS.  I had half bottle of Enervit left over so I wasn’t in dire need, but I saw triathletes stopping on the side of the road searching through empty bottles in hopes for finding one with some Gatorade. I thought this was a pretty sad display.

Just to put in perspective on how difficult this hill was,  on my last go around, as I got towards the end of the hardest section, I saw a guy really struggling to get up to the top. It was so difficult for him that he fell off his bike because he couldn’t enough propulsion from his legs to go forward!! A few spectators who were there rushed to him to help him on his feet. As I passed him, I looked back and saw that he was pushing his bike up the hill. Hey, I thought about it, so I don’t blame him.

It was at this time that I caught up with Kate. Kate told me she’s a good swimmer, and if took me till the third lap to catch her, she must have been a great biker as well.

“Ken, is that you?”

“Huh? Oh HEY!!”

“I reckon our 13 hour goal is pretty much finished.”

“Ha! Yea, I think I gave up on that about an hour ago!”

I know it may sound weird, but while I was on the bike, I was already thinking about the finish line. How would I feel? Would I cry? Would I be jumping for joy? Focus. One leg at a time. The fist loop of the bike I did in 2 hours. I thought, “Ok, no problem, I can hold that the rest of the way. I’ll do this in about 6:15. 6:30 max! However, without a speed display, all I could go off was perceived effort. I clocked myself each lap with the 2^nd lap  in 2 hours 30 minutes. “Uh oh” I thought. When I got to the end of the 3^rd lap, I couldn’t believe I was just at under 7 hours. 7 hours?! How did that happen? I pretty much knew about the middle of the 3^rd lap that my 13 hour goal was pretty much toast. But I really wasn’t down about it. I was enjoying the day the best I could, I’d been riding with the same people for about 6 hours, having conversations, and looking to see if I could see Berit somewhere on the course. I saw her on the first, but that’s about it.

Bike time: 7 hours, 9 minutes

What I learned on the bike:

On the second lap, I saw Phillip Graves and Stephen Bayliss (The pros who finished first and second, respectively) pass me (they were on the third lap at that point). I didn’t see them long, but I did notice one specific thing: they weren’t pushing small gears. In fact, their cadence was much slower than mine. Amateur triathletes are taught to have a high cadence so not to tire your legs out for the run. Pros simply grind it out. Intriguing. While I was climbing a hill, some other pros past me. While most of us were trying to spin or legs fast as possible, pros simply get out of the saddle and put their entire weight into every stroke. Amateurs survive hills, pros attack hills. On my third lap, I tried attacking a few hills as they did, and you know what, it actually works. You get a little winded, but you recover.

Transition 2

One of the cool things about an actual Ironman event is that you don’t have to rack your bike. There are volunteers that take your bike and do it for you. This lets you take your run bag and quickly get to the run. I have to admit, the weather at this point was really nice. The sun came out and it was a nice mid 60’s weather. I was in and out rather quickly. I put on my Zoot shoes and my Energy Belt, and I was off.

RUN (26.2 Miles)

I felt really good coming out. My first mile I ran was a 8:38 mile, and the second at 8:28. I took this to caution and slowed down a bit as I knew I couldn’t hold this place for long. My goal was to run the marathon in 4 hours 30 minutes which is about a 10:30 pace. Running into Bolton was exciting but not for long. Another problem I had with the organization was that there were only 4 aid stations. 4 aid stations for a marathon!!! Is this normal for an Ironman?? Don’t regular marathons have more than this?

The run course took us into the city along a looonnngggg road. After about 7 miles you take a right turn and then run about 3-4 miles in this very constrictive canal. After this, you run into a park in which you have 2 small turns but because of these turns you lose sight on how long you ran in there. Very mentally challenging. While you are in this park, you come to a man at a timing mat and he says,

“First time or second time?”

The winner, finished his marathon before I even got off the bike

“Uh, first time I guess” I said.

“Ok, this is the turn around, go back to the first aid station”

I almost lost it. “Are you *#$*&@ kidding me?” is what I thought. That first aid station seemed like an eternity ago. In fact, it was 12.5 miles ago. Back through the park, along the canal, and back up that llllooooonnnnggg street.

On the way back, I ran into my friend Kate again. She had a much better swim, but I had passed her on the way back through the bike by the 3^rd lap. By mile say 15, she had caught me on the run. We ran around the first pub aid station together and ran for a bit. But by this time, I was really starting to feel the pain. EVERYTHING HURT. My shoulders, my hands, my fingernails, my ears, my teeth, and the bottom of my feet. Funny, the thing that didn’t hurt were my quads. I had been wearing these Zoot shoes since the Philadelphia Triathlon. They are great quick/light shoes that keep your turnover really quick. They are however, not with much support or cushioning. What made me keep stopping was that it hurt the bottom of my feet running on that pavement. I think the Zoots are good if you are running a 3, or 3 and a half marathon, but not a 5 hour marathon. It’s too much time. It was also around this time where I felt a strain in my right shin (more on that later).

I heard a saying about Ironman races in some youtube video: “Race numbers have names. Names have souls, and souls can be broken” On the way back to the park, I saw some random girl I spoke with at the swim start. As I was heading back into the canal, she was just about to enter back to the long road to the first aid station. She was absolutely shattered in tears. Her hands on her knees, a friend was consoling her that she could do it. I had to think she just figured out how far she had to go.

At the last aid station where the park begins, the volunteer said I had less than 2 miles to go. I saw Kate about a whole loop ahead of me so I knew I wouldn’t catch her. I had to walk nevertheless; my feet were on fire, and my right shin was in pain. When I got back to the guy at the timing mat, he asked me again,

“First time or….”

“Second!!” holding up two fingers.

“Ok, go on, the finish line is .8 of mile ahead of you.”

It was still daylight, so there were no light at the end of the tunnel. But it got louder. People were saying, “Well done, well done, the finish is right around the corner mate!”

I wasn’t happy. I was more relieved and I wanted it to be over, but I wanted it to last.  I wanted to revel in this experience, but I wanted to sit down and make the pain go away. It started to get cold about an hour ago. Thank god for the arm warmers.

Run Time: 4 hours, 58 minutes.

I wasn’t getting emotional. No tears, no amazement, just grateful, and appreciative. This was just the first, but as my friend Kjell (look at my favorite athletes) told me once, “You always remember the first.

Hardware

I had a nice welcome to the finish line, mostly because there wasn’t anyone around me. They gave me my medal and took my time piece. Kate was there. She gave me a hug, and I went upstairs to sit down and get some food. Crossing the line, I would have to say… felt like being reborn. They say triathlon is a drug; that once you do it, you’ll want to do it again: Ironman is the drug. I would have to agree with this because soon after I finished, I was already thinking about the next one. My favorite part of any triathlon bar none is immediately after when everyone is sitting on the grass or sitting in the room talking about the race. Strangers talk to each other, compare notes. People you biked with or ran with give you a handshake. Doesn’t matter where you are from, you went through the same experience together, but you did it on your own, and no one can take that away from you. A Spanish guy I spoke with the day before the race told me congratulations and said I should come to Ironman Lanzarote (that’s in Spain).

I stayed up there for awhile.  Again, another sticking point was the food. I’m all for local food, but after an Ironman, I expect a little more than muffins and hash browns. The only warm thing was the Powerbar hot recovery drink.

I wanted to go down to the spectator area where Berit was waiting for me, but I just couldn’t move that quickly. I eventually did after about 20 min of eating a bit and getting some warm fluids inside me.

At this moment I have to take a moment to publicly embarrass Berit.

Berit, Ken's Ironman MVP

B, thank you so much for flying all the way from Dresden, Germany  to support me. Heck, I don’t even have people in my own country come visit me,  let alone fly internationally! I have absolutely no idea how I would have done this without you. You were my right hand gal. With all the logistic changes, you had me, and everything under control. Thank you for renting the car, the hotel, and picking me up from the airport and just being patient. I can’t say enough how much your friendship means to me, and I hope I can pay you back sometime in the near future.

As we walked back to the car, the evening took a slight downturn. Someone smashed the window to the rental car in an attempt to steal what we figured was the GPS/SATNAV. Berit had the unit on her person but we think they might have saw the cord and figured it was in the car. Thank god for insurance! I stayed by the car while Berit went to the police station and listened to other people being called in at the finish line.

We decided it would be best to pick up the transition bags that night instead of waiting till the morning. Walking through the transition area of a triathlon is like walking amongst zombies in the night; so many athletes limping, struggling, trying to get their stuff.

When we got back to the hotel, I took the best shower known to man. I rinsed off my wetsuit, and thanked Berit again for all she had done. I went to bed excited, but exhausted. I might have even slept with my medal on that night. Not sure. Tomorrow was going to be an exciting day: pack, fly back to London for the day to stay with another Japan colleague who had done Ironman New Zealand, and then the day after, fly to Romania to visit old friends from my days in the Peace Corps…

Overall time: 14 hours, 3 minutes

172/254 in Mens 30-34 age group

910/1379 Overall