By now I've been awake for an hour. I doubt I'm the only early riser today. From my room I can see triathletes already making their way down to the transition area 300 meters to my west. I figure it's about time to start the day. I hope this is the day I finally break 10 hours.
I go down stairs and take the short walk only to find a line of over 100 has already formed. People are anxious to do their the final prep before the race. Music is quietly being played over the PA. I'm sure someone in Kona is still asleep.
Once in the transition area, I get in line to be marked. After being marked, I head for my bike. I bring my pump and fill the tires to 110. I decide to play it safe on the air pressure. I don't need a blowout today.
It's still dark, All but a few have arrived. The transition area is a zoo.. Lots of nervous energy, I can feel it everywhere. I am ready to race. My bike is set, I've got my swim stuff, all I can do now is stretch, relax, and wait. The race announcer is filling the air with last minute news flashes and minor bits of trivia. I had no idea there were 14 people from Brazil doing this race. Announcements are translated in two other languages, German and Japanese. A real world class affair.
6:45 a.m. First light of day, and I finally decide to take the dive. Once I get in the water, I know I won't leave until the 2.4 mile swim is complete. I am nervous about the start. I know there will be chaos when the canon is fired, and I hope I don't become a victim of 1500 adrenaline filled triathletes. My plan will be to line up in the front row of swimmers. A dangerous move, but I know I am strong. My only problem is I can't sprint. I take my last long quiet strokes, checking out the activity underneath. It's much quieter down there than it is topside. I get about 500 meters of quality warm-up. I'm ready - I think. I hope!
6:57a.m. The canon fires. Three minutes early, but nobody wants to wait until 7:00. We just want to get it on!
Just as I imagined, chaos. I spend 90% of my energy fighting the masses, and 10% of my energy swimming. It's crazy, it's dangerous, it's not fun, and it's like this for 3/4 of a mile. I keep looking for an opening, fresh water, but can't find any. It's white water and people all around. I have no idea if I'm in a good position or bad, it's impossible to get any sense of where I am. Finally, the turn-around. There is a race clock on the side of the boat. I see my time, 26:44. I am extremely pleased. By now the pack has thinned and there is room to swim. I still must fight to maintain my position in the pack. I am four swimmers away from the person leading our pack. With about half a mile to go, I'm satisfied to stay where I am and ride this thing out. I see some open water right in front of me, I decide what the hell, I'm gonna bust a move. I blast through the pack and make my way to the front. It doesn't do me much good, everyone just lines up behind my feet. At least I have a clean shot at the swim finish. Two other swimmers come up to challenge, we sprint to the end.
I have no idea what my swim time is, or how I finished. All I know is the transition area is empty. I figure I had a good swim. I take my time through transition. Why hurry I think. I'd rather make sure I've got things on right because it's going to be a long bike ride. I make it through transition, and sprint to the bike. Volunteers are holding my bike, and waiting for me. This is great! I jump on the bike and ease out of the transition area. Once on the road, I start my bike computer. I have it set up to display speed and elapsed ride time. I really don't care about anything else. I make the half mile climb out of Kona. The street is lined on both sides with screaming people. What a pump! I'm not even winded after the half mile climb up a 10% grade. Not too many other riders around. I figure I had a great swim, and I am in a very good over-all place.
Once on the Queen K highway, I start thinking about what I need to do first. Drink is a priority, then get into a rhythm, then try to eat something. I did not eat before the race. After about a mile on the Queen K, I down an energy bar. It doesn't sit very well. I drink some more. I'm going 26-30 mph with ease. I figured we had a tail wind. I know that will change. I pass a few riders, a few pass me, I'm not at all concerned, there is still too much race in ahead of us to get excited.
After a pleasant 15-20 miles, things change, the wind starts picking up. It's in our face. Not too bad at first, but it only gets worse. The last 15 miles on the Queen K highway are hell. Brutal winds, right in our face. Course marshals are doing a good job preventing packs form being formed. The turn to Hawi (Havi) is in sight. A welcome relief from the winds I've been fighting. I make the turn, speed is back up to 28, I feel good again. I eat another energy bar my second, and a salt tablet. I chase it with water. About 1 mile up the road I get the big suprise of the day - cross winds! These are not your basic pain in the butt cross-winds, these are dangerous, ugly, down right devastating winds. These winds are capable of blowing me off the bike, or blowing me and the bike off the road. It is a gusty wind, and I have no idea when I'm going to get blasted. I try not to panic, I try to stay relaxed, but I am holding on to the handle bars for dear life. Some riders handle these conditions much better than me. I see riders passing me still on their aero bars. There is no way I could do that. I resign myself to the fact that I am a very poor cross-wind rider. Course marshals have no way of getting close to the riders, it's too dangerous. Packs are formed. I personally don't want anyone near me, I'd rather ride these cross-winds out by myself rather than risking a collision. As I start the climb to Hawi, I start picking off riders that passed my on the flats. I feel good about this. 10 miles out of Hawi, we get rained on. Now we have strong winds and rain to contend with.
About 5 miles out of Hawi, I get my 1st look at the leaders. always a high point of the day, to see what's going on up front. Only one rider, I don't know who it is. 3 minutes later another rider, it's Jurgen Zack, the German. 2 minutes behind Jurgen is the lead pack with Mark Allen and a host of others. 2 minutes behind the lead pack, ChuckieV. After that, a steady stream.
Hawi at last. A brief reprieve before I turn around and head back through those ugly, nasty cross-winds. I hope the rain has quit. I hate going downhill into a cross-wind on a wet road. That's the worst possible combination. I eat another salt tablet.
Well, it's still raining, and the winds have not died down. I'm not having much fun. My hands are cramping from gripping the bars. I am being very cautious against the wind and it's costing me time. I hope I can salvage a decent bike split in hopes of breaking 10 hours. Conditions never improve and the winds are with us all the way back to the Queen K highway. I know I will have a tail wind for 15 miles, and this makes me happy. My training partner, Tony Dragan catches me here. He is concerned about my race after catching me on the bike. I tell him I am fine. We talk for awhile. Tony informs me he was 12 minutes slower than last year at the Hawi turn-around. I start to think; "Last year Tony finished with a time of 9:53. I remember Tony telling me how he was a bit delirious when he crossed the line. Tony is a better runner than I am." I begin to wonder if 10 hours is still realistic after the strong winds? I realize it's going to be close, but I'm not giving up yet.
Tony and I ride together for about 20 miles. By now we are riding into the wind, again. With about 20 miles to go on the bike, I make a move going up a little hill and Tony drops back. Tony does not catch up. As I approach Kona, I eat another energy bar, thinking I will need something in my stomach for the run. A 26 mile run does not look to good right now. The crowds start picking up as I head through town. There is a 1 block stretch called "the hot corner" where crowds are huge. There is an announcer on this corner and I here him call my name. The crowd noise is loud, and for a few moments I forget how tired I am. The clock on my bike computer is still showing a sub five hour ride but the ride down Alii Drive is long. Longer than I imagined. As I approach the end of the bike, I can see the leaders once again. Running way out in front is a guy I don't recognize, (Thomas Hellriegel). Thomas is running on mile 4. I ride a bit further and see other runners, one is Mark Allen. Mark is just past mile 2. I think to myself, Mark will not be able to catch this guy and the Ironman will have a new champion.
One last hill before the finish. It is short but very steep. You need to know about this hill, and must plan for it, otherwise you will end up walking your bike and getting embarrassed in front of hundreds of people. Training at altitude is great as I top the hill not even breathing hard. A mile to go then I'm done with the bike. Down one last hill and I turn quickly into the transition area.
For the first time since midway through the swim, I see the race clock. It reads 6 hours 13 minutes. My bike split reads 5 hours 14 minutes. Seven minutes slower than 1991. I can only blame the winds for slowing me down. I have 3 hours and 47 minutes left to break 10 hours. I was hoping for a bigger cushion. I am pretty sure I can do a sub 3:45 marathon, if nothing goes wrong. My bike to run transition is quick, I know I can not waste time. I change my shoes, take off my helmet, quick trip to the bathroom, and I'm gone.
I am stiff as a board from the 5 plus hour bike. First challenge of the marathon is to run up the hill I just rode down. I do a process check. The back is stiff, hamstrings tight, quads are like lead, everything else is fine. I do not push the hill, I don't want to take any unnecessary risks. Once at the top, I make a right hand turn and head down into the pit. One of the highlights of the Ironman, running down into the pit. It's about half a mile down hill, the reward is turning around and running back up. Nobody likes the pit. I try not to think about it. I see my friend Tony, he's about a quarter mile behind me. I know it's just a matter of time before he will blow past. Once I make it to the top, I try to establish the pace I will need to break 10 hours. Now my legs are feeling a bit better. They are tired, but not blown out. My pace down Alii drive is very conservative. I am passed by runners that look much better than me. I stay on my pace, I am talking to the volunteers, and spectators. I'm still having a good time. My goal in the early miles is not to use up too much energy and leave nothing for the lava fields. I want to feel good running on he Queen K hwy., across the fields.
There are lots of people along Alii drive cheering the runners on. The crowds increase as I approach Kona and prepare for the "hot corner". Crowd enthusiasm has not diminished, they are cheering everyone. Riders are streaming in, and runners are heading out. One last big hill before I head out on the Queen K. As I approach the last hill, I run past my hotel. You can imagine the thoughts going through my head. The last hill is the worst. It's the same one I rode up to start the ride over six hours earlier. At the top, I take a left at mile 8.5, and finally, I'm in the lava fields. I can't imagine too many others are excited about this long hot stretch, but I'm still feeling pretty good, and this boosts my spirits. Still no Tony, I know he's back there, and I know he's going to catch me. I try to get a rhythm that will take me the final 17 miles. My pattern is to eat a reload just before I enter an aid station, then grab a cup of water, then a cup of ice for the hat. After that I grab another Reload to carry with me to the next aid station. Aid stations are set up every mile on the run. I take a salt tablet every 4th mile. This works well, and I seem to have a bit more spring to my legs.
Just past mile 12, I see the leaders. They are heading back into town, just finishing mile 21. I feel good about the fact I'm less than 10 miles behind the leaders. Hellreiger is still ahead of Mark Allen, but looking scared. ! As Allen passes, he looks confident, I know who will win Ironman 1995. I get back to my race. I know the turn-around is not too far ahead, but I still don't see it. I think to myself, be patient.
I make it to the turn around, and stop for the first time. I walk quickly through the aid station, grab a cup of water, and take a quick bathroom break. I still feel good, but my right hamstring is a little tight. I hope it doesn't decide to cramp. I take another salt tablet before heading into the energy lab. The energy lab loop is 2 miles in, and 2 miles out. This is the last big mental challenge of the race. Once out of the energy lab, the end is very much in sight.
I make the turn-around at mile 18 and start heading back out to the highway. Here I can see who is behind me. I look for Tony, I know he can't be far behind. Finally I see him, he's about 1 mile back. I realize now Tony is not having a good run. He's still smiling though, so I know he's not hurting too bad. Once I make it back to the highway, I tell myself I will look at the time. I want to see how close I am to the 10 hour mark. At mile 20, I look. The clock reads 4:00 p.m. on the nose. I have almost an hour to run the final 6 miles. For the first time all day, I sense I will break 10 hours. This is a huge boost. I still have lots of life in my legs, and I can afford to pick up the pace a bit. I know exactly what I have left in front of me, and I my only concern is to stay focused.
At mile 24, I am almost back in town, the crowds are picking up again, and I sense the end is in sight. From this point on, I try to take everything in. I'm feeling very good, I'm under the 10 hour pace, and I can afford to enjoy every moment from this point on. Mile 25 is downhill, and I run it easy. At the bottom, I take a left and again pass my hotel. The finish line is just around a few more corners, and I can clearly hear the announcer. Lots of adrenaline flowing, and I am running better now than I have all day. I run through the "hot corner" for the final time and make the right hand turn onto Alii Drive. 400 meters to go. The finish is academic, and I am already celebrating. I think I did the last 400 meters with a huge smile and waving to the crowd. On a good day, this last 400 meters is what the whole race is about. Endorphin junkies don't often get the chance to experience adrenaline, but you sure get it when you cross the line in Hawaii. 9:53:19 Official time. 130th over-all, and I am all smiles. Volunteers ask me if I need the medical tent, I tell them no. Just a massage, and I'm out of there hair.
After the massage, I head to the room to grab a shower. Sandy, my traveling partner and major moral support, is kind enough to go the store and get some beer and a couple of burgers. I sit on the balcony with beer and burger, watching and listening to the race. It's slightly past 5:30. The race is over for me but for some, the race will go until midnight.
Unlimited thanks to the TTH riders, Bud Razey morning riders, Sandy, Co-workers, FAST Masters swim team and coaches, Ft Collins Club, Tony, Denny, and others that helped me train and prepare for this event. Without across-the-board support, it would be impossible to succeed in anything as demanding as an Ironman. Thanks to all. this year it really paid off!