After reaching peak fitness for Ironman UK in July, it was an uphill struggle to try and maintain this for Kona in October. Training at high volume all year meant I inevitably suffered a slight dip, both down to fatigue and reduced motivation. Whilst I couldn’t be more excited to be racing in Hawaii, there weren’t any specific time or position goals in mind – I just wanted to be in good enough shape to enjoy the experience.
I’d already booked onto a cycling trip from Pisa to Sicily in September and hoped this would act as useful warm weather acclimatisation. With hindsight, I was focusing purely on training quantity and not at all on quality, even trying to add sweltering hot brick runs on the end of back-to-back 100 mile cycling days. I made it through the trip fine, but didn’t give myself enough (if any) time to recover afterwards. A gentle two miles into my first run back home, my IT band suddenly went rock solid with a huge amount of pain. I couldn’t even walk and had to hitch a lift home. With less than a month until Kona – and all the cost and effort it had taken to get there – I was devastated, and just had to hope it would recover.
Early signs weren’t positive. I couldn’t run or cycle without pain, whilst my shoulder had also started to play up when swimming – it was all going wrong. The week before flying out I was finally able to get back into some tentative swimming and went to a sports massage therapist for the first time. Sadly, there was no miracle cure for the IT band – just a recommendation to rest and get another massage nearer the race.
Flying to Hawaii with a bike box proved a little stressful – especially a frantic change in Los Angeles where we had to retrieve the bike, cross the airport and put it back through (rigorous) security – all against the clock. Although technically the same country, landing in Kona could not have felt more different – completely relaxed attitudes and an airport little more than huts with straw roofs.
We’d arrived just over a week before race day – the atmosphere was just starting to build but the town wasn’t too crowded with athletes just yet. On the first morning, I went for a swim around the official course from Dig Me Beach, stopping off at the coffee barge for a free drink and enjoying being surrounded by fish in the clear, warm water. We then drove across to Hilo on the other side of the island, looking to escape the pressure for a week. I’d really recommend anyone who qualifies spends some time exploring the rest of Big Island. It seems a lot of people get caught up in a training hype when they should be tapering – seeing everyone else out swimming, cycling and running. Not only does this seem a recipe for injury (coming from an accomplished over-trainer) but you miss out on the huge variety that Big Island has to offer. From active lava flows in Volcano National Park, to rainforests around Hilo and high grassland plateaus near Waikoloa, Hawaii is – unsurprisingly – an incredible holiday destination in its own right, which a lot of visiting athletes forget.
Following an amusing massage in Hilo – focused more on aromatherapy and the magical healing properties of Olbas Oil – I took a test ride out from Waikoloa to see some of the bike course. Completing 40 gentle miles gave me a bit of confidence, although I’d been cautious not to push it and couldn’t bring myself to do any tentative running fearing another complete breakdown. We returned to Kona after our mini-holiday to find it completely transformed – now heaving with athletes across a sprawling event village filled with every triathlon brand going. I did some scouting around for free samples and was offered a poster by a guy called Ben Hoffman – we had a brief chat where he said he’d had recent injuries and I mentioned not having run for a month (he pulled a worryingly alarmed face). I asked if he was racing that weekend, which he again pulled an incredulous face at – turns out he was one of the top pros and would go on to finish fourth overall… I felt bad I hadn’t heard of him, but will follow his races more now…
I met up with some other British athletes at the parade of nations, but failed to find the person who’d offered me a spare swim skin (given the warm water wetsuits are banned, but I considered a £200+ swim skin too pricey for a one-off race). What I had invested in was a new trisuit – partly because the old one had a hole in it, but largely because I needed my shoulders to be covered to prevent sunburn. Having suffered quite badly on an overcast day in Bolton, I didn’t like to think what the infamous Hawaiian sun could do… I saw a few of the British athletes again to go snorkelling with manta rays, which was another incredible experience to add to the list. I just hoped the race wouldn’t taint what had been a brilliant holiday so far.
Pre-race transition was even more intimidating than usual – as expected everyone seemed impossibly lean and tanned, all with the most expensive looking kit. Although I was extremely apprehensive about how my body would hold up for the day ahead, those feelings were pushed aside as we headed off towards the sea. On the gentle warm-up swim out from the beach I was followed by a turtle, gently coasting along underneath me all the way to the start line. The race briefing had been big on respecting the soul of the island, and whilst I’m normally much more logical I came over all spiritual that my turtle companion symbolised the island looking after me. From that point on, I felt a genuine sense of calm that everything was going to be OK.
Treading water waiting for the starting cannon was one of many highlights – surrounded by iconic sights I’d first read about a year ago when being on this start line had seemed an impossible dream. Behind me, the church of Kailua-Kona and the Banyan tree on Ali’i Drive, the pavement lined with hundreds of spectators. To the left, the island gradually rising to its volcanic peak somewhere in the clouds. Ahead, the sail-shaped outline of the Royal Kona Resort which we would shortly be sighting towards, where I’d been up close with manta rays only hours earlier. I felt overwhelming gratitude just to be there. I’d worked so hard, but knew others who’d done just as much for years and years without making it. This race wasn’t about times or placing – I just wanted to soak up the experience, look around and smile.
The cannon fired but didn’t shift my zen-like calm. Whilst the mass start might have appeared chaotic, looking down into the clear water I still felt like I was swimming in a giant fish tank. Everyone around me was well behaved, with no punching or kicking, and it was easy to find a steady rhythm. The swim was slower without the assistance of a wetsuit, along with some sizeable swells which meant we were quite literally swimming uphill most of the way back, but whatever the pace there was no denying the swim was an absolute pleasure to be part of.
We ran through hoses to rinse off the salt water on entry to T1, and with no wetsuit to worry about were quickly out onto the bike course. This first section through town, with several U-turns, was extremely congested. A mass start combined with athletes of very similar ability meant hundreds of riders all starting within the same few minutes. Whilst, as always, the referee’s presentation had put the fear of God in me to avoid drafting, it was genuinely impossible not to find yourself in a bunch for the first couple of miles – and to be fair the officials seemed to know this.
Things improved slightly once we hit the long, straight “Queen K” highway – heading up to the turning point of Hawi at the North West tip of the island. Looking ahead, all I could see was an endless stream of athletes, some of whom were trying harder than others to leave legal spaces. I was almost self-sabotaging my race – pushing too hard to get ahead of similarly paced athletes then ceasing all effort when someone slowly made their way past me – in a desperate bid not to attract the attention of a marshal. The last thing I wanted was to be disqualified after all it had taken to get here. This made it all the more frustrating when draft packs seemed to form and come steaming past fairly regularly. Judging by the angry shouts of “cheats” from other athletes, I wasn’t the only one feeling annoyed.
The bike course is unique, if somewhat repetitive, following a single straight road with the ocean to one side and black volcanic rock to the other. It rarely does more than undulate, so I enjoyed some rare gradient on the climb into Hawi. Cross-winds are pretty common on this part of the course – meaning solid disc wheels are banned – and sure enough they started to gust pretty strongly, making the subsequent descent quite challenging. Being a lighter rider the wind affects my balance more, so I’d been unsure about my 60mm wheels. But without any other race spec wheels (and being quoted over £600 to rent a set) I’d decided to risk them. At one point I was nearly blown off the road but managed to salvage it, all the while retaining that strange sense of calm that the island (and its turtles) were going to look out for me.
The heat from the lava fields hadn’t been too bad on the way out, but as we approached midday the temperature was definitely rising. Looking down at my thighs roasting in the sun I hoped the expensive P20 “once a day” suncream I’d applied several hours ago would be up to the job. The weather and occasional headwind made the return leg feel a lot tougher and I was pleased to be back in Kona after just under five and a half hours on the bike – even if it meant I finally had to test my running legs.
After a luxury T2 experience where the volunteers racked our bikes for us, and I took some time to add more suncream, it was time to see whether the island would have any power to heal my IT band. I was most worried I would break down within the first few miles – my last run almost a month ago had seen it flare up very quickly with no prior warning or pain. I set off as gently as I could, ignoring the race day adrenaline, knowing that an injury in the early stages would probably prevent me from even walking to the finish line.
I felt the first five miles would be key – so once I got past this point I was a lot more confident that by maintaining this steady pace I would be OK. Nevertheless, the heat continued to build and I started to struggle – throwing cups of ice and cold sponges into my hat and down my trisuit at every opportunity. The Natural Energy Lab lay ahead – the hottest and most remote part of the run course deep in the lava fields, featuring a famously tough (if not particularly steep) climb back out. Mercifully, by the time I reached it, the sun had gone behind some cloud and I was able to sustain forward momentum.
I’d been drinking as much fluid as possible along with SaltStick electrolyte tablets, which seemed to have done the job hydration-wise, but on the last five miles along the Queen K back to Kona I was exhausted nonetheless. My walking intervals through aid stations – initially to take on enough fluid – had now become very necessary recovery sessions. It had perhaps worked in my favour that fear of injury forced me to pace myself so carefully, as I could easily have blown up if I’d started too fast in these conditions.
Despite the pain I was able to keep the promise I’d made to myself – regularly looking around and savouring the fact I was racing in Kona. I was glad of the sea swells, cross-winds and oppressive heat – without them I wouldn’t feel I’d had the full, authentic experience. I was able to accelerate a little in the last mile, running downhill into Kona and lapping up the atmosphere from the crowds as it became clear I was going to make it. I couldn’t have been happier, reflecting back on everything that had gone in to making this happen. Arms outstretched, grinning like a maniac, I weaved across the road to high five supporters on both sides, looking like a kid pretending to be an aeroplane (I was so delirious that to some extent I might have thought I was an aeroplane).
Walking across the line I felt complete joy and relief – quite a contrast to the pumped up shouts of achievement in Bolton a few months earlier, but no less enjoyable. It had all been worth it, I’d completed what I’d set out to do, the project was complete.
Not breaking down on the run and finishing before it got dark (approx. sub 11 hours) had been my only real performance targets, so was pleased with my finish time of 10hrs 18mins in difficult conditions. I’d expected to be slower than Bolton regardless of the sub-optimal build up, and this certainly wasn’t a time that suggested I’d fallen apart. After enjoying a big feed in the recovery area, I went to join my parents for photos (now in the dark) under the Banyan tree, and cracked open a Kona beer to celebrate.
Post-race, we’d factored in a few days of extra tourist time on another island. I had an ulterior motive for choosing Maui – I’d heard it featured the longest uninterrupted road climb in the world to the summit of Haleakala. The idea of riding nearly 40 miles of constant uphill from sea level to over 10,000 feet (and the free wheel back down) sounded pretty incredible so I’d firmly pencilled it in for our last day in Hawaii. Surely a couple of days would be enough time to recover from an Ironman? My TT bike wouldn’t be safe on the descent, so I picked up a hire bike and set to it – ignoring the residual fatigue and illness I had coming on. It was another unique and amazing experience and I proudly picked up a free certificate at the visitor centre for “driving” to the summit. I’d recommend riding Haleakala to anyone visiting Hawaii or racing Kona, just factor in a few days’ rest before taking it on!
