Honu Race Report Part V: Dirtbag vs The Olympian

Greg Bennett into T1

 (*Note: This is the fifth and final Part of my Honu Race Report. Parts of this might come off as interviewy, but it was never an interview, just informal hanging out. I take full credit for misquotes or mistakes. And, because by now you should know how I write, there is some going on and on and on about certain things. There may also be fawning and name-dropping. You would too.*)

Let's say, as a for instance, that on Saturday you woke up at 3:30am and by that afternoon you had completed your first Half Ironman. What would you want to do the next day? Sleep in, right? Me too. Except a few nights before the race I got an email from Ironman Honu which read:

Swim and Breakfast with Olympic Triathlete Greg Bennett, June 3rd 7:30 a.m. Post Race recovery swim in Pauoa Bay fronting The Fairmont Orchid, Hawai`i Resort. Meet at the Beach Shack at 7:15 a.m. Swim is followed by an athlete-only buffet breakfast at the Orchid Court Restaurant for a discounted, all-inclusive price of $25 per person. Space is limited to the first 30 participants. Please see the sign-up sheet at Ironman 70.3 Hawai`i Registration.

Hmmm, I thought. That sounds neat. But that is going to fill up quick. I bet by the time we get there the 30 spaces will be gone.  And then I put it in the back of my mind and got back to packing and repacking and then unpacking to be sure everything I'd packed was still in my bag.
When we got to registration Thursday there was a big sign:

Again, I was sure it would already be full. How could it not be? A chance to meet and Olympian? Swim with him? Pick his brain over eggs and bacon?  Everyone will want in! Wouldn't you? But a Dirtbag tries to never pass up an opportunity so I wandered over to check-in and checked out the sign-up. Only 16 people on the list so far! Dirtbag scores! I quickly wrote my name down before 14 people realized what they were missing and knocked me out of the way.
Which brings us to Sunday morning, bright and early. I stand in a surprisingly small group of only a half dozen men sharing stories from yesterday's adventure. The main topic of conversation? "So, how about that wind, huh?" The second topic? "Did you see Lance ride? Holy crap." I know who were there for someone else, but the Lance Effect is huge and cannot be denied. I did joke to someone next to me, "Hey, Greg came in second yesterday. Don't say the L-word."
Triathlon is a small sport, and most people don't really know who the Big Names are, except for That Guy everyone knows from his adventures in France. Greg Bennett is a pretty big name in the triathlon world. Not Iron-distance, this was only his third half, but from the shorter international distances. He and his wife, Laura, are "two of the most talented and successful short-course triathletes in history, with 30 World Cup podiums between them." That quote is linked to and comes directly from the Inside Triathlon article which introduced me to the Bennetts, Being Bennett.

At just about 7:30 Mr. Bennett walked over to our group. No fanfare, no camera crew, no PR people, just a guy. The guy who took second place 24 hours ago. Triathlon is so cool. Imagine going to a football game and Tom Brady walking up to you and starting a conversation about how your game went yesterday. You can't, right? Another reason triathlon is better than football.
And what was the first direct question someone asked Greg? "So, what do you think about Lance?"
Dude! Dude! Dude. No. Not cool. Why would you do that? We can get to Lance, but do you think the guy really wants to stand here and talk to us about the guy who beat him yesterday?
Turns out, he didn't mind. In fact, Bennett (I'm going to go back and forth between calling him Greg and Bennett. We did eat breakfast together, but I'm not so sure we're on a first name basis. I have tweeted him though. God, I can't believe I just said "tweeted"...) was more than happy to talk quite a bit about Lance and the Lance Effect. He had nothing but good things to say. He mentioned how hard it would be for him to concentrate with camera crews following him around like they do Lance, and seemed happy about the attention Lance is bringing to the sport. For example, NBC is talking about showing the Kona Ironman World Championship live this year. That would be huge. It normally gets a taped two-hour showing in December, two months after the race has been run. Lance Effect! The closest he came to saying anything negative was sharing a conversation he'd had race morning with Chris Lieto, a fellow pro. "It's great that Lance is here," I paraphrase, "but he doesn't need the prize money if he wins. We do!"
After chatting on the beach for a few minutes Greg suggested we get in the water to swim. "So, do you fellas want to just do a short swim, do you want me to make up some kind of work out?" Bennett, by the way, is Australian, so please imagine all quotes in a fantastic Aussie accent.
"Just swim." It was fast and unanimous.
We swam for only maybe fifteen minutes, and I will admit to spying on Bennett's stroke, trying to steal anything I could. Not long after we started the wind kicked up, the water got a little choppy, and Greg decided it was time for all of us to head in. One or two guys had swum a little ways away from the group. "I'll get them," he said. And poof, gone. I love it when fast people suddenly drop into a gear I don't have. It is so neat to watch. I swam over a turtle on the way back. Open water swimming, people. And, because I'm not at all competitive against people who don't know that we are racing, lengthened my stroke. To stretch, you see, not to be sure I was ahead of most everyone. Though I did beat Greg back to the beach. I'm not claiming I finished a swim ahead of an Olympian, because we totally weren't racing as far as he knew, I'm only stating that I reached the beach before him. That's all.
Before we went to eat most of us changed out of our swim trunks. I deck changed, as you do if you grew up a swimmer. Wrap a towel around your waist, strip, pull on shorts. Easy. To my surprise, Bennett did it too, with seven guys standing around him asking questions. Because that's what you do when swimming is part of your job. You're comfortable like that. I can check watching an Olympian get dressed off my To Do list (was hoping for Amanda Beard).
Breakfast was the Fairmont Orchid buffet, though the hotel had set us up in a special side room. Seating for 30. Only, like I said, half a dozen of us. So we pushed to tables together. By the way, I'm not saying there were only six of us as a commentary on Greg Bennett. I keep saying it because I seriously cannot believe more people didn't sign up. You are an amateur athlete being given the chance to speak to and hang out with and swim with a highly decorated pro and you are going to pass it up? Why would you do that? He was the nicest guy in the world. Answered every single question, and asked great ones in return. 
I was very excited because I have a question I would ask every single pro triathlete if I could, and I finally got the chance to ask one! "What," I asked, "would be your perfect race? If you could create the Bennett Invitational and you could pick any distances and course topography, what would it be?" His answer was pure short-course expert. "1-2k swim, 30k hilly bike, and an 8k run." I want to be the first to register for that race.
I was in the middle of Chrissie Wellington's autobiography, A Life Without Limits, and recently finished Chris "Macca" McCormack's I'm Here To Win, (Macca's is better) so I also half-jokingly asked when we were going to get The Greg Bennett Story. He said he wasn't sure he would write a book about himself, but he might be interested in writing a nutrition book with his wife for athletes. I'd read that too. He said he liked reading books about an athlete struggling before making it to the top and one of the athletes who could write a great book like that would be Craig "Crowie" Alexander, five-time world champion. So Crowie, get on it.
We asked about training stuff too. He would know, right? Compression works, and he prefers it to ice baths, but you've gotta have the good stuff. A lot of compression gear is really "only tighter rugby socks" so it doesn't do much good. And yes, I sqee-ed on the inside to hear the Aussie mention rugby. Ice baths are ok but he doesn't like them too much because of how they make his joints feel. He also loves riding on a trainer. The controlled environment, putting together a good two or three hour interval workout, helps him get stronger. That will help me get on the trainer more readily next time, with better plans.
It was a kick to hear him tell stories about other pros, people I'd only read about or seen in magazines. Stuff like, "I love Macca, but some of the stuff he says some times, I mean come on, man." That's hilarious, especially if you've ever heard Macca talk about himself. And if you've heard Macca talk, you've heard him talk about himself. This sounds bad, but I'm a big fan of his. Bigger fan of Greg Bennett now though. Macca, I'm sure, is crushed.
What was really cool, though, was when he asked us about our races. Everyone around the table shared how they did, with the rest of us chiming in and making jokes. It was more like a bull session with friends than a collection of people who had never met before. Triathlon family. Bennett said he liked doing things like this because triathlon is such a small world on the outside, but feels so big on the inside. And with pros racing alongside age groupers like us, it means we can all share the same war stories. I can't tell you how nice it was to hear him say he was scared by the wind coming down Hawi too. If the pro was clutching his aerobars and hoping not to crash, that means we really are together in this. Tom Brady will never say to you, "Musta been tough, sitting in the stands cheering the whole game while it was snowing. I'm impressed you made it to the end." When our pro says, "It was a really hard day out there and I'm impressed all of you made it through the bike without crashing," that means something.
Greg Bennett was as nice as anyone could have asked and more. He asked us to go around the table and talk about our future race plans and when I told him about Super Awesome Wife being pregnant and how that might impact us as a family and my training he wished me luck. Three times, and on Twitter. Dude was actually paying attention, not just nodding and smiling through some boring meet-and-greet. He said the swim and breakfast was his idea and I believe him. Here's his tweet from that morning.

Greg Bennett ‏@GregBennett1

Recovery swim and breakfast at the @FairmontOrchid . I'm looking forward to hearing all the war stories from yesterday.

 He wasn't selling anything and barely mentioned his sponsors, though I'd probably drop some money on a Bennett Endurance jersey. It really did feel like hearing war stories and hanging out was his only goal.

Meeting fans pre-race (from finisherpix) I'll take a jersey, please

I'm officially a fanboy now, and I'll be cheering for Greg at Kona this year, and his wife Laura at the London Games. He's got a Grand Plan to convince Lance, Crowie, Macca, Chris Lieto, and any of the other big names he can to do the 5150 (Ironman Olympic Distance Championship), Las Vegas (Ironman 70.3 Championship), and Kona (Ironman 140.6 World Championship) this year so they can really see who the best triathlete is. His money would be on Crowie, he said. How cool would that be, for all of the best to race all the distances together?
I can't thank Greg and the Fairmont Orchid enough for letting us do this. It was a pleasure and a privilege to meet him. A more amazingly nice, polite, humble professional athlete in any sport you'll be hard-pressed to find. And, if you're looking, you can find him @GregBennett1 on twitter. All the luck with your season, Greg. Go get 'em.

The group, Greg is in the shades

Dirtbag and the Olympian

Honu Race Report Part IV: The 70.3 Reflectionication

For the Pre Race and Swim click here
For the Bike and Run click here

70.3 miles. Seventy point three miles.
Seems like a long way. Hell, even in a car it's a good drive. Especially in Hawaii.
So how do I feel now that I covered that distance swimming, biking, and running? Did I hate it? Is it ever going to happen again? Did I get that foolishness out of my system?
In order- Good, no, probably, no.
I fully expected to be done with this distance after this race. There were times during training when I would think, "I'll do this, but I think I'll better off sticking to Olympic distances for now." I don't feel that way anymore.
There was not one point out on the course where I thought to myself, "This is stupid. Why have I decided to put myself through this?" I've had that thought during both of the other distances. I think I big reason I didn't this time was because of my attitude going in. All I wanted to do was finish. No PR to set, because as long as I crossed the line I would set one. No way I'm going to place in my age group, so why worry about it? I wasn't sure if my foot was going to act up (it didn't), or if my stomach would (it didn't either). This took an enormous amount of pressure off.
I was worried before the race if my final preparation  had been good enough. Instead of a real taper I spent the week before we flew to Big Island packing and moving out of our place. Not exactly great for recovery. I barely swam, barely rode, and hadn't run since the Honolulu Tri, and not for a week before that. I stressed about all those things before we flew out, when I had the time between stressing about moving and thinking about Dirtbag Fetus. But once we got there? What are you going to do? I had to have faith in my training.
That is really what it comes down to- Training. If you asked me what the hardest part of the race was, I would tell you it wasn't part of the race. It was the months leading up to the race, finding time in the predawn to swim, and then biking and running after teaching all day. Getting up early on weekends. Suffer in training so that the race hurts less.
You know one of the words I would use to describe the 70.3 miles that I never would have expected to use?
Fun.
Swimming is always fun. But mass start swimming can be awful. This, with the big school of us all surging towards the same spot in the water, the crystal viewing, this was fun. My stroke clicked and it was all good.

I don't know this guy, his picture was on the finisherpix page, and it perfectly shows how a lot of people feel about this race.

The bike was fun. I mean, it sucked, but it was fun. The wind was brutal and slowed me down and I was hating life for much of the last 14 miles of the ride. But it was still fun. It was fun to see all the othe triathletes, fun to zoom down the first section of Hawi, fun to joke with those around me, fun to grab a water bottle from a volunteer like a pro, and fun to see Lance in the flesh.

Just like the rest of us, one foot at a time. But really really quickly.

And it was even fun to run, for a bit at least. Fun to joke with the volunteers, fun to shout at the Grey, and...well, there wasn't a ton of fun to be had on the run.

Streeeeeetch

 And it was fun to see Super Awesome Wife at each transition and across the line.
The people we were with, Diesel and MamaSaid, the Grey and Second Favorite Wife (except you, Meg), are awesome and if you think having fun before a race doesn't play into how the race goes you're crazy and boring.

Why am I making that face? Diesel just smacked the crap outta my sunburned shoulder

See? Friends! Fun! Ouch!

 The whole experience was one I won't forget. I was only sore for a few days (funny story- after a Half Ironman your friends will all laugh at you if your room is upstairs. Think grabbing the handrails with both hands and taking a deep breath, psyching yourself up for the dozen step climb), and burned for a few more. Remember Diesel saying I should have bought a full hat instead of a visor? But Dirtbags have thick manes of black hair and I've never ever been burned on my scalp? Yeah, burned my scalp. Also burned my race numbers into my arms, leaving me with tan lines I secretly really dig. 

Burn (I'm not flexing!)

Tan

Other arm's tan. Cool, huh?

I can't wait to do another 70.3. There are a bunch on the mainland that, if super-secret plans go through, will be easier and cheaper to get to. Training time might be compromised, rightly, by Dirtbag Fetus' arrival, but I'd like to try and get in at least one a year while still doing shorter ones. By the way, this distance is by far the best bang for your buck distance triathlon. Most sprints on the island cost around $80 or $90. And Olympic is somewhere over $130. This? About $250. So a sprint (~1hr) for $90. An Olympic (~2.5 hours) for $130. Or a 70.3 (~7 hours) for $250. See how paying for short distance races might get harder?
And before we get ahead of ourselves, no I don't see a 140.6 in my near future. I'll probably do one at some point, but right now I don't have the time to train for one nor the inclination to hurt for 14 hours. Training for a full Ironman is a full time job and I don't want to commit to that.
Here is the most striking thing about finishing a 70.3 for me. I never once doubted I could finish. But that means I don't feel...different. Aren't you supposed to feel transformed after something like this? I knew that I could get to the finish line before time ran out. I knew I could put forth a good effort and give a good showing of myself. I knew that back in December. I believe the key to doing something like this is to not question once the choice has been made. Just Keep Moving Forward. Struggle and move forward. Fall and move forward. But do not question the choice once it's made. The Go is something I learned about myself back when I was a high school swimmer. I learned that I couldn't get faster mid-set. I would have to start fast and trust myself. Before I ever left the wall I would Commit To Go. And that was it. I applied the same idea to training for and completing this. I registered and the question was answered. I would Go. I would Go as hard as I could, as smart as I could. More people make a choice and commit to Go, there would be less unhappy people.
Thanks for sticking around for all of this. Who but me would spend thousands of words on one event?
Click on the link for the fifth and final part- Dirtbag vs The Olympian.

Honu Race Report Part III: The 70.3 Racening- Part II: The Bike and Run

Stay positive and keep moving forward.

-Dirtbag's Rule of Endurance

(For the Pre-Race and Swim portion click here)

I don't like opening on a negative, but the only complaint I had about the entire Honu experience that I think might have been controllable by the race director was how we got out of T1. There was a run from the bay to T1 which went up a decently steep hill. Then T1 happened in a parking lot. Then, to get from the parking lot to the road which leads to the Queen K highway, where we would be spending much of our time for the next few hours, we had to climb again. Like, immediately. And not kind of climb. It was a steep damn climb as soon as we hit the mount line. Not a long climb, but if you hadn't set your bike up in the right gearing you were kind of screwed. How bad was it? I got push started by a volunteer. And it wasn't a, "Oh, I see you're struggling, let me give you a hand." They were ready to help. Because clipping in while going from a dead stop to up isn't easy. So my complaint is that I bet there is a better way to start the bike. Small kine complaint, though.
As I hope I made clear in the last post, I felt solid after the swim. Paced it well, walked through transition, didn't feel any fatigue getting on to the bike. And once I got past that first little bump in the road I got to cranking. If I had to guess I would say that I probably spent the majority of the early part of the ride in too light a gear. I could have been pushing harder without losing cadence. In my defense, I didn't know what was coming, I didn't want to blow my legs out.
To my surprise, and his, I caught Diesel in the first five miles of riding. I was surprised because I never catch Diesel. He was surprised because I should have beaten him out of the water. Comparing splits later, he beat me by around twenty seconds. I accept that. *grumble* When I saw him I though he was having mechanical issues because he was pulled over and stopped. Then when he started he seemed distracted and slow. I pulled alongside to ask if he was ok and it turned out he was grabbing a small snack, which is why he was going slow, and his bike had felt funky, which is why he stopped. I actually was ahead of him for a good five, maybe ten seconds. That's right, I led Diesel during a 70.3!
Until he finished his snack and disappeared. Damnit.
The ride course went down towards the Fairmont Orchid, where we would eventually be getting off our bikes and running, and then made a U-turn all the way up Hawi, the climb I'd see every time I tackled Pineapple in training. The Queen K is not a flat road. It rolls with the landscape. To start, this was great for me. None of the rollers were long or steep enough to give me trouble and spirits were high.
Then HE blew by me. Remember the U-turn? That meant we got to see everyone ahead of us on the course for the first of two times. So I got to watch all the pros go flying by. And in the lead? Mr. Larmstrong himself. Of course. 

Mr. Larmstrong on course Honu 2012- from slowtwitch.com

I have been trying for days to think of a way to describe what it felt like to see him ride in the flesh. I've seen some powerful things in person. I've seen Albert Puljos hammer a home run. I've seen HHH pick up another man and throw him across the ring. I've seen jet fighters fly right by me at air shows. But I don't know if I've ever seen anything that gave me such an immediate feeling of, "Holy crap! Look at the power!" that I got from the two times he passed by me. The closest would be seeing a jet fly right over my head. It's there, then it's gone. His famous cadence, holding 100rpms at least, is a blur live. Seeing it on YouTube isn't the same. What is?
But I couldn't just let him go. As he flew by I turned to the lady currently passing me and shouted, "Hey! It was that one guy! What's his name?" She didn't laugh.
I ate once an hour on the bike, which meant three times over the course. And only tried to make myself throw up once. I had broken the Clif Bars up into easy pieces pre-race, but in my hurry to get one out and get back down on the hoods, I didn't want to get blown off the road, I crammed a whole bite into my mouth at once. Bjork! Lesson learned.
I continued to feel strong at the turn and back through most of the rollers, though here is where I ran into two minor mechanical problems one after another. My chain fell off the front rings. Twice! I was shifting from the big ring to the smaller one and, because my gearset isn't the fanciest on the block, it dropped right off. I think it's because I was in the wrong place on the cassette (the back group of rings). Easy, quick fixes. Stay positive, don't think about it. This is a race, but not really.
This was the first race where I discovered how we got water on the bike. Volunteers stand on the side of the road holding open water bottles. We zip by, reach out, grab one, I dump it into my quick fill aerobottle, pour the cool wonderfulness over my head, then toss the bottle as far to the roadside as I can. Check it out:

It was right before Hawi that I decided on anther Dirtbag Rule For 70.3 Racing- Dirtbag Don't Pedal Downhill. There were guys cranking down, and I simply tucked in, put my pedals parallel to the ground, and coasted, keeping up with some of them. "Hey guys, check out what I discovered! I'll call it 'Dirtbag's Theory of Downhill Pulling Force'. Or 'gravity' for short." Right before Hawi was also where I saw another person I knew. Obi Tri Kenobi, he who lent me his bike for my first tri two years ago, passed me after 12 miles. I like him, but dude needs to get his stroke together. No way I should swim that much ahead of him. When he does, he's going to be even more dangerous. And I can say that because he finished a day and a half ahead of me.

I must say, I was worried about Hawi. When Super Awesome Wife and I drove it in March it seemed really steep and long. Especially the opening miles. This helped motivate. And once I got on the road I was really confused. I felt so good on those opening climbs. I was bouncing up them, making passes, and feeling strong. Was this what I was worried about?
I can see that I've neglected to mention what would be the most important part of the ride. The Wind. So let me say this; Oh dear sweet science, it was freaking windy. Climbing Hawi you have wind whipping down at you, so you're climbing into a headwind, and wind whipping down the side of the mountain on your right, so you've got a cross wind. On the way up, the headwind was brutal.
Eventually the rolling steepness stopped. We would climb, then descend, then climb more, then descend. Yay for coasting downhill! But then it stopped and the grind began. This is where Hawi brought the pain. Steep climbs almost aren't that bad. You can see the top. But long shallow climbs are awful. Soon I just wanted it it end. I wasn't sure how far I had to go until the turn-around, but I would have killed a basket full of hobos just to have known. Stay Postive became Once We Make the Turn, It's Downhill. That thought got me the rest of the way up Hawi. Big U-turn and down we go!
Oh my. It was beautiful. If you had asked me in the next five miles what the greatest thing in the history of ever was I would have told you, "Downhill. Downhill is the greatest thing in the history of ever." And it was. Then the cut-outs started. The cross-winds were worst when the side of the mountain dipped away, leaving nothing to block the wind coming down it. Oh yeah, did I mention it was raining at the top of Hawi too? So wicked bad crosswinds on rain-slicked roads while you're trying to race downhill. Weeeeeee!
You could tell when a cross was going to hit you because the line of cyclists ahead would suddenly jerk to the left and then lean at what seemed like 45* angles the other way. A dude next to me got blasted so hard one of his feet came unclipped. I heard that some of the smaller girls, and therefore more susceptible to getting pushed around, we being treated like kites. It was kind of scary-to-really scary depending on who you ask. Including the pros. These quotes make me feel tougher:

“I had to stop to put water in my water bottle at the aid stations,” Ironman World Champion and Kona veteran Laura Sophiea said. ”I’ve done over 300 races and this was by far the toughest conditions I’ve ever experienced.”
“I’ve never raced in conditions like this … With this wind there were points where you were running on the spot,” said runner-up finisher, Australia’s Greg Bennett. “It was, without a doubt, the most brutal thing I’ve ever done.”

The second time I got to see the blur that was Lance was while I was going up and he was coming down, and Diesel too, who shouted, "DIRTBAG!" as he went by. That did help me get the next few miles done. And when the pro in second place, Greg Bennett I think, went by, I shouted, "Go get him!" Not sure he heard me. Things like this help the miles go. But my mile 40 I was done and just wanted to get off the bike. The winds had been so tough coming down that I was having to pedal downhill to maintain speed. Which made me mad at the wind. And there was a mile long climb coming out of the harbor that sucked as hard as any climb I've ever done. Diesel told me once that riding is fun but at the end you just want them to, "take this evil torture device away." That's where I was come mile 40. You know it hurts when you just want to be able to get off the bike so you can run a half marathon. But that was the thought that got me through the end of the ride. We went from Get Me To The Turn-to- Get Me To The Run. 

Palm trees mark the right turn into the Fairmont Orchard and the small group around me cheered when we saw them. At some point during this Matt, of Tri Cook, passed me and we had a nice short chat, and one of Kepa's friends did too. And that ride into T2 was as windy as any other part. Almost felt bad because the last mile was a no passing zone, and I'm sure the one or two guys behind me would have passed. Tough luck, boys. What did surprise me about the ride was the Grey never caught me. He climbs better than I do and I was sure he would have. That will change.

Bike Split- 3:19.46

T2 went smoothly. My spot was way in the back so I had a long run, but I'd taken my feet out of my shoes without unclipping, my one fancy tri-trick, so the barefoot jog/walk through transition wasn't bad. And having Super Awesome Wife waiting and cheering helped too. There was a bank of Port-a-Potties right before T2's exit and, because I'd been hydrating ok I took a quick pee. (Not all of us can go while riding, MamaSaid.) Kinda dark, so I knew I needed to be drinking more. And then I'm off on the run.

Always Dirtbag Tough

And we're off!

Here was my run plan: run when I could, walk every aid station and uphill, don't stop moving forward. That is all.

The run was almost comforting because I knew I could walk. I had no ego invested in the half marathon. I didn't know how my foot was going to hold up (there had been twinging coming out of the water, so I was nervous about it, but it was actually fine the whole time), I hadn't run regularly in three weeks, it was a big mystery.

Aid stations on the run were long and went Water, Perform (the IM-brand of sport drink), Food, Coke, Water, Sponge. And I loved them. There were 12 on course, one just about every mile, so each time I hit one I'd slow to a walk and grab, at least, water, water, ice, sponge. The sponges were soaked in the ice water and felt soooooo good to cram into my tri top. Ice got dumped on my head, in my top, and even into my shorts. Anything to stay cool.

We all thought the heat would be killer on the run because it normally is. There isn't much shade on a golf course. But it was still windy, so we traded hot and still for running into headwinds and, trust me, this is a good deal. It was on the run course that I got back to Stay Postive and Keep Moving Forward. There was never a time that I wanted to stop completely, and never a time when I questioned my sanity or hated life, but I certainly didn't enjoy the run. Who does? I tried lots of tricks for staying positive, including asking the people I was running near (read: who were passing me) if they knew how far back Lance was. "Hey, you know how far behind us Armstrong is? That guy was totally drafting off me." Most people laughed and played along. Was nice to see friends on the course. I also kept telling the aid station people, a lot of whom were very positive kids, "Oh, you are my favorite. I told the kid with ice a mile ago he was my favorite, but I totally lied. You are my favorite!" I said it really fast. It's not like I was cruising through.

Many people didn't like the grass sections. I loved them.

Stay positive. Stay positive. Look good for picture. Stay positive.

Yep. Totally walking here. They caught me. Still tough though.

 At some point early on during one of the many out-and-backs on the run course I finally spotted the Grey. He and Diesel had expected the Grey to be able to catch Diesel on the run, but he'd struggled more on the bike than expected. So when I saw him going out while I was coming back I started shouting at him, "Come get me, old man! Come get me!" (Dirtbag Racing Note: Shouting in the middle of a 70.3's half marathon will make your head hurt.) He did eventually, but it took longer than we expected. And he raped me when he caught me. Well, ok, here's the thing- earlier in the weekend I may have snuck up on him in an ice cream shop and given him a massive hug from behind when he wasn't expecting it. I may also have gently cupped his pectoral muscle when I did so. So I maaaaay have deserved to get jumped on from behind when he passed me on the run. Laughing helps the run go by. And after he went by I reached out an smacked him on the ass, "You are so sexy when you run by me!" A course volunteer on a bicycle near us nearly crashed laughing. 

I made a friend about mile seven who pulled up next to me and said, "I've been chasing you for seven miles." He was cool and I'm not making fun, but he was a big dude. Heavier. He said it was his first triathlon ever. Well, I walked with him for about half a mile, that middle section is the hardest mentally, and we chatted a little, but there was no way I was hanging out with him the rest of the run. I didn't have much ego or competitive fire, but I had some. Thanks for the motivation. 

There isn't much more to say about the run. There was an out-and-back called The Road To Nowhere right at the end that sucked worse than the rest of the run put together. Looking at the run course, it's easy to see what part I mean. It is so long that there is an aid station halfway down, but you don't know its halfway down if you've never been on it before. So you think, "Oh good, this isn't that far." That thought is followed quickly by, "Oh...damnit." 

Headwind going down means tailwind coming back though, and once you're done with the Death March (Diesel's name for it), you're practically done. One more aid station, past the 12 mile marker, where Obi Tri was standing and cheering us on, and the finish line is close enough to taste. "I am not walking any part of the last mile," I decided. I hadn't looked at my watch for elapsed time the entire race, it does no good midway through the bike to see, "Oh, three and a half hours. Only three hours to go." But now I was looking. I knew I should be able to come in under seven hours. I wanted 6:45, but walked too much for it. I did the math and decided to see how far under seven I could finish. I didn't sprint to the finish, that last mile was longer than just about any mile I've ever run. I barely had any kick to my stride. Once, my toes had gotten sore and I knew that if I cracked it, something you can do in funny toe shoes, it would stop hurting. So I stopped and bent over to crack it my my hamstrings went, "Woah! You don't want to be bending over right now! We will cramp and fail if you do." So there was no more of that. It was IronShuffle in. I could see the finish, hear the crowd getting louder, there were more people on course now, finishers already done standing by cheering, spectators, volunteers. I could hear the announcer calling out the names of those in front of me as they crossed the line. I just needed to get there.

Stride- IronShuffle

Down the chute

AND ACROSS THE LINE!

Run Split- 2:53.37

Finish Time- 6:56.24 
 
For Race Report Part IV- The Reflection click here

Honu Race Report Part II: The 70.3 Racening- Part I: Pre-Race and The Swim

(If you missed Part I, click here)

Today is your day. Your mountain is waiting, so get on your way.

-Dr. Seuss

We woke up at 3:40 for a 7am race start. There was a lot to do before the cannon. 

The first and most important thing was breakfast. One does not swim bike run for 70.3 miles on an empty stomach. Regular readers know that my stomach and I have had a tumultuous relationship on normal days, and on race days in particular, which means I don't normally eat a whole lot. But after my trip to the doctor a few months ago I've been feeling much better and wasn't concerned. That, coupled with my race plan, made the morning go surprisingly smoothly. A banana and half a peanut butter-covered bagel and I'm ready to head out the door.

Ah, the race plan. I thought you'd focus on that. My race plan and goal for the Honu were very simple: Finish. Have a good swim, know I had the ride, and get through the run however I needed to. That's all. I had a general finishing time in mind but couldn't have told you what it was once I was out on the course. I knew basically what each of the three splits should have been. But I didn't know how bad the wind would be on the bike, which would be a huge factor (and was), and I didn't know how my foot would hold up on the run or how badly I would melt in the sun. So no pressure.

This was a great way to look at my first 70.3. Why add any more pressure than I needed to? This was already going to be the hardest day out I've ever had. I have no ego, for once, riding on the result aside from the unthinkable DNF, so I was going to go out, work hard, have a good day, and try to work hard enough to stagger across the finish line but not so hard I stagger across mile six. More on this once we get to the bike and the run. That's where the plan really solidified.

To get to the race start we drove to the race finish, then got on a very nice coach bus which took us the extra four or so miles down the road to the race start, Hapuna Bay. Diesel claims its normally a fleet of school buses. Nicer buses = Lance Effect. Thanks, dude who won't be riding any bus. We appreciate you causing this to sell out. Helps us.

Once at Hapuna Bay the first order of business is bike check. We left our bikes in T1 yesterday, but they aren't quite ready to mount and go yet. For one, no water in the bottles. This would be tragically bad. Super Awesome Wife, who got up at 3:40 with the rest of us because she's super and awesome, and she wanted to see the off, helped me fill my bottles. This was the first time we got a good impression of the wind on the course. Namely, that if the water came out of the fountain in one place, you should hold the bottle waaay over here, otherwise you're watering the lawn. It was nice to laugh that early in the morning. The sun was already up. It was looking to be a great, hot, windy, hot, windy day.

For two, the day before we had all let air out of our tires. It gets hot on the Kona side, and anyone who passed high school science knows that heat does what to air. Yes, in the back? No, you may not go to the bathroom, sit down. Ah, the stereotype in the front row, yes? Right, heat causes air to expand. So if we had left our bikes sitting in the hot sun all day yesterday with fully filled tires, the tubes may have exploded. Which would have sucked. Changing a flat when I should be doing all my other pre-race stuff is not great. Luckily, that was not a problem, I borrowed a pump, and just like that Kratos was ready. 

Ready for battle

The next step was body marking. This was down the hill. Oh yeah, there was a hill. The difference between the Bay and T1 was, according to my Garmin, was only 36 feet. Yeah, well it was a steep 36 feet. Anyway, body marking. This is always interesting, because you really get to see how organized the event is by how well they handle numbering so many athletes. Ironman IS organization. A huge number of volunteers, a dozen lines of athletes, and the lines moved, if not swiftly, at least regularly. As I tweeted after getting marked, my guy was more concerned about making a mistake than some tattoo artists I've had. "1-5-5-3, right? 1-5-5-3."

Once I was body marked, I sun screened up and I was ready. Super Awesome Wife decided that rather than wait for the off on the beach she was going to head back up by T1 so that she could see the whole bay, and it would be easier for her to get pictures of the four of us coming through T1. This event was too big for her normal Picture Coming Out of the Water-Run to T1- Picture in T1. She had to choose. I'd rather see her as I was leaving on the bike than coming out of the water anyway. Helps. I kissed her and Dirtbag Fetus, then we went our ways.

So now I was alone. Kinda. Alone with nearly 2,000 of my closest friends. You know what was crazy though? Down on that beach, I didn't feel nervous in the least. I felt ready, secure in my plan and my training. What else could I do? It was too late to work harder, too late to back out, not that that was ever an option. It was time to do the thing. And no one around me felt all that nervous either. There was a ton of laughing and smiling. I dove into the crystal waters for a few hundred yards of warm-up and felt smooth. I rarely swim with my tri top on, so that was pully, but other than that everything was clicking nicely. Ran into a friend from Oahu and chatted, saw the Grey and MamaSaid, and suddenly the pros were heading towards the starting buoys. And I feel like again I should stress, this start line was full of happy, smiling, relaxed people. I'm sure there were balls of stress out there, twisting themselves into knots. But I didn't see many. I saw cool people. It was, without a doubt, the most positive starting line I've ever toed. And that helps. Positive feeds positive. A wonderful endorphin loop.

Pro start

 I don't know if the pros would have started three minutes before us anyway, of if the Lance Effect meant they got their own wave, but I appreciated it. Gave me time to realize I hadn't gotten my Garmin set up correctly. And, in my pre-race jitters, I forgot how to get it to Multi-Sport mode. D'oh! Looked around, there has to be someone on the beach wearing one...found a nice woman who hooked me up, and I was ready, but for real this time. The three minutes were also good because I figured that was a fair head start for Mr. Larmstrong. 
The announcer told us to take our places between the buoys, I waded out to what looked like a good spot, to just where I had to tread. No one was right in front of me but I wasn't on the leading edge either. I wasn't sure how far to the front I should be. Normally I get right up there, but in a field this big? Might get swum over. I settled in.

We wait for the pros off, I search for a Garmin

We take our places, with the less confident swimmers waiting on shore for the mosh pit to thin

Didn't have to wait long, though no one around me was prepared for the start. Talking about it later, no one heard a countdown. One second you were floating/standing/waiting, and the next CANNON! GOGOGO!
This was a washing machine, more so than any other race I've done. I immediately realized I overestimated my start position, but only slightly. I did get swum over a little. I got elbowed and kicked, there was white water everywhere, bodies everywhere, no clear water to be found. As a swimmer, it was exhilarating. Yes, I grew up loving the pool, everyone in their own lanes, everyone with space. But the physicality and aggression of a good mass start is awesome. A great way to being a day. I know many who would disagree. But they like running, and that makes them crazypants.
Eventually the crowd thinned some and I had open water. As open as water gets in a race like this. Which actually means I was in the middle of a group all heading towards a fixed point in the water. What is nice about this is I didn't pop my head up to sight but once for the first half of the race. I, like a fish, swam with my school and trusted that whomever was leading us had a bead on where we were all going. I watched the hips of the dude (chick? full body suits on skinny people are hard) next to me, occasionally avoided kicking feet, and found my rhythm.

GO!!!

 After the race, around the many tables among many different athletes where we had many blow-by-blow conversations about each leg, I would state that I loved this swim. And I truly truly did. It felt as good as I could have hoped. The water in Hapuna Bay is clear and calm, I could see all the way to the ocean floor an unknown number of feet below me. By the time I'd gotten there all the sealife had scattered, but there was coral and white sand and I loved it. I could have swum all day long. This is the positive of open water swimming. You don't get that in the pool. This sightseeing may have slowed me down some, but I don't think so. In mass start swims you group quickly. The first 200-300 yards or so is a sprint, then the lead group breaks away and everyone else forms their own schools and you pretty much stay there for the remainder. It takes too much energy to bridge a gap. Better to settle in. I didn't think too much about the coming bike, and the run never even entered my mind. There is no reason to dwell on the future pain during a triathlon like this. I had enough to think about. Constantly doing stroke checks, body position checks, and maintaining positive thoughts. I knew that the one thing that was going get me through this more than anything else was staying positive in my thinking all the way through. Letting negative energy in would kill me. So even though I'm a swimmer and I can get through a 1.2mi swim without too much struggle, I activated the positive and held on to it. It would be one of my rocks for the next six hours.

The field stretched across Hapuna Bay

I guess a buoy broke away from its moorings because of the wind, because lifeguards were waving groups back at one point. A few of the leaders started chasing the rogue buoy out to sea, and we had to be stopped. Looking at my Garmin data, as funky as it is with the problems it has tracking while swimming, you can kind of see that I did the same thing in my group. That course should be a rectangle, but there's a little dogleg in there. Whatcha gonna do?
I hit the beach feeling great. As far as you know, Lance was pulling on my feet the whole swim and I just barely beat him out of the water. Dude must have sprinted up the hill to be second into transition.
Swim Time- 32:55. I expected somewhere around 30 minutes. I'm happy.
It was here that one of my first Rules about the 70.3 came into effect. I will not run uphill. Not much. Why? It's going to spike my heartrate and make me tired. I'm not looking to save a minute here. So I walked up to T1. Better to be calm in transition. Got out my bag, poured a big water bottle over my head to get some salt off, put on my shoes, helmet, race belt with number, and shades, and grabbed Kratos. Ready for the fun part? Here we go!

T1 was hugely packed with bikes

Greg Bennett into T1 in the lead

Lance and Chris Lieto in 2nd and 3rd

The pros rush through T1

Diesel on his way out

Dirtbag always finds time to blow kisses to Super Awesome Wife

How did the bike and run go? Read about them in Part III.

Honu Race Report- Part I: The Beginninging (TONS of pictures)

There is only one way to start traveling to a race. And that is at 3:30 in the morning. Even if the race is still days away. And yes, this post doesn't even get to race start. It was a big thing for me, we were there for a few days, so each post will cover parts of that. This is getting there and getting set up. The next one (or few) will be race stuff, there will be one on my swim and breakfast with Greg Bennett, and probably a wrap-up one too. Settle in, Dirtbag likes to write. And you can't forget about the Race Report Preview, featuring a Damn Funny List.
Super Awesome Wife and my flight to Big Island left at 5:00am Thursday, the best we could do with miles and pricing. So it was in the dark that we headed out for my Half Iron Adventure.

We landed in Kona and were soon met by Diesel and his wife, MamaSaid. It is thanks to the two of them that we were even able to make this trip and this is one of the first of many times I recognize and thank them for that (along with my fantastic sponsor, Background Profiles). Together we picked up their checked bag, Super Awesome Wife and I carried on everything, and headed to the rental car. It was too early to check in to the condo Diesel rented for the weekend so we headed into Kona for breakfast then to the Fairmont Orchard for registration and shopping. That's right! Shopping. Because no group of athletes are bigger gear whores than triathletes. And if its branded Ironman? We will buy All The Things!
First, though, to let them know I exist and am here to race.

Gear Bags

Gear bag drop off (duh!)

Sneaky picture of the registration area

PROOF!

Mah cap!

Numbers for my helmet, Kratos, and myself

Check-in was easy and run by an army of the nicest little old ladies you've ever seen. Every one of them with a smile and a good luck on their lips. Here is where we ran into the Grey and his wife, Second Favorite Wife.  She was not racing, she was there as an observer, like Super Awesome Wife.
Once the boring part was done, into the Expo we went. They had all kinds of cool stuff there and it wasn't easy to choose what to buy. I settled on a sleeveless bike top (because everything should be sleeveless), and a visor. The visor was a must-have anyway because I only left one thing back on Oahu- my running visor from last years Honolulu Tri. Darn, gotta buy a new one. And I was not running the half marathon without a hat. Diesel said I should get a full hat to prevent sunburn. I called him bald. This information may be important later.

Every registered athlete's name is inside the M-Dot. Which means my name is on the same shirt as Lance. Take that, Lance! No, I didn't buy it.

HAT!

Front of fancy jersey

Back of front of fancy jersey

Because we hadn't gotten enough of checking into things yet, we bailed from the hotel and got into the condo. Really nice place, plenty of room, served us great. Diesel, MamaSaid, and I changed into bike gear so that we could ride our bikes back after picking them up.
Which is what we did next. Super Awesome Wife drove back to the hotel and we headed over to Tri Bike Transport's tent to pick up our trusty steeds. There are many ways to get your bike to another island, and the four of us (Diesel, the Grey, MamaSaid, and your favorite Dirtbag) went with TriBike. Mostly because they had a good price. More mostly because Diesel said he's used them before and they were good. And he got a free hat.
We did not get a free hat. "Money saving," they claimed. Whatever. I want free swag! Anyway, they were ok. Pick up went smooth-ish. The rear bottle holder on Kratos had broken off, but it didn't bother me too bad because it was cheapish and I wasn't using it any more anyway. Weight saving! We mounted up, took a photo op, and rode the four or so miles back to the condo. While we were there we also put anything we would need for the run into the red run bag (Get it? Red. Run. Blue. Bike.) and dropped those off too. You see, unlike any other race I've done, T1 would be in one place, while T2 would be in another. So this was the last time I saw my shoes, socks, and visor, until race day.

Run bag all set up

Broke da stuffs!

Tri Bike tent with Diesel in the funny hat helping MamaSaid

The Grey throws da shaka (a must in any picture in Hawaii)

Diesel's action figure (fully poseable)

Diesel

The Grey

Dirtbag as Batman shooting the moon

MamaSaid

Once we got back, bike fiddling commenced! Tweak, tighten, fix, fidget, tape, and sticker. I had to replace a bracket on my aerobars, so that got did too. Annoying, because I had to buy a whole new set of bars just for a tiny piece. A piece I probably could have ordered online if I had noticed in time. Might put the whole thing back together and return it and just buy the little thing I need. (Later I bought an aerobottle holder and bento box. Those are in the pictures too.)

Taped my aerobars because sweaty hands suck, and I don't race with gloves

Bento box with Cliff Bars

Aerobottle and bracket

I'm 1553, in case you missed that

Looks ready, boss

 The next day was Friday and we all had to do was drop the bikes off in T2. So we rode back, dropped off the bikes, and checked out some bike porn (including Lance's ride and one of the coolest paint jobs I've ever seen). After that is was eat some pasta, chill at the beach with Super Awesome Wife, knock off some fuzz, and celebrate Diesel's upcoming 25th birthday. Yeah, he made the trip possible, remember? In this blog, he turned 25.
All this riding around, first from the venue to the condo, then back the next day, might seem like a lot when you look ahead a day to the 56 mile race. But it's actually a great thing. Frankly, if you are so worn out after six miles that you can't ride again the next day, you might have picked the wrong distance to race. Couple that with the only way you can know how your bike feels is to ride it, added to who knows if anything goofy happened when it got shipped, compounded by its good to get out on the roads you'll be racing on before you're racing on them, and these little hops to and from were hugely beneficial.  

I want this guy's bike

Such a badass paint job

Kratos ready and waiting

Did I mention this is a huuuuge event?

Cool wheels, dude.

HIS bike. I shoulda stuck a Dirtnag Fitness sticker to it.

Smooth and Sexy

Super Awesome Wife hanging at the beach

Can't complain

Diesel turns 25

 After eating a delicious dinner cooked by Second Favorite Wife, and some cake for Diesel's birthday (actually the day of the race), we all went to bed early. Tomorrow was going to be a big day. The wind was blowing hard outside, but I didn't feel any nerves and fell right to sleep, after reading a chapter or two of 4x Ironman Champion Chrissie Wellington's book, A Life Without Limits. I had a race plan, I was as trained as I could be, I felt ready.
Part II here