The Road to Kona; Chicago Edition- RACE REPORT

Well, the race is over and I made it. To be honest, I am a little disappointed with some of my times, but who cares? I made it! Yes, I was last in my age group and only 28 people finished after me, but I made it. It is true that running up Alii Drive with the finish line in sight is amazing. The crowd cheered as if I was winning the race. The music was blaring and the lights made it seem closer to noon than midnight. Who cared what my time was? Not the crowd cheering me on. Not my wife who managed to talk and push her way to meet me just past the finish line. For that moment, I forgot how much I suffered the last 16 hours.

Swim - I really have no explanation for missing my goal time by over 30 minutes. I knew that I had a long day ahead and I was trying to pace myself on the swim, but I really felt I was swimming at the same pace that lead to a 42 minute swim at Steelhead and 1:20 swim at Ironman Arizona. I guess I was spending too much time looking at the fish and scuba divers and didn't focus on keeping a good pace. The good part was that it was easy to find my bike in T1 since I think it was the only one left.

Bike - This is really the tale of two bike legs. Going up the Queen K, I felt pretty good. It didn't seem too hot and the wind wasn't bad. As I started the climb to Hawi, the wind picked up a bit was blowing steadily in my face. As I made the turn, I felt I was right on my pace. Then the wind seemed to pick up right in my face again and it was strong. And the sun was beating down hard. I found myself having to pedal downhill just to keep from stopping. I was lightheaded and a total mess. I had to stop a few times and dowse myself in water (and one time in Coke since I grabbed the wrong bottle). The more I pedaled, the stronger the wind blew and the hotter it got. I kept myself sane my constantly doing the math to make sure I was safe to make the bike cutoff. By the time I pulled into T2, I was completely spent. I thought about going right to the medical tent since I knew I was dehydrated and close to becoming a heat casualty. In the changing tent, I felt confused and I guess didn't know any better than to put my running shoes on and start walking.

Run - As I left T2, I assumed (wrongly) that there would be a water stop close by. The course map said there were stops every mile. I assume that first mile was marked correctly and the water stop was placed exactly where it should be, but that first mile was brutal. I needed to cool down and drink some fluids. At the first stop, I drenched myself with cool sponges and drank as much as I could. And I kept going. I actually started to feel ok and even start running a decent pace, but then I would overheat and have to walk to the next stop and more cold sponges and ice. Jennifer even met me on the course and it took a few minutes for me to realize she was next to me. I was really suffering. Then slowly the sun started to set and I started a long journey through the dark Hawaii night. And I mean dark. No street lights on the Queen K, just some lights at the stops. Even the volunteers seemed tired, with some stops out of water. Not good when you are on the verge of heat stroke. I ran with a woman for a while who kept pointing out shooting stars but I couldn't look up without getting too dizzy almost passing out. I am sure the Energy Lab is a neat place to see on the TV race coverage, but for me it was just more dark miles of moving at my best pace. I kept trying to do the math. 8 miles left and 2 and 1/2 hours. 2 hours is 120 minutes, plus 30 minutes - so 8 divided by 150. Or is it 150 dived by 8? Either way it seemed like I had enough time. I reached the "Motivational Mile" where Jennifer left me a special message that was displayed on a screen. I knew she was waiting for me and I had to hurry and get back to her. My head was spinning, my feet were killing me but I had to keep going. In the dark, it is hard to tell uphill from downhill. As far as I remember, the entire course was uphill. With all the emphasis on reducing light pollution, thank God the local Target has a lighted parking lot. I saw the lights and knew I was close. The other athletes left were just shapes passing in the night. With all the money spent by the race organizers I have no idea why they couldn't spring the $50 or so to put glow lights on the mile markers (or why there were about 5 port-a-potties on the entire course). If you were lucky, a car might be passing at the moment you passed a marker. What did it say? 22 miles? 23? What if I trip over the marker? Then you can hear the finish line. It is still a ways off, but it is close. Finally, you get back into town for the last mile and a volunteer grabs my arm with a shocked look and asks if I am sweating. She is worried that I have heat stroke I guess. Then, Jennifer appears to cheer me on. She'll meet me at the finish. Just a few more traffic lights, then a couple of turns to that last stretch up Alii.

After spending so much time in the dark, the one thing I noticed the most about the finish line was the spotlight which seemed to be pointed right at my brain. I can't image the crowd at the Super Bowl cheering any louder as I crossed the finish line. It was a wild party that was waiting for me to show up. Jennifer gave me a big hug and kept me walking to get our picture taken and finally, sit down.

So yes, I suffered like I have never suffered before. So many times I didn't think I could make it another inch. And for what? Simple - to finish what I set out to do. I am not the leanest, fastest, or strongest. But I do have an incredible belief that I can make it. There is nothing that is impossible. There is no problem that cannot be solved. And my love of my wife is an unbreakable commitment that will guide us to many more adventures.