by Rob Cummins
I'm hurting so much now that I can only convince myself to keep pushing for one more minute at a time. I last one minute more and then convince myself to just hold on for one more. I pass the 4k to go point and I'm in so much pain and so focused on pushing for just one more minute I almost miss the M40 mark on the next one’s calf as I pass and move into eighth. I dig in harder and he comes with me. I hold onto the speed, hoping he will crack. I'm counting the seconds now, because I can't even think in minutes. He's still there and it's harder mentally to have him there because somehow it makes the suffering worse. So I surge to drop him and he claws his way back onto my shoulder.
I've only got one more push. If he comes back at me he can have it. I surge and hold onto the pain and he comes back again. I give in to the pain. Then I think of Aisling and push again. He comes back again. I surge again and before he can get back I go again and again. I pass the one kilometre to go and the crowd support us with wild cheering and shouting and I try to let it lift me, so I dig in again. I can't hear him but I'm too afraid to look back in case he takes it as a sign that I'm fading and comes back at me. I come around the last few corners onto the cobbled section sprinting. The pain is all consuming but I can see the finishing chute and hear the roar of the crowds. I hold on for another hundred metres and as I turn into the chute I snatch a glance over my shoulder and see there’s no one there.
I almost collapse after I stop. I've never had to dig as deep before and I can't stand. I drop onto my knee and hold on to the barrier. I cross the line in eighth place in my age group and 51st overall. There are seven slots in my age group. Again I need someone ahead of me to not accept a slot so it will roll down and again I won't find out until the next morning at the awards ceremony.
Run: 3:40:10
Overall: 10:28:47. 51st Overall. Eighth in Age Group
Initially I'm upset, feeling massive disappointment. I had high hopes coming into this race and all the indications were that I could achieve a higher placing than this. Eventually I realised that even on a bad day I had placed well and the disappointment started to lift.
At the awards ceremony the next morning Aisling and my mother were close to needing Valium because they were so wound up, but I was very relaxed, confident that I had done enough and that a slot would roll down to me. When the announcer got up to the M40 category and said there was not only one but two roll-downs and called my name, the relief washed over me.
I stood up and said I would take the slot and sat back down again, at which point he asked me if I was not going to come up and accept my Hawaii'ian Lei. In my relief I had forgotten that I should go up on stage where it was presented to me. Racing in Kona had been a dream for almost half my life and for the last year it had become an all-consuming passion. It's funny but for the previous twelve months just qualifying had been my target. I had been so focused on this day being the ultimate goal that I hadn't really looked past it. The dawning realisation now was that I needed to start training for another Ironman. So that incredible day was only the beginning of the next chapter.
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Chapter 22
Kona 2012 –The trip and race week
‘After the underpants run finishes Kona once again returns to a normal level of super weirdness.’
Aaron Hersh - Twitter
The flight from Los Angeles International Airport (LAX) to Kona offered a glimpse of what was going to be one of the strangest experiences I had ever had. It was without doubt the fittest flight I had ever been on. I spotted over 40 triathletes on the flight with us, and they were just the ones that were easy to pick out. They all had some or all of the following:
• Ironman race t-shirt, bag, hat or jacket.
• Ironman tattoo, or several in the case of a couple of guys.
• Shaved legs. (on the guys, although if the girls had hairy legs I assumed they
weren't triathletes either)
• Bike brand t-shirt, Trek, Zipp etc.
• Marathon or other race t-shirt
• Wild colour racing flats Newtons, Zoots, Asics Noosa or similar
• Livestrong wristband
• Carry on luggage is a transition bag
• Body fat percentage in single digits
• Carrying a bottle of water, energy drink or bike bottle
• Wildly-coloured Oakleys
• Cyclist tan
• M35s and M40s often as not have a shaved head
• Facial tan with white Oakley-shaped stripe
• Arm tan, stopping at the wrist around the same place as cycling mitts
Thankfully there wasn't anyone wearing calf guards or compression tights. This would have been a dead giveaway, but it was six days to go to the race, so probably that would have been a little bit too early. I ticked a number of the boxes myself but I’ll keep which ones to myself.
The first thing that hits you when you land is the heat. Even though it was almost 11pm by the time we landed it felt like it was in the high twenties Centigrade as we walk down the steps. It enveloped us in a way that only happens in really hot countries. The airport terminal was outdoors which gave a good indication of the unlikelihood of rain. We made out way to the outdoor luggage carousel. I was a bit dazed because it was all so surreal. My legs were carrying me but I felt I was really only a passenger going along for the ride. It hit me why I was there as the bike boxes arrived out and were are dumped on the tarmac out at the front of the airport buildings. I got a shiver of excitement, despite the heat. I could not quite believe I was in Kona, less than a week away from racing The Ironman.
Tuesday was our first day in Kailua and it was a real shock to the system. Everywhere we went there was another triathlete riding a €10,000+ bike, running-bare chested, or walking to the beach in Speedos. The difference there to any other race I had been to before was that the whole town was there for the Ironman. Over 5,000 volunteers, 2,000 athletes racing and probably another 10,000 supporters and spectators. That's right – you did read that correctly – there were 2.5 volunteers for every athlete racing. Then there was all of the industry people. All of the big bike companies were there, along with all of the big American triathlon companies for the highlight of Ironman racing for the year. Every shop was selling Mdot and triathlon clothing, souvenirs and accessories. We spotted former World Champion Faris Al Sultan out running in his Speedos just after we arrived into town. Faris is famous for racing in his Speedos and a crop top like what would have been fashionable fifteen or twenty years ago, instead of the more common triathlon shorts or tri suit. It's funny to realise that he trains in them too.
We made our way to the practice swim and as I was getting changed on the front lawn of the King K Hotel I look up to see I'm standing next to four-time World Champion Chrissie Wellington. There are hundreds of the fittest people I've ever seen, all stripping off to reveal six packs, bulging pecs, biceps, quads and calves. It was the most intimidating place you could imagine and I really didn't feel like I belonged there with those people. These were obviously all the fastest and strongest Ironman triathletes from all over the world and I felt like an impostor. I half expected someone to come over, tap me on the shoulder and tell me they made a mistake and that I shouldn't really be there. Nobody did, however, so I made my way onto Dig Me Beach, where there was a tiny triangle of sand at the start of the pier.
I waded in and dived into warm crystal clear blue water and immediately saw dozens of wildly colourful tropical fish swimming below me. I couldn’t stop smiling and swam slowly and easily out to the Coffees of Hawaii boat which was about 500 metres from the shore. I had lost all interest in a training swim. I just couldn’t stop watching the fish and turtles moving below me as I swam by. I got out to the coffee boat and reached up to hold onto the side of it. One of the girls handed me down a small coffee as I treaded water and held on. It was a very surreal moment in what would turn into a week of weirdness. I reached up for another cup while watching more swimmers arrive. The area around the boat wa
s packed with people treading, water, drinking coffee out of small paper cups. I chatted to a couple of the others in the water and stayed long enough to get a free swim hat and a pair of Speedos.
I reluctantly pushed off from the side of the boat and swam back to the shore where Aisling was waiting. I swam slowly and easily, soaking in every bit of the experience. There were hundreds of swimmers in the water going out to the coffee boat or heading out further on the course for a proper training swim. I never tired of watching the fish and marvelling at how warm and clear blue the water was. After the swim we went for breakfast and on the way met the six-time World Champion Mark Allen. He was happy to stop and talk for a couple of minutes before posing for pictures.
We ate at a restaurant called the Fish Hopper overlooking the swim course and what was to be the finish line in four days. All the time we were there we saw hundreds of swimmers in the water and a constant stream of triathletes, both age groupers like myself and the professionals going past the open front.
I headed out for a spin after breakfast up onto the famous Queen K Highway where I would be racing in a few days. Leaving Kailua the speed rarely dropped below 40kph and it felt easy. Turning back after 50 minutes I was riding into the wind and then the speed dropped. It didn't seem to be as bad as I had read and seen on the TV coverage, but nonetheless it forced me to work hard just to maintain a decent speed.
I met Aisling back in town and we went out to the famous coffee shop and restaurant called Lava Java for lunch and did some more star spotting. All along Ali'i Drive on the way we passed a constant stream of super-fit triathletes walking, running or cycling in or out of town. Every couple of minutes we met another famous current or retired professional and when it seemed appropriate we asked for a picture and chat for a minute about the race on Saturday or about how crazy Kona is. All the people we spoke to were very approachable and happy to chat and spend some time with us. We were surprised to find that they all seemed like completely ordinary people. We had lunch with two of the Irish guys that were racing – Alan Ryan and Martin Muldoon, both of whom had been there before and they gave me some tips for Saturday’s race.
Wednesday
We hadn't really adapted to the time difference at that stage and woke early at about 5:15am, when we went out for a short run before heading into town where we again swam out to the coffee boat. The expo was coming to life and the buzz of excitement was even bigger than Tuesday. The highlight of the day for me was the parade of nations. Triathlon Ireland had organised Irish team shirts for all of us. It was an incredibly proud moment walking along in the parade with Aisling and the rest of the Irish team, carrying our national flag. The route was short, only extending from the hotel out about a mile along Ali'i Drive, but it was lined with cheering spectators. I was full of conflicting emotions. I couldn’t believe I was there alongside the best in the world. I still didn’t feel like I belonged, but I was determined to enjoy every second until someone noticed they had made a mistake and would send me home! After the parade we spent another few hours in the expo, meeting lots of the professionals and buying more gear that we didn’t need.
Thursday
I parked outside the supermarket and stepped out of the car. I looked down at myself and stopped – I wasn’t wearing any trousers. I stayed behind the open door and looked around. There was nobody there. Ais got out and walked to the back of the car, opened the boot and took out two green leprechaun top hats. She too was wearing only her underwear, consisting of bright green knickers and bra. We were in town early on Thursday for one of the most highly anticipated events of the year – The Kona Underpants Run.
The Underpants run was started as a way to highlight one of the problems caused by Ironman week in Kona. Athletes walking around all day in their speedo's. The culprits were predominantly European athletes but now the speedo tradition is much more widespread. Because it's always close to forty degrees in Kona it's quite comfortable to spend all day in speedo's, even while shopping for groceries. The locals weren't impressed and the underpants run was born to try to allow athletes an outlet for their exhibitionist side while hopefully restricting the public underpants wearing to a single event.
Aisling has spent weeks planning our choice of costume. I was in boxer shorts covered in shamrocks, with knee-high green and white socks, again sporting shamrocks. I had a green glittering bow tie and the leprechaun top hat. I was also wearing a large Irish flag like a cape. I was a six-foot tall super leprechaun in his underwear. Aisling was dressed in a similar vein and had a Pot o Gold basket filled with Irish sweets. We left the car and walked out to the road, waiting to be arrested. People stopped and stared as we walked past. We hadn't really thought out the whole business of getting from the car in our underwear to the run start part of this morning. Maybe we should have brought our tracksuits for the walk down to the town? But it was too late then, so we carried on.
As we arrived down at the pier the crowds were growing and when we turned the corner onto Ali'i Drive we were faced with the sight of almost 2,000 triathletes in their underwear in the street. The week had reached a level of weirdness that is still hard to describe. Taking off almost all your clothes in public isn't unheard of. We have all spent time on a beach in shorts and not thought twice about the lack of clothes, but there’s something completely unnatural about walking down the street in boxer shorts. It becomes wildly unreal when you are then surrounded by thousands of others, also in their underwear. Add to that the fact that most of them look fit enough to have just stepped off the front cover of a sports magazine and you are getting close to imagining how crazy it all was.
The pair of us in matching leprechaun outfits is going down really well. We are asked to pose for photos every couple of minutes by spectators, other underwear-clad competitors and even some of the press photographers. We meet up with the rest of the Irish gang and I take the Pot o Gold from Aisling and start handing out sweets to a family walking past, until Aisling points out that a man giving sweets to strange children wearing only a top hat and boxer shorts under other circumstances would get me arrested. I immediately stopped handing out sweets.
The run started a couple of minutes later and I threw sweets at the crowds as we went. It's the craziest, funniest and most enjoyable event imaginable that can be done in a pair of underpants and after doing a loop of the town we finished up back where we started. The crowd gradually dispersed and we made our way back to the car to put some clothes on.
We received tweets and messages all day telling us we made it on to the home page of one triathlon website and into several other triathlon news website photo galleries documenting the morning’s antics. It was only Thursday and I couldn't believe we had another four days of this craziness to go through. I went to register and sign on after lunch and the scale of the event started to hit home for me. All of the athletes were being treated like superstars. We were each walked through every step of the sign-on process by a volunteer. They spent as long with me as was needed, patiently answering questions and giving instructions.
My family arrived later that evening and we picked them up from the airport. On Friday morning I swam part of the Ironman course with Dad before breakfast, which was another one of the highlights of the week for me. It was really good of him to come out and swim with me and to experience the warm clear water and the incredible underwater sea life.
Friday was also the day for bike racking and for dropping off my race bags. Again the difference in this race and any other I'd done before was driven home as I went into transition to rack my bike. Everyone was taken through transition by an escort, who walked each competitor to their spots, let them rack their bikes and then explained the flow of transition – where to enter and which way to run. Next they took people to the bag racks, walking them through both the bike and run racking area. This was done individually with every one of the almost 2,000 athletes, the race having over 5,000 volunteers on the spot. That’s over twice the number of athletes racing, which
is testament to the level of athlete care and attention to detail. Again and again I was amazed at how incredibly far the Ironman organisation went to really look after us. You feel like you are somewhere really special, participating in the most important race in the world, and I still found it hard to believe I was actually part of it. My head was spinning, as I was repeatedly made to feel like a superstar.
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Chapter 23
Ironman World Championship, Kona Hawaii 2012
Race day started for us at 3am, many hours before the race started. We headed into the race area early, as I wanted to not only avoid the last minute rush and queues but I wanted to soak up as much of the atmosphere as possible. First there was body marking, and like every other detail so far this was an experience in itself. Each athlete had people doing the marking, one using a stamp to put each digit on and the other touching up any mistakes with a sharpie marker and a Q-tip. I had two American women doing my numbers and they chatted to me and made sure the numbers were perfectly applied before wishing me luck and sending me on my way. Next came a weigh-in, where my weight was taken and recorded. I then went on into transition to drop off my bottles and food for the bike.
