Last Saturday I raced Ironman 70.3 Hawaii, aka “Honu.” This has to be, hands down, the most beautiful Ironman race in the world. Well, at least the swim and bike. The run is not so much beautiful as it is challenging, snaking through the Mauna Lani golf course. By that point what beauty is there is easily overlooked by the desperate desire to get to the finish.
This is my race report. I have split it into two parts. This first part is more conceptual, and the second part is more analytical.
You could say that I was foolish to go. For over a year my stress bucket has been filled with a lot of stuff that had nothing to do with triathlon. My time to prepare was significantly curtailed, and my treatment left lingering setbacks. More on this later.
Why did I insist on going? A number of reasons. I have been unsuccessful at this race for too many years. Each time it approached I felt prepared, only to have something derail my effort. When the same thing happened this year, I said to myself, “Enough is enough. You aren’t getting any younger. This might be your last opportunity. Just go, and don’t set any outcome expectations. Give it your best, and enjoy whatever happens.”
I love the triathlete lifestyle. The constantly changing workouts. The gear. The physiology. The nutrition. The feeling I get after a morning swim, or a long Sunday morning bike ride. Alive and healthy. There is a lot of joy to be found in an active lifestyle, and I hope I never lose sight of it.
A few years ago I thought about my “why.” Every endurance athlete needs one, something to hold onto when the effort begins to suck. I thought about people I knew my age who struggle to walk to their car. Or maybe their knees are shot from too much running. A heart attack that makes intense activity impossible. Whatever the reason, they have no choice. Triathlon is out of their reach. From that line of thought my why was born, “Because I still can.” I must admit that in the two months leading up to this race I began to question whether or not I still could. Honestly, I am still looking for the answer.
Dealing with a DNF can be a challenge for coaches as well as athletes. The best advice I have found on this topic comes from a Jason Koop podcast, KoopCast #235, “Thoughts on DNF” 9/20/24. I have added a link here but for best results I recommend using your preferred podcast app.
This year began with high expectations. I was in great shape, and Pattie was improving well after her prolonged and impactful cancer treatment. I committed to doing Honu in the Spring, and Ironman California in the fall. I even bought a wetsuit when Zoot put them on sale.
Then came my bad news. A heightened Prostrate-Specific Antigen (PSA) reading in my annual physical, a potential sign of prostate cancer. That was followed by a long string of appointments, with more specialists than I knew existed. My training was disrupted, and my stress bucket began to fill up. I finally got radiation treatment in March. My oncologist asked me to keep my training volume low before and during treatment. No running, minimal bike, swimming OK. My training schedule straightened out in April, although it was clear to me that I no longer had the stamina I had before.
By the time I decided to do the race, the Fairmont Orchid hotel was booked. I called twice, hoping that someone would cancel. We did get a great townhouse, very close to the road to the hotel, so that worked out fine.
I have never felt so relaxed before a race. Not that I was totally chill. I just wasn’t freaking out. Sweeping aside outcome expectations is magical.
When we got back to our townhouse, Pattie mentioned hearing Guy Hagi - he always does emcee duty at the start - announce a special. If you sign up for next year’s race now, you are entered in a contest for a free stay at the hotel. We discussed it, and decided I should give it another go. So, we’ll be back next year, stronger and faster than ever.