Oli's story

Kona, Ironman Hawaii, 11th October 2008.

Oli’s suitably long race report…..
If you can’t be bothered to read all this, which is fair enough, here’s a summary.

Swim - violent mess.
Ride - unbelievably long and windy, John overtook me, I overtook Stephane, I overtook John, John overtook me, didn’t see anyone else for a long time. No flat tyre!
Run - hot chaffe (and that‘s not a type of coffee). Ran with John, stephane flew past, flew past stephane, did things with ice, found Dan, saw Stephane, ran away, didn’t look back, got very tired, finished, ate cake.

Having arrived in Hawaii on the Saturday, a week before the race, it felt like the biggest battle was already over. We had made it through a gruelling winter of training and everyone was injury free and pretty excited about the big day. Seeing Stadler (I actually recognised him all by myself, but only coz I had Juan’s iron man DVD on at home whilst I was packing - Juan, thanks for the loan but I don’t think I’ll be making a copy) at the airport made it all pretty real and the excitement was starting to build. I usually only feel dread and apprehension leading up to a race, but in the week before Kona it was mostly just nervous excitement mixed, of course, with a large dose of crapping my lycra pants.

I got so excited that, I must admit, the thought of shaving my legs crossed my mind once or twice…only for a split second mind.

Having swum, ridden and run most of the major parts of the course, Dan, Stephane and I couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. Well, Stephane rode at Hawi and ran at the energy lab on different days to Dan and I and was insistent that the wind and heat were brutal, whilst Dan and I didn’t think it was too bad. We put this down to Stephane being a soft Frenchman rather than us just having lucky days. Everything bad that John said was of course brushed off with the reasoning that he was just trying to stir us up.

So, race day came and I was feeling pretty good. The predictions were for a fast day with light wind and some cloud around. All that was about to be proven very wrong.

Swimming out to the starting line with Steph and Dan (little Johnny must have been hiding somewhere and was no where to be seen) my inability to float soon had me gasping for breaths of air as everyone jostled around trying to get good positions. I had intended to start to the left in some space, but when it came down to it I had no idea what I was doing and just splashed about a bit trying not to drown before the cannon even went off. And off it went, heralding the most violent 1hr and 8 minutes of swimming I have ever experienced. I could barely put 2 strokes together for the first 500metres and after that each minute of open water was followed by 2 minutes of elbows, heels, fists and entire bodies pummelling the crap out of me. I managed to glance at my watch at the turnaround and was at 34 mins, which I thought was OK. I finally made it out in 1:08 and all things considered I was happy with that. I couldn’t have done that time a few months ago, plus I was feeling fresh when I ran into transition which is a far cry from my usual wheezing and spluttering. Good transition, and on to the bike, being told on the way out that Dan was about 6 mins in front, which was a bit disappointing, but early days yet.

Riding around town was great and I got to wave at Kat and my family a few times, then it was out onto the Queen K and the start of the hard work. I was feeling good all the way out to the turn around at Hawi, with nutrition under control and making good progress. John came past me before the long climb up to Hawi and I tried to follow him for a little bit, but he was going well above a pace that I felt comfortable with, so I let him go. Getting towards the turn around I spotted Dan and checked my watch. He was a good 6 or 7 mins ahead, but at least that meant I was holding his pace, which I hadn’t expected to do. Apart from JH flying past it was the first indication of how I was tracking, so I wasn’t too disappointed. Then it all began to get rather nasty.

Coming back down the hill was one scary ride. I have no idea how fast I was going or how strong the cross winds were, but it was bloody windy and I felt like I was going bloody fast. I was overtaken by quite a few people but I was concentrating on not being blown into the big spiky lava field to my right. My arms were agony by the end of it, from holding on so tight but the massive relief to get to the bottom was short lived as we turned right back onto the Queen K and into the howling head wind that was to accompany us home for the next god knows how long.

I passed JH around here and we both shouted some incomprehensible words at each other. Shortly after that I found my French friend, who wasn’t looking like un happy chappy. I tried a few French words of encouragement but I thought he might throw a bottle at me if said any more so I left him to it. For all I know I might have been shouting words of abuse, I wasn’t in much of a state to be talking French. From here until the end of the ride was just a blur of physical and mental pain. JH came back past me and I hung on the back of his group for a while until I started day dreaming and lost them. It’s amazing, everyone always asks me what I think about during such a long ride, but you stop concentrating for just 30 seconds and suddenly you’ve lost your group and put yourself in even more pain!

I was now riding on my own into the most painful 50km ish of headwind I have ever experienced. I could see JH about 150m up the road, but it would of taken all my energy to get back to them and I didn’t have it in me. I was in a deep mental trough and pretty sure Dan must have put a big gap on me by now and I was waiting for Stefan to come flying back past me any minute. The amount of times I had to persuade myself not to just stop and have a sit down are incalculable, the last 40km just seemed never ending. At one stage I thought I had a flat (surely that was inevitable!) and I was almost relived because it would give me an excuse to stop pedalling!

It felt like an eternity getting back to the airport, which signalled the final stretch into town, but eventually I turned back into Kona and towards the heavenly moment when I could throw my bike to a volunteer and put on my running shoes. I don’t think running shoes ever feel as comfortable as immediately after an iron man ride, the first few steps are like walking on air…..then your legs remember what you’ve been doing to them for the proceeding 5 ½ hrs and start acting like they’re made of lead, or jelly, or both at the same time. About 5:25 off the bike. My first IM ride without a flat tyre and my slowest IM ride. Kat shouted that Dan was still 6 mins ahead but no JH or Stefan in sight, but I knew they’d be around somewhere nearby.

So I started plodding along, taking as much fluids on as possible in the early stages and just trying to ignore all the people flying past me – I was pretty sure I’d be seeing them again fairly soon as long as I kept my head. Kat and Mary-Anne were doing a great job of tracking me and kept jumping out from random side streets and scaring the sh#t out of me. Still, it kept me on my toes, if only to see if I could beat them to the next turn, which really I felt I ought to be doing. Eventually, one of the people racing past me was John and I wasn’t about to let him go flying past me.

So John and I ran together, with me trying to get as much information as possible out of the seasoned vet, hopefully learning enough to run a sensible race. At the first turn around we saw Dan, holding his 6 minute lead and still smiling. We exchanged a few words; I’m not sure what he said but it probably involved bread. Then, true to form, the flying Frenchman comes racing past John and I, looking to catch the race leaders in a never-seen-before comeback from the death….I have to admit, Stephane, as much as I wanted to see you win I had a nagging suspicion that I might be seeing you again fairly shortly.

On we plodded, back up Alii drive and to the crowds. Turning right up ‘Oolala road’, or something suitably tropical, Kat and the entourage were there to give me another big shout. I remember sticking my tongue out at mum, mainly to try and fool her into thinking I was enjoying myself out there - I didn’t want you worrying too much mum.

Shortly after that, up the Palani road hill, we went past Stephane. It seemed that the sight of the winner coming back down Palani road, about 25km ahead of him, had finally broken his surge to glory. Out onto the Queen K and after the excitement of the crowds you were hit with the sudden realisation that you still had over half a marathon to run and it was getting rather warm. I couldn’t see Dan anywhere and I was now too buggered to try and chat to John. The aid stations were great and broke up the monotony, as did watching John stuff ice down his pants as he was running, all-the-while maintaining a straight face. Eh-up I thought, I don’t recall him teaching us about that in training! Must be a trick of the trade that he had learned during his years of racing. So next aid station; ice in me pants. I didn’t notice an improvement in my performance but I did receive much more attention from the ladies at the next aid station, so perhaps that was Johns game all along.

Anyway, aside from that it was still very bloody hot and I was getting a bit tired. Into the Energy Lab with the thermometer reading over 40 degrees. To be honest, it didn’t feel any hotter than the rest of the course, but I wasn’t very aware of my surroundings by now. I spotted Dan ahead, still smiling (obviously I was behind him so I really have no idea if he was smiling or not, but knowing his penchant for pain I’m guessing he was having a great time) but slowing a bit and by the turnaround he, John and I were alongside. Then, the phoenix once again rose from the ashes and Stephane appeared about a minute behind us. He didn’t seem interested in our jovial shouts of ‘Bonjour’ and was looking like a man on a mission. I decided he was after me and now was the time to leg it – in hindsight, I’m quite sure he had no idea where he was, let alone who was around him, but it gave me the kick I needed. It also timed nicely with John getting delayed picking up his High5 picnic hamper from special needs and gave me a chance to escape. The rest is just a bit of a blur until the finishing straight.

The Queen K went on for ever and I was continually waiting for John, Stephane or Dan to come past me. I didn’t want to look behind because there was nothing I could of done about it, so I just kept on and on. Each aid station seemed to be further away than the last, but the relief of reaching each one and throwing a cup of ice water on my head was like a victory in itself. Finally, turning back down Palani road I glanced back and couldn’t see any of the guys anywhere. Happy days. All that was left now was a plod down a hill, round a corner and along Alii drive to the cheers of the crowd.

I found Kat in the crowd and gave her a sweaty hug and a kiss, which she seemed to enjoy. I grabbed a postage stamp-sized Union Jack from someone in the crowd and trotted slowly through the finishing chute, enjoying the moment and flailing my arms around above my head. I would have like to have skipped a bit or maybe jumped up for a big heel kick, but it was well beyond me. Having said that, a cartwheel was well-beyond Dan but he still gave it a go, happy to settle for a dynamic rolly-polly.

And that was that. Job done. 9 hours, 55 minutes and 33 seconds of immense pain but a surprising amount of smiling.

Having caught up with everyone in the recovery compound and eaten a large pile of chocolate cake, Dan and I grabbed our bikes and cycled home. It seemed a little over the top, cycling home after all that, but driving would have taken ages and I was gasping for a cup of tea.