Race day in Kona!

We were up and headed down to the starting line at 430am. Pat got body marked and then disappeared into transition so I went and found a place to watch the swim. Yes, the sea wall was already packed by then, and it was nuts. I did get a nice spot at the top of the row of bleachers right behind the wall though – and there I stood for the next 2.5 hours watching the crowd stir themselves up into a frenzy (it was hard not to! It was indescribably exciting!). I saw one lady get so excited that she accidentally sat on her baby and almost dumped it off the back of the wall (the little one made an almost alien-like noise as there was a loud collective gasp from the crowd). 

Pat getting bodymarked. She would look MUCH more awake very soon.

I saw the both the Pros and the age groupers start the swim ... it was truly an incredible thing to see in person. My heart rate jacked up sky high last year just watching it online. Watching it in person was unreal, but I have to admit, in spite of the chaos of the mass start I still wished BADLY that I was out there giving it a whirl. It was phenomenal just to be out there doing the training swims this week ... during the race it has to be one of the most memorable triathlon swims on the planet. Pat told me later that she had a GREAT swim, and that one guy saw dolphins swimming near the pack. 

Some of the Pros at the start

The Pros. Lined up and waiting for the gun.

And the Pros are off ....

The age groups start to line up.

You didn't have to work very hard to tread water out there due to the high salt density ... still, not a bad idea.

And the age groupers are off!

There wasn't much to see while they were out on the swim course ... but I hung around to try to catch at least the first Pros out of the water. They started 30min before the age groupers, and considering their swims should be right around 45-50 mins I didn't have to wait for long. It was well worth the wait.

Andy Potts is the first Pro out w/a time of 49:44. The men's record at Kona is 46:41 and belongs to Lars Jorgensen.

The Pros take drafting very seriously

Once the Pros were out I bolted over to where the bikes come out of transition, head down Ali'i for a few moments, before turning up Palani. Of course by the time I got there all the Pros were already out on their bikes, but I did catch the initial mass of age groupers heading out ... including Pat! 

Some of the plethora of age groupers heading out on the bike. This was the turn onto Ali'i out of transition.

Go Pat! I asked her later if she heard me as she was coming out of transition. She said 'Um. Yeah.' Made my sore throat TOTALLY worth it!

Once Pat was out on the bike I ran up Palani (run being a relative term - it's really quite a hill) and caught her twice more - heading out and back on the loop through town before heading out to the Queen K and up to Hawi. After that, Tom and I migrated to a church all-you-can-eat pancake breakfast that totally hit the spot! We hung around and watched some of the Pros come in from the bike and head out on the run, and then until it was time for Pat to finish her ride and head out on the run. She looked good coming in from the bike, even though it was a little later than I'd expected. On her way out of transition she walked past me and lifted the edge of her shorts to reveal a pretty gruesome patch of road rash (sorry if I gasped, Pat - it really looked awful!). All I got out of her in the 5 seconds while she went by was that someone had pulled out in front of her on her bike somewhere near Hawi and they both went down hard. She didn't seem to be limping but did seem to be walking gingerly and I was worried when I didn't see her start to run before she disappeared up Palani. I took off running down Ali'i to try to catch her right before she headed out for the 5mile stretch that goes South on Ali'i before turning back around and back up Ali'i and out to the Energy Lab. I caught her right at the turn and could see she was running! Phew! 

Pat heading into transition.

Craig Alexander, heading out on the run.

Pat, heading out on the run. Banged up from her crash, but still going!

Later, she would explain what happened: She had just gone through a water stop and gotten a fresh bottle, which was still in her hand. Shortly after she started out an older gentleman (80s) for no apparent reason, swerved in front of her, and they both went down. He was sitting up and physically looked okRigsby. You probably know him and just don't know it - he's a double amputee who has done countless Ironmans, and is an inspiration every time you see him. Pat said he asked her how her day was going and she explained not so great, and told him about her accident. He commiserated and said he was having a tough day too, and had already had to stop 3 times to take his legs off. Pat said it gave her some perspective and she thought also gave them both some energy to finish the ride strong. I saw them both come in off the bike - within minutes of each other. 

You can't tell much that's going on on the run, so after grabbing some dinner Tom and I headed to the finish line to watch people coming in. I found a spot literally as close to the finish line as you could get - within feet. We got there right around the 13hr mark ... and I don't think we budged until Pat came in over 3 hours later. This was my first ironman event in person, so to see people, in person, the moment they got to that finish line was extraordinary. I can't tell you how many times I was in tears - out of pure happiness for total strangers. Tani, a good friend, and also the world's number one iron sherpa, had warned me of this - but I really had no idea. The tears just kept coming ... followed by laughter ... followed by more tears. I totally forgot to take any pictures. Spectating is exhausting in more ways than just being on your feet all day. I watched the Biggest Loser girl come in - and after her long day, do a FANTASTIC dance that I wouldn't have had the energy to do right then and I hadn't done anything all day! I watched the lady in stage 4 colon cancer finish - you try not to cry at that one! I heard Mike Reilly LOUD in the microphone saying 'Put the baby down! Put her down! You'll be disqualified! You can't cross the line with the child! PUT HER DOW .... " and then in a much softer and truly sad voice, "Nevermind. It's too late." My heart physically hurt. I saw another guy run through the finish holding a sign 'Will You Marry Me?'. Mike Reilly tried desperately to find his girlfriend for him, but I don't think she could get to the finish through the mob (at least the little girl in me that still believe fairy tales do exist had to believe that's the only thing that was holding her up). And on and on and on. Every person had their own unique story, or dance, or gesture, or signature move, or just that special look in their eyes. I can't say the 3+ hours went by fast - nothing goes by fast when you're watching a giant clock right in front of you - but there was no place else I'd rather have been, and no way I was moving from that spot. Of course it got worse as the night went on - people leaning, people obviously in pain, people collapsing into the arms of the catchers. But it also got better - the crowd support was out of this world, and Mike Reilly got more and more nuts - it truly was if every person there was willing the athletes in with everything they had - me included. If you let it all in - all the support and the pain and the pure good will - it's simply overwhelming ... and for me, it was an experience that will stick with me forever.

Pat came in right around 16h10min. I saw her and tried to take a picture but I was so excited I was shaking and it came out blurry. I gave up and just screamed my fool head off. I saw her come down the ramp on the other side as Chrissie Wellington walked up to her to give her her finishers lei. I couldn't get around the crowd though, and sadly, couldn't get a 'real' picture of this - all I could get was the jumbotron. It was good enough. After she was out of the finishes chute I ran through the crowd to the other side, waited a few minutes for Tom, and we headed over to where families go to meet their athletes. We waited for a while, before checking the medical tent - and found her there. It turns out with her history of cancer the medical folks thought it would be prudent to give her an IV, just to be safe - so she was lying there, looking absolutely fine (except for the road rash from the crash on the bike, which was now horribly bruised in addition to bloodied) talking to the guy next to her (in much worse shape, and oddly, I had met and talked with his wife earlier in the day), while the saline bag was emptying out. We gathered up her gear, and Tom went and got her finishers medal (a beautiful thing, I might add!), and as soon as she was sprung from medical we headed home.  

Pat, at the finish with Chrissie Wellington. Video of this made the highlites reel at the awards banquet. Pat didn't realize it was HER up on the bigscreen until I grabbed her and said 'THAT'S YOU!'. It was beyond priceless.

Almost 22 hours after we started, after feeling like a zombie on my feet for the last several, more than ready to drift off into the sweet oblivion of horizontalness and sleep ... I lay in bed wide awake. It's impossible to have all that energy pulsing through you for that long ... and then just shut it off. At that point, tired as I was, I didn't even want to. It occurred to me that if you can come here and NOT be inspired to do an ironman, then it simply isn't your cup of tea, and nothing on this planet will ever make it so. And that's perfectly ok - it just means your heart belongs in something else, just as important, just as great. No matter what though, you still can't help but marvel at what all ironman athletes do, the infinite number of impossible obstacles they overcome - some they know about going in - like physical handicaps or cancer .... some are surprises along the way - bike crashes or heat exhaustion ... just to get to that finish line. Pat has thanked me a thousand times for going on this trip with her, training with her, and supporting her - I can't find a way to explain that *I* was the one who got the most out of this. 

The next evening we went to the awards ceremony. As you might have guessed it was overflowing with emotion. They had a show complete with dancers (male and female). And a ukelele player who was just incredible (her hands moved so fast you couldn't see them). 

For my male friends who I know are dying to know. Yes, there were hula dancers. And Yes, they were beautiful and talented! I have no idea how they move their hips that fast, but wish I could figure it out - it looked fun!

And for the girls. A little hard to see but those are male dancers in front. Their moves were slightly more manly, and they all (male and female) looked fantastic.

After some more pomp and circumstance, and totally unbeknownst to him, they inducted Mike Reilly into the Ironman hall of fame. Here's a guy, as most people know, who was totally overflowing with energy the night before, as he is at every Ironman finishline - with more energy than any human should be able to contain in one body - and now he's standing up there, totally surprised and overwhelmed, fighting tears (and losing). I can't imagine there was a dry eye in the entire place by now. He literally couldn't find the words for several minutes (hard to imagine, isn't it?). He gave his speech and then Diane, the race director, apparently hugged him and said something along the lines of 'Ok, now pull it together and do your job.' He did. They went through all the age group awards, finishing up with the 80+ age group which contained the infamous Lew Hollander. Lew took first place, less than 5 minutes ahead of 2nd place, who finished less than 1 minute ahead of 3rd place. The race with the race this time, was amongst the 80-84yr old men! Mike Reilly took a moment to talk to them, and we all got the privilege to hear some of the priceless wisdom that comes with age. The 2nd place finisher, France Cokan, said he fell 7 times, for 'various unjustifiable reasons'. The medical crew tried to convince him he should quit and he told them he's a Dr, he should know when it's time to quit ... and he kept going (he said he was going to talk to them about the benefits of the Polish diet, but decided it was probably not the best time). Lew offered a couple tidbits as to how he's still out there doing this race year after year. First, he said, go anaerobic every day. Not just aerobic, AN-aerobic. I'm not sure about that one, but it certainly seems to be working for Lew! He also said, if you're training and you're comfortable .... you should speed up. More than anything else I found myself hoping that I was in as good of shape at 80 as they are ... and that I find a way to retain that sense of humor that I think keeps you young.    

Mike Reilly, Ironman finishline announcer, being inducted into the Ironman Hall of Fame. He was totally surprised, and unbelievably, speechless.

One of the many sets of top 5 male and top 5 female age group finishers.

The oldest athletes in the race. They had their own race within the race and were in great spirits at the awards ceremony.

And then the Pros. Chrissie Wellington's speech had everyone teary-eyed ... again. What she says and how she says it is so obviously from her heart and she doesn't care how she sounds or how she looks, she just wants to share things with you and express how she feels. She talked about how it's 50% physical, and 50% mental out there .... and how it's not easy but she hates the ***damn easy route anyway. She said to never ever ever give up .... and always smile. Craig Alexander's speech was much the same, thanking his wife and kids before anything else, then choking up and trying hard to hold it together. It was an emotion-filled evening, after an emotion-filled previous 17hour+ day, after an emotion-filled previous week. 

Top 10 Pro Females

Top 10 Pro Males

Craig Alexander giving his speech

The Champions! You simply can't help but smile at (and for) them. What incredible athletes.

I've struggled with blogging this trip Outside the Radius, because for me it has really been an experience beyond words, and almost beyond thoughts. Words and pictures simply don't do any of it justice. You can't capture true and pure energy. So much of it is felt so deep inside yourself that you barely even know how to explain it to your own brain ... much less to anyone else.

The only thing I can think of that would possibly be harder to express ... would be being on the OTHER side of that start line ... and hopefully, sometime less than 17 hours later ... the other side of that finish line.  

The calm before the storm

Wednesday morning we headed down to the pier for another early swim. Half of the city was swimming with us, the other half was watching. A friend back home who was online sucking up everything Kona just happened a across a video where we show up in the background. We actually remembered seeing the guy filming in front of us. I have to admit that Pat and I sat on my bed rewinding it over and over again pointing at the screen and laughing like we were 7yrs old. Ah, the little things in life. The video was on Everymantri.com if you care to play Where's Waldo with us (we show up somewhere around 1m20sec - blue swimsuits). 

We were actually walking around by the beach looking for Luis Vargas. He and all the MarkAllenOnline athletes (remember, Pat uses their coaching) were meeting to get swim tips from Luis and then swim the course together (yeah, I snickered at that one too. If only). Before they all took off never to be seen again, he gave suggestions about where to line up depending on how fast you were and how comfortable you were with "physicality" ... and talked about the extremely high density of the salt in the water and suggested coating yourself in a thin layer of vaseline to keep your skin from getting destroyed (great advice, but personally I think he hexed me. I had no problem on previous swims but of course this time I chaffed something fierce under my swimsuit's shoulder straps. Yes, it hurt just as much as you're thinking.)

The swim was still spectacular. There were big swells in the water this morning, but it was actually kinda cool (in a moderately frightening sort of way) to look up and sight and see nothing but a wall of water. We stopped at a buoy near the infamous coffee boat, about 50m perpendicular to the course and decided we might as well go check it out. Sure enough, they're handing cups of coffee to the swimmers over the side of the boat (I passed. Despising coffee on dry land I couldn't imagine I'd like it any better at sea). Blue Seventy reps were throwing goggles out into the water. If you looked below you you could see some brave swimmers diving all the way to the ocean floor to grab pairs that had sunk (it looked REALLY deep out there, though I really have no idea how deep ... all I know was that *I* was not that much in need of a free pair of goggles). We treaded water out here for a bit and just enjoyed the festivities before heading back to the course.

It's pretty interesting the things I noticed on the rest of the swim. For one, it occurred to me that the water was an amazingly gorgeous shade of blue – as in, not even a shade a blue I was sure I'd ever seen before ... followed by the thought of hmm, for some (hopefully not me, and not today, or any day in the near future) that could be the last color they ever see – really NOT a bad last color, as far as last colors go. No, I'm not morbid, and I wasn't scared of drowning at that particular moment (literally, if you stopped swimming and just barely moved your arms and legs every few seconds you would still float – the level of salt in the water is that intense. I think it would actually take some real effort to drown out there ... well, I suppose if another swimmer knocked you out cold it would be easy enough ... but again, I'm not morbid) – sometimes a brain just comes up with these things on its own! A little while later, where the water was a little deeper, I was just swimming along and taking in the aquarium-view when I noticed, oddly, that the fish would swim one direction in a little clump ... and then all of a sudden the entire fish-clump would quickly move backwards as a unit, almost out of my view. Took me a little while to realize that was the current way down there snatching them up and swooshing them back. I marveled over that for a little while until I realized I was feeling a little nauseous. That was enough fish-watching. I decided to just stop all thinking ... and swim. The rest of the swim was simply heaven. 

The waves got bigger and bigger, but that didn't stop anybody. Race day it was much calmer than this.

On the pier, post swim. Two happy kids.

After getting back from the swim and grabbing some food we headed out for another ride on the Queen K. I was far from bored with the lava fields and wind ... but today's ride was topped off with a few extra cherries. First, while riding along with Pat behind me, a guy in nice green and white clothes, on a killer bike, with a moped beside him, flies by us. The clothes and the moped are dead giveaways that they guy is a pro ... as was the WEISS stamped on the top of his shorts. You just have to marvel over these guys' muscle tone as they go past - it's just unreal. As I'm giggling from this and hollering back to Pat to ask if she saw who that was, up ahead I see a group of runners. There's one guy out in front of about a dozen others ... and he looks incredible – you know, the kind of runner you look at and just think WOW I want to do THAT! He looks smooth and he makes it look so damn easy – it was just beautiful ... and as I get closer I realize he's not a young whippersnapper either – he looks like a slightly older guy, making it all the more impressive (at least to me, youth is truly wasted on the young). If I'd figured out who it was a split-second earlier I would've said 'Hi!' ... but by the time my brain put it all together I was too far up the road ... and Mark Allen was too far behind me. The bigger group (that he has left in the dust) passed a bit later and we DID say hello to them – we'd actually forgotten that MarkAllenOnline athletes were going out the Energy Lab and running the 5miles into town as a training run, a workout that Pat opted out of (though personally, I would've been ecstatic to run with Mark Allen for the microsecond I would've been able to hold the guy's pace).

The rest of our ride was fun and fast, apparently we were both still charged up from the energy of the company out there today. A few miles from the end I spot a guy up ahead and something inexplicable got into me ... I just HAD to pass him. It was one of those things where you know you can ... and you do. I took the poor guy down like he was a sick gazelle and never looked back (this is pretty unlike me, I simply don't care too much about other people out there). Maybe that's what happens when you breathe in air that's been filtered through the lungs of the likes of Mark Allen and Micheal Weiss? The meet-up location for the SAG vehicle is up ahead and I'm sad the ride is over so I get in a super easy gear and just spin all the way to the turn, drawing out the last few minutes as long as I can. As I'm making the turn and unclipping I see the guy I passed launch past me like a rocket and give me a disappointed sideways grimace. Pat comes up from behind, laughing her head off. She tells me watching that unfold was hilarious. The guy wasn't too upset when I passed him, but then SHE took off behind me and TWO girls passing him was apparently all he could take. He charged after Pat, caught her, and of course if I'd kept going straight he would have easily mowed me down too and never had to look back. It was purely a timing thing, obviously ... but holy cow, if only you could bottle up that feeling of blasting by someone .... it'd be priceless. If had that kind of skill I think I could easily become a total bum, live paycheck to paycheck and simply spend my days chasing down everyone in sight. 

Riding on the Queen K with lots and lots of company.

Somewhere out on the Queen K. Laughing as Pat wrestled with my complicated point-and-shoot camera.

A Memorial on the Queen K.

On the way home, I stop off at the bike store near the pier ... because Macca was scheduled to be there doing a book signing. I know. A lot of people truly hate the guy. If you're one of them you seriously aught to read his book. I couldn't put it down and even someone with my less-than-average level of skill still got a ton out of it. For one he gives tons of tips that have already helped me (in just the time since I've read it I've already found opportunities to use a few of his ideas – and they worked!), and for two, it helped me in a myriad of ways just to understand how a guy his caliber actually thinks – and that it's often times not too far from how a peon like me thinks. You'd probably be surprised. Read the book. If you still think he's a pompous ass then fine, fair enough ... but at least give the guy a chance. I'd say I'd loan you my copy, but I won't ... because now it has a special personal message and autograph inside the front cover.

Yep. I'm in awe.

After meeting Macca I stumbled, somewhat dumbfounded, over to the expo. I ran into Chris Lieto's charity tent called 'More Than Sport'. It's a collection of three local groups that he has gotten together in order for the triathlon world to give back to the Kona community. Check it out.

The next morning I got up and went for a run while Pat continued to enjoy her taper, then we headed to the MarkAllenOnline breakfast (we had to miss the annual Underpants Run for this, by the way – can't do everything). Tom and I got to join Pat and the other 20 or so MarkAllenOnline athletes (and their families) for a breakfast buffet while Mark Allen and Luis Vargas gave their talks. To hear these guys speak, much less in such an intimate setting, was just out of this world. As with much of this trip, I just sat there thinking 'I can't believe I'm here'. I met a guy named Rick wearing Newtons and when I asked how he liked them he explained in some detail the problems he's had with them, but that the new Newtons are 2oz lighter than than the old ones ... I explained that ounces really aren't something that matters one iota to someone like me, but we still talked for quite a while about shoes, and then about some obvious injuries he had (there were bandages). He had gotten blown off his bike going up to Hawi earlier in the day. Remember those rumble strips and the narrow section of road I mentioned earlier? Rick said he lost his concentration for a split second ... and went off the right side of the road. He still ended up taking 5^th in his age group though – way to go! There was another guy at the breakfast who was also bandaged up, even worse (part of his face and chin was bandaged, and one arm) ... he had also gotten blown off the road. I don't know how he did in the race ... but I DID see him race morning and am guessing he did just fine.

Just like with Macca's book it's priceless to hear what the best of the best think (and even more useful to realize that it's not really all that much different from the rest of us). Mark talked about the Iron War with Dave Scott (I imagine he probably always does, because people will never stop wanting to hear about it) ... when he finally beat him he said at some point he KNEW he could win. Just knew. And in that same moment .... he also didn't know if he could take another step. 'I know I can win. I can't take another step,' he said a couple times, with both hands out and a look of confusion on his face. He went on to say you simply have to stop the part of your brain that 'assesses' – it wastes energy. Shut it off. And just race. He did ... and he won.

Some of his other tips included: Always keep your tanks topped off, take something with you to eat/drink as you're waiting 2 hours for the race to start – once your tanks are low you won't be able to catch back up. Line up in the water where you're comfortable and remember the golden rule of openwater swimming (I hoped I wasn't the only one thinking What?! There's a golden rule? Nobody ever told me there was a golden rule?!) ... which is: don't stop. Softswim at the start (just like softpedaling on a bike) – don't force it, let your legs drag and have it in your head what's going to happen when you get out of the water.

The bike, he says, doesn't start until mile 70. Before then it should just feel like a hard training day. It's really easy to go too hard on the first 40K. Keep your cadence up in the wind. It might feel silly, but do it anyway. Lean into the wind and try (try!) to relax. Lighter people will have a tougher time, but don't let it freak you out and make you lose confidence.

As for the run, he said he's raced ironman 12 times ... and not once did he get off the bike and think he could run a marathon. It was always 'How the hell am I going to do that?' (makes you feel better, doesn't it?). Of course he also says it's really just a hard training day until 10miles from the finishline ... and once you get there to 'let it go'. (Right. Got it.)

There was a quick point about coke. He says it will bring you out of a tough spot stomach-wise (something Macca concurs with in his book ... a tip another competitor actually hollered back to him during a race when he was really hurting) ... but that once you start with the coke, stay with it.

He ends with some thoughts on the mental stuff. You're out there trying to do something you've never done before (whether it's your first ironman, or a PR, whatever). It's not going to be easy. Drawing back and regrouping for a second is NOT the same thing as giving up. And again, thinking takes a lot of energy. A LOT. Be quiet. If you need to, make little deals with yourself: 'I'll drop out at the next aid station' ... and then make another deal with yourself once you get there. And another. And another. I figure if it's ok for this guy to be out there making these deals then it's sure as hell gotta be ok for me! Phew.

The breakfast ended with Luis talking about his personal race plan (he got injured in the Vegas 70.3 a few weeks ago, and already knew he'd be walking most of the run). You could tell he was struggling to deal with his injury and his own disappointment – yet again, it's nice to know the big guys feel this way when they're injured too. The sport doesn't seem to play favorites nearly as much as my brain convinced me it did ... it's really not any easier for anyone else out there. Sure, skill levels and genetic makeups vary ... and so does everyone's ability to hide their pain and push themselves ... but it's really not all that different afterall. Good to know. 

The rest of the day was spent playing on lava rocks and snooping in tide pools. A large (the size of a dinner plate! Pat is my witness ... sidenote: I may have been hungry at the time) and very healthy jet black crab skittered around the rocks, nearly knocking me off and undoubtedly making me scream like the girl that I am (for one it was in stealth mode and blended right into the rocks, and then, once I scared it as bad as it scared me, the thing's giant creepy legs clicked like metal on the lavarock ... it got even creepier when it skittered out to the farthest point and I watched wave after wave crash down on it and STILL somehow the thing resisted being swept away!? I'm sure I could glean some great wisdom about perseverance from this but I was far too creeped out to think about it right then ... and I might still be too creeped out to think about it now.)

We got cleaned up, collected Tom, and headed down to the opening ceremony dinner. It was pretty cool all around but the thing I remember most was the presentation that I've seen a dozen times online ... you know? ... the one that ends with 'You. Will. Do. This.' It was perfect for the 1800 athletes sitting there just a few days before race day ... and not at all un-perfect for the handful of us that were sitting there half-wondering 'Will *I* ever do this?'. 

Pat and Tom at the welcome dinner.

From the big production before the welcome dinner. Guys playing with fire. Hula dancers. Everything you'd expect in Hawaii.

Friday, the day before race day Pat and I did an easy run, and then headed out for an easy ride. Well, after a short delay. I pumped my tires, but while Pat was pumping hers the stem on her front tube busted (it actually just twisted apart, we just didn't know it at the time. We were able to fix the tube later. Live and learn). While a little alarming, it was also a pretty perfect opportunity for one last (really last!) attempt for her to learn how to change her own tire. No, she didn't exactly call it an 'opportunity' - that was me - she called it a few other (more colorful) things ... but after a short discussion and maybe just a little goading and some subtle brainwashing, she agreed. I sat down in a nearby chair with my hands pinned under my legs and told her I'd answer any questions but would NOT touch the tire (how's that for tough love?). It was a little rough, but I'm happy to report that she got through it absolutely fine and can never again say 'I can't change a flat'. Nice job, Pat! (While she'd end up having an 'eventful' ride on race day, let it be know that it was NOT because of a tire that she couldn't change herself! More on that later). Oh, and we DID get out for our ride after that.

Pat got her bike and gear all packed up and we headed down to check-in. Bike check-in at Kona is like nothing I've ever seen. It's an event in and of itself. First, there are hundreds of people lurking about looking at your bike as you roll it up. What are they looking at, you ask? EVERYTHING. These folks are all from various sponsors and vendors – all charged with looking for 'THEIR' gear. Two fairly big guys start circling us and taking pictures of the front of Pat's bike. Not only do they work for TorHans (the brand of aero bottle that Pat has on her bike) ... but they were, in fact, Tor and Hans. As she continues to walk a lady asks her her shirt size. Somewhat baffled she says 'Um. Small?'. And a cute pink Cervelo shirt appears – just a little bonus from Cervelo for anyone riding their bikes. And so it went. She went on into transition while I hung around outside watching the parade. I have to admit even I was mesmerized by the bikes being rolled in (now that I clearly need a tri bike, you see). I also ran into an entire row of folks sitting in chairs with legal pads counting ... well ... from what I could tell, pretty much anything that could be counted. I heard one guy say 'That's two' (there were 2 bikes without aero bars so far - I doubt there were many more after that). I saw lists of bike types, wheels, components, and some things I hadn't even heard of. It's one thing to hear about this being done, or to see a headline that says 'Cervelo still the favorite at Kona' ... but to actually see it was something else. 

The bikes rolling into check-in.

Still rolling in ...

Only saw one of these.

From what I saw, Cervelo was winning the day by far.

Counting what looks like various configurations.

Wheels, wheels and more wheels.

Counting bikes .... and, I think, helmets.

After lunch Pat and Tom relaxed at the condo and I went back out on my bike. I found another beautiful road that wound back and forth down through some lava hills and dead-ended at the ocean. I stopped and talked to a runner who told me this hill used to be the killer hill on a Kona qualifier race that no longer is held. My first time back up this road I heard and saw flashes of several not-so-small animals that I first thought were warthogs (those things have tusks and charge people, you know?) ... then armadillos (Hawaiian armadillos. Yeah, I know. A mind can go horribly awry trying to reason things out sometimes) ... and was finally told by two locals that they were mountain goats (once they came out of the bushes this was far more obvious, and I'm sure would've been my next guess). The locals, who were picnicking on the side of one of the hills about 5 feet from the aforementioned goat-filled bushes, assured me they were nothing to worry about and that they were actually just playing (there were about a dozen of them charging each other and running around in big circles together making their mountain goat noises – I had to admit, it sure seemed an awful lot like playing). I hung out with the goats, going up and down the road, for quite a while. It was simply fun. 

A piece of the fun, winding, goat-laden road.

Of course it's obvious they're goats NOW. 

A rest day .... without the resting

Tuesday was a rest day for Pat, and packet pickup down at the King Kamehameha’s Kona Beach Hotel. While Pat went to pick up her packet around 9am I wandered across the pier to the swim start to watch the athletes doing their training workouts. It's a little late (630-7am seems to be the 'in' time to go) so the crowd isn't as thick, but there were still plenty of interesting things to watch.

A constant flow of athletes swimming from the beach.

Random guy about to start his swim. The TYR Torque speedsuit is VERY popular here.

The world's fittest couple. We saw these guys several days in a row (in my next life I would like to have her build, please). The guy swims the course while the girl follows on the paddle board with a camera. 

The super-fit paddleboard girl following the super-fit swimmer guy. Notice the Go Cam on the front of the board.

I watched the tan guy in front do his pre-swim warmup for a good 10 minutes ...

... and then I watched him rush to help a physically challenged athlete out of the water the second the other guy carrying him asked for help. Then he stood on the pier talking to these folks for quite a while before shaking their hands and going back to the beach to start his pre-swim routine all over again. THAT'S what makes you love this sport.

After Pat got her packet we grabbed some lunch at the condo and she and Tom went to the bike store while I headed out for a ride. The bike store checked her wheels and tires and confirmed that the whacky hole in the tube was probably a manufacturing defect - they'd seen several in that lot with the same problem. It gave her some peace of mind ... especially since after several failed attempts to teach her how to change a flat (from me, Tom, and a few others) my best advice is to look as  pitiful as possible and hope there's a support vehicle nearby (or an extremely altruistic fellow racer). I am DETERMINED to teach her - I know she can do it - but I fear there just aren't enough hours left between now and the start of this race. Maybe as a winter project.

Meanwhile, I went for a ride which mostly consisted of hills (I seriously didn't know Hawaii was so hilly ... but pretty much anything that's NOT the ocean is a hill - it is a volcano afterall), and of course ran into miscellaneous cyclists, runners, and surfers. I had a lot of fun seeing how long I could hang at the back of small packs of similarly-dressed cyclists (usually longer than I thought I could - I'm telling you, tri bikes are magically fast! Well, and those competing are all in full taper right now too so they've knocked it clear down to 20mph). While we point out potholes and roadkill back home, here they point out small weasels crossing the road (like our squirrels) and palm tree debris. After one long twisty downhill (yes, I did realize I'd have to come back up) I ran across a hidden marina with a handful of moored sailboats, and briefly remembered a past life in which I'd be more likely to be tacking or jibing from the cockpit of a Catalina or a Beneteau than listening to my heart thump in my ears while climbing hills on my bike and loving speedy descents. After I got back up to the top I turned around and did it again ... simply because I could (only this time I didn't need to stop at the marina, I was fresh out of nostalgia and just wanted to hear my heart thump again). On the route back I stopped by a local beach for a few minutes to watch the surfers do flips off the tops of waves, disappear into the crash of foam, and immediately turn around and paddle back out to do it again. I can understand that thinking.

My wheels on this trip. The first tri bike I've ever ridden. He even looks fast, doesn't he? (Notice the little speck of Colorado that came with me?)

The tiny hidden marina at the bottom of a really cool windy steep downhill. When you're at sea level everything from here goes up.

The standing dude rode the wave until it pretty much disappeared, then hopped off and headed back out. The other guy had a much more colorful dismount before he headed back out.

Different strokes for different folks. I could've easily taken a 20 min nap here (I can pretty much take a nap almost anywhere)  ... but anything longer than that would probably send me into a boredom coma.

After my ride we headed downtown for the kid's triathlon (50m swim/.5mi run for the microkids, 100m swim/.9mi run for the slightly bigger ones), and the Parade of Nations. All the athletes are invited to come march with their countrymen, while spectators line Ali'i drive near the pier and the finish line (right now it still just looks like a normal small town road with a tiny little local beach - the finish line construction won't start for another couple days). Pat wasn't sure if she wanted to go, but she did, and she had a blast (yet another case where it's proven better to risk regretting what you do, than what you don't do). I was glad she went because I had a blast watching, hollering, and talking to the myriad of folks around me (Australians, New Zealand'ers, French, Germans, South Carolina'ns, Colorado'ns, one nationality I never figured out ... and one guy from a town 15 minutes from my house).

The start of the parade. The beach and swim start is literally just to the left of this picture. Behind them and to the right is the infamous Palani hill. We must've walked up Palani half a dozen times - it's quite a hill.

These kids finished a pint-sized triathlon (swim-run) about an hour before the parade. We watched Chris Lieto's kid race, one little girl cry clear through the swim and the run (she kept going though, and finished sobbing), and one little kid do the entire run while holding his pants up (the announcer, an ex Pro who's name I forget, tells this little guy to ask his dad to buy him a belt). It was inspiring and exhausting - Pat and I were almost in tears from cheering and laughing.

None of us could figure out what this thing was, but it was pretty comical nonetheless. A sea monster was the best guess from the peanut gallery. Anybody know?

The Aussies were ... well ... being Aussies. And there were a LOT of them. They seemed to be having quite a lot of fun.

The Germans were the most coordinated, with fancy moves and cheers that even their countrymen in the crowd knew!

The lady in the pink behind the sign mobbed the Italians before I had a chance to come up with that idea. They were a small contingent. Apparently triathlon is not particularly big in Italy.

They kayak safety crew. They kayak'd on make-believe waves all the way down Ali'i Drive.

The Grim Reaper got heckled all the way down the street and threw it right back, leaving everyone laughing. Poor guy is just doing his job.

This is Elaine Dowden. I met her husband, Will, while watching the parade (and ironically, Pat met Elaine separately while marching in it). She missed the swim cutoff last year but is determined to make it this year! Go Elaine!

U-S-A! U-S-A! The front of the large American team. Notice the uber-fit chic in the red shirt right behind the United States sign? Way to represent!

I followed this guy down the street, behind the parade, while trying to catch back up with Pat. It's a really good t-shirt.

The parade ended at the expo, where we met Mark Allen and Luis Vargas at the MarkAllenOnline tent (Pat has been using MarkAllenOnline for her coaching). Luis pulled up Pat's story in Lava Magazine as soon as she walked up - they loved it of course, since she mentioned MarkAllenOnline. Check out the story here: http://lavamagazine.com/features/pat-puchalski-one-fit-iron-grandma/#axzz1aAWG5QcW

We also hung around to see Craig Alexander, who was at the Newton tent (one of his sponsors). We were 2nd in line and Pat said something to Craig about Road ID (another one of his sponsors) while I said something that I can't recall, but I'm sure was idiotic (cut me some slack, I had just met -and chatted with- living legends - my head was already on the verge of exploding). There are pics of us with Craig, but they're on Tom's camera (and his memory card doesn't fit in my clearly-not universal card reader. I'll have to add those later). All of those guys were incredibly nice and down to earth (again, more humble than some of the folks at our local races). While posing for the pic with Craig you could feel the guy was outrageously fit - literally all bones and muscle .... and a cheery smile. Personally, I'm rooting for him ... though it's a little worrisome that he just got a bunch of new gear from his sponsors this week and is undoubtedly obligated to use it. Fingers crossed that it all works out ok. I really wanted to hand him a cookie just to see if he'd eat it. 

Pat and THE Mark Allen. He may be getting older, but he's still a ridiculous fit guy. We talked to him about the ride down from Hawi and asked for tips. He said: 'Don't stop pedaling'. His book just came out on Oct 1 - if my brain was functioning I would've gotten a copy and asked him to sign it.

Pat and Luis Vargas. He was pulling up Pat's interview in Lava Magazine on his phone while standing at the expo. He and Mark Allen were both thrilled with her story (she mentions MarkAllenOnline, of course). Luis is racing, but is injured and says he may be walking the run. He's still hoping to smoke his age group on the swim. I think he can do it!

Craig Alexander was autographing these little cards at the Newton tent. He walked up, saw them and said 'Oh hey look at that! That's a nice picture!' He seemed like a seriously humble and genuinely happy guy. I'm hoping he has the race of his life!