Race Report – 2022 Kona Ironman World Champs – Anton
Kona Part 1 – “time to get wet”
Let’s be clear, I am not a morning person. The alarm was set but it was not needed. The time had come. Kona was now (or 2 weeks ago to be precise).
My morning haze was quickly vaporised by an intensifying cacophony and calamity as we made our way to the famous Kailua Pier transition area. There I found myself surrounded by people completely devoid of both body fat and body hair. Who knew there could be so much sinew. Yet, it felt like it was going to be just another Ironman (I realise how stupid that sounds). Until we were welcomed to a standing and continuing round of applause from the volunteers as we made our way through. There were tingles and possibly a little tear. We knew we were somewhere special. We stopped for photos and I even offered to sign someone’s baby. Still can’t work out why they declined.
The sun rose above the volcanic cliffs formed some 4 million years earlier, and all I wanted to do is stand still and breathe in the moment. But all I got was l’aroma de porta-loo.
Kona Part 2 – “Wetter the better”
I suspect some of you may consider this protracted and delayed account overindulgent and a complete milk. And you would be completely correct. But the swim must go on.
Our wave of over 600 intrepid idiots filed down to the starting beach like lemmings. We made our way down to Danny Devito beach, so named (by me) as it is inconceivably small but still famous. It was about a 200m swim to the deep water start, actually making it 4km! Sneaky bastards. I seeded myself back and to the left. A wayward kick can not only break your rhythm but do horrendous things to one’s honker = not a good look for an ENT. The starter called 30secs and I felt like a coiled spring, but probably looked more like a rusty slinky. Somehow there were still a bunch of numpties making their way down to DDV beach. Surely not your first rodeo!?
When the hooter sounded, cannon is for the pros, the washing machine kicked into action. The water was warm, clear and wonderfully salty. Like being in a meditation flotation tank, just with 100s of people trying to swim over you. I stayed wide and hit cruise control. A 3.8km swim sounds like a lot but is around 10% of the day – if you’re lucky. After catching a few folk in the earlier wave (totally not expected) I was around 34min at half-way. On track. As I approached the pier I recall I did not want the swim to end. Probably as only pain and suffering were to follow. Nevertheless, I emerged from the waves, a lot like Daniel Craig, and in just under 1h10min. Happy. A volunteer unzipped my swim skin after I promised I’d buy them dinner later. After a leisurely freshwater hose-off I ploughed into T1. Only to greeted by a maelstrom of naked to semi-naked men tweaking their lycra and lathering themselves in lotion. You don’t see that in the brochure, thankfully. With my eyes still burning I ran out grabbed my trusted steed and headed for the mount line. What was to come next was a battle of will, Gatoraditis, and a little guy we like to call “the Indian”.
Kona Part 3 – “Be gentle your majesty”
The Queen Ka’ahumanu Highway, simply known as the Queen K, commands respect. After a short steep sadistic loop you leave Kailua and head to Hawi and back at the mercy of HRH Queen K’s mood, and she’s a tempestuous royal. 180km of exposed rolling hills on roads ploughed through lava fields. It’s hot. It’s humid. It’s windy. It’s the stuff of legend. The goal was to stay below 2.5W/kg. Gotta save the legs and the matches for the run. The front wheel was rubbing. Stopped twice to check. Not rubbing. I have gone mad. Needed to regain focus. Stung by a hornet – for reals! WTF? The event is hard enough you stingy little wanker. But the prize for “person I would most like to Dutch-oven” goes to the numbnut who okayed drink bottles on course not made for putting on bikes. Hit a bump and they would fly out faster than a spine-tailed swift leaving a methamphetamine party. Mind you the constituent Gatorade Endurance has double the salt with double the nausea, so didn’t miss it. It’s a long day and your mind plays tricks on you. Why is a goat walking on lava? Time and my perineum were bleeding. Before long I was no longer holding back, but just holding on. Worse still, strained my neck 3 days earlier. Agony to stay in aero position. Glad I spent the price of a new small car on a “super” bike. I looked fast, until I start moving. It was clear there would be no PB today. Rolled into T2. Chelsea Sodaro had just won the women’s pro race. We locked eyes. “Keep going, you got this” she implored. “No, it appears YOU got this!” I replied. Into the T2 change tent and this American dude had given up. Despite multiple encouragements and offerings of support, he simply refused to even start the run. Her Majesty Queen K shows no mercy. Somehow I still had hopes for a decent finish. I even put on a fresh outfit and lacquering of SPF50 to feel pretty again. Now, I don’t recall offending the Gods of Hawaii but they had a lesson in store me as I pranced out on to the famed Ali’i Drive. And it is a lesson that needs to be shared…
Kona Part 4 – Indian Sunset
In 490BCE, following the battle of Marathon a lone soldier ran 22 miles to relay a message of victory. This is not that story. I’ll be honest. I have never completely run a marathon. A healthy amount of walking is routinely engaged. But being primed as I was, who knew? The Indian, that’s who. Had a couple of ripples of exuberance as I strode out along Ali’i Drive. Alas, at the 6km mark the first wave of nausea came. Shortly followed by his unforgiving accomplice, “the big vom”. Despite pacing, keeping the heart rate down, and training exclusively with on-course nutrition, my stomach closed up shop early for the day. Achilles had his heel, the Death Star had it’s thermal exhaust port, and I have a gut that is simply not made for this shite. I was forced into a walk, a very long walk. I tried to run. I tried to take on fluid and gels. It all came back. Just like that crazy uncle at your wedding who doesn’t know when to shut up. Sorry Mrs Kona for “re-painting” that fire hydrant. So so disappointed. It almost broke me. Constantly doing to maths to check I would make cut-off (17h). The energy lab almost sucked out what life I had left, but there was still over 10km to go. It was dark and lonely. On all fours in the gutter with 8km to go. Yep, I even broke down and shed a very dry tear. So much time and effort with little to show for it. When I finally made the finish chute I was relieved, but more sorry for the lovely who had waited oh so long. The disaffection on my face as I crossed the line. Yet I am now disappointed that I was disappointed (deep). I came to the most famous triathlon in the world. Never to really to compete, but in reality to complete. The Indian and I went toe-to-toe and it was all I had physically, mentally and emotionally to just keep going. The memory of two brave and humble souls carried me over those relentless miles. Damien ‘Crash’ McMeniman and Ben ‘The Force’ Carruthers had rare poise in the face of ultimately unwinnable odds. Thank you gentlemen for showing me what true strength is, this one was for you.
