21st December 2019 (the shortest day of the year!) - Kona aftermath and reflections
It’s now 10 weeks since race day in Kona. The
time has flown since then. In fact, the time has flown all year. After Kona, I had foreseen a short period of rest, recovery and
switch-off, followed by getting back into training for the winter cross-country
season. The reality has been quite different. It hasn’t been a great couple of
months, and the come-down has been much tougher than I thought.
But before I get into that, a word (or a few
words…) on Kona itself.
Kona was an incredible trip and an incredible
race. It had taken me so long to qualify for it. It took so much time and effort and
money. I endured disaster after disaster after disaster, and continued to come
back and try again and again. So much hard work went into this, and so many tough lessons. So much resilience. Hence, I really hoped that I would see Kona as “worth it”.
And it absolutely was. It’s a great place. An unreal place. Mythological. Historical. I’m a fan of
sports, of endurance sports, of triathlon, of Ironman racing. I'm interested in history, geography, cultures. I like to push myself, to challenge myself. Kona has it all. Ironman didn’t quite start there, it started on another one of the Hawaiian
islands 41 years ago, but it was only a few years later that it moved to Kona,
and the world championship has been held there ever since. On pretty much the
same course every year. All the greats have been there, racing on the same
roads, in the same heat and wind.
Part of the history of Ironman - Julie Moss crawling to the finish line
and losing out on first place in the final hundred metres.
Another part of Ironman history. No words needed.
All the elements and aspects and facets which
go into Kona are elements which are hugely attractive to people. It’s such a
long way from anywhere, so you need a very good reason to go there. It’s hot
and sunny. It’s a fantastic holiday resort, but it’s not over-run or
overcrowded because it is so far away. It’s culturally unique. It is the home
of Ironman and the world championships. The water is warm. The aquatic life is
unreal. The scenery is mind-blowing. The Hawaiian islands are volcanic. Anything to do with volcanoes is exciting. It has the infamous lava fields and crosswinds. It has the history and the Hawaiian traditions – the leis
and luaus and the welcome you get. It has the challenge. The pinnacle of triathlon.
The fact that you have to qualify to go there. The stories that people hear from
people who have been. The place-names are cool and quirky enough that you have
to know how to pronounce them, making you part of an informal club of people
who are in the know: Ali’i drive. Hualalai. The Queen K. Palani. Hawi. The
Energy Lab. Even Hawaii itself - it isn't Hawaii, it's Hawai'i, with a slightly different pronunciation to how you'd think. The fact that the pros are there among you, accessible. The
events associated with the race: the underpants run, the parade of nations, the
banquets. The food and drink. The oceanfront location of the race epicentre.
The restaurants and accommodation. And from my own point of view, I was very lucky to have three incredible people share the trip with me, enhancing it a million times over: Deirdre, Natalie and Steve. I hope they enjoyed it.
Everyone in Kona is happy to be there. Everyone
associated with triathlon has to be there and be seen to be there. All the
triathlon equipment companies are there showing off their latest and best kit,
and giving away freebies. The atmosphere and the vibes are incredible.
I could go on and on…
Kona freebies and souvenirs
All put away
And that’s before we even get onto the race.
The ultimate challenge, in the ultimate location, in challenging conditions.
Well-organised. Incredible volunteers. Huge respect for all Ironman athletes.
Inspiration all around. All in all, it is an incredible “product”. People will
never stop desiring it and trying for it.
I would love to go back (to do the race again)…
for a number of reasons. It was an unbelievable trip. I really enjoyed it. It
had everything, as described above. I completed the race in 10:05, which was as
good a performance as it could have been in the circumstances. However, I could
have made the circumstances better, and I think the experience of having been
there and raced there would help me to be faster if I were to race it again.
Reading when I got home - Race announcer Mike Reilly's book.
I should have bought this in Kona and got it signed by him...
Bob Babbitt's book (host of Ironman's "Breakfast with Bob")
I certainly think now that I overdid things the
week before the race. I always felt like we were zooming around, going here,
there, and everywhere. Packing our days full of activity. Which was fine, and I
was happy to do it, and it all felt manageable at the time, but looking back,
writing this blog, seeing all the photos, it all makes me think that I did too
much. In particular the Wednesday (3 days before race day) when we went
snorkelling, then drove 3 hours to the volcano national park, then spent time
in the park exploring, then went for dinner, then drove 3 hours home late at night, while
I dozed in back of the car – that was too much.
The dozing in the car started off the chain of
events that left my neck in serious pain. I absolutely shouldn't have had the fan on that
night, blowing cold air on a strained neck. And, although I’m glad I did the
underpants run the following morning, it was the final straw that left my neck
in agony. Had the race been a day earlier, I would have been an absolute mess, and
a lot slower. So, if I went back, there’s a lot of stuff I wouldn’t do and
would feel justified in skipping and missing out on, because I have already
done them all.
On race day, I wouldn’t change much about my
swim (apart from making sure I was in the right start corral!) I would make sure that when racking my gear in transition, I’d insist on
walking through it all in the direction in which I would do it on race day. I
messed up my first transition because there were so many people and I forgot
where my bag was. Now, I’d know to expect huge numbers of people exiting the
swim at the same time, and I’d make sure I could find my transition bag on
autopilot.
My bike was the weakest of the three
disciplines. I was 60-somethingth out of the water. 70-somethingth on the run.
And 160-somethingth on the bike. So I’d need to train harder on the bike. I’d
look at going with a more aggressive aero position to make me faster. And I’d
maybe push 5-10 watts harder, and be slightly less conservative. Plus, I’d know exactly how to approach the aid
stations and how to keep cool from the first mile on the bike, rather than
taking the first 2 hours to figure it all out. I would look at a
tighter-fitting and more aerodynamic jersey, as my current one is a good few
years old now and doesn’t sit quite as tight as it once did. I'd shave my legs (yes I would! Faster in the water and on the bike!) But, all that
said, I did the best bike I could on the day. Yes, I’d have liked it to be
faster, but not at the expense of losing 30 minutes, or an hour on the
marathon.
There’s not much I would change about the
marathon. I’d maybe try to run the first few miles 20 seconds slower per mile to conserve energy. Again
I’d know how to deal with the aid stations and how to keep cool from mile 1
rather than taking an hour to figure it out. I would certainly carry more
emergency gels and energy sweets, as I got caught out in the Energy Lab section
by a lack of nutrition. I’d start on the Coke and Red Bull in the Energy Lab
too, to give me a caffeine boost to help with the final stretch along the Queen
K.
I’d have changed my training too. Ideally I
wouldn’t have gone to the world sprint and standard distance world championships.
I absolutely don’t regret going to Switzerland for these events, but they came
quite quickly after Ironman UK and quite soon before Kona. So my training and
recovery was compromised, the Switzerland trip was an energy-sapping trip
compared with staying at home, I got a sore back on the trip, and then by the
time I was ready to start the specific long-distance Kona training, including
heat training, I only had three weeks left in which to pack it all in. Three
weeks wasn’t enough. I probably trained too intensely in this three-week
period, with too much heat training. It was all taking-taking-taking from me,
exhausting and depleting myself, dehydrating myself. At the time I thought it
was manageable, but with hindsight I would have a longer, less intense build-up
for Kona, with fewer “heat” sessions each week.
By the end of this Kona training block I was
suffering from fatigue, and from a cold, and I was only really starting to feel
better by the time I left for Kona. Not ideal.
Dealing with/mitigating/changing all these things, I think, would mean that I
should “comfortably” be able to do a sub-10 at Kona. I still haven’t got a
sub-10 Ironman to my name. I could probably fairly “easily” and “cheaply” go
out to Ironman Barcelona - a very flat course - and do 9:35. But a 9:50 at Kona
would be worth so much more…
Furthermore, there were a few things on Hawaii
that we didn’t have time to do. I’d have loved to have gone to Hapuna beach and
made a day of it there at the resorts. Also we never made it to the remote Makalawena
beach, accessed by trekking over a lava field. And I’d have loved to have seen
the Saddle Road in daylight, up to over 2000m in altitude between the two
volcanoes (Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa), and maybe even done a short trek up there.
There are cool things on other islands as well – some people fly off to
Honolulu for a day or two (you could day-trip it), you’ve got Pearl Harbor,
places like Maui Haleakala. You’d have to do all this post-race though,
otherwise you’d jeopardise your race!
Maui Haleakala national park on the island of Maui - looks nice
So I do feel there is more performance to come in Kona. But there are a number of problems. I’d have to qualify for it again. It took me ten years to qualify once. I don’t think I can spend ten years trying again. At my qualifying race at Ironman UK, I couldn’t have done any more. I’m not sure there’s much more I could do to improve on that performance. So, I could try again for another ten years and never qualify again. Or, I could go back to Ironman UK in a year or two and qualify again straight away, I just don’t know. I’m not good enough to know I can turn up and finish on the podium in my age group in an Ironman, with qualifying a very likely proposition.
As the race distances increase, my relative performance decreases – I was in the top 2% of competitors who raced in my age group at the sprint triathlon world championships (the shortest triathlon distance), the top 18% in the standard distance world championships, the top 32% in the middle/half-iron distance world championships, but I “only” made the top 61% in my age group in Kona at the full iron distance world championships. So clearly I’m not a long-course beast. Plus, it all costs a fortune…
It’s a shame it all costs so much money. Entry
fees, hotels, travel, food, drink. Equipment. Nutrition. Hydration. And that’s
just for a qualifying race. Hawaii was a costly trip. I was happy to pay for it
because it was the trip of a lifetime and might never happen again. It is
becoming more and more difficult to qualify. There are more and more races
being introduced around the world. Ironman is very much a for-profit
organisation. It has become extremely commercialised. I'd say that all the commercialisation of Ironman means that it isn't really and truly reflective of the spirit in which it was set up 41 years ago. It's big business now. There are more and more races, all sharing the same number of qualifying slots,
means fewer slots per race. So it is getting tougher and tougher to qualify.
Athletes nowadays are going sub-9 hours on flatter courses and incredibly this is still not good enough to qualify.
And equipment gets ever-more expensive. You can
literally buy speed. And you can spend whatever you want. £20k? The triathlon
industry will gobble £20k up. And if you have a £20k bike, you’d have to insure
it for a small fortune, and you can’t enjoy having it because it’s worth so
much. It’s an arms war, and I’m not very comfortable with it. Much more so than
running, you need to have money to be competitive in triathlon. And the
triathlon corporations and companies and races will take as much money as you
are willing to give.
But people do it. People are lured by it. Lured
by the Kona dream. People spend the money. I’m very lucky to have been there,
done that, got the t-shirt. I may never go again. I would like to. But if I
don’t, that’s fine. There are other things.
When I came back from Kona, there was a big
clear-up operation. I re-built my bike, returned the bike box, washed and
cleaned and tidied everything away. I didn’t immediately find places to put all
my souvenirs and freebies, so I laid them all out on the table. It was quite a
sight. Eventually they were all put away, hung up, put on a shelf etc. I framed
the official race poster and hung it on the wall. I did the same for the
official swim, bike and run course maps. They looked decent.
Course maps
Posters from the world championships in all 4 triathlon distances
I totally switched off for a couple of weeks.
No training, no stretching, no core work, no weights, no obligations. I would
even say I quite enjoyed it. I ate pizza and chips and cakes and scones and chocolate and other junk stuff. It didn’t matter. My weight crept up. That was fine. I couldn’t weigh
62kg in the Scottish winter. I would freeze.
Indeed I had frozen for the first few days
after I got back, as my boiler wasn’t working. It had been working very hard
for the three weeks before I left for Kona, pumping out incessant heat for my
heat training. 5-6 hour weekend turbo sessions in disgusting, sweaty heat.
90-minute weeknight interval sessions in 33 degrees of heat. Just before I
left, the boiler said “enough” and packed it in.
I had no time to deal with it before I left for
Kona. Before I left, it was the tail end of summer. I came back to the start of
winter. And no heat. I was going to bed in a coat, hat, gloves, and thermal
leggings. It was tough. It took a good few days to sort out getting it fixed.
I was fine with feeling tired and lethargic for
the first week or two after getting back. I told myself it was normal. A
combination of a big comedown after realising a long-held target, a comedown
after a great warm-weather trip, and a huge physical effort throughout the
winter 2018-19 cross country season, into a summer ironman season, into the
world short-course triathlon championships, into Kona in October, with no
breaks. So feeling a bit low and lethargic was OK, I told myself.
But then after two weeks, at about the time
when I had hoped to start back into easy training, I was getting worse. I could
barely get out of bed. I had absolutely no energy. I was trying to run, and I had no energy for it. Plus, various bits were still sore - knees, ankles, legs. I was trying to spin a turbo
trainer and struggling to push 100 watts. Even my bike packed it in – the gear
lever fell off. And it costs over £100 for a new one… Then I noticed a rash on
my back, neck, chest and shoulders. This definitely wasn’t right.
I went to the doctor. Explained what I had been
doing and how I felt. Showed the rash. Straight away she said I had shingles.
Shingles?! I was horrified. How on earth did I have shingles? She said it was a
combination of UV exposure from the sun (which horrified me further as I had
been so careful to cover up, wear t-shirts in the water, and use suncream all
the time – but in fairness, one of my rashes was right where I had got a bit of
very minor sunburn on the first day), and also stress, travelling, physical
exertion, a low immune system, and a psychological/mental/physical comedown
after the trip.
What could I do, I asked? Not much, was the
reply. Rest and rest and rest and rest. So that’s what I had to keep doing. I
tried a few short, slow jogs. They felt awful. It was the same on the turbo
trainer. My weight continued to go up. I was putting on 1kg per week. It was so
frustrating. I had hoped to be fully fit for the Scottish East
District cross-country championships at the start of December. I had run well
enough at this race over the past two years to be selected to run for Scotland
East at the Scottish and UK inter-district cross-country championships. Now it was looking
like I’d be unfit and overweight and nowhere near the level required for
selection. But, no matter, I would run anyway. I had to start back somewhere.
I was doing a few hill-walks in the meantime. I
had to get out and get air, and do something. I had always wanted to get into
the hills in Scotland, but because of my training, I couldn’t. I’m too fragile.
I’d end up with a busted knee or a torn muscle or a twisted ankle. I couldn’t
risk that when I was training and racing. But now, I wasn’t really training, so
if I didn’t get into the hills now, then when would I ever? So I did an easy
hike in the Pentland hills first, going up to peaks at 400-500m. It was fine.
No problem. Then I went into the Ochil hills, up to nearly 800 metres. It was
colder up here, with some snow and frost on the ground. Again it was fine.
The shingles were starting to shift, and I was
feeling a bit better. I started doing a few runs. Some tentative speed work.
Some tougher intervals on the turbo trainer. I even went swimming. Maybe the
East District championships wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Then I decided I’d built up enough resilience
in the hills to go and climb a Munro (a Scottish mountain over 3000 feet). I
did a hard tempo run the day before and felt like I had finally turned the
corner. Then I headed off for Ben Vorlich on a very cold, but calm and clear
day. I hiked up, no problem, in just over an hour. There were good views to the
north on the way up, but it was cloudy at the top so there were no views from
the summit. So I dropped down the far side, out of the cloud, to see the views
to the south. I kept dropping down, and before I knew it I was almost at the
bottom on the other side. So I had to climb back up, and then all the way back
down the side I had climbed. I missed a turn on the path and ended up skirting
round the side of the mountain, which meant I had to traverse around the side
of the slope to get back to the main path. It all felt fine. But it had been a
long day of hiking.
I remember thinking that, as enjoyable as these
hill escapades had been, they didn’t replace racing. Nor training. I’d rather blast
out a turbo trainer session and hit/exceed my numbers. It’s more satisfying.
Maybe one day that will change, but for now, the mountains were no substitute.
The next day, I went out for a hill sprint session. This was 6 days before the
East District championships. I intended doing at least 10 hills sprints. I ended up limping home after 3. My calf was really sore.
At least I’d had the discipline to know it was bad and to stop the hill sprints
before I did serious damage. I was absolutely furious with myself. I should
have known better than to go and climb a Munro. The Munro was one day, but it
could ruin me for weeks/months.
I ended up having to get back on the turbo
trainer for the week before the East district championships, and then the night
before the race, I went out to test my calf out after nearly a week off
running. Alas it was still too sore to run. But I really wanted to run. I
agonised over it. Finally, I decided that I wouldn’t be anywhere near
qualifying for a Scotland East vest, and to run on it would probably mean I’d
make it worse and would be out for a long time. But I just wanted to run.
That’s what I do. Train and race. But I couldn’t.
I went to the race anyway to watch and support,
and it was tough to watch. That night was the running club’s night out and
awards presentation. I was presented with the trophy for being the
cross-country champion from winter 2018-19 (last year). I haven’t done a single
cross-country this year. I had a fair few drinks that night. I even had a bacon
double cheeseburger from McDonald’s on the way home. Disgraceful. And then, after the night
out, in true “fragile” form, I came down with a sore throat and a cold. I fully
expected that I’d get sick after the night out, that’s what always happens to me after a night out. I’m
fragile...
I hadn’t got it in me to spin the turbo
trainer. Nor cycle to work. I didn't feel well enough and had no motivation. I had no zip. I couldn't run because of my calf, and the swimming pool wasn't really an option when I was feeling so rough. My weight hit over 70kg for the first time in many years. I was maintaining the record of putting on 1kg per week since Kona.
I got rid of the cough and cold and sore throat enough to feel like I could get back to some reasonable training again. It's frustrating when your times and numbers are so far down on where they were when I was fully fit. I tried to do some running speedwork. My calf felt OK. I was glad I had been sensible and given it 2-3 weeks to recover, rather than pushing through, doing more damage, and ending up out of action for months. But my right foot was sore. I'd get random sharp stabs of pain through the top of it. Which meant I was compensating for this by not running freely and evenly. I ran the club's Christmas relays (6 x half a mile), and managed to miss the turn in one of the legs, adding 20 seconds to the time. Stupid. After this, my right quad felt really sore, probably due to running with an imbalance because of my sore right foot.
I just cannot get going at all. It's one problem after another. It's so frustrating. I want to be back in the groove, back feeling fit, feeling like myself, I want to be back sleeping well (with such a low training load, I am not tired enough to sleep well), and I want to be back racing. And now it looks like at least another couple of weeks out to let my quad recover. I have to stop this rot, but to do that I have to be healthy and well. Christmas is fast approaching too, that isn’t going to help…
My tile finally arrived. It's brilliant
I got rid of the cough and cold and sore throat enough to feel like I could get back to some reasonable training again. It's frustrating when your times and numbers are so far down on where they were when I was fully fit. I tried to do some running speedwork. My calf felt OK. I was glad I had been sensible and given it 2-3 weeks to recover, rather than pushing through, doing more damage, and ending up out of action for months. But my right foot was sore. I'd get random sharp stabs of pain through the top of it. Which meant I was compensating for this by not running freely and evenly. I ran the club's Christmas relays (6 x half a mile), and managed to miss the turn in one of the legs, adding 20 seconds to the time. Stupid. After this, my right quad felt really sore, probably due to running with an imbalance because of my sore right foot.
I just cannot get going at all. It's one problem after another. It's so frustrating. I want to be back in the groove, back feeling fit, feeling like myself, I want to be back sleeping well (with such a low training load, I am not tired enough to sleep well), and I want to be back racing. And now it looks like at least another couple of weeks out to let my quad recover. I have to stop this rot, but to do that I have to be healthy and well. Christmas is fast approaching too, that isn’t going to help…
My former local bike shop's window display - "Ride-olph" - very good...!
But, all that said, if you’d told me in the
first half of 2019 that this is the price I would pay for qualifying for and
competing in Kona, and winning a silver medal at the world sprint triathlon
championships, I’d have signed for it immediately. But it’s just so frustrating
when I can’t do what I do. Can’t train. Can’t race.
So what is ahead? Firstly I need to get healthy
again and shift the injuries. I need to let my calf, foot and quad get better. I
need to get through Christmas without adding to my weight. Which is going to be
tough, because I am not really racing at the minute, nor am I doing much training, so I have no immediate goals which
I will be fit for.
I would like to race the Greencastle 5 miler on
Boxing day. That’ll be my eighth year in a row there. I’m usually fairly
competitive there, and can challenge for a podium spot. Not this year. I’ll be
a long way off that. I thought about the New Year’s Day triathlon in Edinburgh,
but I don’t want to pay a £55 entry fee and not know if I am going to be fit
and healthy for it. I missed out on it last year – I’d entered but had to bail
out because I had a chest infection. Plus I haven’t yet bothered to fix the
broken gear lever on the bike. I might enter the new year’s day Promathon
instead – a 4-mile race. But again, I’ll not be competitive.
Probably the most important thing for me in
early part of the new year will be getting fit for the Ulster cross-country
championships. I’ve a good record there, and have won 6 team gold medals. I’ve
always been one of the team scorers. I’d love to try and maintain this record.
But I need to be really fit. I don’t know how soon I will be able to start
getting really fit, nor do I know how long it will take to get really fit. The
Armagh 5K is the week before that, and I have a time which would qualify me for
free hotel accommodation. It’s usually a good trip. But if I am not very fit,
there’s not a lot of point in going. If I manage to have a good run at the
Ulsters, I might be chosen to run for Scotland East at the UK inter-county
cross-country championships in Loughborough in March.
It has been a long-held goal (even longer-held
than Kona was) to try and break 32 minutes for a 10K, so I would hope that in
the spring time, I can have a good crack at that. Then it’ll be into the
multi-sport season again. I was very surprised to win a world silver medal in
the sprint triathlon earlier this year. I won that medal off the back of
long-course ironman training, rather than focused short-course training. I also
won that medal not long after Ironman UK, and arguably I wasn’t fully
recovered. So I would like to go back to the world sprint triathlon
championships, and properly focus on it and train for it. I can certainly
improve, which means there’s a chance that I could challenge for the win.
The world sprint triathlon championships are in
Edmonton (north-west Canada) in August 2020, so there’s a lot to consider. It’s
not just a short, cheap flight away. I’d also like to do the world duathlon
championships in Amsterdam, 3 weeks after the world sprint triathlon. I am keen
on both. Then, I could have a good winter of cross-country – I would be fairly
confident that (compared to an Ironman) the short-course triathlon and duathlon
would be quick to recover from. Then I might possibly look at Ironman UK again
in 2021… But there’s so much more to consider now than when I was 25 or 26.
Life, personal circumstances, professional circumstances, finances…
I’ve already been looking at how I could
upgrade my bike to get more speed for Edmonton. If I am going to go there, I am
going to try and win. So I’ve been looking at what upgrades I could justify,
and how much time they could save. The sprint race will be draft-legal so it
will be on a road bike. Do I spend £5000 on a new, super-stiff, super light, super-aerodynamic
road bike? That would undoubtedly save 30 seconds. Do I spend £700 on
ceramic bearings, said to save another 20 seconds? £200 on super-fast,
super-thin tyres to save 20 seconds? £200 on an aero road helmet with a visor
to save another 15 seconds?
Do I even believe the claims of the possible
time savings? Are they suggesting if I bought all of them, I’d save 2-3 minutes, which would make me the fastest cyclist in the world…? It’s almost like
torture thinking about it. It's tough when you are a perfectionist. I’d love to know that I had the best possible bike
under me, and the best possible gear. But I have to be realistic about what is
affordable. When the time comes, I will be very glad to never have to think
about these things ever again.
Probably one of the best things I could do is
invest in some one-on-one swimming lessons with a top coach. Refining my
swimming technique might allow me to go a minute quicker in the water, which
would mean I would be with the leaders at the start of the bike rather than
trying to catch them up. I could also invest in the super-fast carbon-plated
Nike shoes (£300), said to give you a 4% improvement. There’s no end to it.
More reading books - I bought a couple of books about swimming
I need to be able to swim about a minute faster in a 750m swim
So that is where I am at right now. 2019 was a
good year – a great year – right through until the end of October, and then I
started to pay the price for it all. But I’ll pay it. I’m sure I’ll get back to
fitness. It just seems a long road back now that I am so far gone. But – I
finally qualified for Kona. I raced Kona. I won a world sprint triathlon silver
medal. What a year. I even managed to continue with this blog, and I hope my
writing justifies the Kona trip, and the journey to get there. I wish I had started the blog in Korea in 2010 at the start of the Ironman journey, but the 2014 start will have to do for now. Maybe in future I will write about 2010, 2011, 2012 and 2013. I will probably continue with the blog in
2020, but likely a lot less frequently.
I wonder what 2020 will bring. I’m not getting
any younger (recently turned 35), but I’m certainly not yet ready to retire
from competition. There’s still too much I would like to try and achieve. My
goals for 2020 will be a sub-32 10K, a sub-9 3K, another Ulster team medal, a
world sprint triathlon gold medal, and a world duathlon gold medal. Tall
orders. None are impossible, but each alone is exceptionally challenging. Let’s
see…
For now though, this feels like the end of an era. The end of the Kona journey. I may or may not qualify again go back one day, but whether or not that happens would be another matter and another "era". The goal was to qualify, and I'm very relieved and pleased to have done it, and to have felt like everything over the years was worth it. It didn't come easy. I'd say I probably did it the hard way. But I did it. To everyone who has been part of this journey - supporters, friends, family, clubmates, team-mates, coaches, training and racing buddies/rivals, colleagues, house/flat-mates, physios, chiropractors, podiatrists, medical people, doctors, nurses, people who wished me well, fellow competitors, fellow bloggers - people who have knowingly and unknowingly, directly and indirectly helped, in many different ways, and been involved in this journey - to all those people: mahalo, thank you.
Now, for completeness, some highlights videos:
My mum always picks out the best cards
For now though, this feels like the end of an era. The end of the Kona journey. I may or may not qualify again go back one day, but whether or not that happens would be another matter and another "era". The goal was to qualify, and I'm very relieved and pleased to have done it, and to have felt like everything over the years was worth it. It didn't come easy. I'd say I probably did it the hard way. But I did it. To everyone who has been part of this journey - supporters, friends, family, clubmates, team-mates, coaches, training and racing buddies/rivals, colleagues, house/flat-mates, physios, chiropractors, podiatrists, medical people, doctors, nurses, people who wished me well, fellow competitors, fellow bloggers - people who have knowingly and unknowingly, directly and indirectly helped, in many different ways, and been involved in this journey - to all those people: mahalo, thank you.
Now, for completeness, some highlights videos:
Short Kona highlights
Medium-length Kona highlights
Long Kona highlights of the pro race.
There was a brilliant hour-long highlights show of the entire race,
featuring the professionals and age groupers, with some good stories,
interviews and even some brief footage of me on the finishing straight.
The video was on YouTube and I had hoped to have a link to it on this blog,
but the Ironman corporation banned the video on copyright grounds.
A bit of a shame...
Subsequent footnote - found under a different title, see below:
There was a brilliant hour-long highlights show of the entire race,
featuring the professionals and age groupers, with some good stories,
interviews and even some brief footage of me on the finishing straight.
The video was on YouTube and I had hoped to have a link to it on this blog,
but the Ironman corporation banned the video on copyright grounds.
A bit of a shame...
Subsequent footnote - found under a different title, see below:
