Excuse my language, but really?... Come on, how the hell did he beat me by 30 damned seconds?
Ok, I'll fess up to a little bit of click-bait. I obviously wasn't close to beating Lance Armstrong who won the pros division. It was my buddy Brian Forman that squeezed out a win just ahead of me. Forman and I have been competing in triathlons since 2004, and when we did the Kona 70.3 Ironman in June of 2012, we had some serious rivalry going on between us. It's been 3 years since our last race, and I've gained back the weight I lost for that race. I had used the Kona race as a motivator to get back in shape, and it helps to just have someone to keep you accountable.
When we arrived in Kona, we both had rented bikes from the same local bike shop. Although I had been prepared for this race a year in advance, I accidentally read the instructions wrong for how to reserve a bike. I knew you had to book it 90 days in advance, but I only counted back from the day of the race, not thinking about how we would want to pick them up a day early to get them tuned and tested.
So when I discovered my mistake, I was left with the most expensive bike in their fleet. It was a top of the line, carbon Specialized outfitted with Di2 shifters. These shifted with the push of a button that electronically shifted with exact precision. I was almost afraid to ride it in case I crashed and was liable for it, but knew this beauty was going to send me sailing past Forman and couldn't be more excited.
“A Modern Viking may be beat, but will never loose.”
Again, as always, the day started out great, but large winds blew most of us off course in the swim, adding quite a bit of time to our splits. When I got out, Brian was just a hair ahead of me, but we exited T1 together. I thought it would be nice to say goodbye before I blew by him and saw him at the finish line. As soon as we came out of the shoot, there was a short straight and then a sharp turn before sending the group on a 26 mile climb up the volcano, and as I took the turn I also was shifting into a higher gear, getting ready to hit it hard out of the turn when all of a sudden I was spinning with no pull. Looking down, my chain had fallen off.
Disgusted, I jumped off and threw the chain back on, but by that time, Forman had taken advantage of my misfortune, and happily sailed ahead of me. Looking back from time to time, he could see exactly how far back I was, and made me chase him all the way up the volcano. It was only when we finally hit the top, when I was able to really put my legs to work and quickly flew by him. By this time, though, I had neglected to get enough water and food on the way up, and the day was starting to heat up. This was June in Hawaii, and although the hot winds blew, they did nothing to cool us off. By the time I reached T2, I had already begun to overheat, grabbing at volunteer's cold sponges and sticking them down my race suit.
I was in hell, so I grabbed much needed fluids and walked until I heard a familiar voice. Forman stopped for a second to check on how I was doing before taking off again. I don't blame him one bit, but it was hard to watch him go. I wanted to chase after him again, but the heat was kicking my large ass. Swearing under my breath, I wished I had lost a few more pounds, wished I hadn't had bike issues early in the course, wished there was some shade. But that's why they hold the Ironman World Championships here, and I knew I had to learn from this.
I kept moving. I knew I could always go forward, even if it wasn't the fastest pace. I had learned from my Ironman, that power walking can actually get you places pretty quick too, so I did as much as I could. I would set markers, a tree, a sign, and run to them, then walk for a minute or two, until finally I had cooled down enough to get back into a descent stride.
A gentleman, who also was struggling, joined me, and so we helped push one another forward. The interesting design of the Kona Half is that the run is on one of the golf courses, and because of it, there were a lot of out and backs that met back up at one road. Pretty soon, I was spotting Forman here and then there. I was gaining on him. Then the thought hit me, I could catch him.
By the time I hit mile 10, I was close. Weaving in and out of people, I tried to stay out of sight, until an open green stretched a long distance without much cover. I hurried and prayed, but just as he began to turn with the course, he shot a glance back and saw me. I could tell because he took off, "Shit," I thought. I took off for all I was worth, sprinting with renewed energy, gaining with every step. I reeled Brian in, but he held on. I saw the flags for the finish line, and knew I had under a minute. My stomach felt like it had fiery acid in it, and my lungs burned, but I pushed. And as I turned the corner down the chute, Brian had just crossed the finish line. I counted those last long 30 seconds until I crossed the finish line and nearly collapsed next to him who was also doubled over. I made him a promise that day, that the next time, I would beat him.