Race Report of Ironman Hawaii 2004.  Some of the memories I have of one of the worst IMH races on record.

I arrived in Kona as usual, on the Saturday one week before the race.  I have always traveled to Hawaii for the last 5 years with my husband Ben, and my brother, Paul, and his wife, Candy.  We always have a great time in Hawaii, I ignore the usual instructions of staying out of the sun and off my feet.  We schlep through the Walmart, stroll through the flea markets and the farmers' fruit markets, visit the Expo several times to pick up whatever free stuff we can, get henna tattoos, drive down the coast to eat the best lunch on the island, take side trips to the Volcano or to Hilo to see the botanical gardens, kayak and snorkel in the warm crystal clear waters which are teeming with the most beautiful technicolor fish one can imagine, and generally revel in the paradise that is Hawaii. 

But I am there to race, so every morning I walk or run from our condo (which is a little over a mile) to "Dig Me Beach" to swim with the rest of the athletes.  It is called "dig me" beach because you go there to see all of the great bodies of the Ironman competitors.(Yes, even at my advanced age, I enjoy checking out the "scenery"). The beach, which has very little sand, is at the "sacred" pier--the place  where the start, the transitions and the finish of the race will be in a few days. 

On Tuesday there is always a Parade of Nations, which is a little schlocky, but still a lot of fun. All of the athletes parade for a few miles through Kailua-Kona with flags, throwing candy to the kids in the village. 

The next few days are filled with seminars, required meetings, registrations and bag and bike check-ins. In Hawaii, the special needs bags are easier to fill than at other Ironman races. The only things you can put into the bags are nutrition--no clothes, no tires or tubes or cartridges, etc.  

I eat about anything I want the entire week until Friday noon. From then on I will not eat anything that will put me in a portapotty for the next 36 hours. I drink a bottle of high carbohydrate fluid made by Gatorade--I can only find it at the IMH expo--and a few bottles of chocolate Boost the night before the race. My family goes out to eat and I stay in the condo and start my "mental" preparation for the next day. 

I got up at about 3:30 and drank another 2 bottles of Boost, did my first "sit down" of the morning and dressed in a Speedo, sandals and a fleece shirt and pants--I get cold when I am nervous. I took my "pre-post race" bag, my bottles of Gatorade to fill my bike bottles and started walking to the pier. There are shuttles which are supposed to drive down Alii Drive every 15 minutes, but a shuttle didn't appear--Brian Bell was waiting for the shuttle about 1/2 mile to town and he and I decided to hitch a ride with his dad. I got body-marked on the pier and checked and rechecked my bike, and visited the bathroom about ten times.  

The Pros start 15 minutes before the age-groupers and this year there was a backup of athletes trying to get into the water.  It is a "in-water" start and I usually get in the water about 10 minutes before the canon goes off--but there is a small opening in the fence  to the pier where we were being funneled and I noticed that the minutes are ticking off.  Everyone seeds themselves according to their projected swim time and I always start about 60% back off the lead age-groupers about 50 yards from shore--only this time I am still on the beach when the canon goes off and I loose that gigantic draft of 1800 athletes pulling me out to sea. The swim is always my favorite part of the race due to the tropical fish and the glimpse of dolphins, even with all of the battering I take from arms and legs flailing on me--this year I didn't take as many punches because of my late start but I lost several minutes trying to catch up with the bulk of the mass of swimmers. 

The rest of the swim was uneventful--not like the year before when I got stung by jellyfish--and I got into transition and changed into a trisuit.  I have used a trisuit for the entire race before but the long swim in salt water caused the suit to rub my neck raw. I got onto my trusty Kestrel and started on the loooong ride. I keep it simple--I drink Gatorade, stash about 10 raspberry Hammergels and 10 Succeed salt tablets in a Bento Box and grab several bananas from the aid stations. I must admit that this year I would have given $1,000 for an ice cold Dr Pepper after the first 60 miles. 

I have been in the legendary winds here before--gusts up to 55 mph winds that blew young healthy muscular male bodies off of the road--but this year the winds were relentless--headwinds that ground you into the searing pavement.  I kept thinking--just wait till we get to Hawi--the turnaround--then everything will be OK. But somehow, against all the laws of nature, after the turnaround the expected tailwind mysteriously disappeared and the hateful headwinds reappeared. I had been third in my age-group after the swim and during the bike I passed the two other women ahead of me.  Then at about mile 100, Barbara Warren--the wife of Tom Warren, the guy who won Ironman 26 years ago--passed me. I wanted to hunt her down but I knew I had better save what little I had left in my legs. As I approached town I realized that the rider in front of me was actually Tom Warren--I stayed about 5 bike lengths in back of him but could see that he was wearing TOE CLIPS!! I could hardly believe it.  

I reached the pier and slowly pried myself off my bike. My legs were trembling--I have never felt so bad in transition before. I changed my shoes, grabbed my hat and slathered on another layer of sunscreen. 

I shuffled out of transition and WALKED for what seemed forever. There are masses of people lining Alii Drive where the run starts and the marathon later ends.  They all pitied me but encouraged me. I must say that there were others walking at this point--the headwinds had sucked the life out of their legs, too. I knew from experience that somewhere during an Ironman you are going to feel like the devil--but it usually gets better. Thank God this time it got better.  I started running by mile 2 and my legs felt like part of my body again. Cherie Gruenfeld (the six foot tall woman who always wins my age-group) had passed me while I was walking and I knew I was now in third. The first leg of the run heads down Alii Drive south from the pier for about 5 miles to a turnaround and then back, so you can see who is in front of you. Eventually here came Cherie toward me--I hadn't seen Barbara yet so I asked Cherie if she had passed Barbara. She said "Yes, and you will too! 

I soon saw what she meant.  I wasn't going lickety-split but ahead of me I saw a limping Barbara Warren.  As I passed her, I slowed and asked her how she was doing.  Barbara is from Austria and so she said in a heavy accent "I can't lift my legs". I sympathized with her but know she was paying back for that push she made on the last part of the bike. 

I always split my Ironman run into mile intervals--I reward myself by walking the aid stations--thanking the volunteers, drinking a little water mixed with Gatorade (which is replaced by coke at about mile 10) and putting ice in my hat, into my jogbra and down my pants. As gross and "lumpy" as it sounds, it is the only way I can keep my core temperature down. It is about 115 heat index out on the lava fields bordering the Queen K Highway and many of the athletes are reduced to walking much of the marathon in Kona, the same athletes who run a decent marathon in their qualifying Ironman races in cooler climates. 

The last few miles into town were endless--but I seem to negative split my Ironman marathons and this year I once again found myself keeping up a decent pace and passing so many young competitors, who were walking in the dark, wondering where their strength had gone. 

As I approached the finish, I took off my hat and "fluffed" my hair (got to look good for the camera you know).  I heard my family call out to me and then heard the announcer say "Mariana Phipps, you are an Ironman" --the sweetest words in the world!

I knew by the time on the clock that I hadn't had a good day--my time was about an hour and a half longer than the year before. But, later I found out that the DNF rate was the highest in Ironman history, over 11%.  And this is not a race of first-timers--it is the World Championship--the best age-groupers-- where a person will crawl rather than quit. 

I congratulated Cherie, got my bike and transition bags and walked the few blocks to "Uncle Billy's"--a crumbling hotel where we always stay the night after the race. The best thing about a room at"Uncle Billys" is the huge bathtub where I immerse myself in bubbles before putting on my finisher's shirt and return to the finish where I get a much deserved massage and then post myself at the finish line with hundreds of others to watch the last bedraggled athletes bravely try to make the midnight cutoff. 

The award ceremony was once again magical--native dancers and fire-baton twirling "warriors" and wonderful music and a Hawaiin priest chanting prayers that touched your soul. The atmosphere here is spiritual--everyone has a humble respect for the forces of the Island. In the week before the race, many of the athletes gather white coral rocks in boxes and drive out onto the desolate lava fields to lay out on the coral, forming their initials or a simple message on the black lava. The first year in Kona I put my initials in a place about half way up to Hawi and then again on the other side of the highway at a place where I could see it on the way back. This is one of the little things by which the Island gives you strength. (This year I gathered white coral and drove out to put the initials of another athlete--I spelled out H. J. for another Hawaii Ironman--Harry Jenkins. I knew he would help me on that brutal bike ride). 

Once again I was second in my age group, thrilled to be on stage accepting my award. After the award ceremony, I told myself that I would take a break from Ironman--I thought my body could use a rest and I was really, really sick of six hour bike rides. I was also spending too much of our retirement money.

Somehow, this week I find myself making plane reservations again for Hawaii. That Island has powers stronger than I thought!

Mariana