Kona 2009 Race Report: My First DNF

I guess it had to happen sometime. You never want to be one of those people listed way down at the bottom of the results, beyond the last finishers, with no time listed because you didn't make it. But I suppose it comes with the territory if you are going to go out and race these kinds of things all the time. I will say that way back when I initially hurt my foot - 4 weeks before race day and before I even knew exactly what was wrong with it - as I walked the 4 miles back home I said over and over again in my head that I was going to finish that stupid race anyway, even if I had to walk.

Well, somewhere along the line rational thought had to step in. The closer the race got, the less likely it seemed that I'd be crossing that finish line on Alii Drive. It didn't make the decision any easier.

I had slept pretty well the night before the race. We all ate our last little bit of pasta and I think I went to bed at about 7:30 and it didn't take long until I was asleep. I woke up at probably 2:30 and had to lie awake until my alarm told me it was time for my 3:30am giant bowl of applesauce. I can't say that I'm going to miss shoveling down that stuff. We sat around the kitchen table and got it down the best we could. The banana I ate afterward felt like it was still sitting in my throat, and the protein powder and sport drink didn't go down very well either. After months of dreaming about eating, I was sick of it already. In all fairness though, I never fantasized about eating entire jars of applesauce.

I went back to bed to kill some time, lie down and hopefully digest. The only good thing about the applesauce is that although it makes me feel horrible right away, it doesn't take long before it settles in and I feel fine again. In the past on race morning I might call my sister or someone else at home since 4am is 10am there, but I didn't feel much like talking to anyone. I didn't want to hear the futile encouragement and offers of good luck. No amount of luck was going to mend a broken foot.

At some point after multiple trips to the bathroom I finally got dressed and ready to go. We met at the car at 4:45, and after one last trip inside for my almost-forgotten fluid bottles to start the day, we were off to the pier. Courtney, the amazing race sherpa, dropped me, Michelle, Pat and Pam off as close to the pier as we could get and we walked over to body marking. I got my 1667 stamped onto my arm and went over to check on the bike. Having dropped off the bags and stuff the day before, there is not a lot to be done on race morning aside from making sure there is air in the tires, putting bottles on the bike and making sure it's in a good gear for starting out. Oh, and of course waiting in line for the porta-potties.

The sun was slowly starting to shed light on things and I spent much of the rest of the morning wandering between porta-potty lines and hanging out with Michelle and Hannah. Finally Hannah told us that her legs were all cramped up and had been all morning. She called Jesse and tried to figure out what it was. I just hoped she'd feel better. Eventually we went to drop off our dry clothes bags and don our speedsuits, Michelle and I in our brand new - more importantly, free - TYR Sayonara speedsuits. It was super comfy and hopefully equally as fast. We were sunblocked and ready to head into the water. On the way to the stairs I utilized the vaseline being offered by one of the volunteers and liberally smeared it on any part of my body that met a seam of the suit. Fortunately this precaution at least kept me from starting off my race with terrible chafing.

The Navy Seals had parachuted down, the National Anthem had been sung and the pros were off without warning. Oh crap. We're next. I made my way down into the water and tried to find a good spot to start. Jesse, my coach, had told me that if nothing else on the day, given my current circumstances, he wanted me to have a really good swim. For some reason my pool times don't seem to translate into adequate race swim splits. And due to some open water time trials, it wasn't just because I was good at doing flip turns and pushing off the wall. So given I had nothing to lose, he really wanted me to go after it in the swim. I started right in the middle, about 6 rows back from the front. As we were treading water, I noticed that I actually had a lot of space where I was. That is, until the surfboards went to the front of the line and started pushing everyone back. Then I was surrounded again. Either way, it is still a ton more room than there is at the swim start in Lake Placid. You often hear how brutal the swim start is in Kona, but I had never found that to be the case compared to LP. But I'd soon find out.

I heard Mike Reilly say over the loudspeaker, "Who's going to be an Ironman today?" It was then that I sort of knew already. Crap, not me. What am I doing here right now?

There was no warning, the cannon just fired and it was time to swim. I was supposed to start off hard so as not to get caught up behind slower people and find myself stuck. So that's what I tried to do. My immediate thought for the first couple of minutes of the swim was that I had apparently picked the best spot ever to start, because I was actually swimming instead of being punched and kicked. It didn't feel crowded, I didn't think I was going to drown. I didn't understand how I'd gotten so lucky.

Just before I had any serious delusions about having a great swim split, we approached the first buoy. It should be noted that this is not a turn buoy, but rather just there to mark the course on our 1-mile+ journey to the turn buoy. Apparently nobody told anyone else that. It seemed that the entire field of 1700-ish amateur athletes were under the impression that you were required to actually tag each buoy before moving on to the next one. I was on the inside line headed right toward it without really having any say in the matter. Every single athlete seemed to converge within a 3-foot span of that stupid orange buoy and I found myself feeling the second-closest I have ever felt to possibly drowning. (the first was the swim start at IMLP 2008) I have never been so blatantly climbed over and shoved aside. I did manage to avoid any direct punches, but the constant contact and complete lack of actual swimming that ensued for the next 15 minutes or so completely destroyed my mental state.

I think my problem with race swimming is that I just don't swim aggressively. It truly requires fighting to maintain position. What I found myself doing instead, was that when people converged in front of me, rather than trying to fight to get ahead and stay ahead, I slow down and let them go. Then I do it again. And again. Eventually, I'm stuck behind people who really shouldn't be in front of me but I don't have a way to get around.

Each buoy was the same, athletes converge, beat the crap out of each other, and then spread out again. I guess at least I knew I was following the course. It seemed a bit rough out there as far as the waves were concerned, but in all honesty I had sort of mentally checked out already at that point. Every other year there was a big boat at the end of the course to signify that it was time to turn and swim back to shore. We had been forewarned that there was no boat this year, but I figured there would be some sort of other indication once we got out there that it was time to turn. I heard him mention a big Ford buoy, but basically, all that happened after what felt like already at least an hour of swimming, I saw people in front of me turning right after an orange buoy, so I followed them.

I chose not to look at my watch at that point because I didn't want to know how long it had already taken me to get out there. What's it like to be a good swimmer? I'd really like to know. It was only on the way back that things seemed to spread out and I was able to actually swim. I found some feet here and there and felt like my suit wasn't as snug as it should've been. The return actually seemed to take less time than the way out which is unusual for Hawaii, but finally the pier was in sight and I swam towards the steps. I stood carefully and walked up in such a way as not to hurt my fractured foot. At the same instant I noticed the disappointing 1:14 on the clock I reached back to find that my TYR suit was completely unzipped. I suspect that someone unzipped it right at that first buoy when I thought I was going to die. That certainly didn't help.

The good thing about knowing you aren't going for the race of your life is being able to take your sweet time in transitions. I stood under the fresh water hoses and got a good drink before grabbing my bag and walking to the tent. Yep, I said walking. Running was a definite no-no. Shoes on, nutrition in the pockets, helmet and glasses on, off to walk to my bike. I tell you, it sucks not being able to run through transition. Especially when transition is so long!

I hopped on my bike and headed off for the annoying stretch on Kuakini before the real race begins. The only good part about this stretch is that there are tons of spectators, but mostly it is just annoying and crowded. It also already felt hot. I started drinking right away in an effort to stay ahead on hydration. I'd been told to drink 11 bottles at the very least, so I had a lot of drinking to do. I saw Jesse who told me I was "in a good spot" but then again, I think he said that exact same thing to everyone. I think I passed Pam first, then I saw Chris Casey riding back in the other direction. I kept looking for Hannah who I never saw but just assumed I'd missed her.

I finally hit the turn around to head back towards town. The climb up Palani was lined with spectators like the Tour. I heard Courtney one more time and turned left on the Queen K to see what the day would bring. I passed Michelle soon after who told me that she had lost her Garmin. About 10 seconds after I passed her I thought maybe I should've given her my stopwatch so she at least had something to go by later on. But now it was just time to ride.

Going into the race there were a lot of lofty expectations for the bike. I had nothing to lose, so I could blow my legs completely on the pedals and not have to worry about running after because I couldn't anyway. The problem with this is that there is also nothing to be gained. There was no incentive. It really made absolutely no difference. Words kept echoing in my head about how you can only dig deep so many times, and why waste on of those times today? Basically, it just sucked. I had flashbacks to 2007 when I was racing there and I wanted to want to do well, but mentally I just wasn't there. It felt the same. I came close to crying quite a few times on that ride and just wanted it to be over. I also felt guilty because I knew how many people would want to be in my position and there I was, wasting this opportunity once again. But I was helpless to do anything about it. Again, my foot wasn't going to get any better that day. I had thought I was going to get off my bike and defiantly walk the last 26.2 miles, but one word just kept popping up into my head: Why?

Seriously, what was I trying to prove? And to whom? Don't get me wrong, I wanted a new t-shirt, hat and medal, but was it worth the risk? Theoretically walking wouldn't hurt my foot further, but who knew what else could happen. It took me less than 15 miles of the ride to conclude that there would be no finish line for me that day, and it made the rest of my ride only that much more miserable. You can't show up in Kona anything less than 100% mentally ready to race. Every once in a while I was able to push it, but mostly I was just going through the motions. I did notice that up until we got out to the turn to head to Hawi, it wasn't particularly windy and maybe we'd be spared. I was also somewhat irritated that I'd be wasting favorable conditions on a day where I was about 15% of my usual self.

Well, that didn't last long, because the wind kicked up as usual the closer I got to Hawi. I saw the pros coming back the other direction as I got closer to the turn, Chris Lieto not surprisingly leading the men's race, Chrissie Wellington leading the women by a typically insane margin. Up ahead of me I saw the bikes tilted sideways to indicate that I had reached the crosswinds. Those mercifully didn't last very long, but were cruelly replaced by a relentless headwind that I knew would be with us until I got to turn around. As far as Hawaii winds go though, I didn't consider this to be out of the ordinary, or even that bad. Just kind of annoying.

I wasn't pushing it, I just wanted to turn and ride back. When I finally hit the turn in Hawi I decided to try and gain as much speed as I could on the combined descent and tailwind. This resulted in spending several miles cruising along effortlessly at about 36mph. That at least made me feel a bit better. Then again, I realized that I had been riding for almost 3 hours and I hadn't peed yet. This is not such a good thing. I was on pace for my 11 bottles, but it obviously wasn't going to be enough. The crosswinds were fleeting once again, and I found myself finally turning back on the Queen K to head back towards Kona. You forget how long this stretch really is. It's even longer when it is accompanied by a direct headwind that wasn't there to help you on the way out.

That last stretch was just miserable. I had mentally checked out at about mile 15. The further I went, the more I thought about not even bothering to finish the ride, but I figured I'd probably get back to transition faster just riding there rather than waiting for a support van to pick me up. My average speed was plummeting at an incredible rate and I swear I thought I'd never actually see the sign for mile 100. Somewhere around there a woman rode past me and said in frustration, "this stretch is never-ending!" She sure was right about that. Normally I tend to get a bit defensive when other women pass me because it doesn't happen very often. I was beyond caring at that point.

The airport finally came into view and I knew at least soon my miserable day would be over. I felt like I didn't belong out there at all. I didn't deserve it. That is why I would stop. I turned by Sports Authority and rode that last stretch, took my shoes off and finally got to get off my bike. Shorts caked in salt, still no sign of having to pee 11 bottles later. The walk through transition was brutal. Without being able to run the ground was burning my feet to the point that I had blisters by the time I made my way around the pier. I got my "run" gear bag if for no other reason than I needed to put some shoes on my feet and felt like eating the banana that was in there might make me feel a bit better.

I guess maybe there was some tiny piece of me that thought that maybe I'd still go out and give walking a try when I went into that tent. It was pretty empty in there and a volunteer came up to me and asked me what I needed. I said the hardest thing I've had to say in a race: "I think I need to stop." The volunteers don't really encourage anyone to stop unless it seems medically necessary, and at the time I was coherent and could at least walk in a straight line. I didn't quite want to end it without thinking about it a little, so they got me some water and a cold towel. Without really meaning to I wiped the race numbers off my arm in one swipe; maybe a sign of things to come. Another volunteer came up to me and I told her how I had a stress fracture and I didn't think I should continue. She told me I had all day and I could take my time. She also told me that apparently Lolly Rogers had a stress fracture last year or the year before and she went out and walked the marathon. Well, I'm not Lolly Rogers. For starters, she's more than twice my age.

They told me that if I wanted I could go to medical and talk to them and they could let me decide what I should do, so I decided to do that. It was very strange to be walking around aimlessly like that with the race going on around me. I talked to several of the doctors in there, who weren't very busy because it was too early in the race for many people to need medical attention, and they said that ultimately it was up to me to decide. Yes, there was a possibility that I could hurt it further, even though it was unlikely. When it came down to it, I couldn't think of anything I really had to gain by walking aside from just avoiding seeing a big fat DNF next to my name in the results. I decided right then that I would never start a race again that I didn't intend to finish. It's just not worth it. I finally told them that I didn't think it was worth it and I wanted to stop. They released me from medical and I handed them my timing chip. Then I was left alone to go pick up my dry clothes bag without my finisher's stuff. No longer an athlete, just another person there to watch the race.

I called Jesse who was down the road spectating, and very happy that I had made what he considered the smart decision. Smart or not, it still hurt to come to the conclusion that I am not invincible. I hate being injured and it has happened far too often in the past 18 months. Before I headed down to the mile 1 mark I ran into Mark Allen as I walked through the King Kamehameha Hotel. For anyone who doesn't know, I used to race for his team before I switched the QT2 so I could have a coach I'd actually see on a regular basis. I had seen Mark earlier in the week and he knew the decision I had to face and knew how tough it would be. If nothing else, at least I got a consolation hug from Mark Allen out of the deal.

It felt weird walking down the street with my athlete bracelet and bag, knowing everyone would know that I probably didn't finish. I was right by the finish line just as Craig Alexander came in on his repeat win. He was still behind Lieto when I saw him out on the Queen K heading to the energy lab when I was finishing the bike. I received a text message from Hannah saying that they were in front of Lava Java and she had to drop out after the swim. I guess she had retained a ton of water and was so swollen and cramped that she couldn't even kick during the swim, and definitely couldn't ride a bike. At least I knew going in that I wasn't going to have a good race. I know she'll be back with a vengeance when she takes on Arizona in a few weeks as her make-up race. I also got another hug from her mom when I passed her walking down the street. Nice to have a surrogate mom out there since my parents only coincidentally decided long before I got injured that they were going to miss this year, the first Ironman I've done where my mom wasn't there and only the second one my dad has missed. Good choice though, obviously.

Anyway, finally I found Jesse, Hannah, Courtney, Noah and Mikaela and we sat and watched the lead men come through and waited for Michelle to come back to mile 9. I was glad that she was having a really good day and she still looked really strong even though she was still upset about running without the aid of her Garmin. We moved off at that point to watch for Cait to come through as well as Chrissie, who of course blew everyone away as expected. Honestly, I thought maybe this time a few of the other women might step it up and give her more of a challenge, but she remains infallible.

In a way, it wasn't that upsetting not to have been out there running a marathon. That was my 4th time racing there and I'm going to have to say that it was probably the hottest it has ever been. I know, it's always hot. But this time it just seemed exceptionally hot. Cait came in 14th, not too shabby amongst the best in the world. Also including an uncharactaristically "off" marathon for her. I'd take a 3:14 on an off day anytime! I stayed with Hannah and Noah to wait for Michelle and suddenly realized that I was really, really hungry. I hit up the conveniently located ABC store (essentially Hawaii's version of 7-11) and bought myself my standard snack from my adolescense: Doritos and Pepsi. I hadn't really earned it, but I was going to eat it anyway. I held it up to Hannah and told her that it was precisely why I was a fat teenager. At that moment I was a dehydrated and slightly depressed adult athlete, so I ate it all anyway.

We counted down the minutes as the 11-hour mark approached, and we really wanted Michelle to break 11. It had no real significance, especially considering the fact that her goal time had been way faster, but it's still nice to finish in 10-something instead of 11-something, even if the time might be only a few seconds difference. We had seen Pat come through on his first Kona finish, I think he wasn't thrilled with his time, but given the conditions and it being his first time there, I'd say he did great. Also, he's 24, plenty of time. Michelle came into view very close to 11 hours and we cheered her on and told her to sprint to break 11. We didn't see her cross the line, but she missed it by 8 seconds. Either way, not too bad and she still looked great.

We decided at that point to head over to the finish area to see everyone, and for Hannah and I to grab our bags. We decided it would be best to do this together so we could wallow in DNF pity. It was the second year in a row that I had to see that finish line I wouldn't get to cross, and knowing that it would be at least 3 years now between Kona finishes for me... maybe more if more misfortune comes my way in 2010. We can only wait and see.

We got our stuff after congratulating our teammates who had finished - Chris had an awesome race in spite of wondering if he'd even be able to run due to some leg and lower back issues but still pulling it out. Michelle and Pat were just thrilled that it was over and Cait I think was still enjoying being horizontal in the medical tent. Hannah and I got our stuff and walked back towards the Royal Kona to meet up with everyone. We both got several, "Congratulations" as we walked back down Alii. Here's a tip for everyone: even though you see an athlete bracelet, a bike and some bags, don't assume there is anything to congratulate unless you see a medal, lei, finisher shirt or finisher hat. I chose not to correct anyone. I didn't feel like hearing all of those, "Oh, I'm sorry."

After some showers we were ready for the important part: eating! Again, I didn't really deserve this, but I was going to do it anyway. We found what seemed to be the only non-overpriced restaurant in all of Hawaii and settled in for some nachos and for me a chicken sandwich with fries. Eating wasn't necessarily all that pleasant because my teeth hurt so much from all of the sugar, but I toughed it out anyway. We were all too exhausted to go back and watch the finish, so we headed to the house and went to bed.

I slept much better than I normally do the night after a race, probably mostly because I got to skip all of the caffeine I otherwise would've ingested during the marathon. I was still awake by about 2am though, and eventually heard Cait on the phone at like 4:30 or something. She had apparently gotten up at about 2 and eaten an entire sleeve of Oreos. I guess Pat woke up in the middle of the night hungry and had 2 scoops of whey protein. He has a lot to learn about post-race indulgence. We were all awake incredibly early and Michelle, Pat, Cait and I had a little 6am run to the grocery store to buy whatever the heck we felt like having. Pat was eating Oreos while he shopped for other things. We each picked out a box of cereal more suited to 8-year olds. There were plenty of chips and cookies. We were like unsupervized children.

We went home to indulge in our cereal buffet in the downstairs mini kitchen but didn't get far before Cait's sister Mikaela came downstairs with a small tin of freshly baked brownies. But wait, there was more. She came back down a couple of minutes later with 2 more tins of brownies, one with peanut butter chips, the other with half Rolos and half peanut butter cups. It was about 7am. We didn't care. We just dug in with forks. Then we ate Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Reese's Puffs. And eventually we moved on from our breakfast appetizer to real breakfast at Lava Java.

That day disappeared pretty fast. I hated not having finished and honestly still wonder if I should've just walked it, but who knows if I would've done further damage, or even if it would've made me feel any better. I'm trying to just accept that it's just one of those things and there's nothing I can do about it except heal and then train really hard for next year and do my best to ensure that it doesn't happen again. I decided to go to the awards banquet, although I'm not really sure why. Well, I guess free food - even kind of crappy free food - was a bit of an incentive. Also, I remember being really bored by that afternoon and I just wanted anything to do. I went down with Cait and Mikaela and we met Pat and Courtney there. I had some Caesar dressing with a side of lettuce - it was pre-mixed, and you really have never seen a "salad" more smothered in dressing - some chicken, lasagna, bread and butter. Mike Reilly said that there were 126 of us who didn't finish, and there would be another day. I hope so. He also said that there was a 92.9% finishing rate, and I told everyone that if I had managed to finish I would've made it an even 93%. Pat was sitting to my left and Cait to my right as they were handing out the awards. I told them we had to make a pact that the three of us would get to stand up there next year. I came so close with a 7th in 2006, but ever since, getting even that close again seems nearly impossible.

We left before it was over because we had had enough sitting in those awful folding chairs. I can't wait to feel like there is actually something to celebrate at that awards dinner. It was annoying not being able to race for real, but it wasn't so bad actually getting to go to Hawaii for a few days. Michelle and I moved down to the Royal Kona after our week at the house was up. There was daily breakfast at Lava Java, now within walking distance. Plenty of time by the pool, surfing with Cait and Mikaela as well as post-surfing dinner of the biggest taco salads ever. Ice cream, floating in the ocean, no working out, and more junk food. In fact, the counter in the hotel room was stocked with what looked like what the shopping cart contents might be if mom left a couple of 11-year olds $30 to fend for themselves.

I left for home on Thursday night and arrived Friday morning. It snowed this weekend. It is really way too early for that, but I guess I can be thankful that I don't have to train in it. I've been fairly busy since I've been home, but I'll leave the follow-up stuff for another entry. For now, taking a few weeks totally off, getting sick of eating junk and ready for the x-ray November 2nd which hopefully will show that my metatarsal is all in one piece again.

Thanks for the support and kind words of everyone leading up to this point. It meant a lot to me to know that people were looking out for me. I'm sorry that I turned out to be all talk when it came to finishing no matter what, but it did seem like the "right" decision, even if it was a crappy one. Hopefully next season I won't have to let myself or anyone else down again. For now, rest, rest, and hopefully not to gain more than 10 pounds before it's back to the old diet. I'm guessing next season the training will be a bit less painful without having 40 pounds to lose on top of everything else. So I guess the comeback wasn't 100% complete, but that should make 2010 that much sweeter.