I have not submitted a race report since joining SVTC a few years ago, but this one deserved some thoughts. Enjoy, Carolyn Magsalay-Widoff

So I’m back on the plane and we’re flying home. I had a great time in Hawaii. The race was, in a word, AWESOME. You hear about how, for marathoners, the Big Sur International Marathon has been voted the most scenic race, and is a must-do if you plan to do just one marathon in your life? Hawaii 70.3 Honu Triathlon is like that for the half-ironman world. It is the most beautiful race I’ve ever done, the most inspiring, and… the most punishing. But it is still the most awesome nonetheless. Here’s why:

When we checked in at the Fairmont, I was surrounded by hundreds of athletes. The race is small, only 1200 registrants, unlike the 7500+ at Wildflower. However, it felt like 90% of the athletes at this one were totally serious, and most of them were gunning for a slot to the Championships. I felt like I was being surrounded by beautiful, well-sculpted men and women (gods and goddesses, really) who have worked and trained hard to be here and who are very serious about the race… and here I was, doing it for fun, and… not taking the race seriously. There was a moment when I felt really, really tiny compared to these athletically accomplished men and women. But then I reminded myself of why I was here: I was on vacation, celebrating my two-year anniversary with my husband (we flew in on our anniversary), and my brother-in-law was also vacationing with us, so it was going to be a good trip.

On race day, we boarded the shuttle which took us to T1. At this race, T1 and T2 are at different locations. T1 is at the beach, T2 is at the Fairmont, where the finish line is also located. The beach is only a few miles away, so some athletes biked over to warm up. I met an 18-year-old who was doing the race with his mother. He tried to do the race last year, but missed the age cut-off by two months, so he was probably the youngest one in the race, doing his first half iron. I told him not to worry, that he was going to sign up for his next one after a couple days.

The swim was beautiful. There was a slight breeze and the water was calm. The water was so buoyant and clear that when I dipped underwater I could see hundreds of pairs of legs treading the surface, and at 20 feet above the surface I could see the grains of sand on the beach floor. It was a mass start – everyone went as soon as the cannon was fired (they do everything big in Hawaii; they don’t use a start gun, they use a cannon). I felt like I was flying over the coral and tropical marine life as I rounded the course. I saw an octopus! There was a current on the way back in, so I had to kick extra hard for the last part. I knew about this from the lady at spin class who told me about her experience at this race, so I tucked in behind a faster swimmer and drafted him in. I was one of the last ones out of the water, but I didn’t care because I wasn’t the absolute last one. It was easy to find my bike! My husband was waiting for me as I ran up the beach to the transition area and he was cheering me on and taking pictures. I was feeling great!

I got on my bike and headed out of T1. Everyone – spectators and volunteers – were cheering us, which was awesome. The 18-year-old was not far behind me, so I cheered him on as well. As he was exiting the beach and running to his bike, he was like, “Oh no, I’m going to have a hard time finding my bike among the hundreds! I hope I find it! What if someone else has the same bike as me and I grab the wrong one, hopefully this won’t happen!” even though his bike was the only one left in his row… just like mine. He had the right attitude and we laughed.

The bike leg was hot and windy. There were parts where I crawled, and I could feel the sun burning into my skin even though I had put on SPF 50 sunscreen. It was beautiful though, all rollers and trending uphill. I passed some, got passed by some, and traded places with some. When I got to the turnaround point, I took a short break at the aid station and refilled my bottles with water and sports drink. The headwind turned into a super tailwind, and the rollers trended downhill. The bike was not what I expected; I thought I’d be riding along the coast like in the Big Kahuna Triathlon, but no – we were higher up in elevation and I could see that the coast was pretty far. Because of the wind I rode my bike slightly slanted in one direction on the way up, and slanted in the other direction on the way down. I saw a lot of athletes with flat tires. There was a section where I got hit by cross-wind a couple times and was gripped with the fear of being blown off of my bike. I was so scared, I didn’t go on my aero-bars. But the bike leg was not without its moments. I encouraged others up the hills, got encouragement from others, and asked if those who had flats were okay equipment-wise. I thanked all the volunteers. One of the guys I was trading places with, would pass me on the up-hills (darn those tall guys with long legs, compared to the legs of my 5’3” frame), but I’d catch him on the down-hills. At one point, he off-roaded his bike and fell off; I asked him if he wanted me to wait for him, keep him company. Despite the look of embarrassment on his face, he encouraged me to go on. I told him, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone!” and we laughed. Then he’d catch up and pass me. A few short miles from T2, he got a flat tire. I passed him and asked if he wanted me to wait, and he said no because he’d take too long but that he’d see me on the run. True enough, he eventually passed me at Mile 5, so I told him I’d see him at the finish line. His name was #813.

T2 was like T1 but reversed. It was a sea of bikes. So it was somewhat easy for me to find my slot with my number. My husband and his brother saw me, took pictures, and cheered me on. I took my time to put on my running shoes and more sun block, and then I was off on the run. I gave my husband a quick kiss (with an official stating, “That’s a five-minute penalty!” but he was kidding), exited T2, passed a guy who saw me kiss my husband so he also puckered up his lips and I laughed and shook my head at him, and started my run on the golf course.

The run was totally hot. No wind. I felt like the roast pig that we were going to have later that night at the luau. I stopped at every aid station to get fluids and to get two cups of ice dropped into my bra, one cup down my back. I picked up the wet sponges and slipped them under my hat and on each shoulder strap of my tri suit. Like in the bike, I passed some, got passed by some, and traded places with some. I still felt lucky though, because on any other day if we were caught running on the premiere golf course grass we’d get thrown out… but not on race day! The views were again spectacular. The volunteers were great, with some playing the kind of music that made you put one foot in front of the other. As I saw the other runners, I realized that there were two prevailing attitudes: those who hated what they were going through, and those who were there to tough it out. I could tell from the looks on their faces and how they responded. One guy said, “This course is f***ing hard… even harder than I remembered from last year!” as he was walking at Mile 7. “Don’t worry,” I said, “you’ll be okay” as I ran (or rather, shuffled) passed him. He was really hurting. Then I shuffled back to him, gave him a quick hug and said, “You’re going to make it” and this put a smile on his face. Another guy I traded places with was Cowman A-moo-ha (seriously, that’s his name), and he’s a Kona legend. I beat him on the swim and bike (he flatted on the bike), but he caught me 3.5 miles from the finish line. I first met him at Sentinel Triathlon in Santa Cruz in 2006. He’s done the Kona Ironman since the second inception and has done every single one since then. We traded quick stories and encouraged each other, but mostly he was encouraging me – I was getting lessons on attitude from a real legend. Oh, and Cowman is like, 65 years old, has done the Boston Marathon with a modified football helmet with horns, and is an accomplished athlete since his younger days. He has also done the Western States 100, which is four times the lengh of a marathon and at elevations that make the Boston Marathon look tiny.

At the final few miles to the finish, I picked up a girl who looked like she was also hurting, so I encouraged her to run-walk the final miles with me. She lives in Oahu but came from Huntington Beach. We ran into volunteers who were encouraging us to hurry up because we were approaching the course cut-off time (8 hours, 30 minutes). I told the two volunteers to come run with us for a short distance and it will mentally pick us up, and they actually did! One of the guys had done Kona twice. I felt privileged to be running with a champion. My girl was worried that we’d run out of time, so after we passed Mile 11, I did some quick mental math and told her not to worry – even if we walked the rest of the way we were going to make it. She still had a little fear, so I told her we’d run-walk the rest of the way there. Her mother, auntie, and my husband and brother-in-law saw us on the course and encouraged us to hurry up. She told her mom that I was her angel and I laughed. At the last aid station, I told the volunteers that I had paid so much for the race and trained so long for it that I was going to enjoy all the amenities it had to offer and in as much time as I was allowed – and everyone laughed and cheered. Finally, just a few hundred yards from the finish line, my girl got a cramp on her right calf which kept her from taking another step. I stopped her, grabbed her calf, and squeezed it with my hands. Then I grabbed her hand and we ran into the tiny gate together at 8:19, with 11 minutes to spare. We gave each other a big hug, she told me she loved me (I was honored); I gave her my email address so that we can swap pictures and we promised to keep in touch. This was the hardest course I’ve done, but it is also the most rewarding.

The morning after the race was something else, too. I wore the finisher’s shirt and wandered around the resort taking pictures. When I got in an elevator with someone else who was also wearing the shirt, or saw someone walk down the hallways with the tell-tale tan lines, we’d look at each other and smile the knowing smile. We didn’t have to say anything – we just know what we went through and share a quiet understanding. My husband, brother-in-law, and I hit as many beaches and snorkeling spots we could for the rest of the trip. We were on a beach catching some sun and I heard a voice say, “Did you race on Saturday?” I turned around and was greeted by a woman with the unmistakable bike shorts tan lines. We laughed and swapped quick stories. So it was for the rest of the trip, whether we were in a bar or on a beach.

We also moved to a condo in Kona because it was cheaper than staying at the Fairmont. We had stayed at Kona Makai condos at our last vacation to Big Island in 2007; this year we stayed in Unit #3-104. I found a journal that was on the coffee table, and it had an interesting entry. The entry read something like, “The condo was great, we enjoyed it during Ironman… we will be back for next year’s Ironman”, and it was dated for October 2008. It was signed “Steve and Lin Wellington, UK”. The name looked familiar, so I looked it up in Google and it turns out they are the parents of Chrissie Wellington, last year’s Ironman Women’s Champion (http://www.chrissiewellington.org/pages/faqs.asp).

Now that I've done it, I'll probably sign up for this particular one again... if not to be faster, then certainly for the experience. After all, if you're going to suffer, why not suffer in one of the most beautiful spots in the world?

Pictures: