The Allure of Kona

I've fallen for it too. When I first started watching the NBC broadcast of Ironman, it sucked me in. This was years before I ever considered myself able of completing the Ironman distance, even over multiple days. I did 5 seasons of triathlons before my first Ironman, and by then I knew all the history of the race and as well as the big names. Before I even did my first triathlon, I remember chatting with Jenny's friend David, who was eventually my triathlon role model, about Mark Allen. I was sure he would win the Olympic triathlon one day when it became a sport, because he was just that good. David said, no, he will be retired by then, and probably wouldn't win even if he wasn't. I thought he was betraying a hero of mine. Instead he was just right.

But anyway, by then I was already sucked into it all and believed that Kona was the ultimate, far-fetched and probably never achievable goal. Especially since I couldn't fathom how anybody could go those distances. Also, I was in high school and 3 miles of running was a long way. 

I seem to remember that I had a lot of confidence in myself at my first qualifier. I told a friend that I was not waiting a year for her to race with me because the 18-24 age group would be easier to qualify in. It was. There was a ridiculous number of slots for about 20 of us: two. When I found out I had gotten one of those slots I sprinted to the nearest ATM (no credit cards accepted!) and withdrew my $300 immediately. 

I had a less than stellar mediocre terrible race, but somehow forgot it all and went back for more. After improving the next two times I thought I had gotten the hang of it. The fourth time proved that I most certainly did not, and it has mostly cured me of the desire to ever race in any heat, on any island of Hawaii, around any old volcano, through any lava fields again. Until...the Thursday before race day comes again every October, and I see everyone's underpants run pictures, and morning swims at Dig Me beach, and huge mugs of Kona coffee. Then I get this tiny little urge to go back there again; it seems to get a tiny bit stronger every year. 

 

And then I see pictures of the lava fields and get a little queasy. I run in the 70 degree breeze at home and realize that no matter how many times they tell you it's 87F in Kona, it's actually 137F on the Queen K, and the winds WILL find you. And just before my legs seize up and I start sweating just thinking about that last 12 miles of the bike, I go lie down and prop them up and let that crazy Kona urge slip away for another year. Maybe again someday. I'll just think about it a while here on the couch. 

  

 

Oh yeah, there's this feeling.

 

Then there's this one too.