June 2, 2007

The Day I Became Reacquainted With Menehune

If you have read the first entry of this blog, you might remember that I have something of a problem with lava trolls on the island of Hawaii. Menehune, as they are referred to in Hawaiian mythology. It's too bad, you know, because Hawaii really is a nice place otherwise. I write this the day after arriving home, still scratching my head as to why I have a problem racing triathlons in Hawaii. Must be the menehune. You might think that's just looking for excuses. You might be correct.

The Big Island

I'll talk about the race later. Do you mind if I post a small travelblog first? Doug Stern brings together a great group of people for the swim camp that I already told you about two or three entries ago. Four of us who met there converged upon the half ironman race in Hawaii in June--me from Missouri, Don from New York, Ed from Michigan, and Tim and Lisa from NoCal. Don and I are splitting a condo in the fine city of Kailua-Kona. Same place as I stayed with my crew for Ironman 2005. Speaking of that race, the inspirational John Blais shared the course with me that day. He had ALS and died of that last week, but ALS never had him. The unforgettable image of him logrolling across the white line in 2005 after 140.6 miles will live forever.

We were down the street from Lava Java, which is a good place for a group photo.

They are Tim and Lisa, two of our lanemates from the swim camp, who joined us. They were so generous to let us base from their awesome elegant suite up by the race site. And let us ride in their awesome DVD-playing van.

Here you have a great beach restaurant Huggo's. Try the Mauna Kea pie. If you can eat one by yourself, I would be impressed. Fernando, one of the 2005 crew, can. I have seen it and was impressed and slightly horrified.

There are actually not that many beaches; surprising, maybe, but what is there is spectacular. Try the one at Kekaha Kai for some great body boarding.

There are three main volcanoes that dominate. Here is Hualalai, the pipsqueak.

Don gets the idea to drive up to one of the largest, Mauna Kea. Here is Don driving our awesome convertible.

The guide book basically says "No problem" when it comes to the roads and the effect on your body of going up from sea level to 13,800 feet in about an hour. Pack the camera and some lunch and get ready for some awesome views at the top. Who could pass that up?

Round about 9000 feet up, as we found out later, is a park visitor center. Ordinarily, you will be stopped here by a ranger who will ask you to hang out at this elevation for altitude adjustment. Also you will see warnings as to the dreadful state of the road. If you do not see the visitor center on your way up and your ranger is taking a break, you might not stop. In that case you will go up a road that seems to have been built for only goats. This might not be the wisest thing to do in a Mustang. If it is a rental, however, the state of the road might enter into your calculations as a somewhat lesser factor. This may be one of the few places around that the dust that chokes you when you have the top down is pulverized lava.

OK so up at the top, there are some porta potties, and I have to stop there a minute while Don drives up to the parking area. After walking up a little bit I find the intrepid one (Your Humble Bloggist being the decidedly cowardly and hesitant one) gasping, bent at the waist, and looking at the asphalt rather than the three islands you can (supposedly) see from up there. Now, back in the day I did know a thing or two about high altitude physiology. As a very obtuse aside, there is a story involving me and Sir Edmund Hillary that intersects with this plot line. I will get to that one some day. Whether or not you are a mountain physiology expert, it will probably not surprise you to know that we decided just to turn the bloody car around and descend right then. The upshot is that I saw only the inside of a portaloo up on Mauna Kea and Don saw only a bunch of stars circling around his head like a cartoon sucker punch recipient. This is the only photo I have from that delightful excursion, taken as we beat a hasty retreat.

On the way down we encounter the ranger a little bit late. Dude has a half-face tattoo like Mike Tyson and some Hawaiian Willie Nelson emaciated pony-tail old guy thing going. So he's harshing us out some for not stopping, but as Don deftly turns the conversation to his tattoo ("It is NOT a tattoo; it is culture," says he, whatever that means), and we agree that only chiefs should sport such a thing, cranky ranger guy morphs into benevolent Polynesian leader of men and ushers us into the parking lot. The visitor center is running, for reasons that utterly elude me, a video about the space shuttle program.

Fast forward to sea level and Alii Drive ( site of the Ironman finish line, that race from 2005) where we encounter Ed, known to us from Sternapalooza, and training partner Sandy, both hoping to do something special in the race that would follow two days on. We leaned on them to come to Huggo's, where drinking of wine, eating of Mauna Kea pie, and lack of prerace pasta ensued. It is my sincere hope that whatever disappointment in their race results that happened later was not due at all to Your Humble Bloggist's bad influence. But what a great place to eat by the Pacific. Ed reminds us to take salt pills during the race. I hearken back to my lack of these in 2005 and my conclusion that menehune were to blame. A shiver ripples through at this time. What do they have in store for me this time? Blasted lava trolls!

I really have lost all sense of where I am going with this blog entry right now so I am going to transition to Friday, the day before the race.

Friday, The Day Before The Race

OK you have to get your bike to the famous Hapuna Beach. If you need to transport two, that's a good reason to have a convertible. For bike transport reasons, you know.

Don was really generous to help me fix my gears out under the shade of a Hawaiian outhouse at Hapuna. Good gravy it seemed like 110 in the shade out there. A practice swim is a good thing to do. Unfortunately a 20 floated out of my jersey pocket. I kept expecting to find it floating around out there even the next day during the race. No such luck, though. An offering to Poseidon for safe passage or some junk like that I guess.

It's Time for the Race Report

The waters around Hawaii are nice and warm, so, no, you don't get to wear your wetsuit for the swim. With only 900 participants, you are spared the usual melee in the water. The swim for this race was the nicest I have ever seen outside of Curacao. Perfectly clear water allowed you to sight the ripples in the sandy bottom, which made navigation very easy. My time for the 1.2 mile swim was 37 minutes, right around my goal. Sandy from Michigan and Tim from Lane 4 (Way to represent, Tim!)got out a little ahead of me.

The 56 mile ride is basically a quick trip up the side of the Kohala Range from Hapuna to Hawi and back to the Mauna Lani resort. Whether or not you admire the World Triathlon Corporation, you can always count on their events to have perfect support at aid stations and good traffic control. The course is mostly closed to autos. The most notable sight on the way out was a guy with a double AKA (above knee amputation) pedaling along mightily. I don't know anything about this guy, but holy jumpin.

I was happily surprised to encounter the turn around before making the climb all the way to "downtown" Hawi. There were some crosswinds at that altitude, and the going was getting slightly difficult. Enjoying the descent, Your Humble Cycling Bloggist was passed by uber biker Don, fully recovered from the Mauna Kea summit dysfunction. Dude is pumping out some serious watts. Couple minutes later I accelerate as fast as I can to catch up. "Shake and bake", says he. Here's a hint to the movie allusion.

Of course not long after he passes me again and is long gone. My bike time was a shade over 3 hours, again right on plan. Hey that's me in T2 and I really wanted to go running woohoo!



The third leg of this race cannot be called a run for me. More like the Crazed Menehune Death Drag. Seriously I don't know what happened. Kept thinking that if I just kept jogging it out, there would be a return to form. After Ed passed me I kept up with him for a little bit, but could not sustain. Not even the Hooters girls cheering people on could do anything for me. Ear worm:Love Shack-no help. Nice course though, seafront for part, through a little sand, off-roading on the golf course.

About 2 hours into this disaster, I started thinking of how I would blog on this. Clearly some new description was needed. Craptastic. Crapdiddleeriffic. Craptabulous. Crapxponential. Crapzuberous. Crapadoodledoo. Doctor Crappenstein. Field Marshall von Crappenburg. It's a marvelous night for a Crapdance. I've Got A Crapful Crappy Feeling. You want the crap? You can't handle the crap. You're a Good Man, Charlie Crap featuring the hit song Crappiness Is. Ironcrap 70.3. Tour de Crap. Swimbikecrap. We few, we crappy few, we band of brothers. Alaskan Snow Crap Special at Crap Lobster. Talladega Craps: The Ballad of Sir Charles. Well you get the picture.

Craptacular is truly it, and yes I know that Bart Simpson said it and it's not original. I thought it was, but just saw it on Urban Dictionary. I thought I made up a good word, but alas I am no Stephen Colbert. That was a Fourth of July fireworks craptacular meltdown, a 2 hour 40 minute half marathon and now it is on the Ironman website results archive forever...oh, the shame. Mom and Dad, you're still proud of your son aren't you?

How about Crapocalypse Now?

So go triathloning in Hawaii if you want. To you, I donate whatever positive energy I have left. Maybe there will be another try for me. Sir Charles St. John-Smythe vs. the Menehune III:This Time It's Personal. But I doubt it.

The crapaclysm?

WAIT! This post will not end on that note! I want you to know that during a time of suffering such as that, it is never far from my mind how lucky I am to be the parent of Eldest and Youngest Progeny, whose accomplishments provide me with more self-esteem than I should claim. How lucky I am to have so many aloha moments with Awesome Breathing Partner. Friends from all over the globe. (Well, at least all over the hemisphere. Hola, Western Honduras). My ninth grade English teacher, who is one of my most awesome friends and an awesome Penn State trustee(Hail to the Lions!). Mom and Dad, who really are proud of me I think. I was totally kidding when I said that before you know. And the good health that allows me to be a bit disappointed in doing something that would have seemed unthinkable to me 5 years ago. So what if it took longer than I hoped this time.