Kona Intentions

Now that the thought of going to Kona this year has sunk in, the reality of how I’m going to approach the event is starting to take shape.  The revelation: my race day intentions aren’t anything like I figured they’d be when I first pondered the notion of getting to the World Championships.  When the idea was hatched a few years ago, I intended to dilly-dally through the 140.6 miles tip-toeing and twirling across the island to stop and smell every hibiscus and pirouetting to turn over every lava rock.  Taking it all in and enjoying the day, so to speak.

Back then, though, well, that was right about when I tackled my first Ironman (Coeur d’Alene, 2008).  And I didn’t exactly lollygag the whole race, but I did dial the competitiveness way, way down.  I had an enormous amount of respect for the distance, and my blood-brother pact with that course only involved the goal of finishing.  In fact, a couple miles into the marathon that day I remember jogging up a long hill where all the signs were that families had made for the racers, and I was reading every one of them to see if I could find the ones made for me.  There was no real grit in me at all.  A friend and competitor was coming the other way – miles ahead of me, and not at all used to that – and threw his hands out and said, “Bruce, what the hell are you doing back here?”  “Hey there, man!  Just reading the signs!”  I was goofing off.

A thought on Kona at the time was purely inconceivable to me. 

I couldn’t imagine racing that kind of distance!  Over the next 3 Ironmans though, I began to believe.  And as the idea began to take shape in my head, I favored the notion of going full-on medieval to qualify, and then showing up at Kona to rest on my laurels and soak in all the hype.

But somewhere along the way when it began to really look like I might actually have a shot at this, three things changed my mind:

1.      A friend of mine did it that way.  His first time in Kona, when the race started and everyone else went in to swarm mode and began swimming over each other, he dove down to look at the pretty little fishies.  He told me the next time he goes there he’ll race it hard.  I took that to mean that he regretted his choice from the first time around.

2.      My buddy Carl has done Kona twice.  The first time he got in through the lottery.  I didn’t want to take that route but I was curious, so I asked him how he handled someone in Kona asking him where he qualified.  His response to them was pure Carl Bonner: “I lotto’d in and I’m gonna kick your ass.”  I don’t want someone that lotto’d in to kick my ass.

3.      It’s a World Championship, and I believe it should be raced like one no matter how you get to the start line.

So, that’s the mindset I’m taking to Kona.  All the craziness I did to prepare for Florida - my strange eating habits, early nights in bed, getting super skinny, the cottage cheese fetish, another season without tailgating - all that will happen again (and maybe some new tricks).  I promise to embrace the hype of race week and soak all of that in.  But when the cannon fires, I’ll treat it like a World Championship and I’ll draw on a ton of hours of hard work to make it as epic of a race as possible.  I want there to be lots of suffering.  I’ll take in the landmarks that make this race such a storied legend, and I might even notice a sign on the side of the road or a hibiscus or two.   I’ll most certainly ham it up at the finish line for what is sure to be one of the most memorable and emotional moments of my life.  But after the fun is over with, I intend for every one of those 140.6 miles to be about how I left nothing out there but the best I could give it.  Some time later I'll figure out the details and the goals for the day, but for now......I just want to wrap my mind around how this kid will play the game.