This past weekend I made my first attempt at picking up a Kona Qualification on the island of St. Croix, USVI. The trip was a blast! My training partner, James, Annie, and my mom all made the journey to the Caribbean with me, arriving late on Thursday night. On Friday, James and I got a taste of the salt water at the practice swim in Christianstead Harbor, returning to the hotel to kick it by the beach and kayak a little bit with the rest of the afternoon. On Saturday we got a look at part of the bike course, which we had some very mixed feelings about. On the one hand, it might have been the most beautiful cycling I have ever seen, circling the island and giving us mind blowing cliffside views of the coast. On the other hand, the roads were rough as hell and the topography made for some challenging, slow riding. After our ride we returned to the hotel, where we pretty much just kicked back to rest up for the coming day.
Sunday came quick. Alarms went off at 4 am, and we were race-site bound at 4:30. Stoked to compete, James and I racked our bikes, suited up, and made our way across the harbor to the beach where our swim started. After watching the professional men and women take off, our wave was the first amateur group to line up. We wished each other luck, got ourselves in the zone, and anxiously awaited the horn. When it finally went off, we rushed to the water and dove in. With the first turn buoy only about 200 meters into the course, it was a crowded pack with lots of rustling, so I tried to just keep to the outside of the main pack, it could be a long day if my face got kicked and my goggles got filled with salt water. When things finally smoothed out, I found my stroke pretty quickly, got into a groove, and worked my way up through the crowd who went out way too hard. For the last 500 meters or so, I found myself in between 2 other swimmers, just on their hips, a perfect place to get a little bit of draft on both sides! I exited the water in 30:47, my fastest non-wetsuit 1.2 mile swim. It was hands down the easiest part of the arduous journey that lay ahead of me...
After stripping my swimskin, cap, and goggles off and donning my cycling shoes and helmet, I rushed out of T1 and onto the 56 mile bike course. The night before the race we had gotten a large storm that brought some serious gravel and sand onto the roads. Sixty percent of athletes picked up a flat tire on the course, including about half the professional field. The race of attrition was on. My plan was centered around two words- patient and conservative. This meant not chasing after everybody who passed me early on the bike and taking the sharp, fast downhill corners easy to avoid a crash and try not to flat. It seemed to really pay off when I got to the infamous climb, appropriately named "the beast." The beast demands serious power to get through, averaging a 14% grade and maxing out at 21%. Naturally, a climb like this turns into a king of the mountain contest for nearly every guy on the course, but I humbly decided to put down just enough power to keep my bike moving in a forward direction. Shortly after the climb, I caught up with just about every flashy cyclist who decided to cook themselves up the beast. My conservative and patient approach didn't give me the sexiest bike split of the day, clocking an official time of 2:39:23, but it left me feeling like I had left enough in the tank to put together a solid finish on the run.
I was wrong. If the bike course wasn't tough enough, the 13.1 mile run course in 86 degrees and 90% humidity was downright brutal. Despite hitting my stride well for the first 3 miles, heat cramps quickly found their way to my legs, breaking the beautiful stride I had worked so hard to perfect all season. Knowing that anything could be happening in front of me or behind me, I had no choice but to trot my way as best as possible to the finish line. It was undoubtedly the most challenging run of my life, and I dragged my way home on a painful 1:50:44 run split to clock a finish time of 5:00:54. In a race where about 100 other athletes dropped out, this put me in 41st overall, and 2nd in my age group.
Bet you're wondering what happened to my training partner, James. He took a jellyfish to the face during the swim, could barely see straight, but still managed to finish the bike course before calling it quits and hitting the medical tent for an IV and some treatment for jellyfish stings. And here I thought the only safe place on the entire course was the swim! Not long after crossing the finish line, I joined him in the medical tent for my cramping. It was the worst cramping I have ever experienced in all of my athletic career, probably because I had 4-5 muscles cramping at the same time, all trying to pull my joints in opposite directions. After being force fed bananas and electrolyte drinks proved useless, I reluctantly let the medics give me an IV. Eventually they let me walk/crawl away to pack up my stuff and reunite with my mom and Annie.
At the awards ceremony, I learned that the guy who beat me for the age group took the Kona slot, unsurprisingly. I also learned that Richie Cunningham, the professional male who won that day, had been in the top 5, but never won in St. Croix, in his first 9 attempts. If at first you don't succeed, try and try again. This was just my first attempt at grabbing a Kona spot, and while an early season qualification would have been ideal, there are still opportunities yet to come. The race was certainly not fruitless. I had a great time with the people who matter most to me and picked up a little more experience in the pain cave to draw upon later this season. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get to the pool for a swim set. There are some big training weeks ahead of me, and of course the next race, Eagleman 70.3, and I don't plan on missing a beat.
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