Lanikai Triathlon, Part 3


Look closely. There are two of me! This is getting out of the ocean and running toward transition one and the bike ride.

Exiting the ocean to transition one and the bike. John Bender photo.

Not that I’m getting super casual about being in triathlons, but when you’re training for a half-Ironman (70.3) a sprint triathlon doesn’t even qualify as a workout. The Lanikai Jamba Juice Triathlon was last Sunday, hosted by our coach, Raul Torres of Boca Hawaii. He and his tough team of coaches crack their whips all week long. Doing a sprint triathlon without the usual prodding would be fun. We were told to ride our bikes for two hours later that day, because, DO MORE.

As typical for this event, the wind was howling and the sun rose behind a bank of clouds. It sprinkled as we set up our transitions along the bike racks under the glare of spotlights in the early morning. Most normal people are still in bed on such a Sunday. Why be normal?

Good morning chop for crazy triathletes!

Good morning chop for crazy triathletes! John Bender photo.

After a briefing (be nice, don’t draft, don’t break the rules, don’t say mean things, don’t be an ass), we walked down the beach to the boat ramp at Kailua Beach Park for the beach start of our 500-meter swim. How intimidating could it be? The conditions were victory at sea, my favorite. I love the chop and the swells and I try to take long strokes to take advantage of their power. Somehow I managed to stay inside the crowd. Other years I’d swim outside, and it was way too far. This time I made a dash for the last buoy and got to transition one at 11:38 minutes. Not bad for this kid.

I ran to the bike transition. I tried to put on my bike shoes but D’uh! I had put my spare bike tube in one shoe and socks in the other, which I totally forgot. So I tried to put my feet in my bike shoes and they were getting all jammed up. I grabbed the stuff and put it in my bag, got my number belt on and ran across transition to run through the park and out the back to the road for a 10-mile ride, which took us to the gate at Marine Corps Base Hawaii, through a winding road badly in need of repaving, over a big-assed hill, and back toward the beach. Just like my friend and coach Lectie recounted in her blog here, I, too, could hear coaches Ryan and Alika: “Am I pedaling fast enough? Am I pushing a high enough gear?” Dudes. You are so in our heads. I kept thinking I would see the leaders on their way back but then I realized we were going up Mokapu and across the saddle, a pretty substantial hill that didn’t kill me. I killed it! This was a good ride. I think they should keep this route for future triathlons. I hammered Mokapu. Take that.

I love riding the bike, I was so happy when I turned down toward the end of the ride and coasted down to where we were to dismount. Right pedal out, left pedal, stuck. I fell on my left wrist, my left hip and okole, and the bike was carefully cradled between my legs and didn’t suffer a scratch. Whenever I fall I think about how crumbly my bones are or how I could just be crippled for life. But I was able to get up and run to transition, although my pride was quite bruised at this point. That had never happened to me. It sucked. My wrist still hurts.

After I brought down the bike rack. I always do this little cup shower thing. Mahalo, Edna, for the photo.

After I brought down the bike rack. I always do a little cup shower. Mahalo, Edna, for the photo.

At bike transition, already flustered from the fall, I tried to put my bike on the rack and the whole rack fell to the ground with one other bike on it. I tried to right it for like two seconds and figured, “Fuck it.” My nose was dripping half the ocean and I shoved my feet into my shoes and took off for the run exit. I was determined to beat last year’s time, which beat the time from the year before.

Transitions are kind of crazy for me. I’m very disoriented. So, this was good practice for me. I need to figure out a way to get my head screwed on right. If the rack falls, just say fuck it. Observe, detach and move on.

Running across the sand in the final stretch to the finish.

Running across the sand in the final stretch to the finish. John Bender photo.

The swim was great, the bike was almost great, and the run is my achilles heel. I took off, had to be redirected by the volunteers, and headed toward the Lanikai Loop, which has a few baby bump hills during the first half and a revisit to one of them on the way back. Tonight I ran for an hour and twenty minutes and it felt OK. I’ll ice my knee, but, it wasn’t excrutiating. Neither was my run in the triathlon. However, I felt as though I were suffocating. Did I use my inhaler in transition? I really ought to take a hit from my inhaler before my runs. This was just a 3-mile run, which is about how long I have to go before my legs feel OK. As I came out of Lanikai and ran across the beach toward the finish, I was happy to be getting so close to being DONE. Then this lady passes me with some young guy. I didn’t know who she was, but, I thought she was old.

So yeah, I have this delusion that I’m actually 40. I swear to g*d. There is no way I am not. I am way too fun and hip and silly and goofy and crazy to be anything else. It blows my mind, which is, you know, 27? And it’s why I do all this training. If I lay off, gravity wins. Must resist.

As I trailed other triathletes and approached the final berm of sand and climbed toward the finish, my friend Caroline comes running down the hill to whip my butt with “GO GO GO” and it really helped me get up that hill and across the finish. I expected that hill to trip me up, but it didn’t.

Across I went, a minute and 24 seconds faster than the year before; but 20 seconds behind the woman who placed third on my age group podium with my friends Faye and Yvette. The lady I thought was old!  WTPho?

Next year.

 

Suppressing My Expressions


Surprise. How many times did you come here wondering when I would update lavagal.net? I tried a few times over the winter break, when I first started my Boca Hawaii bike training, when I first started teaching full-time as a permanent sub at Kaiser High School, when my LinkedIn account was finally extinguished, when I first started this year’s Boca Hawaii Honu 70.3 triathlon training program, if I ever got a moment to myself.

But I was in a lot of pain, deep inside. Every time I wanted to write something, my inner demons would tell me it was stupid and that no one cared. Who would read it? What would they say? And always someone to tell me I’m a whiner.

The intentions were there. I miss blogging. I like weighing in on what’s going on in the world and what it means to me, and what I think it might mean to you. But, I have instead begun an implosion, a deflating, a shrinking, a suppression of my expressions. The pie of my life is divided into smaller and smaller pieces. Sleep is one of the smallest. Triathlon training keeps me healthy, and I love to just work things out in my head while I’m swimming, pedaling my bike up a steep hill, or running for miles. I help my in-laws with their vegetable garden, I have my own yard to take care of, I feed the family, I pay bills, and I have those oh-shit moments when I look at the bathroom and realize it’s been a while since it’s been cleaned. Now that I’m teaching, I am thinking just about every waking moment about lesson plans, meetings, deadlines, building quizzes and tests, considering reading assignments, grammar and punctuation lessons, or choosing American Literature stories that won’t turn class time into nap time.

Adjustments have been made. Parts of life have been delayed. But new goals are set and, as I tend to be hopeful and optimistic as the sun rises each day, I desperately grasp the positives that people bestow upon me. They keep me sane, they keep me alive, they show me my relevance.

Hawaii Bike Training — Absolutely loved it. New teammates, different kinds of workouts, riding all over Oahu, loving coaches who pushed my ass further than I ever thought it would go. Grateful.

Teaching — Called by the principal on a Friday to start on Monday. American Literature for juniors, Expository Writing for seniors, English Language Arts for sophomores. I so enjoy it, despite the tons of work that’s involved. I would be lying if I didn’t admit to having students who are disruptive and insulting, but they are far outnumbered by those students who work with me. I teach core courses. It’s really a good idea to do all of the homework, all of the journal entries, and read the book. Teaching reminds me of my youth — that time when you think you know everything, don’t want to hear from the voices of experience, want to forge your own path and don’t see the benefit of someone who would love to help you avoid mistakes. Been there, done that. The older I get the more I realize the less I know. That’s the main lesson I’d love to tell these kids. One student asked me how it felt to hold graduation in the palm of my hand. I told him I didn’t. “You hold graduation in the palm of YOUR hand,” I said. He got it.

LinkedIn: The Brag Book of social media. True, it was extremely painful for me to face unemployment for so long and to wonder what the problem was when I applied for hundreds of jobs, got a handful of calls, three interviews and no offer. Hopelessness was a constant companion. It sucked. I didn’t want to see how wonderful everyone else’s life was. It took nearly six months to shut the front door on all that noise. I feel better already.

Boca Hawaii Endurance Triathlon Training — My home away from home. My extended family. Coaches who see in me what I don’t quite see myself. Third year of training for Honu 70.3. I feel like things are finally working. I’ve made a few personal changes. Wino’clock only occurs on Saturday evening. Beerthirty, once in a blue moon. Those two adjustments have made it possible for me to lose some weight, and it will continue. I pack a lunch for school, which is usually an apple, a Kind bar, some cheese; or humus and pita chips. Water, water, water.

Quiet moments. Cooking. Gardening. Connecting with my husband. Snuggling the kitty. Stealing hugs from my kids. Valuing every moment I have to myself and with you. Treasures.

You Just Climbed Koko Crater Not Koko Head (which is way easier)


Koko Crater tramway.

Koko Crater tramway.

About the title: When I checked in on Facebook, this was an option. And, as I’m always correcting people about how they climbed Koko Crater and not Koko Crater Head or Koko Head Crater or Koko Head, I jumped on that location immediately. It took me a while to get up there. Here’s my tale.

Under the blazing sun at 1 p.m. yesterday, I had the curiously strange idea to go up Koko Crater, which is practically in my backyard. It’s a big draw for (insane or fit or insanely fit) residents and tourists alike. It’s also a draw for those who want to go on a little hike. How hard can it be, they must ask themselves. I don’t know why anyone would do this hike more than once. We used to go up quite often, before it became a tourist destination, and we even took our daughters up there a few times. We’d watch the sunset, take in the view, and take lots of pictures.

For mere mortals, it’s not a piece of cake. The tramway is treacherous, there is nothing to hold onto except maybe the rail if you bend over and grab it, the trestle, which always seems to have a hive of bees or wasps in activity, is terrifying (so I took the cheater path on the side), and there is no water anywhere. If you aren’t discouraged by my message of doom yet, take a 2-liter bottle for the way up and maybe another for the way down.

Yes, my awesome Brooks Pure Cadence running shoes. Yes, this is typically the condition of the tramway all the way up.

Yes, my awesome Brooks Pure Cadence running shoes. Yes, this is typically the condition of the tramway the whole way.

There are 1,060 steps up to the top, and then you have to climb up rock that has been smoothed with erosion and thousands of footsteps. Years ago, an encouraging soul painted markers on the rail marking progress. At 200 steps. At 400 steps. At 500 steps At 800 steps. At 1,000 steps it also says only 60 more to go!

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Everyone stops to rest, even the invincibles.

This being my off season, I haven’t been training for triathlons much recently. But how bad was it? Bad. Before I got to the 200th step I was having second thoughts. I knew I didn’t have to do it. I packed a little bit of water, but not nearly enough, and it was so hot. And it wasn’t until I got to the 400th step did I remember about the dreaded trestle. Although it seems to have been reinforced some, I do not have the constitution to go across, whether it’s climbing or descending. Fortunately, there is a well-worn path on its east side that takes some rock climbing and weaving in and out of the thorned haole koa thickets. To me, it was a better alternative.

A toddler is on dad's back, mom is right behind them, and their little big man raced ahead. It couldn't have been easy.

A toddler is on dad’s back, mom is right behind them, and their little big man raced ahead. It couldn’t have been easy.

I had to stop several times on the way up, and I wasn’t the only one. When people were coming down, it gave those of us on the way up a reason to step to the side and pause. I met several families on their way down, little kids fearlessly hopping about, dads and moms with babies on their backs (none too happy, either), a young couple in their 20s, of which the woman whimpered with every step down.

And then I met Julian and Evan. Carrying their bikes. On their way down. Julian was wearing a bicycle kit, was walking in his socks, and his bicycle shoes were stuck on his handlebars. Evan carried his big Giant bike on his shoulders. When I first caught a glimpse of them, I could see their bikes sparkling high above me at the top of the tramway, Julian’s front wheel spinning like a ferris wheel in the distance.

Julian and Evan walking down with their bikes after riding up to the peak on the tramway. This is who I mean by young invincibles.

Julian and Evan walking down with their bikes after riding up to the peak on the tramway. This is who I mean by young invincibles.

“Did youz guyz ride up from inside the crater?”

“Nope. We rode right up this trail.”

“Holy cow! Really? Are you in training?”

Julian told me he did the Honolulu Tinman, but he wasn’t doing this for training. If you could see that trail, you would be astonished at anyone getting a bike up there. If you have a rock hopper or a BMX or a trail bicycle, maybe, but these guys looked like they were on regular road bikes with regular tires.

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The payoff.

Between 400 steps, the trestle, and 800 steps, I had to give myself the self pep talk. I compared the heat to Ka Wela, the recent Boca Hawaii endurance triathlon I completed a few months ago. I told myself if I can do Kona 70.3 Honu Ironman twice (and next year makes thrice), I can climb Koko Crater one more time in my life. I said to myself that I was not a quitter. I don’t quit. I might be slow, but I achieve my goal.

Finally, at the top, breathless, heart pounding, I leaned on the World War 2 pillbox to take a break, take out my phone and shoot stuff, like scenery.

A week or a weekend doesn’t go by that we don’t hear the sirens wailing and the fire department’s helicopter flying to Koko Crater to make a rescue. Having done it one final last time, it doesn’t surprise me. It would be so easy to fall and twist an ankle or break a bone. For me, it was dizzyingly high and at one point on the way down, I didn’t measure the step as far down as it was and I nearly tumbled. And, although it feels like it takes forever to get to the top, it also feels like forever to get back down. I am so done with it.

Somethings I don’t get:

  • Why do people hike with boom boxes or radios and make the rest of us listen to their music? Why not listen to the wind rushing through the brush, or the bullets ricocheting off the targets at the shooting range below?
  • Why do women wear cute little shoes for this climb?
  • Why do people go to the top and have a cigarette?
  • Why do people even go up there?

Great mysteries.

 

 

Big South Shore Waves


This is the last week before the quarter ends, so school teachers aren’t calling in sick and substitute teachers like me are not getting called to work. What a gorgeous day to be outside! Hot. Hot. Hot. But beautiful. There is nothing like living in Hawaii. Nothing.

After we drove along the Ka Iwi Coast taking in the sights, and getting a video via Instagram, we came back home for a cold lunch. Cold wheat linguine for me dressed in sesame oil, shoyu, sesame seeds and green onions; target-rich tossed salad for him. Naps.

I was craving an ocean fix so bad. I couldn’t go out at Sandy Beach because it was too big. My hair was a big ball of fuzz, and the best remedy for that is an ocean swim. I decided to go for a swim at Kaimana Beach in Waikiki before I had to pick up Kid2 at school. Hot. Hot. Hot. Parking was easy at 1:30 p.m. In fact, if you run the Honolulu Marathon, there were like ZERO cars parked along the finish. The waves are too big on the South Shore for most surfers and definitely not a swim to the windsock kind of day.

The clown goggles. Seriously, these TYR goggles are polarized, so great for a sunshiny day. One earplug for my right ear. This year's WRS cap.

The clown goggles. Seriously, these TYR goggles are polarized, so great for a sunshiny day. One earplug for my right ear. This year’s WRS cap.

Put on my fins, my Roughwater Swim cap, and my clown goggles and headed out toward the windsock. The waves were deliciously rambunctious. I love swimming up and down and under and over, swishing around loving the sea foam, diving under to check out the fishies. But I wasn’t confident to swim all the way out to the wind sock. Waves were breaking big outside — they looked easily to be 6-8 feet. The wind sock pole was always in a wave. And besides, no one else was out there. Not that I ever swim with a buddy, but when there are other swimmers, then we’re all buddies.

Nope. I noodled around inside on my back, on my side, under and over, freestyle, backstroke, breaststroke, a few butterfly kicks and under again. A half hour to myself. Instead of mom time or wife time or sub teacher time or maid time, it was Me Time.

It was cool.

Infrared Yoga and Recovery, Healing and Optimism


Before I get to the yoga part:

On Saturday, September 6, I swam in the inaugural North Shore 5k Swim, finishing in less than two hours, and in third place women’s fin division. What a great finish to a great race season. The week before my finish in the Waikiki Roughwater Swim was considerably slower, thanks to the current. That swim really beat me up. But, I absolutely adore swimming in the ocean. I will confess I spend the first third of an ocean race wondering if I will be a meal. Then, when I start passing other swimmers, I gain confidence and find a comfortable pace. My final third is usually quite charged with enthusiasm. I haven’t been eaten, I passed a few other swimmers so I won’t be DFL, and I rise out of the water having accomplished one more great thing.

Triathlons and triathlon training push me beyond limits I ever thought possible. Coaches demand more and I try to deliver. As a result of that, and as a result of aging, I feel like my body would prefer to be in a constant state of rest. But try telling my mind that! Try telling my ego that it’s time for me to sit on the sidelines! It won’t happen.

The Yoga Part

I decided to take up yoga during the offseason to improve my flexibility, ease the aches of arthritis and combat the osteoporosis that is turning my bones into brittle mesh. My research and the timing of a great Groupon deal resulted in my signing on with http://www.sunyogahawaii.com/ at the Aina Haina Shopping Center. So far I’ve gone to six sessions, and last night I completed my fourth day in a row. It is getting easier, but it’s always challenging.

I put my mat and yoga towel down in a spot away from the infrared lights and wait for the class to begin. I have found that the more crowded the class, the harder it is for me to complete all the exercises. Maybe I am wrong, but it feels as though there is less oxygen when there are more bodies.

Everyone advises that when you attend yoga, you check your ego at the door. It’s easy for chunky chicks like me to check it. But it’s really hard to not look around and feel so outclassed and so far behind the lithe and limber superhumans that fill the room. I don’t even meet eyes with anyone. Four years ago I burst my right Achilles tendon. After it was surgically reattached, that tendon is a little shorter than the other, making it difficult to do some of the yoga poses symmetrically. No one knows that, so I figure I look lazy.

For me, yoga will not only have to help me get my body to that flexible and ready point for the next triathlon season, but it will also have to work on my spirit and mind. I have to give myself permission to feel worthy enough to say hi and enjoy what others bring to the class.

Years ago I took yoga at The Oahu Club with yogi Vishnu, a black dude with long dreadlocks, who taught at a variety places. When he left Hawaii, I had no desire to practice with anyone else. I tried, but I had developed a habit that got thrown off by the styles of other teachers. This time I’ve decided to not get too hung up on a teacher but to go with the flow.

I don’t know when I’ll be able to hop with my two legs out of downward facing dog, as I just gingerly step my legs up so I don’t fall. I don’t know if I’ll ever get my stomach flat enough that my forehead rests easily on my knee, massaging my internal organs and creating all kinds of great results with my digestive tract. At the end of class, I look like I got stuck in a downpour. This girl doesn’t prance out looking all spiritual and glowing. So far I have resisted the urge to go to the Starbucks next door or through the McDonald’s drive-thru across the parking lot after yoga. Yay me.

Another thing I’m looking for in my yoga practice is developing more patience and forgiving myself for all the things I think I do wrong. Because one of the things we’re asked to check at the door are all those things that are bugging us in the world. What’s past is done, and there’s nothing left to do about it. What’s in the future is unknown, so there’s no reason to worry about it. All I need to do is be present and welcome this one-hour gift.

Health, Happiness and Relevance


My triathlons for 2014 are behind me. The 2014 North Shore Swim Series is complete. I’m still feeling the effects of Labor Day’s Waikiki Roughwater Swim, thanks to some Portuguese man-o-war jellyfish stings on my left arm and torso (into my suit?) with an itch that’s hard to resist. One more race in 2014 to go, the inaugural North Shore 5K Swim, from Sunset Beach to Waimea Bay. I’ve decided to participate in this one using fins. So this morning I went to Kaimana Beach and tested my new TYR fins that I got at Boca Hawaii, swimming to the windsock three times and back. I definitely feel I can handle this, but I’ve never had to get fins on or off during a race, so that’ll be a new factor. During ocean swims, especially when doing triathlons, I don’t kick much because I need to save my legs for the bike and run. So putting these fins on and actually using my legs was super fun. I couldn’t get over how much faster I was. I think that every time I go into the ocean from now on I am wearing fins. Wheeeeeeeee!

Since I am now in my off season for triathlon training, I bought a Groupon for yoga. I’ve been thinking about how stiff I am, how hard it is for me to sit on the floor, to get up, even to get out of the car after a long drive. I’m not ready for my body to seize up and age in place (like a pillar of salt?) when my spirit has no intention! Last night I went to Sun Yoga at the Aina Haina Shopping Center for my first class of hot yoga. Sun Yoga incorporates infrared lights and it really heats things up. I couldn’t fully participate. I’m not sure what was happening. I would get dizzy and I’d have to sit or lay down while everyone else was posing. I felt very conspicuous, but I realize that I’m new at it and there will be adjustments. I am optimistic. I’ve been told the first class is the most challenging. I expect the first week to be the most challenging. Every bone, muscle and joint in my body resisted the yogi’s directions. While there were a few women who had been practicing for a little bit longer than me, two thirds of the class were lithe, striking beauties, some of whom I doubted were out of their twenties. There’s really no point in comparing ourselves with a younger generation, right?

I used to take yoga when the girls were tots. We belonged to The Oahu Club and I attended sessions taught by a yogi named Vishnu, a black guy with long dreads and a mysterious background. When he left Hawaii I stopped going to the yoga classes there. So it’s been about six years since I was in a yoga setting. Add the trendy heat factor, add my being about six years older, add my right foot being about 1/4 inch shorter than the other and add absolutely no elasticity in my joints, and you don’t have to wonder why I spent a good third of the class trying to breathe and not faint.

But I survived. The instructor, Michele Santos, was very nurturing and I felt safe. I slept really well last night, and didn’t wake up until after 5. Usually I wake up between 2-3 a.m. and what a party that can be, especially if the cat is on to me.

I don’t know if I have depression or what, but there are times when I feel irrelevant and that life isn’t worth living. I’m pretty sure it’s because I don’t have a real job. I am also very realistic, so I think the freelance writing and the substitute teaching are perfect for me because they offer so many variables: different stories to write, lots of different people to talk to about their projects, different subjects to teach, several classes of students a day, finishing in the afternoon and having me time or family time after hours.

Fortunately, I always think about my family and that keeps me from doing something foolish. They are worth living for. We always try to see what lessons the universe is teaching us in times that suck. For me, I think, it’s to live simpler and love fully.

 

Kawela Endurance Triathlon


Elated at my finish, pouring water over my head.

Elated at my Kawela Endurance Triathlon finish, pouring water over my head.

Hit refresh; I made some edits.

Yesterday I completed Boca Hawaii’s inaugural Kawela Endurance Triathlon. This was my third 70.3 mile event, and my best time so far. Everybody gets a personal record, “PR,” the first time they do an event. That was all of us yesterday. Yay!

My Garmin results were better than the official results, but that’s OK with me. I finished in less than eight hours, which was my goal. My swim was fast for me, my bike ride was strong, and I left myself plenty of time to endure the heat during my run. In Hawaiian, Ka Wela means ” the heat,” a point founder Raul Torres wanted to emphasize in this event he plans on hosting each August. While the swim was cool in the early morning, and the bike was wet until we cleared Oahu’s east side, the run was spectacularly hot.

I must give a shout out to Raul and my coaches Alika Chee, Ryan Leong, Stefan Reinke, Tanya Florin, Felipe Rael and Chris Moore. The training of my body, mind and spirit came together yesterday and I feel positive about improving for future races. By no means am I a superstar when it comes to triathlons. Instead I am just a regular mom who wants to stay in shape, have fun, be healthy, and inspire her family and friends. And if I can do triathlons, what else could I do?

Third 70.3, best finish so far!

Third 70.3 triathlon, third place. My best finish so far at 07:44!

Yesterday, it was still dark when John dropped me off at Kailua Beach Park with my bike and swim gear. The plan was for him to meet me at 2 p.m. at Camp Erdman for my finish. John usually sticks around through my entire races, shooting lots of pictures and witnessing the victories of the top finishers, all the way until I get across the finish line. He is so dang positive when I get over that line, I don’t know what I’d do without him. I finish so far back in the pack that it’s easy to slip into despair.

Yesterday’s swim started in Kailua just as the sun rose over the horizon. The waves sparkled in the darkness, the stars gleamed between the dense clouds that moved with the brisk breeze. It rained while we set up our bikes at transition one (T1). Shades of Lanikai Triathlon. Seems to always rain just as we start our swim. I was very pleased with my swim. It was with the current, so I bet everybody’s results were fantastic. We got out half way and ran back to the start and got back in the water for one more lap. That way no one had to swim against the current. Smart.

Running to swim lap two as the sun rises in the east. Mahalo for the photo by Kim Burnett.

Running to swim lap two as the sun rises in the east. Mahalo for the photo by Kim Burnett.

By the time I got to T1 after my swim, the corral looked deserted, there were a few bikes left. I was calm. I didn’t have any jitters for this race at all. The day before I took The Great White to the back of Hawaii Kai and spent an hour getting in and out of my bicycle shoes that were attached to my pedals so I could mount and dismount quicker. Success! That was a big deal for me. I rode the last few miles on my bike with my feet cooling on top of my shoes. It was heaven. Credit Coach Alika Chee for my newfound skill.

The bike ride felt good, even though it was wet through the first 18 to 20 miles. But it was early enough that traffic was minimal so we could ride in the road and out of the puddles. Quite a few triathletes had to stop to fix punctures. Police throughout the race were on task and very cordial. I absolutely love it when each officer holds up their intersection for me to race through. Each time I sent up a shakka wave of mahalo and aloha to the drivers who patiently waited! Those officers were so great! I think every one of them cheered me through! Priceless.

The Great White needs a good cleanup.

The Great White needs a good cleanup.

It was a fine ride through the North Shore of Oahu, with just a couple of bottlenecks. At one point I got stuck in sand and did a big wobbly fishtail. Somehow I recovered. I swear this bike and I are an awesome team. I love my Cervelo P2!!! I ride with care and I have never had a puncture in a race. I know it’s more a matter of when and not if. It will happen. Sometimes I change out my tubes just so I remember how to do it under pressure!

When I got to Mokuleia, I was secretly bummed that so many participants were already running. The winners finished hours before me. But I am a triathlete who has to focus on completing and not competing. I came in third yesterday because one of my friends in my age group got too dehydrated to finish. I am sure she would have beaten me.

My T2 was long because I had to use the bathroom before I started my run. But, getting T2 and bathroom business done in less than nine minutes is nothing to be ashamed of, right? We ran from Camp Erdman to Kaena Point to Mokuleia Beach Park to Kaena Point to Mokuleia Beach Park to Kaena Point and finished at the camp. For the first lap I was trying to get my legs back. I didn’t feel horribly spent. I drank Coke and Mountain Dew, used my Power Gels, used their Power Gels, was fed an apple banana and pretzels by friends, and always had my hands full with ice and ice water. My coaches Ryan and Felipe kept me in ice cubes the whole way, and I poured a lot of it on me and in me! I was waterlogged by the final third of my run, which is a far better condition than being dehydrated.

When I turned onto the dirt road and made my way to the finish the first person I saw was John and it was the best thing ever!!! He ran ahead of me to shoot a few pix of my finish. I was so happy to be finishing that I cheered and poured more ice water onto myself and crossed with such joy at 07:44:31. I’ll take it! There were times yesterday during the run when I wanted a shortcut. But in my heart I knew I had to complete the whole race. Following my Ironman 2013 and 2014 finishes of 8:12 and 8:23, I am pleased with this result. I’m improving.

Race with Passion is the motto of Boca Hawaii. While it is a simple and sweeping statement, it also emphasizes how each one of us has personal dreams and goals. If you don’t have passion, then what do you have? I have really come to love the Boca Hawaii ohana.