This past Saturday, I sat in a hotel room in Huntsville, Alabama and watched the live stream of Kona on my computer, and let me tell you, it felt like I was there!
Well, not really. But it did get me pumped for the Goosepond 1/2 triathlon I was doing Sunday.
Didn’t really do that either, but it was kinda cool being in Rocket City. Umm . . .
Yeah, so, it was me, Robbie, Corey and Wasky in two hotel rooms running back and forth with the latest gossip on the pros at Kona all while throwing in a bit of Gordon Ramsay and Hines Ward snark for good measure.*
“Holy crap, Starykowicz is on pace to break the bike course record.”
“He’s the dude that beat us in Muncie.”
“He’ll never hold it.”
“Hines would crush you, Wasky”
I kept throwing out Ben Hoffman splits, but nobody seemed to care. They’ll learn.
“Is that Chris McDonald commentating?”
“Yeah… he tweeted with me the other day about Spyoptic.”
Me, Corey, and Wasky were digging for energy and motivation to race Goosepond the next day.
“What’s the run course like?”
“I’m telling you, it’s PANCAKE FLAT!”
“I haven’t done shit since Wisconsin.”
“Join the club, brotha.”
I was NOT ready for a half triathlon but suspected Wasky and Corey, who did Louisville, were in better form.
We lounged with our laptops and watched as Frederik Van Lierde blew through the tape in 8:12:28 for his first Ironman World Championship. That’s close to 4 hours faster than I did Wisconsin and damn near as fast as I’d do Goosepond the next day.
Well, sort of. I did 5:35 ish.
Van Lierde’s bike was 4:25 for 112 miles. My bike split at Goosepond was 2:36 (actually 2:40 because I got a 4:00 penalty, which I’m still steaming about . . . not really, but you can read about it here). That 2:36 was about all I had and it felt like I was re-writing the record books. IF I could have done that for another 56 miles (which is more than highly doubtful) I would have dismounted after 5:12, a pretty f-ing amazing time, but dude rocked a 4:25 in the crosswinds before running at 2:51 marathon? Who are these freaks?
Then, there’s Mirinda Carfrae, who got off the bike around 10 minutes back and casually threw down a 2:50 marathon? I’m sitting there on that comfortable ass bed in Huntsville, Alabama watching her float on air at mile 25 thinking . . . that’s the babe that tweeted at me about Brittany Spears tickets a few weeks ago. Small damn world.
Then we gathered the backpacks and went into Goosepond for our ass-kicking.
* Just getting into the race is an accomplishment. Each year, more than 80,000 athletes vie for a shot to be on the starting line, but only 1,900 men and women make it. (Source, and crappy article by the LA Times about Ramsay’s Ironman that anyone in the world with a computer could have written)