Category — Ironman

I could never do this race. I couldn’t even survive the 2.4 mile swim at the start. These athletes are admirable madmen, willful beasts of nature. This Ironman Championship, as I am learning, challenges everything. Even video guys, who are too ashamed to show the strain of carrying heavy gear all day in front of the real athletes.

It was 10 am when I realized I might be stranded in Kona till midnight. With no bedroom to sleep in, and a two hour drive home to Hilo. This, after I woke up at 2 am just to get here. I had to park at King Kamehameha’s Kona Beach Hotel, where the events were being staged. I had to get there before the sunrise start in order to film the 4:50 am body paint numbering. Alas, I outfoxed even myself. The lot, conveniently situated along Palani Rd, is closed shut by order of the Ironmen, leaving me locked within.

I suspected it would be like this since Thursday, when I arrived to cover the press conference, and the prevailing media technique was the dreaded catch as catch can journalism… the one that drives us videographers nuts. No mic feed from the podium, still photographers and print journalists in the shot, no risers to shoot over heads… but I can’t complain. I was thankful to be granted media credentials: who am I to rock the boat? More importantly… this is the Ironman Championship! There can be no complaining, not in the same room as athletes who bike 128 miles through lava fields, only to be rewarded with a marathon run when they finish. So I was ready for the steamrolling inevitability of race day.

The event lived up to the hype. Covering it was madness. Bodies flying around, left and right. Fans cheering, ringing Ironman brand cowbells. It was my first time witnessing it, and finding my way around was a challenge. All I had was my camera and a purple wristband that granted me limited special access, but not as much as the NBC Sports crew. I had been wearing the purple wristband for three days, as if surgically attached to my arm, since it was given to me on Thursday. I also got free shoes, and some other media goodies… like the Ironman cologne; and I wonder how long it will take for me to gather the courage to take a whiff. The media is treated well by the Ironman organization, and we were thankfully kept apprised of the race developments with an excellent live broadcast available for viewing in the cool media center: a refuge from the hot Hawaiian sun.

I stayed till Chrissie Wellington finished. I was happy to see her parents, who I interviewed before the race began earlier, run out to congratulate her.

And I was lucky enough to find a back route out of the closed King Kamehameha hotel lot, so my midnight departure fears were premature.

On the way out of town, I caught a glimpse of the other side of the Ironman race… figures on the physical edge, blurred on the horizon of a coastal dessert. A scene that contrasts with the loud din of an enthusiastic town crowd. I’m sure it is those long stretches of barren, barrier less lava that is most memorable to the tested triathlete. I thought I got some good stuff, but I can’t shake the disappointment of having failed to capture these Kohala race scenes.

There’s always next year.

For now, I am happy to liberate myself from the purple wristband.