Greetings Boys and Girls -

Let me apologize up front.  This is being written for multiple groups.  Some things may make sense.  Some things may not.  Of course, that would be the case if I was just writing to a single person.  Feel free to hit the delete button at any time.  Some of these ramblings may be lengthy.  Some may not.  Some may be daily missives.  Some may cover multiple days.  Finally, I'm writing these things as much for me as for anyone else, for my memories and everyone's vicarious, if that's the right word, trip through Ironman.  So, without further ado . . .

It's about 5 PM Thursday evening.  Kona time.  I'm drinking a Guinness.  I've had a good first day.  But, before I describe it, let me just briefly mention the travel.

Renate (my wife and Sherpa-extraordinaire) and I left for the airport at 6 AM, Philadelphia time.  She was letting me travel on my own, trusting in the good nature of fellow travelers to point me in the right direction should I venture off the correct path.  Seriously, she recently started a new job and didn't want to take too much extra vacation time (having already used up a bunch for Brazil and Lake Placid).  She would be coming out on Saturday.  I schlepped my bike and suitcase to the check-in line.  While wearing my loud Hawaiian shirt.  (That's probably a redundancy.  Aren't all Hawaiian shirts loud?)  No problems up to this point.

It's my turn.  I approach the counter and put my bag on the scale.  Sixty-nine pounds.  Great, I think.  Just under the 70 pound limit.  Whoops.  The limit is now 50 pounds.  I am a notorious over packer, but I'm not sure I could have gotten rid of 20 pounds.  I didn't even have to bring a wetsuit (or two) to this race.  And it's just a shorts and T-shirts place, so I didn't bring any cool-weather clothes.  I know there's a lot of extra weight with nutritional products.  But, 20 pounds worth?  Maybe I'll just get a smaller suitcase which will force me to be more selective in what I bring.  That was a $25 charge to the Kona adventure.  And then an extra $80 for Rita's ticket (Rita's my bike.  Short for Margaritaville.  As in wasted away again . . . )  But, heck, I'm going to be racing Ironman Hawaii and I kind of needed a bike for the middle leg.

The flight from Philly to LA was uneventful.  There was nobody in the middle seat so it wasn't as cramped as it could have been.  A couple hour layover in LA.  I had to walk from gate 66 to gate 68.  I had plenty of time to go those 50 feet.  I suppose I could have stood next to the window to make sure Rita made it onto the new plane.  But, she is or she isn't.  Not much I can do about it at this point.  The flight to Kona was also uneventful.  Although this time someone sat in the middle seat.  Both flights were actually early and I made it to Kona a little before 4 PM, Kona time (which is where I'll stay for the rest of the trip).  Just your basic 13 hour travel day.

Lesley was at the airport to meet me.  Lesley was my mentor for my first Ironman race back in 1997.  Which happened to be Hawaii.  I was a lottery pick and I really had no clue as to what to expect.  Lesley helped my out tremendously.  She and her husband, Rich moved from Chester County, Pennsylvania to Kona in 2001, and I was going to spend the days there before Renate arrived at their house.  I hadn't seen her since they left, but she hadn't changed a bit.  I guess this year is her 16th Ironman Hawaii race.

I pick up the rental car, follow Lesley back to their house (what a great house, with a tremendous view), meet Rich (who also hasn't changed).  My goal is to stay up as late as possible, Kona time, in order to get on Island Time.  It's about 11 PM where I come from, but it's time to go out for dinner.  We get in the car to go into town.  Rich makes me switch seats.  We stop and have a drink.  Rich makes me switch seats.  We go Mexican for dinner.  I ask Rich which seat I'm supposed to sit in.  Lesley makes us change tables.  In fairness to Rich, he just wanted me to be comfortable and to get the best possible view.

And that about covers the travel day.

	“	I'm swimming in somebody's salt water aqarium. Lots of bright multi-colored fish. Its great.”
		— Steve Noone

This morning I wake up about 5 AM and lie in bed for a bit, just relaxing.  Lesley has a three hour bike planned for herself.  I'm figuring on going swimming and then an easy run.  She gives me directions on how to get to Kona.  Sounds simple enough.

I'm moving at a relaxed pace.  No real hurry.  Get things sorted and ready to go.  Hop into the rental car, open up the garage door and start backing out.  One of the idiot lights comes on.  I can't decipher the little icon that's all lit up.  I look for the car manual to tell me what's going to go wrong if I continue.  I can't find the manual.  The old "it's only a rental, who cares" philosophy kicks in and I decide to proceed with my day.  What's the worst that can happen?  (Fortunately, up to this point, nothing.)

I park in the lot near the pier that I remember from 1997.  (I'm surprised to find that I remember lots of things from my first, and only prior, trip here.  Driving past the Natural Energy Lab yesterday from the airport to Rich and Lesley's, I remember a training run down that road and even race day.)  And I mosey on over to the pier.  It's got some activity.  Not a bunch, but triathletes and others are swimming, posing, milling around, posing, chatting, posing.  I look up my number.  Not bad, 611.  Now, it's time for my swim.

Into the water and there are pretty much two immediate thoughts.  First was that I'm swimming in someone's salt water aquarium.  Lots of bright multi-colored fish.  It's great.  The second thought was that, being a rather inept shaver of my legs, I probably shouldn't have done it the other day.  Every nick and cut was exposed to fresh salt water.  Just an additional trial and tribulation of Hawaii.  I guess I can gut it out.

I'm just going out for a little "why bother" type of swim.  If any swim in the clear, cool waters of Hawaii could be called a "why bother" swim.  Did I mention that I was in Hawaii?  Anyway, there are a handful of buoys out and another handful of kayaks.  Maybe two handfuls of swimmers.  One of whom decided to swim right into me.  Just getting ready for race day, I guess.  There's a whole freakin' ocean out there, buddy.  After all, we know it wasn't my fault.  Out a couple of buoys worth, about 15 minutes.  Tread water, enjoying where I am, the head back in.  A couple of times I kind of forgot what I was doing.  I'd get distracted by a fish and stop and watch, then remember that I had to move my arms if I wanted to make any progress.  Just a little different than Mirror Lake for Ironman Lake Placid.

Swim's over and there are a couple of guys still posing that were there when I headed out.  Maybe they're just doing their last-minute "posing" workouts and will start to taper next week.  Man, it's really going to get interesting next week.  I'm a big people-watcher and I'll be having lots of fun.  But, now it's time for an easy run.  Back over to the car to change then nice and easy along Alii Drive.  Very few runners out.  Lots and lots of car traffic.  I'm running a little harder than I should be.  And the weather is slightly warmer than it was back in Pennsylvania, 85 degrees versus the 65 it was when I left.  And lots of humidity.  But I felt relatively comfortable.  I didn't have any real plan as to how far I was going to run and I ended up with just under an hour total.

Then I found a cup of coffee (I paid for it . . . I didn't just find it on the side of the road) and sat on a wall and watched people for about thirty minutes.  A cruise ship was in town.  Someone mentioned, sort of derogatorily, that a cruise ship is full of Newlyweds, Overfeds or Nearly Deads.  (Renate and I took a cruise after Ironman Canada a few years back so that doesn't apply all the time.)  Anyway I think this was the Nearly Dead cruise.  I finished my coffee and headed back to Lesley's house.

Where I proceeded to put Rita back together.  Traveling to a race that involves bike breakdown and then re-assemble can be nerve-wracking.  Taking it apart and putting it into the box is not really a problem.  Then cramming as much into the box as possible.  Then hoping it makes all the connections and arrives in the same airport at the same time I do.  (I've had one of those trips where the bike was two days late.  Not a pretty sight to see.)  Then putting it back together and hoping there are no parts left over.  I managed to get a couple of cables on the wrong side of things initially, but managed to get everything straightened out.  Took Rita out for a very brief spin, to the end of the road and back, making sure all the gears worked.  They did and I didn't seem to be missing any critical pieces, so I pronounced it a success.