Growing up, I was awed by the Ironman, the toughest race in the world. It was an event for people who dared to do the ultimate; people who loved pain. Three years ago I decided I, too, wanted the chance to see what I was capable of. Looking back, the road to Ironman doesn't look as long as it was. The first year I was top 30, then top 10, and finally I qualified for the Hawaii Ironman World Championship with a top 4 finish at the Keauhou Triathlon, May 26,1996. With this I reached the goal stated on my license plate: MST QLFY. After qualifying, I raced more for fun and had a great time throughout the season.

Then I got serious about training for Ironman. I ate vitamins, protein, and Togo's sandwiches. My training was made up of l00mi rides, l7mi runs, and 5 hour "bricks". Acclimating included running with full winter attire and ski hat in 90 degree heat and biking into 30mph coastal headwinds for 3hrs straight. I was busy acquiring sponsorships, keeping them informed, and screening logos. Finally, I cut the 20hr training weeks and began tapering and getting lots of rest. It was time to go to Kona.

I arrived 4 days early. I was lucky to have an incredible support crew of family and friends (mom, sister, cousin, John, Stephanie, Bobby, Heidi, Roger, Carol, Laura, Brigid, and Helen). The first night I had to miss the parade of athletes because I was terribly sick. I was getting sick every time I thought about how incredible it was to be finally racing at the "Big One", the World Championships, the legendary Hawaii Ironman! It was anxiety sickness and the first time for me. So I had to concentrate on remaining calm.
The town was inundated by lean competitors practicing swimming, biking, and swimming throughout each day leading up to the race. I was learning the hard way how professional and orderly this event is. I was using race experience instead of the many detailed instructions they gave us so I was constantly being reprimanded about my gear being wrong or my bike being improperly outfitted.

But finally I'm in the water. Swimming out to the starting line. 1500 caps bobbing in Kamakahonu Bay, 5000 spectators crowded along the sea wall, and helicopters jockeying about for the right angle. I hold on to my helium balloon that says "Hi Mom", look around and think, "Wow, I made it, I'm really here. Seems like yesterday I was staring at the TV as a kid seeing the people they call `Ironmen'. Now it's like I was sucked into the television and plopped down in the water, amongst the flotilla of competitors, awaiting the canon blast so I, too, can take the test that awards the title, Ironman". I see my friends waving wildly, I say a prayer of thanks, I'm totally relaxed. My balloon drifts away, towards the cannon perched on the pier. It's near 7am and the red "start" flags are whipping. Suddenly, amidst the ocean swells and frantic line referees, I hear only silence, as the starter, seeing the front line become straight, fires the cannon.

Like flood gates opening, the clear ocean becomes a white frothing arena of adrenaline. We're all in the best shape of our lives and the stored energy is incredible. In no time we're a half mile out. I watch my hotel go by while searching for a good draft. The mass becomes streamlined, rhythm forms from chaos. I see the beautiful coral below. The sea is warm and buoyant but my nostrils burn from inhaling the salt water. Around the turn boat, excited people hang from the sides. I'm 31 minutes, on pace.

I see a Paula "look-a-like" and draft behind her. 10 min to go, our pace seems slower. I sprint to get my 1:00:00 goal but the currents turned against us. I come out with a hoard of swimmers at 1:04:20.
I race through the transition labyrinth where everyone frantically puts on bike jerseys. Laura hand's me my bike and I'm racing towards Paloni Dr and "Pay-n-Save Hill". The crowd is dense and the road is decorated with chalk drawings but your heart rate is maxed so you don't see anything. I wave to my friends and family and grind up the hill.

Leaving town on the Queen `K' Highway, I search for rhythm at 23mph, but everyone is hammering at 26mph. I let them go, following my same strategy as Canada Ironman. No one talks. Maybe it's for fear of waking from this dream of racing in the Hawaii Ironman. We fly by the airport, lava is everywhere, the temperature is rising and the rollers are constant. I remember this part of the course from my qualifying race in May. Darrin and others blow by early but I stick to the plan. I'm eat every l5mi and finish a bottle every 10. I start to feel the legendary mumuka headwinds. I'm at 20mph average. I need to hit the turnaround at Hawi at l9mph ave and then race back at 23 average in order to get 5:25. But the rollers are relentless and the winds are frustrating. I see the leader and Thomas behind him, they're already an hour ahead! I've noticed many getting pulled over by draft marshals. This year they recruited the best officials in an effort to eliminate rampant drafting.

At Hawi, I'm at l8.5 mph average. I have to stop as they look for my needs bag. Now it's tailwind and downhill. At 35mph I can't eat my sandwich and just stare at it for l0 mi. My average is coming up. I'm careful not to draft. I see John MacClaen in his hand-crank bike. People are cheering passionately despite the hot sun. It's 108 degrees and I'm surrounded by black lava. Water and sweat drip from my helmet, and over every knoll I can see bikes for miles ahead. Afterwards I learn that this course has over 2000ft of climbing in it. I'm getting tired and slowing down a little. I momentarily pull to the shoulder , adjust my position, then speed up and merge onto the rode. An official pulls alongside, "Yellow Card! ... Passing on the right!". Sure enough I had passed someone and was being penalized. The official stops, runs over, marks my back for a 3min penalty to be served at the bike finish and sends me on.

Not letting it get me down, I'm now riding faster than ever. 25mi to go, I'm up to 19.8 average. I remember the great feeling during my qualifying race and start hammering. I'm passing people now. The wind has gone from tail to side and back to tail again. From the airport I average 33mph into town, boosting my average to 20.3... what a feeling! Down Hualalai, around the "Hot Corner", onto AIi'i Dr, I see my support group waving hands and signs. We race along the beautiful ocean front seeing the many runners working their way back to the lava fields. The last hill, Alpe du Huez, is a killer. No wind, like riding in a sauna. Then we cruise back down to the Kona Surf Resort where we jump from our bikes as "bike catchers" snag our lightweight crafts. I go to the penalty box where my transition gear is held in custody.

I stretch and drink and soon am racing out in hope to make up lost time. My bike time was 5:31 plus the penalty so I've lost another 9 minutes. The first /1/2 mile is straight up. I run it even though the experts say you should walk unless you're top 10, German, or both. Throughout the race, I notice the strategically-placed chalk writings from my friends, "Troy you Rule!", "Go Troy", "Got Milk?", etc. On this hill I see "Phil 3:14" which reminds me to "press on!". To break 10 I'll need a 3:15 marathon. No way. But my legs feel good and I actually do run 7:30 pace for the first 6mi (of course this breaks the rule of "Don't Go Out Too Fast") This first part is the course I remember from qualifying: The dreaded "Pit", the hot mile climb following, the quad-stabbing downhill, and the humid rollers on Ali'i.

Every mile I pile ice under my hat, drink a full cup, and cool my neck and shoulders with sponges. At the "Hot Corner" I see my group for one last time before I leave town. Helen runs with me a few blocks, I tell her all's well but my new goal is 10:10. After working the tough Paloni Dr hill we're back on the Queen K with nothing but black lava, blazing sun, hot wind, and unnoticed rock drawings to spur us on. I see an unknown guy in the lead (later revealed as rookie, Luc Van Lierde of Belgium) Thomas is close behind (broke the course record but still got 2nd).
Suddenly 6 women have passed me, like they're running towards a mirage, a finish line that's not there. Wow, I see "The Man", Dave Scott, running like the legend he is. Soon I see Paula with Natasha Badman shadowing her every step. Wow, what a race! (Paula soon poured it on and won by 4 minutes). By l3mi and no change of scenery, my body starts shutting down. I feel waterlogged and full but something tells me to eat & drink anyway. I chug water, Exceed and another Gu, stretch a little, and am running again. Then I pass Bill and Darrin at mile 15. It's been 7 hours since Darrin passed me. Now I had to run strong, down to the Natural Energy Lab.

The Energy Lab is 2mi farther than I thought and soon I am struggling again. I see Christine 6min ahead. Wow! Finally I make the last turnaround! I see Tomas, Darrin, John D, John K, and Bill all running well. I set many small goals: enjoy the tailwind up the hill at mile 19, start drinking coke at mile 20, stretch again at mile 22, race to 24, and hammer out the last hill, mile 25, like it's the finish line. I run with a guy who talks about his dream, like mine, to finish the Ironman. Another guy shadows my strides for 2 miles. I pull away on the final downhill. Now I'm in the city and the people pull me along, I can hear the announcer. Sprinting down Hualalai, I high-five John, and approach the final stretch of Ali'i Dr. The stretch that I've seen so many people finish on, each one bearing a look of accomplishment that erupts like an Hawaiian volcano when the finish line is in sight.
There it is, the Ironman finish chute, the announcer, the screaming crowds, just like the thousands of pictures on television and magazine covers. But never with this exact viewpoint, with my own arms pumping in front of me. A big "TROY" sign goes up, I see my happy friends, and I see my mom and know that we are both proud. For the first time, at the end of a race, I slow down and walk through the finish line. The archway is both an exit from the pain of the last 10 /z hours as well as an entrance to a new identity... a Hawaii Ironman.
I share this identity with God because we are a team that, together, can accomplish all goals. Most importantly the goal to put God first and heed his calling so he can award us with the prize that lasts forever. The real race doesn't require work and pain, only faith. However, I know at times having faith in God's perfect plan will seem more difficult than the Ironman. So, for this, I remain in constant training. Training of the heart and mind.

God Bless,
Troy Soares

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