KONA – On a humid Thursday morning in Hawaii I was deep in thought, thinking hard to try and remember the last time I’d ridden a bike. I’d surmised it had been at least a decade, and probably closer to two, but whatever the exact duration of my inactivity streak was, it was about to end. I was set to strap on a new, state-of-the-art, $250 Oakley helmet and mount a $1,000 bicycle that seemed more machine than bike and I had to hope the old adage “it’s just like riding a bike” would hold true, many years after I’d actually ridden one.
I wasn’t nervous, I was mostly amused by the fact that I was absolutely certain I’d fall because my life is full of those random, humorous occurrences. When triangular cleats were screwed onto my special biking shoes that would need to click into the special pedals screwed onto my special bike, all uncertainty went out the window: I was going to fall.
I fell.
I didn’t fall because I forgot how to ride a bike, no, as it turns out, the saying is true and riding a bike again was just like riding a bike. I fell because the cleats weren’t as easy to get off the pedals as I thought, and that was a recipe for disaster, and with a miles-long cycling session scheduled for the next day, it was a problem I was going to have to solve. Fast.
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From the starting point of the Kona Ironman World Championship race, the sun rises over a volcano, green with forestry as high up the magma-filled mountain and as far as the eye can see. Hues of pink burst into bright yellows before the sun quite makes its way over the ridge on the horizon. But even before the sun makes its presence felt, Kona is bursting with activity.
The descent down the city streets towards the race is a frenzied sea of activity. Fans both local and from afar bump shoulders with athletes making their way to the starting line. Shops that normally wouldn’t be open at such an hour are bright and jostling for purchases from wandering eyes headed to see the start of the race. The triathletes pump their tires, fix their chains and make last minute adjustments to their bikes. It’s oddly still, a tranquil mix of nervousness, intensity, and anticipation. There is some chatter but most of the participants stand silent, stoically preparing for one of the most grueling competitions the world has to offer.
For nearly 40 years, thousands of fans from all around the world have descended upon the biggest and quietest of the Hawaiian islands each year to see one of the most gratifying and agonizing feats in sports, the Ironman World Championships. Each year, 2,400 of the world’s greatest athletes compete in the most prestigious triathlon in sports, a 2.4 mile swim in Kailua Bay, a 112-mile bike ride along the Kona-Kohala Coast, and a 26.2 mile marathon run through the city and amongst lava fields and highways before wrapping it up on Ali’i Drive where the race started. It’s a grueling test of strength and mental toughness, and it’s the special place where everyday ironmen and ironwomen can swim, bike and run beside the worlds greatest triathletes.
The calm waves of the ocean against the shore an hour before the first dive gives the entire event an air of serenity that doesn’t even feel proper, but once a cannon announces the start of the race, chaos ensues.
This year, the odds-on favorite to win the race was Germany’s Jan Frodeno, a 36-year-old two-time champion, and Olympic gold medalist. The story surrounding Jan wasn’t whether he would win, but if he could break the vaunted eight-hour mark, a time that has never been accomplished in Kona for the world championship, and was a rare feat in any triathlon period.
It was here, that Jan and Oakley decided to put their recently-unveiled new helmets to the test. Long a mainstay in the world of cycling for their iconic and pristine eyewear, Oakley’s foray into helmets marked a bold attempt to own the entire cycling world above the shoulders. Oakley’s ARO Series Cycling Helmets includes three helmets — which won’t be available for purchase until February — all meant for different types of rides. The $180 ARO 3 is built with optimized ventilation to help keep athletes cool. The $250 ARO 5 is billed as an “aerodynamic and comfortably lightweight design equipped with a 360-degree fit system featuring BOA, MIPS Brain Protection and a Vane support structure to direct air flow into the helmet” that is tuned for speed but takes also ventilation into account. The $500 professional model ARO 7 comes with an attached Oakley Prizm visor, and is “designed to maximize aerodynamics without the added drag.” Modeled after the aerodynamics of race cars, the ARO 7 is engineered for speed.
At Kona, Jan was outfitted with a special edition ARO 7, which included an elongated tail made specifically to accentuate his massive shoulder blades and keep his ride as aerodynamically sound as possible. It was a source of controversy in Kona, as fans and cycling enthusiast scoffed at the inability to purchase this exact model, but Oakley confirmed that they hope to make specialization and customization available for the public soon, much like they do with their glasses. With the helmets not set to hit the market until February, adjustments still can be made, and with the demand for the Jan specialty, maybe they will, but for now, Jan is the only one in the world riding an ARO 7. At Kona, he put it to good use.
Jan was able to knock over eight minutes off his 2016 time on the grueling 112-mile bike ride. It put him in prime position to win the race with a strong run, his specialty, but then disaster struck. Just a few miles into his marathon, sitting in third place, Jan suffered a back injury which he called “one of the more painful experiences” of his life. He had to sit down for 10 minutes, a millennium in marathon time, before eventually trying to walk the injury off. After some time he was able to run again, but his dreams of a sub-eight hour Kona were over, as was any aspirations of winning. Jan did valiantly finish the race in just over nine hours, good enough for 35th place amongst the professional men.
Ultimately, the day belonged to Jan’s countryman Patrick Lange, who won after a dramatic pass in the final three miles of the marathon, and sprinted to a Kona record 08:01:40, not quite the sub-eight but a legendary run nonetheless. Lange crossed the finish line in a pair of Oakley shades and exploded with emotion, smiling, then crying, then dancing then remaining speechless when he was tasked with speaking about the victory.
Long after the race was over, the real event begins, as the everyday participants battle through exhaustion and all sorts of physical ailments to merely finish the race. Each finisher comes with a story and those vary from a wide range of ages, shapes, shades, and backgrounds and wobbly legs as they cross the finish line. This is where the retired father of four finishes the race, or the hardworking mother of two who brought her whole family to Hawaii to root her on gets her medal and moment in the limelight.
The finish line represents a literal light at the end of a metaphorical tunnel and the excitement from cheering on the professionals earlier in the day gives way to an emotional experience as the average Joe jogs his way down Ali’i Drive, and suddenly it’s a participation sport. Those who need extra encouragement are given it vociferously, fans jog with the athletes, egging them on looking to motivate a strong finish. Racers stop to hug their family and embrace their children before the final homestretch. Every person who crosses the finish line has an emotional burst of exuberance as they cross the finish line, whether it’s pure elation, tears of joy or a mix of both.
And tears are shed, often, by the athletes and by strangers just watching the exhibition before them. It’s exhausting – but empowering. Patrick Lange won the Ironman World Championship in Hawaii and did so in record pace, but the true victors of the race arrive just before the midnight cutoff time to cheers louder than those even he received. To lights brighter than he saw when he crossed the fishline and to a feeling of accomplishment that maybe even he didn’t feel.
In the end, the Ironman World Championship isn’t necessarily about winning, it’s about finishing and helping those who need that last push to do so. Helping those who run so late into the night they need glow sticks to illuminate their bodies for incoming traffic, who don’t line up big sponsors to pay their way to the event and who have work the next Monday. The Ironman Contest in Hawaii is an athletic contest, sure, but as the clock ticks towards midnight it becomes a spiritual event, unifying people from all countries and backgrounds for a single purpose, and it was simply beautiful.
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On a warm Friday morning in Hawaii, it was my turn for my own little marathon. A six-mile bike ride sounded daunting enough for a portly writer like myself who hadn’t ridden a bike in at least a decade, but a six-mile bike ride on a bike I’d fallen off of 24 hours before? That sounded nearly impossible, especially when teamed up with the intimidating supporting cast that included a former Division I soccer player, a former Kona Ironman finisher, and a professional cyclist.
Oakley’s ARO5 helmet I wore on my ride lived up to its enthusiastic promises. The ventilation-focused helmet offered plenty of airflow in the pockets carved out and designed for that purpose, giving a nice cool breeze to the ride that didn’t exist otherwise. The fit of helmet that can be tightened and loosened to the millimeter provided plenty of support and made for a comfortable fit and the portholes made for Oakley shades to rest comfortably on your ride allowed me to shield the sun from my eyes during the ride without the disturbance around my ears from the temples of my glasses.
Halfway through my ride we stopped, and offered up a proposition: we could turn around and head back now, or ride the next 1,000 kilometers to the next peak, a tough task that would require plenty of grit and determination to finish. Surprisingly I was feeling fine and eagerly accepted the challenge.
The ride that far had been fine, fun even, staring off into the ocean and flying by joggers getting their days started and preparing for all of the weekend’s festivities. I obliged, and almost instantly the straining in my quadriceps increased tenfold. I imagined what one of the triathletes must go through, on a ride literally 10 times as long and strenuous, in-between a 2.4-mile swim and a literal marathon. It became clear, the Ironman contest is about physical fitness, yes, but it’s also about mental toughness. Having to fight through when your legs say they just can’t keep going, telling your legs to pedal when your legs are screaming back, begging to stop.
It wasn’t fear of embarrassment that pushed me through the bike ride that was now more than 10 miles, it was the sense of exhilaration that came with fighting through the fatigue and looking to accomplish the seemingly impossible. About 100 feet from the peak I finally had to get off my bike, sit down and guzzle some water, and regain my senses. My out of shape body had been pushed to its brink. It was begging me to stop, but when the idea was floated that a car could come pick me up I was having none of it. After a few minutes to recharge, I got back on the bike and began making my way back to where we started, the infamous final turn on Hualalai Road marking the home stretch of the legendary Kona Ironman contest.
On a hot, Friday afternoon in Hawaii I rode a bike 10 miles up and down an active volcano and this time, I didn’t fall. I conquered it.
