"Race With Your Heart!"

My race recap from the Ironman World Championships, Kona Hawaii.  October 12, 2019. 

I received an entry to the race on a total fluke.  

Last year, I was fortunate enough to race here through a charity slot with the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training.  I did the race as a fundraiser to help eradicate blood cancers.  

My mom passed away from Chronic Myelogenous Leukemia in May, 2017 and I did this event in her honor. 

The race was the one of the absolute best days of my life as it had been a dream to do this event for close to 30 years. 

A few of my teammates from last year’s team thought it would be a good idea to do Honu 70.3 the following June to keep in shape and enjoy each other’s company at a low pressure race.  

Little did I know that I would be entered into a lottery that would procure me a spot in this year’s Ironman World Championship for a second time.   

When I found out, I was ecstatic.  I never thought I would return to Kona.  I am not fast enough to qualify.  To this day, I still think about the experience in Kona every single day!

Since the last race, I was elected to the Board of Trustees of the American Dental Association.  A position that will require my full attention.  The position started in September 2019, the race was in October - one month later.  I asked permission from the President of the ADA Chad Gehani, and President elect Dan Klemmedson as I didn't want to shirk my duties in my new role.  They both gave me their blessing.  (Check!)

Also, since the last race, my wife Gina and I planned a trip to Italy.  She reluctantly supported my race dreams only if it didn’t interfere with our Italy trip. In addition, I would have to be more active with the family/kid events.  The training for an event like this takes a ton of time.  I would have to find a way to balance my training with all my obligations.  (Check!)

I called my coach, the legend -  Charley Perez.  He agreed to take me to the promised land one more time.  (Check!)

Several questions were posed to me.  The first and most important question I would have to answer would be - Why?  Why do it again?  

What if I didn’t finish, would it put a dark stain on my race from last year?  

Would I have the drive to put in the training again? 

Several people were telling me that I have to do this.  No one gets this opportunity once, let alone twice.  

On the other hand, several people told me I was crazy to do this, that I was selfish pursuing this endeavor.

I obviously decided to accept the invitation to race one more time. I wasn't sure if it was the right decision. I decided to go fully in with ZERO regrets.  

The answers to the questions were not clear at first, but throughout the year, the answers would come.

A week before the race, I realized that the goal to finish the race was NOT the most important achievement.  What became clear to me was I was most proud of who I became in pursuit of this goal. 

I became disciplined.  I became more balanced.  I contributed to society in a positive way.  I would prove to myself that I could overcome just about any obstacle that life threw at me.  I could inspire others though my actions.  My why has become clear. 

The training was difficult.  Many mornings, I would have to overcome my brain telling me I could sleep in and not train. I would suffer a hip injury and a sore knee when ever I would try to run fast.  

Each obstacle that presented itself fed my brain with negativity and the desire to not race.  I showed up in Hawaii in less than ideal physical condition.  Regardless, I would give it my all on race day. 

We went to Italy for 10 days.  It was an active vacation led by REI Adventures.  We hiked up and down the Amalfi Coast.  I ran in the mornings before the daily activities began.  I did several open water swims in the Mediterranean Sea. I didn’t have access to any biking, but I felt I would be ok. 

We returned home on Saturday, and flew to Hawaii on Monday.  There is a 12 hour time difference between Italy and Hawaii.  I feared this will be my biggest challenge.  I have done several ultramarathons where I would run well into the night.  I have done several training runs beginning at midnight.  Time is irrelevant, I can push myself what ever time zone I was in. 

I arrived Monday night.  We grocery shopped and went to sleep at 10 pm.  My body didn’t know what time it was.  I slept like shit.  I made it a point to wake up at 5:30 every morning to get acclimated to the time zone I was in.  I would go to the beach and meditate as the sun came up every morning/.  This was pivotal to help get my brain into a proper state.  My brain is both my best friend and my worst enemy.  I needed it to be my best friend to have a successful race. 

Race day:

I stayed about 2 miles from the start on Ali'I drive.  There were shuttles that ran in the morning starting at 4:30.  I got up grabbed my stuff and waited for the shuttles.Then I said fuck it - all these cars are going to the race.  

Hitchhike. My thumb went out...

The very first car stopped for me and brought me close to the start area.  There were thousands of people getting in position to either watch or race.  I was surprisingly calm amidst the chaos of the crowd.  

I made my way to the transition area and found my bike.  It rained HARD the night before and I wanted to check on it and my helmet.

I had all of my drop bags with me. I found the body marking area, where they applied my race numbers on my arms.  I weighed in at 182.4 lbs (15 lbs lighter than last year), I signed a final  waiver and dropped off my drop bags. 

There were several changes to the logistics of the race since last year.  The biggest change was that there would be starting waves. for the swim.   In years past, it was a mass start. where all the men started together, followed by the women 10 minutes later.    

The previous year, all the racers hung out in a staging area south of the pier and I was able to get a warm up swim, vaseline, sunscreen, etc.  It was really helpful in me getting into a proper state of mind. 

This year they didn't allow us to do this which was disappointing.   We had to get in and out of the transition area, set up our bikes and get out before the first wave of pros start.  

I found my way to the staging corral with our start wave. Unfortunately, I didn't grab a water bottle.  I had nothing to drink for the hour plus that I had to wait in the corral. I hoped that this wouldn't come back to haunt me later in the form of dehydration. 

My wave was the final wave known as the KuKui wave. All the legacy, charity and lottery winners were to start together in this wave.

At first there was no sign for our wave so I was just hanging out in the back. This guy came up to me and asked if I was in the Kukui wave. We had the same color swim cap so it was safe to assume we would be in the same wave. We hung out and made some conversation.

We weren't in correct place yet, but we would eventually figure it out.  We were the last wave so keep towards the back of the corral.  Eventually, we would find a sign with our designated wave and we gathered near the sign.   

The professional's go off and we get to watch them on the big screen at the start/finish.  They finished the swim before we even started. 

This guy that I befriended  had done several dozen Ironman races. It was his 3rd time racing in Kona.  He seemed super confident and appeared super fit physically.  I felt that he would be way ahead of me fairly quickly and I wouldn't see him again. 

We walked through the corral as the various swim waves entered the water.  I ingested a Honey Stinger gel 15 min before my wave went off.

I didn't have any water.  My new friend noticed this and offered me some of his sport drink.  (Vega- the major sponsor of this year's IM). I asked him jokingly if there was vodka in it. He laughed and said something along the line that he hadn't had a drink in for decades.

I laughed and told him that I am in long term recovery as well.

So what are the odds?  Of 2,500 racers doing this race that we meet and hang out by chance before this race?  

Todd Crandell told me that he wrote a book called Racing for Recovery and started a foundation with the same name.  My mind was blown as I read his book the day it came out several years ago (2006).  At the time I was 8 years sober and this was the first time that I heard of someone else who was an endurance athlete in recovery.  I have since found thousands of endurance athletes in recovery through various social media groups that connected us. 

Neither of us could believe it.

He was doing a documentary for his foundation how anything is possible for addicts if you can get sober. His film crew was nearby and he made them come over to take some pictures together before we got in the water

We promised to meet up after the race and see if there is any common ground for future projects.

Todd Crandell, (Author,  Racing for Recovery) and I getting ready to start the swim

Swim Start:

It is time to enter into the water and get to the swim start line. I leave my new friend...

The swim start is about 400 yards from the shore. 

I was told by a friend that had done this race several times to pay respects to Madam Pele.  The mother spirit of the island.  I said a little prayer expressing gratitude for the beauty of the island and thanked her for allowing me to be here to experience it in all its beauty.   

I then swam down to the bottom and let out a primal scream to get some of the nervousness out of my system.  I did this three times.  After I swam on top of the water relaxed ready.  I hoped to race a safe race and be of service if the opportunity presented itself.  I promised myself that I would live the spirit of Aloha today and have a smile on my face as much as I could. 

I positioned myself towards the inside lane closest to the buoys. Somewhere in the middle 1/3 of the pack.  I saw there were a lot of swells in the water.  Not really waves but big volumes of water moving up and down

Shit - It is going to be a tough swim.  

The cannon goes off and we begin!

The swim start of a triathlon always intrigues me.

Above the water you hear the announcer and the music and the crowds.  Everything is in vivid technicolor. There are arms splashing, legs kicking, a wave of water moves forward with all of the swimmers propelling in sync.

Then you go under the water and everything is really quiet except for the noises the racers make as we try get our swim space. You can hear grunts and muffled splashing.  Everything is greenish colored and sun beams slash through the water like swords.  

Alternating, you pick your head up again and noisy technicolor. below quiet and green. 

I'm trying to get into a rhythm and keep my heart rate down as I don't want to burn any matches right at the beginning. I settle in to a comfortable groove. 

Red buoys on the right, shore to the left.  The sky is overcast

I hoped it would stay that way but without a wind.  A windy day could make for some real challenges on the bike course.  The trade winds on the Queen K (bike course) are legendary

The course is a rectangle. A little over a mile out. Right turn at the boat, a few hundred yards to the next boat and return home.

The swells were pretty big. I learned that if I can swim hard when I’m on the downslope of the swell, I can really push myself forward riding the wave.  And when I tried to swim on the upslope of the swell, it was just a waste of energy so I backed off and rode the swell up.

I kept telling myself to stay in control, keep in the aerobic zone.

I sight every 8 strokes or so - meaning I pick my head completely out of the water to sight the next buoy.  I check to see if I need to correct my trajectory or if I just continue along.  Every time I pick my head up, I am at risk of my legs dropping and I lose momentum.  I spent a lot of time practicing this so as not to “stop” myself every 8 strokes. 

With the swells, I couldn't always see the buoys so I followed the guy in front of me.

I realized that he was going way off course due to the currents that were pulling us out to sea.  I tapped his foot and swam back on course.

I took the front for a bit. I had a hard time staying on course too. The currents were really affecting us. I was zigzagging to stay straight.  I concentrated on keeping my form smooth and my body balanced correctly.  I wanted to be as efficient as possible in the water.

At the first turn, the sun broke through the clouds.  It was really awesome.  I breathe to the left which faced the east so I got to see it in its fullest glory. 

As we make the first turn, It was directly into the current and felt like I was swimming upstream.  I struggled to see any forward momentum with my arm strokes.  We were going directly into the current. 

I decided that I would have to kick much more than I wanted to to get to the turn.  Approximately  400 yds. The concern - when I kick hard,  my heart rate goes way up.  

So I burned the first match.  I had to get through this.  It wouldn’t be a huge push (maybe 3-4 minutes) but I didn’t want to expend all my energy this early in the race. 

 

A few minutes later we made the next turn.  The current was still pulling us out to sea.  As we got about half way to the swim finish, there was a cross current that created irregular and bigger swells. 

I couldn't really read the rhythm of the wave to use to my advantage so I just pushed on.  The cloud cover was still present.  My mind would drift to worrying about weather on the bike.  On one end, I was hoping for cloud cover to keep things cooler but I didn't want it to come with a cost of storms and wind on the north part of the island between Waikaloa and Hawi.  (Mile 25-50 and mostly uphill)

Stay in the moment.  "Race the mile I am in." I would say this a lot today.  A LOT!

Back to swimming. Zig zagging back to the swim finish. At this point I was alone and passed several slower swimmers from the previous waves. It's always a confidence boost passing swimmers.   I know many will pass me again on the bike or run as it's a long day.

I began to to hear the noise of Mike Reilly the famous Ironman announcer. I heard the music and the crowd as I got closer to the swim exit. The energy builds as I approached the steps.

Swim Finish

Transition 1:

I have no idea how I am doing in my age group.  I briefly think about it and then laugh at myself for even going there. This race is me vs. me.  Me vs. the conditions of the day.  I am only in competition with myself.   

I went to the hoses to clean myself of the sea water and then I enter the transition area.

I swam with a short sleeved skin suit with a speedo underneath.  Normally, I would wear my tri- kit but it doesn't get covered by my skinsuit.  I tried the kit with the tri suit a few times and I didn't like how it constricted my shoulders.  So I went with the speedo/swimsuit combo.  

In the transition area, I dried off and changed into my tri-kit. Put on my socks and bike shoes and proceed to find my bike.  I drink a few cups of gatorade and grab 2 cups of water to put in my hydration system.  

An advantage of being in the final wave start - the only bikes left in the transition area are those in my wave.  Made it much easier to find it.   I felt pretty good about my time as there were a bunch of bikes left in my section.  

On the way to my bike, I ran into my friend Khem Suthiwan.  She did the race in 2015 with Team in Training and was the inspiration for me for me to do the event last year. She now works for 303Triathlon- an endurance media outlet.  They featured all of the athletes from Colorado.  She gave me a big hug and wished me well as I transitioned onto my bike.  

Bike:

As I got on my bike, my daughter Sydney and her friend Nyla were there to cheer me on as well.  They were huge helps to me throughout the day.  

The cloud cover was still present and the wind wasn't too bad.  "Perfect conditions" I thought to myself.  I kept hoping that it will stay that way. 

That thought was followed by an intentional discipline to stay in the moment, "Race the Mile I'm in!"   

I trained really hard for this race. There are no shortcuts.  It's 140.6 miles.  I needed to be ready.  I was concerned about nagging hip and knee pain. I knew if I held back my effort, I would be in much better shape for the run.   

So I did a lot of mental exercises to envision the different sections of the race. I knew the course.  I knew where it's going to be challenging and where I can catch a break.   I had a nutrition plan to hydrate like crazy. Water, Gatorade, BASE salt, Honey Stinger Waffles, gels, etc.  Drink, eat and keep the tank full.  Hoping for no stomach problems which plague me in the extreme heat.  Happily the cloud cover kept the temps cooler than last year. 

The plan was to do solid food on the bike until the last hour or so.  I like the waffles from Honey Stinger.  They taste great and are easy on my stomach.  There were bananas, gatorade and Gu gels at each aid station approximately every 10 miles.  

Before the race, I ran through several "what if this happens- worst case scenarios." How would my attitude be?  I knew there would be low spots. It is inevitable. The biggest battle for the day would be between my ears. 

Getting older has caused my eyesight to diminish the last few years and I am relegated to wearing eyeglasses to see details both near and far.  In July, I lost my prescription sunglasses.  I was bummed, but I found that not being able to see my watch while racing has proved to be beneficial. Since then, I have been racing/training by perceived effort instead of heart rate.  My friend and coach Charley Perez tells me constantly to "train with data and race with your heart”.  That was my plan!

The first 20 miles on the bike course were awesome.  The route takes us through Kona.  People cheered us on along side of the road.  I felt strong and steady.  I kept an easy yet fast pace.  The plan was to keep this level of effort through to the turnaround then start to push it.

 

As I pedaled out of Kona onto the Queen K, the crowds diminished and I was mentally getting ready for a long journey solo through the lava fields.  The course is beautiful here.  There are rolling hills, a good view of the ocean to the left. I made it to Waikaloa.  I knew that was the “one quarter” mark in my head and it I was excited to be making some good progress. I was feeling strong.  I pulled over at the aid station to get sunscreen as I forgot to apply it during T1.  (I did this last year too! Maybe next time, I’ll get it right!). There was still cloud cover, and I noticed it wasn’t too hot.  I hoped that this would continue!

After Waikaloa, the wind came.  And it blew hard!  The trade winds on the island are legendary.  I didn’t experience them last year to this level. 

This year, the racers were treated to a sustained headwind of about 25 mph.  I had to lean to the right on my bike just to stay straight. I tried to stay in aero position as much as I could.  There were times that I came out of the bars as I was scared of either being blown over by the wind or falling over from going so slow.  I kept my head down and pedaled.  The only way to get out of the wind was to go through it.  So I did, 

I lowered my gear so I could spin at an easy rate.  I sacrificed speed to lower my effort and save my energy.  This made for a long ride.  I trained in wind, heat and hills like this, so mentally, I was in a good space.  I started to think that being slower on the bike will force me to have to push it on the run.  In my mind, I would be chasing cut-off times as the wind was so bad.  I was determined to finish. 

As I approached Kawaihae, My friend and TeamKona 2018 teammate Brad Hall was there smiling and cheering me on.  I don’t know how he got there, but I was sure glad to see him.  I found I wasn’t too far behind my time from last year.  Also he reported that everyone from this year's team were all doing well.  

At Kawaihae, I turned left and knew there would be a nice downhill.  I took full advantage of this as there was no wind.  

Until, a car was on the course.  It was going slow, and I couldn’t pass it.  I was annoyed as this would have been a downhill that I would have gone 35mph but was only able to go 20.  I took a chance and passed the car, got in front of it and let’er rip.  Got in aero, and off I went.  

An upcoming right turn starts the climb to Hawi, a 20 mile climb to the turnaround.  The wind was still there but not too bad.  I was able to get back into my rhythm and felt like I was making good progress again. 

Hawi is an important landmark .  It is past the half-way point of being done with the race.  Hawi is a sleepy little town stretching a full 2 blocks.  It is the top of the climb and there are usually a lot of people there to cheer us on. It did not disappoint!

Just after the turnaround, was the area where I could get my special needs bike bag.  I stopped, used the bathroom.  There was my new friend Todd Crandell leaving the porta-potty as I was entering.  We laughed that we keep running into each other.  

We both complained out loud about the currents in the swim and how bad the headwinds sucked. Both of us knew that it didn’t suck.  We were racing in the Ironman World Championships in KOna Hawaii.  How bad could it suck?  We don’t have to do this, we GET to do this.  

Brad showed up soon after and pumped me up.  I knew I was behind my time, but was afraid to ask how behind I was.  I turned my focus to the special treat in my bag - frosted circus cookies.  I was obsessing about them and couldn’t wait to rip into the bag!  Brad laughed at me.  Last year, my friend Molly urged me to put food in the bag that wouldn’t be on the course.  It was heavenly food for the soul!

Circus cookies to the rescue again!  Thanks Molly Pereira!!!

Brad reminded me that “You have done this course four times now!  Go get it and bring it home!” That was all I needed to hear.  I shot down the road.  Finally cashing in on all the climbing I did to get to this point.  

I saw most of the Team Kona 2019 and was happy to see they were cruising along.  The wind seemed to be at my back.  I passed Todd told him to smile as he passes me later in the day.  Unfortunately we didn’t connect again.  

I noticed the ocean today was a beautiful shade of purple.  I wasn’t sure if it was distorted through my glasses, but it was amazing.  This is one of the most beautiful bike rides, I have ever done.  The road is up on a cliff maybe 1,000’ to the ocean.  I don’t have words that describe it adequately. 

Purple ocean majesty!

As the road turned back uphill, I recalled that last year I started cramping at this point in the race.  I hoped is doesn’t happen again.  Just then…it started to happen.  It started with the inside of my left quad.  Shit. 

I thought I was staying ahead of my hydration and nutrition.  Apparently not.  I started pounding gatorade, water and BASE salt.  I massaged my cramping muscle while pedaling, and I slowed down quite a bit.  Cramping could ruin the day and take me out of the race.  I needed to get through this and the only way would be to slow down and let the physiology of my body replenish itself.  After a few minutes, the cramping subsided and I resumed the proper effort, though a bit slower as I was scared that the cramping would return. 

At this point of the race, I was in a group of 5 or 6 racers.   It seemed that we all took turns leap-frogging each other.  There was no drafting. We were all at the same place, the same level of bike fitness and we were all going approximately the same speed.

Lava fields along the Queen K

 The temperature was in the mid 80’s and mostly cloudy.  The sun would peak through the clouds occasionally and the temperature would increase by 10 degrees instantly. I am so thankful that it only lasted for brief intervals before returning behind the clouds..  I was able to keep the cramping at a manageable level, and after a while, it disappeared.  

I forgot to turn my bike computer on at the beginning of the bike ride. Not that I could have read it anyway!  I started it at Hawi, and attempted to see the distance.  It was blurry and could not see clearly, but it was nice to watch the miles tick away.   I forgot that Hawi was beyond the half way point.  So while I was expecting to have to go 56 miles, I only had to go 48.  Woohoo!

I felt blisters forming on the balls of my feet.  I loosened my shoes so I can shift the pressure points on my pedals.  They hurt, and I started wondering how I am going to run with these!

As I entered back into town, I was tired.  The long day was catching up to me.  I wasn’t more tired physically than I expected to be, I was really tired from lack of sleep and time zone changes the past three weeks. 

My brain started to go to negative places. The thought of DNF started to sound attractive, as I could get some shut-eye.  Why does my brain always want me to self destruct?  Thoughts entered in like - “its ok to not finish, you did it last year”; and  - “You are going to get pulled off the course anyway during the run as you will miss the time cut-offs as you’re so far behind” and - “26 miles of running ahead of you…who are you kidding?”

Thankfully, I pressed forward. Usually when my brain starts into negativity, it is because I am hungry. I swallowed a honey stinger gel with caffeine, washed it down with some water and pushed towards T2.  I noticed that there was a ton of energy here.  It fed me to the bike finish. 

Transition 2:

I was really glad to be off my bike.  I grabbed my run bag and entered into the changing area .  I sat down, took off my bike shoes and closed my eyes for a few minutes.  

A volunteer tapped my shoulder to wake me.  I think I was dreaming at this point.  “5 more minutes mom…please 5 more minutes!”  No dice.  He pushed me to get moving.  I  asked him what time it was.  3:30

I was 8 hours into the day.  In my mind, I was so far behind, I thought I was going to be chasing cutoffs.  In reality, I was only a few minutes behind from last year.  How can this be?  

 

I heard my coach Charley Perez speaking to me again.  "Train with your data. Race with your heart!" I was totally racing with my heart-completely blind to my data collecting watch.  It was nice not to obsess over my pace, cadence, time, distance, etc.  Now I was elated.  This run is doable!  I have 9 hours before they shut off the lights at the finish.

I emptied my run bag.  I wish I had a fresh pair of socks to change into, but I didn’t.  I slipped on my shoes, fueled up, loaded up my pockets with honey stinger gels and made my way out of transition.  I felt the blisters, but it was manageable. 

26.2 miles is a daunting task. I needed a strategy to get through this.  Coach Charley had me break up the race into 3 sections of 8 miles.  “But 8 x 3 =24!”  

“The last 2 miles are gut it out time,” he replied.

I understood.  

8 miles as a training run is no problem for me. 16 miles as a training run is no problem for me.  20 miles is a challenge, 24 miles is a big challenge, 26.2 is a marathon. Who does a marathon as a training run anyway?

8 miles of running after 114.4 miles of swimming and biking is going to be tough…16 miles after 114.4 miles of swimming and biking sucks, 24 miles impossible to imagine finishing when I am at mile 1.  

I broke it up into 1 mile intervals.  Each aid station on the run was approximately 1 mile apart.  I can run one mile, walk through the aid stations, and continue on to run another mile. That is how I did it.  One mile at a time.  "Race the mile I am in!"  Do not drift your thoughts ahead.  That doesn’t serve you. Stay in the moment.  

I know how to do that.  

Run:

I walked the first mile or so.  Once the road went downhill, I started to trot.  As I started picking up speed, I fell into a good rhythm.  My daughter Sydney and her friend Nyla were at the aid station at mile 3.  It was so nice to see her.  They both offered me encouraging words and it was a nice distraction.  I would see them again at mile 5 as the course has a turnaround 1 mile or so up the road.  

My sherpas for the day (Sydney and Nyla)

Run along Ali'I drive (mile 3ish)

When I returned, again, they cheered me on.  I gave them my sunglasses as it would be dark in the next 1.5 hours and I didn’t want to have to hold them.  The first 7 miles or so are in town so there are lots of spectators along the course.  

As the course turned right on Palani Hill, I was suprised to hear my name being called at the finish line.  The infamous Ironman announcer Mike Reilly called my name, “Brett Kessler from Denver Colorado is making his way up Palani.”  I must have gone over a sensor that triggered an alert to him. When I finished last year, Mike was on break as he didn’t call me across the finish line.  I really hoped that this year he would call me in!

There were so many racers coming down the hill approaching the finish.  I would have killed to be one of those people! To finish this race while still daylight is a 10-11 hour race.  I don’t see that happening to me anytime soon.  

Press on!

Up Palani, the course then turns back onto the Queen K.  The lava fields.  It is a long straight run surrounded by beautiful but desolate terrain. The energy of the town is replaced by quiet and beautiful solitude. This could have posed a problem as my brain could have started sabotaging me again.  It never happened.  I daydreamed about all the hours of training that brought me to this point.  I thought about last year’s race and what an amazing day it was.  I knew at this point that I was going to complete this race.  

The run is going to suck, then it isn’t, then it is and then it will be done. It always gets better.  It always gets worse.  And it always ends. 

I pass mile 8 and return to reality.  I get excited as it is my imaginary 1/3 mark.  I am still alternating running and walking from aid station to aid station.  I start to feel nauseous.  At the next aid station, I try some potato chips.  Food never tasted so good.  I washed it down with gatorade and water.  A few minutes past the aid station, the nausea returned.  At the next one, I tried more potato chips and this time I washed it down with Coca Cola.  This turned out to be the magic combination for a while.  

I was hoping to be entering the Energy Lab at sunset (mile 12), but the later swim start prevented this from happening for me this year.  As I trudged along, the sun got low to my left and completely lit up the sky for a spectacular sunset.  Focusing on the sunset easily occupied my mind for 30 minutes or so.  

As I entered into the Energy Lab, there was my old friend Brad Hall again.  We chatted for a bit as I walked with him.  He reported that everyone with TeamKona2019 was off the bike and on the run. That made me really happy.

During these long endurance events, I find that if I can consciously think of others, I forget about me for a while.  Everyone on TeamKona2019 were raising money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society as I did last year.  I started thinking about my mom who passed away from Leukemia 2.5 years ago.  I thought about how great our relationship was at the end and that I was grateful that nothing was left unsaid to her.  I drifted off to thinking about my dad and step mom, my siblings, my wife and my kids.  How lucky I am to have what I have.  

And it all goes back to my recovery date, October 21, 1998.  Every day is a bonus day for me.  I made a conscious decision to not waste a single day of my life.  I get to do epic things because I am sober. I have found my purpose in life through the work I do daily to maintain my sobriety.  I thought about my new friend Todd and hoped he was having a good race. It is funny how the universe works in my life.  Philosophically, I think it works similar in everyone’s life, I just do my best to be aware of these gifts I get from the universe. 

Back to the run.  It is now pitch dark in the energy lab.  I have a glow stick in the shape of a hoop.  I see other runners with similar glow hoops.  My brain starts to drift into hallucinations.  The hoops were captivating to watch them move with the rhythm of the runners.  It was borderline hypnotic.  I had a UltrAspire hand held water bottle that I grasped with the hoop. 

I was really tired again.  I looked forward. the road was straight and flat.  I closed my eyes and began to “sleep run” for a period of time.  I would open my eyes and do it again.  These active “power naps” were working.  I got to the aid station at the bottom of the energy lab and took some Red Bull hoping to boost my energy with some caffeine.

I awoke to realize that my special needs bag is near.  More circus cookies for me!  I sat down in a chair and devoured the bag of happiness.  I was sad that I didn’t remember to have a fresh pair of socks again, but my blisters were manageable.  I could feel them, but they weren’t hurting too bad.  

I exited the energy lab.  Brad was there again.  He gave me an encouraging “bro-hug”.  Then he said that my race top was dry.  Quickly followed by the question, "How is your hydration?"

I had my handheld water bottle - full of water.  Unfortunately, I don’t remember drinking a single bit of it the last 5 miles.   I was dehydrated.  Severely.   I started sipping the water and made it a point to ingest the entire bottle before the next aid station.  

My nausea was still there.  I was torn between getting caught up with my hydration, or suffering the negative effects of dehydration and possibly not finishing.  

The visual of Julie Moss and her epic melt down at the Ironman due to dehydration entered my mind. I remember watching it on ABC’s Wide World of Sports.  Most viewers were appalled by what was happening to her.  I was intrigued.  The idea that someday I would do the Ironman in Hawaii was born that day.  The power of the human spirit to overcome unreal adversities was illustrated with her inspiring finish.  

While that was the original motivation for me that inspired the idea to get into triathlon in the first place, I did NOT want to end the race in that way.  I continued to pound the fluids.  I drank water, Gatorade Coke, and Red Bull.  The nausea got worse. After a while, I felt my body start to sweat again.  This was a good sign.  However, I started to have dry heaves.  They passed and I carried on. 

I shared the miles with various other racers.  Had great conversations.  We played games like, “Let’s run to that stop light, and then we can walk again.”  Sometimes it was, “Let’s run 2 light poles and then walk.”  Whatever it took. 

The past several hours out on the Queen K, were quiet and serene.  Each aid station had an amazing energy stemming from the volunteers, loud music, etc. Then it would be silent again until the next aid station.  As we got back into town, the energy of the crowd became palpable.  It was mile 24. Time to gut it out. 

I was running again.  I was running strong.  

And then the nausea shifted to full on evacuation.  I ran to the side of the road and let loose.  I have never felt so good.  I puked in front of a group of spectators. They patted my back and offered words of encouragement.  I was almost to the finish line.  I sprayed water in my mouth, rinsed and spit out the bad taste. 

Now I was elated.  No more nausea.  I started running fast.  I thought of Eliud Kipchoge and how he broke unthinkable barriers by completing a marathon in under 2 hours earlier in the day.  I felt like I was running the 4:30/mile pace that he did to accomplish this unimaginable feat.  I was most likely running 11 minute pace at this point, but it felt like a full on sprint. My stride was fluid and effortless. 

I turned onto Ali’I drive for the final time.  I got onto the red carpet of the finisher’s chute.  There were people lined up the entire way.  I saw Sydney and Nyla.  I gave them high fives.  I "sine waved" though the chute high-fiving equally both sides of the crowd.  I knew that it was highly unlikely that I would be running down this finisher’s chute ever again.  I smiled and took it all in.  

As I crossed the finish line, I let out a primal scream of excitement.  

“Brett

Kessler

YOU

ARE 

AN 

IRONMAN!!!”

Mike Reilly - you did not disappoint.  

I was shuffled though the process of getting my medal, my finisher’s shirt and hat.  I took a picture with my medal on. 

At this point the tears of joy were flowing.  More pure expression of my joy and the sense of accomplishment.  I had completed the Ironman World Championships in Kona Hawaii for the second time. 

My time was 14 hours, 27 minutes.

Large exhale. I’ll let this soak in for a while while I make plans for my next adventure.  

#theadventurecontinues #anythingispossible #Konadreaming #sober

Thank you to my family and friends for unwavering support. I truly missed my teammates from last year, Nadine Link, Lori Hetzer, Scott Gildea, and Wayne Warrington.  Brad and I carried you all with us the entire day! 

I thank God for my sobriety and showing me constantly that I am on a good path.

Thanks for reading!

Brett