Losing My Virginity The day before an Ironman race is a lot like losing your virginity. Tension and physical power mix with the unknown. I've done five Ironman races, and each one is new. You have no idea what's going to happen, but you know that you want to go ahead. New Year's Eve The Gatorade is chilled, the guests have arrived and it's time to get busy. I leave the real world behind as I dive off the pier. The cool waters of Kailua Bay tingle against my body. The sea is my friend, and I look forward to the best part of my day. There is no champagne, but somebody lights a fuse and we're off with a cannon blast. I easily accelerate through the crowd of bodies around me. A clean start and I realise that I seem to be getting the hang of this. The first 1000 meters are a bit of a mess, and I spend my time trying to keep a good draft while searching for a fast pair of feet. Soon, I am at the turnaround boats and (racing watch-free) I breathe bilaterally to see if I can spot a clock. No clock, no problem, I continue. I settle in for the return leg and a very aggressive swimmer comes through. I hold my ground at first, but after getting drilled a few times, I let him through and hop on his feet. Best move all morning! My male 45-49 lead-out man takes me on home. It's a little choppy, but I am locked on and heading in. Exit the water sub-60, I'm a very happy man. My transition is slowed a bit when I run through the racks yelling the wrong number! Fortunately, the volunteers are experienced with crazed athletes, and I am handed the right bag. I grab my jersey and head out to find the UKM (newly christened "The Killer B"). Next Page 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 5 Back to Race Reports

A morning swim with a few friends Sub-60 and I'm a happy man.