The Hangover It starts as a little discomfort. Then moves to a stomachache. Then the power drains from my legs. Soon the headwind starts again. Finally, nausea arrives to join the fun. Clouds roll in and my whole world turns gray. The lava fields that were chocolate brownies this morning turn into a dry moonscape on my return. I am far from the sea - my source. I am alone with only my thoughts and my failing bike split. My very own Kona meltdown, it is time for drastic action. I see two alternatives. Push until I puke (90 seconds away), or back right off. The "Push 'n Puke" strategy seems highly unattractive, so I swallow my pride and back off. A steady stream of hardbodies cruise by, leaving me for dead on the Queen K. Spinning my 39x21, I want to go home, to go to bed, to go anywhere but T2. Still, there is a little voice that very, very quietly says, "You are having a great day. You can drop half an hour, finish and still have a solid time." My inner voice is trying to save me. I listen and take an emotional withdrawal from my race day bank account. I keep spinning. Eventually, my voice and I hit the airport. People are streaming past us, but we don't care. Just get to T2. I see the lead men running on Ali'i Drive. Hey, we're not that far down. We can do something here. Into the bike to run transition, a quick change and off to The Pit. Coming out of The Pit, I realise something.... What is the best part about hitting rock bottom halfway through an Ironman? It can only get better from there! Next Page 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 Back to Race Reports

On the road to recovery