It’s been two weeks since the Ironman World Championships, where John crossed the finish line in 10 hours, 13 minutes and 37 seconds, which places him in the top 23.8% of the best triathletes IN.THE.WORLD.
Impressive.
Almost as impressive as his IronFans who hopped and shuttled and pushed and cajoled around the race course to make sure we were in just the right location to scream our crazy heads off and snap choice money shots, like this one:
But, hey, it was our job, which, to use the words of our friend Danny, included: “Eat. Drink. Applaud. Repeat.” As you can imagine, being an IronFan is very hard work, but our Team U-Crazy Kona Crew was up to the task and we took it quite seriously.
In addition to eating, drinking, and applauding, our responsibilities were manifold. Yet, we excelled at them all. Consider this…
We woke up at the crack of a$$, yet we weren’t racing. In fact, we were on vacation. Yeah, at 3:30 a.m., it was paradise, for sure.
As we drove into town, we pretended like we didn’t notice that John was terrified nervous.
I had to find some way to position myself at 5:30 a.m. outside of transition to grab the bike pump from John. Along with 5,000 other people waiting to do the same thing. This is no small task for a short woman.
We then had to schlep said bike pump all over Kailua-Kona for 10 hours, 13 minutes and 37 seconds. And, by “we,” I mean my friend Danny.
We had to invoke the patience of the slow-ass sloth as we waited hours to catch a 13-second glimpse of John as he rounded the course throughout the day.
I had to make sure I didn’t permanently damage my phone in frustration when the splits on Ironman.com failed to update immediately.
Based on those splits, we engaged in complicated mathematical discussions. I would give Danny the estimated time, and Danny would give us the time of day we had to be in X-location to catch our 13 second John show. We were right on every time.
Upon said glimpses, we then spent a minimum of 20 minutes discussing how he looked.
“I think he looked good, what do you think?”
“Oh, yeah, definitely strong.”
“What do you think that face meant? He looks okay right?”
“Oh, yeah, he just had a banana in his mouth. He’s alright.” And on and on.
We became experts in detecting, locating and commandeering even the smallest slivers of shade along the race course. We are proud to report that not a single one of us got heat stroke or sunburn.
We had to ooze our way in and along the fencing to make sure some giraffe of a person did not obstruct our views.
We had to take no less than 159 test photos to make sure we had the correct position for when John or my coach Vince came round the corners. (Email me your race number – I probably have a picture of you if you look like my husband. Not kidding.)
With all of these painstaking responsibilities, it might seem like I’m complaining. After all, I’d rather do an Ironman, than watch one. But, every single minute of the standing, eating, drinking, applauding and waiting was worth it when I saw John’s face as he emerged on Ali’i Drive.
I could see the tears in his eyes, as I felt my own as they fell on to my cheeks. Here was my boy, and he was about to cross the most renowned finish line in triathlon.
John: You Are A Kona Ironman. And, I’m your super IronFan.
