My 186.195-kilometer Kaike Triathlon

Since my immersion into the world of multisport this past November, I have swam, cycled, and ran more miles than I had in my previous 29 years on the planet. From the 200m/4k/1k NMITF Enticer Race in Marpi to the 3k/145k/42.195k of my race in Japan, I have changed a few aspects of my life, made new friends, and found a new passion.

When it all started I could swim just enough to save my life, I hadn’t been on a bike since high school, and running was something I did for about 30 minutes or so on the days when I looked in the mirror after a night of partying and thought I was getting to fat for my own chubby standards.

To say the least, I have made some changes since getting wrapped up in this crazy and expensive sport of three in the last eight months.

The money I was contributing towards my death fund has been reallocated from the coffers of Phillip Morris to something more beneficial into Saipan Bike Pro since I kicked the smoking habit in January. Another thing is that it’s official that I no longer think that wearing spandex is for people living alternative lifestyles. I shamelessly sport the stuff up and down the roads of Saipan while cycling or running, and like the fact that I can go directly into the water for a swim without changing out of my tri-shorts. My brother Scott in Buffalo however does not share my point of view, and reminds me via email with his less-than- praiseworthy captions for my race day photos.

Triathlons have definitely made life a little more interesting for me.

My job with the Saipan Tribune directly figured in my love affair with racing, as my first major assignment was to cover the 2004 XTERRA Saipan Championship. While triathletes seemed a bit crazy to me back then, the idea of tramping around on a mountain bike through the jungle sounded pretty cool. I remember seeing Olivier Marceau come running out the trees and turning up Navy Hill Road while riders emerged from a sea of tall grass on the other side. It was at that moment when I felt like I was missing out.

I had my chance to try the course last April when I completed the 2005 edition of the race, and broke through physical and mental barriers a week later when I crossed the finish line of the 2k/60k/15k Tagaman.

It was such a great feeling to finish the race, and especially so for Tagaman because I thought that the distances were so intimidating that I wasn’t sure if I could do it. After XTERRA, Mike Johnson told me that it would be a piece of cake, but had more than a few trepidations.

Working with the paper also got me involved with the planning aspect of triathlons as I sat in on the Tagaman meetings and eventually became a committee member. While working the public relations side of the show, I learned of the obstacles that the organizers face when putting on an event from getting enough pylons to getting enough participants.

It was at one of those meetings where I first heard of the Kaike Triathlon.

When PDI general manager Yoichi Matsumura advised the committee that representatives of the monster race would be coming to Tagaman to scope it out as a “warm-up” for their event, and it was also proposed that we send the top two local finishers as ambassadors to the event to generate goodwill and help spread the word about our homegrown product.

I thought that those triathletes were crazy, but in the days that followed Tagaman I ended up hounding Matsumura-san for a chance to race it. I felt so good when I came off of the bike in Tagaman that I was sure that I could go at least twice as long and still feel fine, so I decided to ask for a shot.

With only a few events under my belt, I was not the ideal candidate to represent the local racing community to put it kindly, but I caught a break because top choices Stephan Samoyloff and Dirk Sharer were unavailable due to their training for the 2005 South Pacific Mini Games in Palau. Be that as it may, I was still far from the third choice, as Matsumura-san reminded me when he thanked me for my interest when he replied to my e-mail by saying that they were looking to take the top triathletes, and that he’d get back to me if they weren’t available.

Though it didn’t help the ego any, I kind of expected to hear something like that, but I kept the faith, and to my amazement and previously secret joy, the other studs from Saipan passed on the offer to represent the NMITF in the mega-distance event, and about a week and a half later I got the email I was originally hoping for.

Now it was a matter of training for the race, and that meant a lot of hours biking and running. I felt pretty secure in my ability in the first leg of the event, and got a boost when I “escaped” from Managaha to swim my first 3km in open water. I had plenty of energy when I hit the shores of Micro Beach, so I knew that the swim wouldn’t be a problem.

As far as the bike went, I knew that I had to train a ton. The Tagaman course was the longest distance that I had ever done either in a race or on its own, so there was plenty to prepare for there.

The run was a different animal altogether. I had built up a little confidence when I did the Saipan Half-Marathon back in January, so I figured that while I would not feel all that great after the race, that the full marathon at the end of Kaike would just have to be like any other run portion of a race that I would both hate and have to get through.

To give myself a perceived advantage, I gave up drinking until the race was over. By not hanging out with the boys late in the evening it was easier to get out of bed in the morning and there were fewer objections from the rest of the body before sunrise when I hopped on the bike or strapped on the running shoes.

Originally I was going to the race with local women’s standout Mieko Motoyoshi, but injuries kept her from completing her training for the event. She was replaced with fellow elite triathlete Dawn Hammermeister, but she was forced to pull out as well, so I was on my own.

While I would have preferred to have either or both of them make the trip, I was happy that I was able to pick their brains and take on some of their training techniques as my own. Mieko’s routine of biking to the pool, training, and returning to the PIC seemed crazy, but eventually I couldn’t go to the pool unless I was pedaling because it felt like cheating if I went in my car.

Dawn’s entrance injected new life into my training with her enthusiasm, and the bike rides with her proved that I could do what I had previously thought of as impossible. Cycling from Chalan Kanoa to the pool for an hour-long workout and following it up with a bike ride to Suicide Cliff, Bird Island, Grotto, Banzai Cliff, and back became par for the course.

Going into the race I knew that I could handle the swim, that the bike would be my strongest, and that the run would be my enemy.

After arriving in country on the Friday, July 15, Matsumura-san, Akiko Hasewara, Ed Diaz of the MVA, and myself of Team Saipan were treated to a welcoming dinner with the local race staff, but I wasn’t able to relax until I assembled my bike and took it for a test ride to ensure that everything would be ready for the race. Ed and Akiko helped unpack the pieces from Russ Quinn’s bike box, and a quick spin around town gave me the much-needed peace of mind.

The following day, we settled in with a meet and greet at the convention center and watched as the first champion from 1980 and the top finisher from 2004 relayed their thoughts about the event during the opening ceremonies. There was little time to rest and relax when they finished, as we were whisked away for a big dinner before heading back to the hotel.

Like the nights before all of my previous races, I experienced difficulty falling asleep, and spent time in bed thinking about the challenge. Eventually I knocked off at 2am, only to be roused at 4am with a wake-up call.

After taking a quick shower and a quick inventory of my race gear, I rode down to the transition area, placed my bike on the rack amidst a sea of fancy machines, and prepped for the swim. Finally I was starting to relax, as I was only focusing on my pre-race steps.

The reality of the situation returned to me when I got in line to have the volunteers write number 22 on my arms, and grabbed the wetsuit loaned to me by Joshua Berger en route to the beach. I took a number of pictures with people who were shocked to see an American along the way, and was amazed when I saw the immense crowd gathering at the water’s edge.

I donned my white cap and tested the chilly waters for a quick warm up before returning to the sand for the final countdown. It never dawned on me that it may be difficult to navigate among all of the participants, but I was soon to become aware of the challenge.

At the opening gun, I took to the sea for the three-kilometer swim with a smile, but staying afloat in a sea of 800 bodies was madness.

I felt as if people were pushing me down, grabbing my feet and coming within inches of kicking me in the chops. The water was not nearly as clear as in the CNMI, and with all of the participants wearing black wetsuits it was difficult to see anyone or anything aside from hands, feet, and swim caps.

After having difficulty keeping my cool, I joined a band of rebels who escaped the frenzy by swimming on the other side of the rope. It was just what I needed to calm down and get into my zone, and when the herd thinned a bit some 200 meters or so down the line I re-entered the true course water.

At the halfway point we got out of the water and crossed checkpoint on the beach where our anklets tripped a sensor before finishing the final 1500m to the shore. There were a few people on kayaks and a couple of boats along the way cheering us on, and what started out so crazy turned out to be a pleasant warm-up for the rest of the race.

I remember feeling great on the swim when I made the final turn and could sight the shore. I fought the urge to cut through the water as fast as I could for fear that I would waste energy needed in the later stages, but I definitely picked up my pace. The adrenaline was flowing when I heard the cheers from the coastline and could distinguish individuals between breaths. It was a challenge to keep swimming when I could finally see the bottom rather than standing and walking, but I continued until my hand hit the sand and I got up to run through the swim finish and into the first transition.

It took me little over an hour to swim the almost two miles, and I was feeling great. I had a ton of energy as I strapped on my bike shoes, helmet and Camelback before heading out of the transition area and exploding onto the road.

I could hardly believe that I was already into the second stage of the race as I pedaled through the narrow streets, and I was shocked to see supporters on either side of me like an animated canyon echoing “Ganbatte” and “Fure” (pronounced fu-ray).

I was feeling fine along the opening 20km flat course, and, and by the time we headed into the mountain stages I was all warmed up and ready to go.