When I was 12 years old, I quit swimming year-around and focused on other sports, namely tennis and basketball. At the time my father played tennis regularly, often up to 4 times per week depending on his travel schedule. On the weekends, he and I would play a set or two before his friends would show up for their weekly doubles match.
Through the age of 14, I tried and tried to take just one set off of my father. And fortunately for me, he never let me win – no gifts is a good lesson to learn at any age. If I got dangerously close, he would use the wingspan from his 6’6” frame to boom out a couple of easy aces, get inside my head a bit and finish me off with an easy service break delivered at the end of his Randy Johnson like fastball. At the end of my flailingly, hard fought matches with him, my dad would usually give me a smile, the knowing twinkle in his savvy veteran’s eye, and say, “Son, old age and treachery will win over youth and skill every time.” I would give him a begrudging smile and plot my next strike at family superiority on the courts.
A week ago Haley Chura and I were in the pristine waters of Kailua Bay in the Pacific, beginning a long day competing in the Ironman World Championship. In the build up before the race, there was a lot of good-natured trash talk between her and me over the swim, stemming from a closer-than-expected swim leg in Ironman Louisville where athlete (Haley) led out coach (me) for the duration of the 2.4 mile swim, ensuring a 3 second margin of victory for young Haley. During the 6 weeks between Louisville and Hawaii, more and more Dynamo Multisport athletes and friends of the DynaMafia got in on the trash talk. Frosh v. Diablo 2.0 had become an event within the event. The smart money was on Haley who routinely works me up and down the pool at Dynamo Masters on a weekly basis. If we had odds on the race, I think Frosh (as Haley is affectionately called) would have been a 5:2 favorite. I even would have bet on Haley myself if I weren’t participating in the race! She’s fearless in the water and rightfully takes the swim seriously as a platform to her day. I knew that in Louisville I had felt exceptionally strong during that swim leg, and the chances of replicating the performance were admittedly slim. With all the good-natured ribbing, though, I acknowledged that if I had my shot at getting out of the water first WITHOUT sacrificing the rest of my day, I would take it.
The Monday before the race, Haley and I swam the entire swim course. If this were a preview of race day, I was in serious trouble. Haley dropped me 20 minutes into the swim, and casually waited for me at the turnaround buoy, unwinded and ready to drub me again on the way back in to Dig Me Beach.
Each day that went by inching closer to race day, my swim, just like in Louisville, started to come around. My tired, old body responded to the exponential decrease in volume and I could feel my swim form coming together. Maybe I had another shot at Haley and I could actually make Frosh v. Diablo – 2 an interesting contest.
On race morning, we both donned our freshly minted, never-worn TYR Torque skinsuits, playing homage to their paper-suit like texture and christening the battle armor for the race itself, none earlier. A little after 6’30am after the pro start, we walked down the Dig Me steps and made our way to the far right of the course, within feet of the pier wall and Mike Reilly’s omnipresent voice. As more and more athletes jammed into the confined space, Haley and I were separated but were within feet of each other. We exchanged well-wishes and prepared ourselves for an interesting start.
With the canon boom that you could literally taste and feel, the wrestling match to establish clean water began. I swam with conviction and urgency in a race to my own line and away from the other athletes. A little over 1000m into the swim I had been able to find clear water directly on the buoy line. Like in 2006, I was surprised by the number of strong swimmers in the field. I reminded myself that this was the World Championship after all and that I should have expected it.
Right around this time I saw a pink cap come up on my right. But more noticeably, I saw the familiar strong freestyle stroke of Haley. She was moving with equal conviction…and more speed. She came around me easily and established herself in front of me more than half way to half way into the swim. As we came around the first turn buoy, I took a wider line around the right turn, probably 5m or so away from everybody else. This old man wanted clean water and was willing to sacrifice a draft to swim my own unadulterated line.
All the way back into shore, I kept this same line, 10 feet or so to the left of a line of 10+ swimmers who were all following Haley’s pink cap – the Haley Train. Like in Louisville, I took several moments over the last 1900m of the swim to reflect on how amazing it was to be in the pinnacle event of our sport, watching one of my athletes lead the women’s amateur race while a bunch of men, myself included, scrambled after her. Seriously, how cool is that?
Coming to the end of the swim marked by the beginning of the pier, the Haley Train and I began to merge. At this point, I lost sight of Frosh, and scrambled a bit to get out of the fray to find her. I still had a shot at taking the battle and didn’t want to lose it. As we got closer to shore, I spotted Haley now immediately to my left. It was going to be close. As I had instructed Haley in our Race Execution review prior to the race, I swam until I felt sand during a pull. Once I felt the sands of Dig Me hit my finger tips, I went from prone to standing. In doing so, I saw the green Astroturf steps leading out of the water to T1. But more importantly, I saw a swirl of pink immediately in front and to the left of me.
The pink flash hesitated for a moment, and in that split second, I shoved myself through the door of opportunity and bolted to her right and around Haley in a mad dash up the stairs to the timing mat. Coming around Haley, I was laughing like a mad man, and as I crossed the timing mat directly AHEAD of Haley, I gave I held up my hands signaling victory and a ‘yes’ to seal my triumph to the change tent. I heard several choice words coming out of Haley’s mouth and flowery superlatives directed towards me, as we both entered our respective transition zones. Hitting the chairs inside T1 preparing for the bike, I still was chuckling and had a huge grin on my face heading out onto Palani to start the bike. Old age and treachery won again.
Do you believe in miracles? Yes!
POST-RACE NOTE: For the second year in a row, Haley had the fastest female amateur swim, and the 3rd fastest female swim overall. Despite impressive accomplishment, WTC will have you believe that we actually tied the swim – 54’39 a piece. However, if we were to look underneath the hood and get down to tenths of a second, we’d easily see the truth. See the picture above for unmitigated proof. On another note, race day marked the anniversary of John Lennon’s death. And in fitting fashion, I fell victim to some Instant Karma of my own for having Stair Mastered my way to victory in the swim. Despite my neuroma’s inopportune timing to humble me during the run, I had a wonderful day out there thanks to my family, Betty, Ernie and Micki making me laugh during the run, Haley’s great overall race, and of course, a true victory in Frosh v. Diablo -2. Oh, and let the record state that Haley is a better swimmer than I am, no doubt. But boy can I move up a set of wet Astroturf stairs faster than her.
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I’m pretty sure this has to be one of the greatest “battle” photos ever taken at Kona. It’s right up there with the Iron War. Ok, that might be a stretch, but it’s still pretty spectacular!