The toughest thing about the Hawaii bike course is its length. 112-miles is just that far, and there's no way to rationalize the volume of that distance downward. The second difficulty is the heat, which is nonexistent factor most of the way out, but is there in spades for the return trip.



Hills are not a factor, except in combination with winds. Climbing to Hawi, for example, is no huge undertaking for the well-trained, except when you're climbing into a 20-knot wind. Then it's like climbing a 7-percent grade. Conversely, coming back from Hawi can make the descent from 600' to sea level tricky, from a tactical perspective. Some of the big gear pushers have tried to take a tactical -- and technological -- advantage, betting on a tailwind on the return, and outfitting their bikes with very large gears. Back in the days when 12-tooth cogs were the smallest one could get, Ken Glah had custom-made 10-tooth, and even 9-tooth cogs on his bike. Every year Steve Hed would build him something gargantuan. Once he had a 10-tooth cog combined with a planetary gear overdrive. Once in a blue moon Glah would actually get "his wind" coming back from Hawi and pedal his way to a big lead.

On the way back there are a couple of longish hills between Waikoloa and the airport -- more or less between 80- and 90-miles into the bike ride -- where Jurgen Zack takes great joy in punishing his foes. This is a good part of the course for strong riders, or for those having a good day. Everybody seems to get a second wind here, or they fade to black.

Winds are legendary on the Kona course, and they make the difference between a 4:24 and a 4:44 split for the top men. I've seen no less than Jurgen Zack riding in a 21-tooth cog on the flat on the way out, and pulling away from people. It can be that bad. What's worse, the wind can change and be in your face when you're coming back. For a flat course it can be brutal.

Several people have tried to do this ride with a single chainring over the years, reasoning that it's flat, and you don't need two chainrings. The wind renders that a bad idea. But there's also a little 120-meter long spike in the very last mile that is steeper than anything else on the course. It's about 7-percent, and it's just a little too steep and long to fake your way up.

The run starts out uphill, and there are some very hot, hilly sections for the first few miles. Certainly unintentionally, but true nonetheless, the course has an inconvenient layout for the mentaly weak, in that you're probably going to pass right by your hotel between the 5- and 8-mile mark of the run, on your way out to uncivilized, innhospitable terrain. More than once the notion of a cold beer and a warm bed 2-minutes and 50-meters away has done a racer in.

At 9-miles racers pass the place it all began at 7AM that morning and climb for the second time -- this time on foot -- Pay-N-Save Hill. At this point the run may or may not juke in and out of various newly paved roads in and around Kona's new big boxes (residents now may patronize WalMart and Costco). The organizers have mickied around with the run course over the last few years. No matter. The important stuff doesn't start until runners head out onto the Queen K Highway for the final 16-miles.

Just after halfway runners descend into the most paradoxically -- perhaps cynically -- named physical feature in all of endurance sports: the Natural Energy Lab. This is always a moment of truth for all triathletes, who are either looking forward or dreading this part of the run. The entry into this 3-mile section is a long, gradual descent, and if you're in the lead your accompanying vehicle is like an electronic Virgil, escorting you into Ironman's hell. I've never known an athlete to find energy here. The best you can do is maintain, while others wither. You can leave your race and your dreams right here. It gets hot and it gets long. They give you the run turnaround bag here, as if it's going to do you any good.

If you make it out of this damnable place with any bounce in your step at all, you're home free. It's not single digits in miles to the end, and there's nothing on earth that'll keep you from the finish.

There is one final hill, about 2-miles from the end, perhaps a little less. This is where places can change. This is where Mark finally shed Dave in '89. You know that if you can get up this thing, it's down Pay 'N Save Hill, left on Kuakini Highway for a flat half-mile, right for half a block, and right again on Alii Drive. At this point it's just the glory run into the chute. But it's been the road on which many have struggled, as Sian, Wendy, and Paula can attest.