Ironready

by Dan Empfield -- The week of 8/14/00 (www.slowtwitch.com)

INTRODUCTION (BELOW)
THE BIKE CASE
THE PACKING LIST - BIKE
THE PACKING LIST - OTHER
KONA- WHERE TO EAT
KONA- WHERE TO TRAIN
KONA- WHERE TO STAY

Now that the autumn Ironman season is upon us, we thought it a good time to talk about Ironman readiness. By readiness I'm not talking about training. I'm assuming you've done all that. What I have in mind is that you're about to get on the plane realizing you've done all you can do, and that your fate is now in the hands of the gods. Except ...

There are still some things over which you can exercise some influence—meaning you are able exercise influence, but in actuality you frequently don't. I offer as Exhibit One the service department at B&L Bike in Kona. I've been there every year save one since the 1980s. The same mechanics work on the same number of bikes the week prior to the race every year, and it is an astounding number. It often seems to me they must work on every competitor's bike ... twice. How can so many bikes be in need of repair?

The problems encountered by these mechanics are legion, but the complaints usually boil down to two ...

1. Just Riding Along: Or, as this phenomenon is commonly known, "JRA." The complainant always describes the genesis of his bike's problem with, "I was just riding along, and [fill in the blank]." This is a common bike shop joke because bicycles do not suck chains, wrap dropouts around seatstays, buckle down- or top tubes, taco rims and so forth without cause. Here is a hint: If you don't want to be the cause of knee-slapping cackles the minute you walk out the door of the shop, do not ever use those three words. Conversely, if you have some spare time and want to kick back someplace entertaining before the race, you might want to spend a half-hour loitering around the service department and watch the mechanics try to stifle their giggles as others with broken bikes blurt out, "I was just riding along ... "

2. It worked fine when I left: This accounts for at least 50 percent of all complaints in Kona. The gremlins who inhabit the cargo hold of all airlines jump out from behind their hiding places like cockroaches in the dark and fiddle with bike componentry during the ride over. They make their way from one bike box to the next, exercising mischief. Meanwhile, up above in business class, you're asking for extra mixed nuts and complaining that United has stopped stocking margarita mix on international flights, unaware that your bike is being "worked on" 30 feet below you. More on this later.

As Exhibit Two I'll bring up the neutral support vehicles on the course. I monitor the radios on these vans every year and interview the drivers and mechanics afterward, and I estimate at least 60 "races" are saved each year because of these vans driving up and down the Kona Coast. So, in addition to all the work the mechanics do pre-race, there is an astounding number of bikes that can't make it 112 miles without the help of an outside mechanic and his tools and spare parts.

Over the next several days Slowtwitch is proud to present an exhaustive list (it's exhausting us, at least) of the sorts of things you need once you finish all the training and prepare to go to your ironrace of choice. We're going to cover both mechanical issues (having to do with your bike) and biomechanical issues (having to do with your bike's motor).

THE BIKE CASE

Hey, there are plenty of good travel cases out there, and what follows is no knock on any of them. If you've got a good case, great, you don't need to get another. But if you did happen to qualify for the Hawaiian or Canadian Ironman—legitimately, through the lottery, or through the office—and you find yourself in need of a case, I recommend the Tri-All-3 hard case. There are several reasons for this.

First, you can put almost all your belongings in this case. This can be beneficial if you are, say, a 105-pound professional female triathlete and you happen to have a 170-pound gorilla to carry around your case for you. In the example above, you basically fill the thing up with everything you intend to take with you, and if you pack it carefully and with talent, when you pull the lid of the case off it looks like you've baked a pudding—your stuff protrudes above the base of the case in the exact shape of the case's lid.

The problem with this is that airlines are cracking down on how much bike cases weigh. An artfully packed case can tip the scales at 150 pounds. If you're the female pro, you adopt a "What, me worry?" attitude since your trained gorilla is going to carry it anyway. It also helps if your gorilla's gift of persuasive speech kicks in when he reaches the airline ticket counter. But this doesn't always work—so, not wanting to leave anything to chance, you adopt the following technique:

Put the bike case about halfway onto the scale, making sure a significant part of its weight is resting on your toe. In this case, if you're lucky, and if your toe is sufficiently strong, you should be able to get away with it. (Tip: Don't wear flip-flops to the airport.)

Of course, there is another option, which is to not fill the case this full. Our problem, historically, was that when my wife and I traveled in the old days, we'd go for weeks or months on end. She—being an asthmatic—would have to take all her no-wheat grains, pastas, vitamins, blah blah, with her. Into the bike case they'd go—with wetsuits, helmet, cycling shoes, running shoes, floor pump, and, if we were extra-good packers, the race wheels along with the training wheels.

Realizing that we were gone for significant periods of time traipsing around Europe from country to country with two bikes and all our paraphernalia, this brings up the second reason why I like this case. It is a portable valet. It's got wheels and a flat top, and it's strong, so you can load all your stuff on top and wheel your way around Europe (or wherever). We routinely would load a second bike case, wheelbag, and two travel bags on this thing. Our only mishap was in Zofingen when I was rushing to make a train and I blew out a wheel on the cobbles. (Tip: On cobbles this case redlines at 6:30 pace.)

OK, there was also the time in the Zurich airport when we were going from the plane terminal to the train station far below with the bike case on the long descending escalator (and all the stuff piled on top). Somehow the wheelbag got loose. This was a soft case, and round. It started to pick up a head of steam as its velocity "escalated" toward unsuspecting travelers below—who fortunately heard my warning shout of, "Runaway wheelbag," and created an aisle just large enough for it to pass through. (Which it did, to the bottom of the escalator and across the railway station floor at a speed I'll estimate as 35-40 kilometers per hour, or about the velocity they were meant to average.)

Having said all that, this particular case has one other vital asset. I should say right here I'm talking about the big case. Tri-All-3 makes a smaller case, but piffle on that. Get the big one. Even if you take the big case with you to, say, Kona, and you walk across the street to the rental cars, you'll find that you only need a mid-sized (or perhaps full-sized, which is still pretty small) vehicle. All rental sedans seem to have four doors. If you take the case's lid off, flip the lid upside down and place it on the ground and put the bottom of the case inside the lid it'll slide—just barely, mind you—into the back seat. It is my estimate that bikes with saddle heights greater than 74 centimeters, bottom bracket-to-saddle top, will need to have their saddles lowered, or their seat posts removed, to clear the top of the door. But that's no big deal.

This saves a lot of money because you should be able to get a normal-type rental car pretty cheap. (Sometimes the best way is to have the car packaged with a hotel deal—the Astin Royal Seacliff does this.) Vans are expensive to rent. It's nice to have a car that your bike case can easily fit into. Also, with this technique, the wheels are inside the lid and therefore will not chew up the upholstery.

THE PACKING LIST - BIKE

Let's say you're packing for Kona. The list of stuff you have to bring is too exhaustive for me to write in one day, so I'm going to cover just the bike stuff first. The bike segment is, after all, the root cause of most of your packing. I mean this literally, as you'll be rooting around in your garage for days trying to find everything on your "to-go" list.

It's hard to decide what to take and what to leave behind. I usually err on the side of taking it. But for starters, you've got to realize that the best way to make sure you won't need any spare parts is to make sure your bike is in perfect working order. This means bringing the right tools. Here's the short list of what I bring along for a weekend getaway:

All Allen keys from 2.5mm to 7mm
Spline tool for clusters
Breaker bar for spline tool
Chain tool (a good one)
Assorted screw drivers
A variety of pliers and Channel Locks
Scissors
Spoke wrench (one that fits my wheels' spokes)
Utility knife
15mm pedal wrench
Black plastic tape
Bike lube
Measuring tape
Tire tools
Metric sockets up to 15mm
Crescent wrench
Shop rags (many)

You'll want to check this stuff, not bring it on board the plane. Flight attendants figure anything from a Phillips screwdriver to a pair of scissors can divert the plane to Bolivia, and you, with your protruding veins and shaved legs and all, look just like the sort of person who'd froth while wielding a life-threatening pedal wrench.

All this stuff pales in comparison to the entire list of tools I carry around with me if I'm driving. Let me put it this way. I have a full-sized pick-up with a shell on the back, and even if I go to a race solo I still have to haul a trailer behind me to carry all my crap. Even then I'm not bringing everything. I've got the custom all-fangled headset crown-race remover with the adjustable lips, and the multi-headed, universal, in-its-case mega-tool for reinstalling the crown-race. I am the king of tool overkill. I've got calipers that read English, and others that read metric, and others that have both an English and a metric dial on the same caliper face. I never met a tool I didn't dearly covet.

But the above list should do you. When I'm driving to a race I lug my big Park bike stand around. When I'm flying I don't. But I might bring some sort of portable thing to hold the bike up while I'm working on it. Don't forget the shop rags. You won't be invited back to the condo next year if you foul all the owner's linen with bicycle grease.

Realize that all that stuff above is just the list for working on your bike, and does not include the spare parts. Below is that list:

Syntace pads and bolts
New brake and shifter cables, and cable-ends
Handlebar plugs
All manner of odd nuts and bolts I've saved
New chain
New cluster (optional)
New chainrings (optional)
Rear derailleur hanger
Seat binder bolt
Tires
Tubes
Cycling shoe cleats
Headset spacers

Perhaps a few notes on the above list are in order. I bring the Syntace stuff because I personally ride those bars, and this company uses all aluminum-threaded parts. These threads are flimsier than they would be if they were steel (but, since steel is heavier, they need to be aluminum). So I carry around some of the specialty nuts with me, like the one to which the armrest bolts. These are notorious for stripping, and you'll never find another nut that -- off the shelf -- will work as a replacement. Most bikes now are made with rear derailleur hangers that are replaceable, should you have a JRA and bend your dropout all to heck. So I carry the replacement hanger. It's hard to find these on the road, because for some reason you don't normally find the hangers for sale. But hey, what's the use of having a frame with a replaceable hanger if you aren't going to have the new hanger around when you need it most?

There are a few other odds and ends you'll need:

Floor pump
CO2 cartridges
Bike lube
water bottles of whatever sort I'll be needing

Be careful with some of this stuff. Airlines get weird about CO2 cartridges. They are very wary of men with shaved legs, bulging veins, screwdrivers, and compressed air. Make sure you don't carry these on the plane. Check them with your bike. Airlines would prefer that you don't bring the cartridges at all, but I prefer to think it's in the category of "don't ask, don't tell." Forget any smarty-pants idea of shipping them over. UPS doesn't like them any more than United does.

One last thing I'll mention. A huge source of race disasters spring from either using some new-fangled stuff you haven't any experience with, and/or from using wheels you haven't ridden in awhile. If this is an important race, consider a new chain. Sometimes your old chain and the cluster on your training wheels wear in-tandem, and they continue to work fine. But the minute you put your race wheels on, with this bright shiny cluster that has all of 40-miles on it, your chain starts a-skipping. By all means, ride these race wheels hard before you get on the plane, like a week before, so that if there are any issues you have time to solve them prior to leaving.

Be careful of artsy-fartsy parts that save a few grams but portend disaster. Consider how your bike is made, and make sure you don't do something stupid. One example: Cervelo makes its bikes with horizontal dropouts. Titanium skewers are light, but titanium is very ductile, it stretches. You're liable to pull your wheel right out of your drive-side dropout and drive your tire into your chainstay if you use ti skewers with any bike that has horizontal dropouts. Such bikes demand that you use steel skewers (the kind that probably came standard on your bike). The moral of the story is, think about the consequences of what you're going to put on your bike, and don't change to fancy, lightweight parts right before the race.

Finally, a word about the mysterious slow leak. Many (not all) clincher tubes and tubular tires use replaceable valve cores. They are usually not adequately installed at the factories. If you've got one of those spoke wrenches that looks like a little silver dollar, with all the spoke gauge sizes on it, the 11-gauge slot tightens valve cores. Or, use a small pair of needlenose pliers. You'll go crazy trying to find the leak in your tire, only to realize your tire is fine, it's your valve core that wasn't appropriately tightened. If you use a valve extender (because you've got deep dish race rims), make sure all joints between the extender and whatever it threads into and out of have Teflon tape applied to the threads.

I'd always carry around handlebar plugs to bike check-in, and even on the morning of the race. How many racers haven't been able to start because a plug fell out and there was not a replacement to be found? Here's a tip: If you forget these, a wine cork will do (preferably red, perhaps a '97 Zinfandel, or a Spanish Rioja, years' 82, '85, '91 or '95).

THE PACKING LIST - OTHER

On one of my Hawaii trips in the old days -- '89 I think -- I decided to go minimalist. I stepped off the plane with toothbrush, toothpaste, and the clothes on my back. Nothing more. I figured the I'd scrounge whatever else I needed and I don't recall being in any particular want that year. Of course, I wasn't racing.

Besides all the bike stuff, there's what you have to wear on the bike -- clothes, shoes, helmet -- and your running and swimming paraphernalia as well. Then there's the nutritional stuff. As for race-day nutrition, there's two ways you can handle this, at least with regard to nutrition on the bike. One way is to eat and drink what they give you on the course, and this is often sufficient. When you feel you can't rely on this, there is another way, which is described in another Slowtwitch article on race fueling. If this describes you, then make sure you bring with you whatever you intend to eat during the race.

The plastic tape I instructed you to bring in an above article will also serve to attach your gels to your top tube. Don't forget to bring water bottles, and especially the one which sits between your handlebars, if you have such a drinking system.

Some people like to race with a hat, or even one of those fancy desert-rat hats with the flap on the back. Not a bad idea. If you get a bigger hat, though, like a painter's hat, you can scoop up ice at the aid stations on the run and put the hat, with ice in it, back on your head. You can find a good one and test it out before you come over. But Paul Huddle says the funky multi-colored hats they sell at the ABC mini-marts work perfectly.

In the same article mentioned just above, we broach the subject of salt tablets. You might be able to find these over in Kona. On the other hand, you might want to bring your own over. One recommended brand is called Thermotabs, and these have both Sodium and Potassium, both salts and the positive ions of each. We'll write more about this in a later article.

This might not be necessary to mention, but in case you've never been to Hawaii, you don't need any warm clothes. No long pants necessary, no sweaters, no jackets, nothing like that. But you might consider bringing an umbrella, and especially bring it to the awards ceremony. It has occasionally rained like a sun-of-a-gun, and when it does, you -- along with your spaghetti --will just sit there and get drenched if you've got no umbrella. The enterprising soul who brings one will be the envy of the other competitors.

WHERE TO EAT

Eating is very important to me. Too important, unfortunately. When I was a small child my grandfather used to say, "Call me anything you want, just don't call me late for lunch." I decided early on to adopt that creed as my own.

Since the days of Captain Cook westerners have struggled with "culinary navigation" on the Hawaiian Islands. Little known fact: tired of poi, Cook had the bad form to ask Kamehameha III for a philly cheesesteak, with dire consequences.

We revisit the subject in literature a century later, as Mark Twain describes Hawaii in great detail in Roughing It. You'll search in vain for any reference to fine dining, a topic with which Twain must have been familiar, inasmuch as he was quite at home in San Francisco social circles and, as we all know, you can get a good meal in that town.

Breakfast is easy. Three places from which to choose. The best requires a drive, but you'll not be sorry you did. It's the Aloha Cafe, and you get there by driving south on the main road, which takes you up, up, up. The Aloha Cafe is in Kealakekua, at close to 2000' above sea level. It takes about 20 minutes to drive there, and you'll know you're there because you'll quickly see it on your right as the road starts to flatten out, and as you re-enter a semi-urban (as urban as the Big Island gets) area. You'll see what looks like an old theater on the right, and the Aloha Cafe is connected to it. Every morning pro triathletes you'll recognize are dining there.

Then there's the Ranch House, and if you can imagine ascending Palani Rd. just after the swim exit, there is a Shell station on the left side of the first intersection. Turn right at that corner, and it's a half a block down. Great pancakes. This was the site of my first date with my wife JulieAnne.

The Ocean View Cafe is right across the street from the swim start. This is the quintessential greasy spoon, and if that's what you're into you've hit the jackpot. No "country potatoes" here, it's hash browns, with ketchup in a squirt bottle. If you want a quick and dirty short stack right after your morning swim, this is the place.

I frequently eat lunch in the condo. But I always eat at least a couple of times at Sibu. This is Indonesian food as far as I can tell. It's a small indoor-outdoor spot in one of the tiny one-aisle sidewalk malls on Alii Dr., about 100 yards south of the pier. This is another pro favorite. In fact, it seems like I almost always see Huddle and Newby at least once or twice when I'm at a Kona eating spot, and it's usually either at the Aloha Cafe or Sibu.

I eat dinner at the Chart House quite often. When I'm with a group of people we run through the daily multiple choice decision of which eating spot, and as often as not we just go to the Chart House again. The all-you-can-eat salad bar is always there to bail you out if you're not sure whether you'll get enough to eat.

Then there's the Kona Inn, the Palm Cafe (a little pricey, but worth it) and the all-you-can-eat buffet at Keahou -- not always good, but often so. We also go up to the Aloha Cafe for dinner too.

WHERE TO TRAIN

Everybody rides his or her bike up and down the Queen K Highway. Booorrrrring. That road is interesting once a year, and that's on race day. Besides, it's hot, and full of poseurs. Better is Hualalai Road, in my book. If you ride south on Kuakini Highway (e.g., from the Ranch House) you'll see a spur heading inland about a half mile from downtown. That's it. It's quite rural, and it climbs, gently at first, and then in earnest. It crosses the main highway (#11) and resumes on the other, uphill side. Hualalai eventually dumps into a road with the numerical designation #180, and I don't remember it's local name. The road snakes up under Banyan and (what look like) Jacaranda -- trees, and cars are few and far between. #180 reconnects with the main southbound highway almost at the top of the grade, close to the Aloha Cafe (hint, hint). If you continue through Kealakekua and over toward Captain Cook, you'll soon see a road off to the right, coastbound, leading down into a bay, the name of which escapes me.

This route is 2000' up, and 2000' down on the Captain Cook side. Then the return. When I bring my bike to Hawaii, I do this route every day. All the climbing I want is packed into a 2-hour ride. The nice thing about it is, it's a totally different Hawaii "up top" -- about 20 degrees cooler, and not so humid. Downright temperate. And the descent back down Hualalai Road into Kailua is fabulous. I have ridden this ride many times over the years, and I have never seen another triathlete riding on it. This is a shame. The best road on the Kona side of the island, and no one knows about it. Having said that, I'd not to get too hepped up on this road were I racing. It is very hilly, and you don't want to leave your race in Kona's highlands.

I do not remember how Julie and I happened on the spot, but we were again seeking what was up above the Kona bay. I'm looking on our maps and it seems to me that it might be Kaloko Dr. that we ascended (in our rental car), with an eventual turn onto Huehue St. We must have driven up 1500' vertical feet, starting from downtown Kona, and we did it in just a few miles, maybe eight or ten, from downtown. The road eventually came to a dead end, and we parked and started running. Up we ran, probably climbing another thousand feet, through a misty forest and over the other side of a saddle. We had to hop a couple of fences, and I can't offer an opinion as to whether we ought to have been there or not. But nobody was there to stop us.

It was cold up there. Passion fruit was hanging from the trees. Cattle roamed. It was a part of Kona that just doesn't ever get visited by triathletes.

Of course there are the usual spots. You can run on Alii Drive, up and down, up and down. But by the sixth or eighth (or tenth, or twelfth) year you finally want to explore. (Well, we felt that way.)

The swim spot is the swim course. Meeting time is 7AM. Nothing official, mind you, but this is where the unofficial swim is, has been, and will be. I can't remember a morning, ever (prior to race day), when there weren't at least three or four hundred swimmers out there. But I prefer swimming off the rocks at the Kona Makai condos. This is a private beach, mind you, which means it's not a bad place to stay, since it's got the best swim spot going. But if I weren't staying here, I'd park close by and sneak in. You can swim from here, and get -- from the opposite direction -- to the end of the swim course. Swimming to the turnaround boat, or buoy, makes a nice swim. Just off from shore there is a cave, open at both ends, about twelve or fifteen feet down, and about that long from one side to the other. You swim it on a dare. I don't recommend it for Midwesterners. I don't think you can do it with any sense of ease unless you've grown up in the ocean, perhaps having done a lot of free-diving, or at least a lot of surfing.

(NOTE: SLOWTWITCH READERS ARE STARTING TO WEIGH IN -- NO PUN INTENDED -- ON THIS SUBJECT, WITH ADDITIONAL SUGGESTIONS ON WHERE TO EAT IN KONA).

WHERE TO STAY

I'm sure there are places on the Kona Coast I haven't stayed. I just can't think of any. For the last several years I've bunked with the Hed Wheels crowd in a fantastic vacation rental right on the beach -- a big, white Gatsbylike construction that has ridiculously decadent amenities, like a swimming pool right next to the ocean. Offensively redundant. (But it didn't keep me from partaking.)

There is an apex to Alii Drive, a point where the more or less flat road climbs to a peak about 125' or so above sea level, then immediately descends. This occurs about three-quarters of a mile south of town. Right at the high point is the Astin Royal Seacliff. This is an actual hotel, not a condo. But, it'not not just rooms, it has suites, which have kitchens and washer/dryer. These are useful, because you won't always want to go out to eat, and the morning of the race you'll not find anything open early enough anyway. As for the other, in the tropics things get skanky and mildewy quickly. You'll need to run that washer plenty.

Another nice thing about the hotels -- at least this one -- is that you can get a deal which includes a rental car. The rooms might be on the pricey side, but after you price out the rental car you'll find that the whole package might be fairly attractive.

There are probably a half-dozen properties right at that spot, adjacent to the Royal Seacliff. In my mind's eye, I believe Sea Village is just north (closer to town), then Alii Villas, then Kona Makai. These are all condos, and they're all fine. I've stayed at them all. Best is Kona Makai, because of its swim spot (see above).

Not all these joints have A/C. How necessary is this? Depends where you are. The higher up (2nd or 3rd floors), the closer to the water, the less you need it. But if you've got a back bedroom out of the air flow, you could be in for some steamy nights, and not the good kind. I'd rather have air flow and a ceiling fan than A/C. I think it's healthier, and you'll have less of a chance of coming down with some tropical bug. Just my unsolicited, unscientific, opinion.

Then there are the hotels downtown. I don't like the King Kamehameha -- or King Kamehameha's Royal Kona Resort, or whatever it's called now (I can't keep track of all these subsequent, post-acquisition names) -- because it's right where the race traffic is, and I don't like constantly fighting for an elevator in all that hubbub. Across the street is the Kona Seaside -- or Kona Sleazeside (hey, I don't make up these knicknames, I just report them). It's another hotel in which I've stayed, and truly speaking it's just fine. I met my wife there (but she reminds me that she was just visiting someone, she wasn't staying there). Whatever. Another thing about the Seaside, it's got the best parking on the island.

You can't underestimate the value in having your room within a block of the finish. Nothing worse than having to hobble home on foot after you've already hobbled 26 miles on foot. Remember, the roads are closed on race day. Perhaps if you plan on racing very slowly you can catch a ride home. But what if you finish in the daylight hours? How are you going to get home? (Just somethig to think about).

Down toward the Kona Surf Hotel are a lot of other condos and timeshares, like White Sands. I don't know, that's a long way south. White Sands is four miles, I think. Back and forth, back and forth. If I'm going to be out of town, I'd rather be up, out of the heat.

Which brings up a point. I've never stayed up in altitude. I'd like to start giving that a try, instead of the sweaty, sweltery existence I'm used to. I haven't figured out how to work that angle.

Finally, if you're of the well-heeled set, there is Waikoloa: where you can swim with the dolphins. (I'm sure they just can't wait to swim with you.) For a measly few hundred a day you can enjoy the crown jewel of Kona Coast developments. It's 25-miles north of town, so if you expect to be spending a lot of time walking up and down Alii Drive you won't want to stay here. They got golf and all that stuff up there.

I'm late at it this year. I haven't gotten my place yet, and I'm going to have to hustle. I expect the island to be pretty full-up for some reason. I don't know why, but I think a lot more people than normal are going to show up.